by Mitch Goth
“Hell yes!” Mike exclaimed, still ecstatic from the recent altercation.
“I can’t believe that happened!” Taylor added with equal excitement.
“It’s quite a shame I missed it,” Bobby shrugged.
“You lost out on easily the greatest sight of all time!” Mike replied.
“I had to save the car,” Bobby patted the dash lovingly. “Did you get both of them?”
“I have no clue,” Mike gave a shrug of his own. “Taylor?”
“I don’t have any idea,” she answered. “Nate?”
Nate was staring out of his window, paying no attention. He didn’t respond.
“Nate?” Mike repeated with more volume. This brought him back to reality.
“What?” he asked, puzzled.
“Do you think we got both of those guys with that explosion?”
“I don’t know. I would assume so. But it’s dangerous to assume. I think we can safely say we got one of them though.”
“Like you said, the dude without the specs is a goner for sure,” Bobby recalled.
“I don’t know about the other one though. I didn’t see him.”
“I don’t think any of us did,” Taylor pointed out. “Maybe he did get away. What do we do if he did?”
“Fight him, and whoever else comes our way,” Nate said simply, holding up the pistol again.
“How many more do you think there are?” she inquired.
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know, you seem like the person who could estimate something like that. You’re smart.”
“So are you, you figure it out.”
“I don’t do math, Nate. Math is the reason I wasn’t valedictorian.”
“Well, if you must have my estimate, I’d say a few.”
“A few? What kind of estimate is that?”
“The only one I’ve got.”
“You’ve gotta do a little better than that.”
“If you didn’t flunk out of math you could’ve just done it yourself.”
“I never said I failed.”
“You failed at being valedictorian.”
“Guys!” Bobby interrupted. “Can we stop this mindless hatred? You’re bringing down what should be a triumphant moment.”
“Yeah,” Mike agreed, “we won something. Be happy.”
“We still have a long way to go,” Nate said pessimistically.
“An Asian philosopher once said, ‘a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step’,” Bobby replied. “This is our single step.”
“I highly doubt that philosopher was referring to blowing up a gas station, Bobby.”
“You never know, Nate.”
“I think I can assume I’m right on that end.”
“I thought you said it was dangerous to assume.”
“Oh, man,” Mike chuckled, “Nate gets taught by Bobby again. He’s on a roll.”
“Shut up, Mike,” Nate sighed.
“Where are we going?” Taylor changed the subject.
It was in that moment that they all realized that none of them knew the answer. They looked around the car at each other’s blank faces for a moment.
“I don’t know, I was following Bobby,” Mike said.
“We’re in the same car, of course you’re following him,” Nate retorted impatiently.
“I was following the car,” Bobby added.
“What was the car following?” Taylor questioned.
“The road, I hope,” Nate joked. “But seriously, where are we going?”
“Cady’s?” Mike suggested.
“Why would we go back there?” Taylor responded in confusion.
“Where else would we go?”
“Good point.”
“To Cady’s then?” Nate summed up.
Mike and Taylor nodded.
“Yeah,” Bobby hedged, “I don’t know where that is.”
“Just turn up here,” Nate aimed a finger at an upcoming intersection.
“Maybe we can change cars out there? Take one that’s less destroyed.”
“Come on, Bobby,” Mike spoke up, “your car’s a trooper. It can probably take a few more T-bones and a baker’s dozen more bullets.”
“And it’s not that bad as it is,” Taylor added.
Bobby pointed to the hole in the ceiling.
“It’s not that bad,” she repeated more anxiously.
“And I just washed my car,” Mike stated his case. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to it.”
“My engine can’t be trusted some times,” Nate explained.
“My car’s low on gas,” Taylor said, “and we all know how well that went last time.”
“Maybe if we stop at another gas station with your car, we can take out the other guy,” Bobby observed.
“No sale, Bobby,” Nate replied. “We’re staying with your car.”
“Damn it to hell.”
“Look on the bright side, Bob,” Mike patted him on the shoulder, “just be glad you have a car. If this were a horse, it’d be dead already.”
-
“Okay,” Nate paced around Cady’s dark and quiet living room, “what’s our plan?”
“Shit, I thought you had one,” Mike groaned.
“I do have a plan, it’s asking you guys what the plan is.”
“Aren’t you the one who should know all this stuff already?”
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t adequately prepared to fight terrorists tonight.”
“Well,” Bobby said nonchalantly, “good money says you’ll be prepared the next time it comes around.”
“When will it ever come around again?” Nate’s volume raised slightly in his frustration.
“I don’t know. Christmas?”
“Shut the hell up, Bobby.”
“Be nice to Bobby,” Taylor objected. “He’s just trying to help.”
“How is that helping?”
“I’m breaking down the stress, man,” Bobby explained.
“Well, it’s not working because I’m more stressed than before.”
“We’re all stressed, man. Your friends and or siblings are out there right now, and my car has been beaten to the point of quite possibly being totaled.”
“Your car is fine.”
“There’s a hole the size of basketball in the roof.”
“How many times do I have to apologize for that?” Taylor wondered.
“Nineteen,” Bobby answered slyly.
“Hole or not, the engine works fine,” Nate pointed out.
“It’s covered in bullet holes.”
“Nothing a paint job or two or three won’t cover up,” Mike said.
“What about the back fender?” Bobby went on.
“What about it?” Mike asked.
“That truck crashed into it. Did you already forget?”
“That truck was vaporized at the gas station, which means it’s a little worse off than your car.”
“He makes a solid point,” Nate nodded.
“Because I moved the car, man,” Bobby exclaimed. “You’re welcome by the way.”
“Thank you for moving the car,” Taylor gave her belated graces.
“The fender isn’t that bad,” Mike said. “You can buff that stuff out.”
Just then, a loud engine came into earshot. The engine roared swiftly closer, but its hoarse run was cut off by the head-splitting sound of crushing metal and squealing tires.
The group moved cautiously yet quickly to the large bay window in the front of the house. There they saw the source of the ruckus. Bobby’s Impala, which he’d parked in the street, was stuck by a large truck with enough force to shove the sedan into the front yard and detach the back bumper, which was lying in the middle of the street.
“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!” Bobby exclaimed.
“You can buff that out,” Mike figured.
“The bumper is off!”
“Duct tape. I know a guy who has a basement full of that st
uff, I’ll hook you up.”
“God damn it!”
“Guys!” Nate called to them, pulling them down at the same time.
Josh had rolled down the window of the truck and began firing shots through the massive front window. Thousands of snowflake sized glass shards rained down on the crouching group.
Nate pulled the gun from the gas station out and aimed it out the now empty windowpane. He fired a handful of blind shots before getting himself enough balance to look up and into the yard. But by the time he’d gotten the truck in view it was rolling backwards and spinning around, ready to speed off in the other direction. Although it looked as if one of his blindly fired bullets had punctured one of the truck’s tires.
“What do we do?” Taylor yelled over the squealing tires and gunfire.
“Follow him!” Nate commanded.
“With what?” Bobby asked, praying the answer wasn’t what he expected it to be.
“Your car!”
“Fuck that, the axel is probably broken.”
“Bullshit, the engine still works and the axels are fine. Let’s go before we lose him!” Nate leapt through the open window and was followed at the heels by Mike. Taylor stalled for a moment.
“Sorry,” she said to him before going through the window as well.
“God damn it!” Bobby blurted in fury as he too flung himself through the windowpane and towards his car.
11
