Unlawful Chase

by C J Schnier

  The second jolt was much more severe, but I had been prepared for it and remained in control of the Jeep, if just barely. "Do you think you could do something about these assholes?" I barked at Jaye, who was already turning around in the passenger seat.

  "I'm on it," she said as she raised her pistol and took aim. Miles ducked out of the way, and I did my best to hold us steady. She fired off two shots in close succession. The gun's report was deafening inches from my ear, but her shots had an immediate effect on our pursuers.

  I glanced back in the mirror and saw spiderweb cracks covering the windshield with two gaping holes directly in front of the driver's seat. The truck had slowed and then swayed from left to right and back again. Slowly at first, and then more violently, it swerved, even as the truck continued to shed its speed. Eventually the momentum of the truck became too much and, almost as if it was in slow motion, it turned sideways and then rolled over, spinning from its side to its roof and eventually landing on its other side.

  All three of us let out a massive cheer as the truck flipped, but our jubilation died when the headlights of the second truck appeared from behind the first and fixated on us.

  "That's one, do you think you could do that again?" I asked, impressed at how efficient Jaye was with a gun.

  "We're about to find out, here they come," she said, taking aim again.

  The second truck did not make the same mistake as the first one. They came in hot, but instead of ramming us straight on from behind, the truck sped past our rear bumper and pulled up alongside us on the driver's side. There, in the passenger seat, was Bardales himself, glaring down at us.

  Jaye had followed the cab of the truck with her pistol, aiming over my head as I continued to drive. She let out a deep rumbling growl and unloaded half a dozen shots into the passenger door and the roof of the cab. Bardales had seen the attack coming and ducked down behind the safety of the passenger door just in time. A couple of seconds later he reappeared in the window, a vicious snarl on his bearded face.

  Jaye took aim again. Bardales pulled his own pistol out and aimed back at us. Before either of them could fire, however, the driver of the truck jerked the wheel and sideswiped us. Our jeep jumped violently to the right, and Jaye's arm flailed, slapping against the steel roll-bar. Her pistol flew away into the night. Bardales, too, was caught off guard and reeled from the impact, pulling his arm back into the cab. He too had lost his gun in the collision.

  Still locked in a struggle against the military truck, I turned the wheel hard to the left to counter the angle that they were forcing us on. We bumped and rubbed against the bigger vehicle. The whole driver side of our Jeep was buckling and crumpling. The smell of burning rubber as our tires rubbed filled the air.

  We were fighting a losing battle. The massive truck's weight was too much for the smaller jeep, and it was much more robustly built. Despite my efforts, we continued to get pushed closer and closer to the cliff-like drop off to our right. Realizing that sending us over the edge was their plan, I stomped on the brakes with all my weight.

  Our sudden deceleration caught the other driver unaware, and the truck shot off to the right, ripping the driver's side front fender off our Jeep. The driver barely regained control before he ran off the side of the mountain. Bardales' vehicle swayed back and forth, now directly in front of us. The truck's brake lights glowed like evil red embers as the driver slowed down enough to regain control. I looked from the brake lights to the opening in the back of the truck, and that was when I realized I had made a mistake. Four men were staring out of the back, their automatic rifles all aimed at us.

  I stayed on the brakes until I came to a complete stop, and then without hesitating, I slammed the gear selector into first and whipped the Jeep around, heading back up the mountain. Again, the driver of the transport truck was slow to realize the situation, and we were already speeding up by the time he got the cumbersome vehicle turned around.

  "I hope you've got a plan," Jaye said next to me.

  "I'm making this up as I go."

  "That's what I was afraid of."

  "If you have any bright ideas, please, by all means, let me know."

  "Heading back to a military base wouldn't be one of them," she said.

  She had a point. Bardales would have left many of his troops behind at the camp. "Hold on," I warned Jaye and Miles.

