Chase to the Encore

by P G Loiselle

  “Ooh, I’m scared now,” Herbert said, taunting her. “But keep talking. Soon we’ll be knocking and might have to let ourselves in.”

  “Yeah, let ourselves in,” Rodney said, echoing in the background.

  A fourth person could be heard ordering baby-faced Herbie to hand over the communication device. “Mr. Jameson, you know who I am,” Stone said. “I beg of you for everyone’s sake. If you and Miss Almeida cooperate and return to us our rightful property plus compensatory damages of another million, payable in installments, you’ll be free of us forever. I give you my word.”

  Amy started yelling at him and without thinking twice about it, I ran inside, snatched my own walkie talkie and was back out amongst the chaos.

  “Stevie, tell her to turn on the other walkie talkie, the one I gave her. Maybe they’re not connected to that channel. Say it in Pig Latin.”

  Stevie had no clue how to talk Pig Latin. I snatched the unit out of Stevie’s hands and told her directly, as quickly as possible, hoping that Stone, Herbie and Rodney wouldn’t understand the message or know who was delivering it. Amy got it right away and did as I said. Stone, on the other hand, thought it was still Stevie talking and continued preaching about how futile his attempts to save Amy would be.

  “Amy, you there?” I said, using my walkie talkie.

  “I’m here.”

  “Turn off the other walkie talkie and only use this one. Be right back.” I caught Stevie’s attention and told him to keep them occupied, threaten them, get them all fired-up. I switched back to Amy. “If you’re still listening, pay attention.”

  “What the hell you think I’m doing? Just tell me.”

  “They might not know exactly where you are and are trying to flush you out. If anything, they’ll probably try to go through the front door. The ladder to the fire escape isn’t so visible from below, so they might not realize there’s another way in or out. I’m coming on the motorcycle,” I said, panting. “I’ll buzz you when I’m almost there. Only then, lower the ladder and get down as fast as you can. We’ll distract them somehow to buy more time.”

  “What about the money? I’m not leaving it behind.”

  “Amy, this is a life and death situation. Forget the stupid money. We’ll get them somehow. I swear over my parents’ dead bodies.”

  “I’m not leaving the money behind. I’d rather die than let them win. You said it before, Luke. They get the money, they win.”

  “You and the money, I said.”

  “Then I’ll stay here and defend it to the death.”

  “Ok, ok,” I said, giving in. “We take it with us. Can you stash it in a bag or something?”

  “No, you idiot. You glued it shut in the guitar case. Remember?”

  “Of course,” I said, wondering how I could have forgotten. “Can you carry the case while I drive?”

  “It’s heavy, probably not,” she said. “Is there room for three?”

  “What do you mean three?”

  “What do you think I mean, dumb ass? Can three people fit on the bike?”

  “Don’t know. I could sit way up on the gas tank; it should have enough balls to handle three. Why?”

  “Take Stevie on the back. He’ll help carry the case.”

  “Amy, that’s insane,” I said, raising my voice. “How am I supposed to maneuver with all that weight?”

  “You’ll figure it out, smart guy. Just get here, and quick.”

  While putting on my boots, I took a minute to strategize with the guys. Stevie would be on the back as discussed and manage the communique with Amy. Mike had his pickup truck and should act as a decoy at the factory entrance as well as help us in the aftermath. We could have used more manpower as backup, but there wasn’t a second to lose rounding up more troops. Stevie and I made a run for the Suzuki, and Mike was already speeding down towards the mills to get a head-start. When we arrived at the entrance to the mill yard, Mike was only getting there. He couldn’t run the red lights like we did. He drove directly to the front of the building, and we went further towards the alleyway where Amy would meet us. It was a busy place for a Sunday. A more than usual number of vehicles zoomed about the complex, including other motorcycles and four wheelers. We had our helmets on and blended right in with the others. Stevie already told her to start down the ladder, but when we got there, she was still atop the fire escape.

  “I can’t climb down with the frickin’ case. It’s too heavy.”

