Josh Stallings - Out There Bad

Peter was concentrating like a fiend. Bouncing up over a bump the size of a tree trunk, I flew up, my head thumped up into the roof. I squealed. I didn’t ask him to slow down.

Coming off the hill, the valley spread before us. Pounding up out of a small gully I saw a dark figure in the middle of the road.

“STOP.” It was almost too late when I realized it was Mikayla. Locking up the brakes, the Scout fishtailed sideways, Peter fought the wheel to keep us from either rolling or hitting Mikayla. When we finally stopped moving, I saw her standing statue still, with dust settling down around her.

“Fuck this.” Peter jumped out, kicking dust, screaming into the night, “Fuck this. I didn’t sign on for this shit, no way, ask a few questions, get an interview, fine. Not this crap!”

Mikayla leaned in the window, ignoring Peter’s rant. Noticing the shaken but free girls in the back she came as close as she was capable of to smiling. Then she looked at my raggedy ass. “You are alive.”

“More or less,” I said.

“You drunk?”

“As a skunk.”

“Interesting choice.”

Headlights flared up behind us. Mikayla dove into the driver’s seat, dropping the hammer, the truck lurched forward. Peter had to run to keep from being left. He climbed in next to me as we took off.

Our new shadow was coming cross country, angling to meet up with us long before we could make the highway. I silently thanked Jason B for the heavy duty shocks as we flew across ruts deep enough to cripple any soccer mom’s SUV. The speedo swept up past sixty. Cactus and brush were brown and green blurs out the side window. In the back, the girls were screaming and crying, they must have thought I pulled them from the frying pan and dropped them smack down in the middle of hell.

Mikayla was pure cold concentration. The chick could drive, I’ll give her that. Out of the side window, I could see that we were making ground on the bouncing headlights. If she kept the speed up, we would be well ahead of him before he intersected the dirt track. Gold eyes glowed red in the headlights, a coyote crossed into our path. The small critter was frozen with fear. Mikayla wasn’t slowing. I grabbed the wheel and spun us to the left.

I had already killed one dog that day, I didn’t think my karma could handle another. Bumping off the road, the windshield filled with brown and green. We hit a barrel cactus with enough force to dent the center of the grille and hood. Steam started to geyser up from the ruptured radiator. Mikayla fought the wheel. We swiped a small manzanita and skidded back onto the road. The steering was pulling hard to the right, she was struggling to keep us on the road. The temp gauge started to climb towards the red line.

We were running out of options, there was no way the damaged Scout would outrun our pursuer. Grabbing the emergency brake, she locked the back tires; yanking the wheel to the right she spun us in a half circle. Releasing the brake she headed away from the highway, back towards the hills.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter screamed. “The road home is back that way, you crazy…” Whatever else he said was lost in the high pitched whine screeching out of the engine. The temp gauge was locked firmly in the red as 454 cubic inches of blueprinted horsepower started to rip itself apart. The road twisted sharply up, heading back to the hacienda. Foul black smoke joined the steam billowing up over the windshield. Visibility was down to zero. Keeping us on the road was mostly guesswork. The only good news was that I had yet to see any headlights behind us.

Cresting the hill, Mikayla hit the brakes, misjudging by only a few feet. We slammed into the side of the adobe wall. My head bounced down onto the dash. “This fucking night…” I mumbled. Our cargo was well shaken but they all seemed to be able to move.

“There’s a van,” I slurred at Mikayla as we piled out of the ruined truck.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked as I pawed at his pocket, coming up with the small envelope.

I didn’t answer him.

Nika was moving, but weakly. Mikayla gently put an arm under hers and helped Peter get the girls into the courtyard.

On the Scout’s dashboard I dumped out what was left of Peter’s coke. Two fat lines brought my eyes back into focus. I rubbed the last of it into my shoulder wound. It burned like a mother when I touched it, but the coke did the job, laying a layer of numb over the ache.

The tranny was fucked, it took three tries to muscle it into reverse. Swinging it around, I aimed down the hill. Out across the valley floor, blurry headlights sped toward us. Giving it some gas, the Scout groaned and started to roll forward. It was clocking about thirty when I fell out.

The ground jumped up and smacked my face. I could taste dirt as I did a painful somersault.

The noble Scout swerved right as it bounced down the steep hill. It made it about a hundred feet before it hit a rock and started an end over end tumble. I didn’t wait to watch it come to rest. It didn’t look like I would be getting my deposit back from Jason B. But what the fuck, it didn’t seem likely I’d be alive long enough for him to collect the forty grand from me.

“Give me ten, then get them out of here.” My heart was doing triple time. The coke had joined the Viagra in its battle against the effects of the booze.

“He can’t drive.” Peter looked to Mikayla for support. She shrugged.

The keys had been under the sun visors of both the panel van and the black Mercedes. After loading the girls into the van, I dropped into the German luxury cruiser. “I’ll meet you at the plaza in Tecate.” My voice sounded distant and much clearer than it felt.

“I don’t think we will be seeing you,” Mikayla said.

I wanted to puke. I wanted to fight the world. I turned the key.

My jaw was pumping like a demon as I came down off the mountain. The Mercedes took the curves like a champ. I was on the flats when I saw headlights coming at me. I kept the speed down in deference to the Mercedes’ less than manly suspension. The truck barreling at me had no such concerns. The gap between us was closing fast. A dry river bed lay between us, if I could make it down to sand, I’d have more room to maneuver without having to worry about another cactus killing my ride. I cranked the German V8 up, amazed at the instant access to torque. We were ten feet apart when I hit the riverbed. It was clear the madman powering at me had no intention of swerving. His high beams blinded me. With nothing to spare, I spun the wheel left. Sliding into the sand, sparks flew from where the vehicles scraped sides. Sluicing back onto the dirt road, I bounded up the opposite bank. The SUV disappeared behind me. Partly, I hoped he would spin around and give chase. A smaller voice hoped he would just keep going. Let Mikayla deal with his crazy ass.

I slowed down to a safe if not sane thirty MPH. At that speed, it didn’t take long for the headlights to catch up. He was still doing well over sixty when he rear-ended the Mercedes. I jolted violently forward, but to my surprise the heavy German steed stayed on track. Six feet of flame leapt from the driver’s window. A large bullet blasted a baseball sized hole in the rear window, then whizzed past my face and out through an equally scary hole punched into the windshield.

Ahead I could see the highway; it was tantalizingly close. I swerved to the left as he fired again. Dodging the lead, I spun back on the hard dirt inches before I struck a fallen oak. Fuck the suspension; it was time to lose this prick. Pushing the gas pedal to the floor, I was pressed back into my seat. The car bucked and slid, but with careful aim and a bit of muscle I was able to keep it in a straight line. The SUV’s lights fought to keep up with me. He was concentrating too hard on driving to throw any more shots my way.