  I cut the wheel hard over again, working the brake and gas, while simultaneously shifting to a lower gear. Even after all the abuse and subsequent damage I had inflicted upon the old off-road vehicle, it responded perfectly to my demands. The back wheels lost and then regained traction exactly when I wanted them to, and the engine remained strong, never bogging down or hesitating.

  The whole maneuver only took a couple of seconds and we were again rocketing down the dirt road directly into a pair of incoming headlights.

  "Uh, Chase?" Jaye asked nervously.

  "You two might want to put your seatbelts on," I advised, aiming for the passenger-side headlight of the oncoming truck and reaching for my lap belt.

  Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Jaye scrambling to find her seatbelt. I could only assume that Miles was doing the same in the backseat. Dark jungle flashed by us in a blur. I risked a glance down at the speedometer and saw that we were moving at forty-five miles an hour, though in the darkness and on this bumpy road it felt more like seventy.

  The headlights grew closer at an alarming speed, and I braced myself for the crash. I kept the wheel steady, aiming for the passenger headlight, and held my breath while I ignored the self-preservation part of my brain that was screaming at me. The truck did not deviate from its path. Its headlights now bathing all of us in yellow light. Closer and closer we raced towards each other on our collision course. My heart was racing and I could feel my body dumping massive amounts of adrenaline into my bloodstream. Time itself seemed to slow, which only made this game of chicken that much more nerve-wracking.

  It took all of my willpower to hold the wheel straight. The truck was close enough that I could see the detail on the grille, and still neither of us wavered as we rocketed towards one another. I clenched my teeth, committed and set in my determination not to move, even as we were rapidly reaching the point of no escape.

  Finally, at the very last moment possible, the truck driver's nerve gave out, and he yanked the wheel to his left, the only direction open to him. Both Jaye and Miles snapped their heads around to watch the truck as we sped past on our same trajectory. The last-second maneuver had not worked out well for the truck.

  It swerved hard to the left, but before the driver could correct himself he was at the edge of the drop-off. I watched in my rearview mirror as the truck's taillights suddenly disappeared. The sound of snapping tree branches were audible as we continued to speed away down the mountain.

  "Woah!" Miles and Jaye both yelled in unison and amazement.

  I let out the breath that I had been holding and let off of the accelerator, bringing us down to a safer speed. My heart was still racing and the impossible amounts of adrenaline coursing through my veins left my arms shaking. But we were alive.

  Jaye tore her eyes away from where the truck had gone over the edge and looked at me. "Damn Chase, that was ballsy as hell. You didn't move at all," she said in awe.

  "I'm not sure I'd go with 'ballsy.' More like stupid," Miles added.

  "Hey, it worked, didn't it?" I replied, sounding more confident than I felt.

  They both nodded in agreement. My harebrained stunt had worked. Bardales was out of the picture, and most likely dead. But one problem remained. We still needed to get off the island.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Almost all the lights were off when we arrived in the village. Even the big hotel was dark. Yet, when we came rolling down the mountain road and into the center of the village, several of the men wandered out of their houses, curiosity getting the best of them.

  Bardales' Jeep looked like it had gone through two rounds in a
destruction derby, but somehow it was still running. The poor vehicle creaked and groaned with every bump. Something under the hood squealed loudly, acting as herald for our arrival. The front driver side and the rear passenger side fenders were gone. Both of the remaining ones were in shambles, crushed and barely hanging on. The knobby all terrain tires rubbed against the wheel wells, making driving nearly impossible. Even our rear bumper hung loose from the back of the jeep, leaving a trail behind us as it dragged in the dirt.

  As I drove slowly through the village, more and more people came out of the small huts and shacks that they called home. A boy darted out from behind his mother and came running up to the Jeep. Dr. Blatt's face lit up when he saw him.

  "Pancho!" Blatt exclaimed, "Stop the car, Chase!"

  Blatt leapt over the side of the Jeep as soon as it stopped and ran towards the young boy. He stooped to one knee and wrapped Pancho in an enormous bear hug, lifting him off the ground.

  "When the soldiers came and took you away, I thought you were dead," the boy said, tears running down his cheek.