  “Throw it down,” I yelled. “We’ll catch it.”

  “You can’t catch that,” she said, calling back. “It’ll crush you,”.

  “Just throw the frickin’ thing down,” I said, gritting my teeth together.

  I got off the bike, and we got into position.

  “Hold your hands up,” I said to Stevie. “As soon as it touches your fingertips, grab it with both hands and guide it down and back up again in a swinging motion, like you’re catching a baseball and circling your arm around as soon as it’s in your glove.”

  “Ok, a swinging motion, like catching a baseball, circling around,” he said, repeating. He looked like he had no idea what I was talking about.

  “Here it comes,” she said as she heaved it over the railing.

  And there it was, hurtling down towards our unprotected heads, and we were standing there, waiting to greet it. How ironic would that be? Stevie and I both getting crushed to death by his own guitar case containing a million dollars of the enemy’s stolen cash. As I watched the object get closer, it seemed to be nearing in slow motion. Lucky for us, the case dropped straight down the long way and didn’t twist or flip midair. When I sensed the time was right, I gave the sign.

  “Ready?” I said. “One, two and…three.”

  I felt the hard plastic reach my fingers exactly on the count of three and I guided the front end down and around with my left hand while grasping the back with my right. Exactly as planned, we diverted the object from hitting the ground and instead, in total unison, swung the case up in the other direction so that the front end headed towards the sky. Without letting go, we swung it back towards us until it was safely on the ground. While we were in the process of catching the case, Amy had already started down the escape ladder. The bike was running, and I mounted it while strapping on my helmet. Stevie held the guitar case upright while waiting to get on. He looked over his right shoulder down the alley.

  “Behind us,” Stevie yelled over the idling engine.

  I turn my head and saw three cars in a line speeding towards us.

  “Amy, they’re coming,” I screamed. “Let’s go.”

  She was only halfway down and to expedite her descent, hung on to each side of the ladder while letting herself fall, toes touching each rung to temper the speed. Within seconds, she was on the ground without even stumbling during landing.

  “Get on behind me,” I said.

  She did as I instructed, and Stevie got on behind her. It was tight, but we all fit. The cars were nearing and by the way they were racing towards us, they couldn’t have been the good guys.

  “Hold on,” I said and carefully gunned it, making sure not to pop a wheelie.

  The motorcycle had four gears, one kick down and three up. In no time, I was in fourth gear going as fast as the machine would take us. They were still gaining. The alley was about to end, and I needed to make a sharp left without dumping. If I had been alone, it would have been easy. With all that weight and at that speed, I wasn’t sure how I’d make the curve. Besides, both Amy and Stevie were grappling with the case and didn’t have a firm hold on the bike.

  “Listen up,” I said. “When we get to the end of this alley, I’ll bang a left. I need to brake some and shift down into first while taking the turn. I want both of you to lean in a little, only as much as I do, and put out your feet so we don’t lay it down. Got it?”

  T
here was no answer, and I assumed they understood. I came up to the turn but couldn’t slow down enough since the cars were right on our tail and would have rammed us. We took the left, and Amy and Stevie did as instructed. We skidded out of control and slid in the dirt. None of us were hurt, but we lost any lead we had. We scuttled to get back on the bike while the three cars, needing significantly more time to maneuver that hairpin turn, had almost made it around.

  We had quite a way to go to make a clean break, and it would be impossible to ditch Stone’s men considering the cargo of three passengers and a long, flat, non-aerodynamic object. As if out of thin air, a fourth vehicle, a pitch-black Mustang with tinted windows, came flying into the mayhem and cut off the trio of cars pursuing us. Without hesitation, I revved it full throttle and sped off towards a bridge that led us over the canal and through to the desolate, manmade sand dunes. From there, I rode right, all the way to the end, up the sand embankment and onto the neighborhood streets.