  Miles hugged him harder and finally let him go. "Don't worry about that. The soldiers won't be bothering us anymore."

  The other villagers, recognizing Miles, quickly overcame their uncertainty and pressed in closer to us. They pointed at the Jeep and asked us questions in Spanish. Some of them pulled at the crumpled fenders, shaking their heads in disbelief. I attempted to shoo them away, but they ignored me and continued pouring over the Jeep, groaning at each new dent they found.

  A moment later Miles came back with Pancho in tow. He spoke to a few of the men and then seemed to concentrate on one particular man. This man wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. His skin was dark and leathery, crisscrossed with wrinkles, and when he spoke I could see he was missing a couple of teeth. They two conversed for a minute or two, and when they finished Miles looked over at me and smiled.

  "You won't believe this Chase, but it seems one of the village fishermen found your sailboat."

  My heart skipped a beat as a flood of emotion washed over me. I had been so busy trying to survive since Bardales arrested us, that I had almost forgotten that he cast Paramour loose on the open ocean. I had accepted that my home of years was gone, even though I didn't have time to mourn. Now all of that pent up negativity and relief hit me all at once.

  "She's safe?" I asked.

  "Yes, he says he towed her back into the marina last night."

  "Oh, thank goodness," I sighed. "That's our way out of here then. Now that Bardales isn't looking for us, we can get off the island and back to the States."

  "Not so fast, Chase. He expects payment for salvaging your boat."

  "How much does he want? I'm not exactly rolling in cash."

  Blatt and the fisherman conversed back and forth in another rapid fire exchange of Spanish. Blatt's expression wasn't nearly as positive as it had been.

  "He says he wants a thousand dollars, US."

  "I don't have a thousand dollars on me," I cried.

  "I might be able to whittle that down some. How much do you have?" Miles asked.

  "Nothing, it's all on the boat. I can pay him when I get to her, but that's going to leave me pretty close to broke. Try to see if you can get him to come down in price." I said, my feeling of relief disappearing rapidly.

  Miles thought about it for a moment, nodded, and turned back to the fisherman. The two went back and forth again for a minute and I looked over to Jaye, who shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

  "Don't look at me, I only had a couple hundred bucks on me, and it was all in the plane. I'm sure it's all gone now," she said.

  "Chase," Miles said, grabbing my attention. "He says he'll take five hundred dollars and the Jeep for the boat. I'm not sure he'll go much lower."

  "Five hundred, huh?" I asked, thinking about my already depleted funds.

  "And the Jeep," Blatt added.

  I thought for a moment but couldn't see any other choice. The wiry old angler had me over a barrel and he knew it.

  "Alright," I said, "Tell Santiago there that he has a deal for five hundred bucks and the Jeep. But my boat better still be in working condition."

  "Santiago?" Miles asked, confused. "That isn't his name. It's Carlos."

  I sighed, "It's a Hemingway reference, Doc. The Old Man and the Sea? Don't tell me you haven't read it."

  "You Americans and your 'literature.' Hemingway was a hack," he stated.

  "I'm going to ignore that you said that. I never expected a Scot to prefer English literature," I retorted.

  "Whatever, we'll agree to disagree. The deal for Paramour is settled. We can give Carlos here a ride down to the marina with us. Maybe then we can put an end to this crazy treasure hunt. Unless of course you want to stay here until morning."

  "Hell no. I've had about enough of Cuba. I don't want to spend any more time here than I have to. Bardales might be gone, but we never saw a body. I don't want to chance it. What about you, Jaye? What do you say?"

  "I say that we bounce, ASAP," she replied.

  "Let's go, then. I want to get on the water and get out to sea before the sun is up and something else happens."

  Miles said a few words to the old man who climbed into the backseat, displaying broken teeth in a crooked smile.

  "Chase, would you mind stopping at the airfield? I want to look through my plane and see if those goons left anything behind," Jaye said.

  "It's the least I could do," I replied.