  I proceeded in the direction of Lonsdale Elementary and once there, drove to the back of the school and up the path into the woods. I hadn’t been there in years but had in mind that fort that was nestled in the trees at the edge of the corn fields, where we’d crash the Lincoln keg parties. It was more like a cabin than a fort, where people would sleep on a regular basis. As I could recall, there were a few simple beds and a table and chairs within the fort itself, an outhouse and a fire pit for those cold winter drinkathons. We needed to lay low, and that’s where we could at least spend the night without running the risk of being discovered. We couldn’t hide there forever, and our next destination was still a big unknown, which had to be sorted out amongst the three of us.

  After only a couple minutes of winding through the woods, branching off the main path several times and finally pushing the bike through some dense brush, we arrived at the site. Neither Amy nor Stevie had any clue where I was taking them. Considering that we were seconds away from being nabbed by the enemy, everyone must have been grateful to be out of the crossfire for the time being.

  I rolled the Suzuki to a spot that would facilitate a quick getaway if needed, turned to the others and waited for a response. Neither Amy nor Stevie said anything at first. I thought I had a good grasp of the situation, but those two remained quiet and must still have been reeling from what had just occurred. Amy staggered around in the tall grass, exploring the grounds while Stevie, as motionless as a statue, maintained a pensive stare in the direction of the corn fields. There were so many things that needed to be said and not much time to waste, so I broke the silence.

  “Thank God you’re ok, Amy.” I clasped my hands together.

  She continued to move randomly amongst the brush, not responding to my statement. A fallen branch, the size of a cane, caught her attention. She picked it up and waved it about, poking various objects along the way. First, she probed the ashen remains of a recent campfire in the stone encircled pit. Next, she passed by the outhouse and went straight to the makeshift building. She tried to push open the door with the tip of the stick. It was closed shut, so she used the handle. The door swung open with a creak, and she peaked inside.

  “Looks comfy,” she said. “Five stars at least.” Stevie woke up from his stupor and followed her with his eyes.

  “It’s the only five-star fort in these woods,” I said, trying to be facetious. Nobody reacted.

  “I remember coming here to drink beer,” Stevie said. “Lincoln kids sure could party. And those corn fields…they’re bordering the plat, that neighborhood with the quarry where I almost fell off as a kid.” His babbling also got no reaction, not even from me.

  “So, here we are,” Amy said as if only thinking it.

  “Yep, here we are,” I said. “At least for tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?” she asked as if I should already have answers.

  “Who knows? I think we’ll at least be safe for now.”

  There was another long break in the conversation as Amy poked around some more while we observed her. I was about to say something to fill the void when she started talking again.

  “Thanks for coming to the rescue. Some serious shit went on. We could all be dead right now.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought twice about it,” I said. “And I’d do it again any day of the week.”

  “Me either. I mean me too,” Stevie said, tripping over his syllables. He barely let me finish my sentence, as if he didn’t want me to top him. After saving Amy together, I’d have thought that there should only be a feeling of brotherhood between us. His reaction showed how strong a rivalry he must have perceived us to have.

  “Come here,” Amy said, listless, and motioned for a hug.

  It was unclear who she meant, so we both approached. Stevie took a giant step forward, and it was apparent that he wanted to go first. When she was finished with him, it was my turn. She took me into her lifeless arms and after several pats on the back, let go. The act of hugging was very formal and detached, not only with me; it looked that way with Stevie too. I figured it was all the stress we’d been through plus the fact that she was held up in the warehouse for over a month without getting much of a chance to be outdoors.

  “It’s in the seventies and humid; I doubt it’ll be cold tonight. Still, we should check inside for blankets anyway. Never know if we’ll need them. We can also build a fire, a small one. Should help keep those damn mosquitos away.”

  “I’m wicked hungry,” Amy said, ignoring what I had said. “I haven’t eaten all day. Can’t we sneak up to McDonalds or something?”

  “That’s way too dangerous,” I said. “I told Piano Mike to drop a bag of groceries behind Gisele’s breakfast. It’s not far from here, on the other side of the woods, at the end of the main path. Whether he understood me with all that chaos going on is another question.”