  "You're right, since it is your fault that I'm going to have to leave it behind."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, putting the Jeep in first gear. "Just remember, you tried to kill me."

  "You're never going to let that go are you?" She asked.

  "Nope, probably not."

  ◆◆◆

  Jaye's little green and white Cessna was almost exactly as we had left it. The engine cover was up, and the doors were open. The wings over the doors had kept most of the rain out of the interior, but there were so many bullet holes in it some water must have gotten in.

  Miles and I watched Jaye from the Jeep, lighting up the plane as best as we could with the headlights. Occasionally we would see random items tossed from the cabin only to land in the tall grass several feet away. Frustrated growls erupted from inside the plane with each makeshift projectile.

  "Why don't you go give her a hand?" I suggested to Miles.

  "Oh, no!" he replied instantly. "There is no way I'm going anywhere near that woman when she's angry. If you want to go, have at it, mate. Carlos and I will watch."

  Blatt was right. Jaye Mercury was a force of nature and not to be taken lightly, especially when she was angry. Incurring her wrath was not exactly on my punch-out list.

  "I think she'll be fine," I stated flatly. "It looks like she has it under control."

  Blatt snickered, as Jaye hurtled another item from the cabin of the plane, "If that's under control, I'd hate to see her going berserk."

  We did our best to occupy our time while she ransacked her own plane. Finally, she exited the plane holding a handful of paperwork and a backpack. She slammed the door shut behind her and stalked through the grass towards us. With her curly dark hair bouncing with each step, she looked both incredibly beautiful and terrifyingly frightful. She was the embodiment of confidence and power coupled with the subtle but noticeable sensualness of a woman; a warrior queen heading for battle.

  She didn't say a word, she just tossed her bag on the floorboard of the Jeep and plopped forcibly into the passenger seat. Her normally olive skin had a decidedly red hue to it. She looked straight ahead, her eyes smoldering, unable to contain her irritation. I opened my mouth the say something, thought better of it, and instead silently turned on the ignition. Even Carlos the Cuban fisherman sat completely still, knowing better than to say anything.

  Miles Blatt, however, had not been so prudent. "Did you get everything you needed?" he asked in his irritatingly chipper Scottish accent.

  "You
just had to poke the bear, didn't you, Miles?" I said, shaking my head in disbelief that such a smart man could be that stupid.

  Jaye turned in her seat and looked him straight in the eye, "What do you think? Those assholes took nearly everything. I almost wish Bardales was here so I could shoot him again," she said in a low threatening tone that bordered on that of a hiss. "Let's just get to the boat and get the hell out of here."

  We all rode in perfect silence. Blatt sat back in his seat, looking out to the jungle alongside the road, making a show of pouting like a scolded child. He didn't say a word until we reached the gate of the marina a few minutes later.

  The guard at the gate wiped sleep from his eyes as we pulled up. He blinked painfully as the headlights illuminated him and let out a stifled yawn as he stepped out of his shack.

  "Hola," he said groggily.

  "Hola," I answered before switching to my native tongue. "Look guy, you know me, I'm just heading to my boat." My exhaustion was catching up with me. I had forgotten about the gate guard. With any luck, he would be tired enough to let us pass without a challenge. I went with an entitled American attitude, hoping that the stereotype would work to my advantage.

  The man's eyes widened. "Mr. Hawkins? What happened to you, did you get in a fight? And, I thought you left already," he said in slow, careful English.

  "I did. And now I'm back. I've had a really long couple of days and all I want to do is get to my boat. Are you going to let us pass or not?" I asked, with mock irritation.

  He thought about it for a moment before replying. "I don't want to get in any more trouble. The military was here after you left. You are a wanted man. I should call this in."

  I rolled my eyes, doubling down on the entitlement. "That was all a big misunderstanding. It has all been cleared up. Besides, do you think I'd be driving around in General Bardales' Jeep if he still wanted to arrest me?"

  The guard looked over the Jeep and scoffed. "Does the general know you wrecked it? You may be free now, but you might find that you are again a wanted man when he finds out."