  “When’d you tell him that?” Stevie asked, seeming irritated.

  “Right before I grabbed the motorcycle. Already had a couple different places in mind to escape to; part of the grand plan, I guess.”

  “What a clever little boy you are,” Amy said, pinching my cheeks.

  I hated being called little, and deplored being called a little boy. I hid my annoyance and instead began setting up camp. Although there was some wear and tear, the structure of the hut was solid and kept neat inside. As a bonus, there were plastic plates, cups and utensils stocked in an improvised kitchen area, other handy items like a flashlight, candles, matches, and trash bags stashed in a wooden box, and some old sleeping bags stuffed under one of the two beds. It didn’t look like anyone permanently lived there, but you could tell that the room was still in use with a new generation continuing the keg party tradition. Either that or the older generation never grew out of it. I was only praying that we didn’t have a Goldilocks moment and the usual occupants didn’t show up on Sunday nights too. We would have to deal with that situation if it came to it. Soon darkness would set in, and we had to get things ready for whatever surprises we might face. I sent Stevie and Amy to gather firewood while I tidied up and ambush-proofed the place.

  By the time dusk fell upon us, I was ravished. My stomach was a grumbling, rumbling bottomless pit, and I was so parched, like I had crossed the Sahara without drink. We had been through so much that day and the night before, and it was taking its toll. Playing the party at JR’s Fastlane zapped most of my energy, leaving me drained. Following that, I was drugged and locked up in an old factory for the night. I wasn’t even home thirty minutes before being called on to perform a SWAT team maneuver to save a damsel in distress. With all that adrenaline running through my veins during the chase, I quickly overcame the pains from horror night. And now, my body had to rejuvenate and needed sustenance.

  “How do we do it with the food?” I asked.

  “Uh, go get it,” Amy said, looking at me as if I was a stooge.

  “All of us?” I said.


  “Guess so. Or only you.” she said to me. “Whatever the case, you can’t leave me alone here with the lions, tigers and bears.”

  “I won’t leave you alone,” Stevie said.

  How sickening it was listening to Mr. Protector kiss her ass like that. I had a different suggestion. “Let’s all go,” I said. “Should anything happen, it’s better if we’re together. There’s power in numbers.”

  They both concurred, and we set out to the drop-off point. It wasn’t a long trek, but the stars were already twinkling by the time we arrived. The package should have been stowed in the back of the restaurant where we discovered several fully packed rubbish bins and stacks of overstuffed plastic bags lying around.

  “Yummy,” Amy said. “We can do some trash picking in case Michael blew us off. I’m sure there’s some bacon blubber and half-eaten, maple-sogged pancakes from Sunday morning’s breakfast.”

  “I’m so hungry at this point,” I said, “I’ll dive right in.”

  We moved some barrels around and there it was: an intact, brown paper shopping bag stuffed with food. I pulled the items out one by one.

  “Let’s see what we got: a loaf of Wonderbread, nice and fluffy; a family size package of bologna, mystery meat but it’ll do; hamburger and buns, good thing we have a fire; a pound of American cheese; salt and vinegar chips; a 2-liter bottle of Coke; Gatorade; Snapple; and what’s this?”

  Deep down in the bag was a quart of Jack Daniels with a note stuck to it. I held up the flashlight and read it out loud. “Thought you’d need the right beverage to go with your burgers and a case of Bud didn’t fit on the back of my chopper. D.B.”

  “D.B.,” I said. “Who’s D.B.?”

  “Come on, you numbskull,” Amy said. “It’s Dale. Dale Buttface or whatever his last name is.”

  “Bixby,” Stevie said, correcting her.

  “Wow, Mike got what I told him,” I said. “I wonder why he asked Dale to bring the stuff?” I stood there, thinking out loud. “Hope he’s ok. Well, if he wasn’t, he couldn’t have relayed the message.” I started loading the food back into the bag. “Anyway, we got what we wanted. Let’s get back and get the fire going. I’m starving.”