Jeff Strand - Casket For Sale

"What was that?" Helen asked, moving to the other side of the limo to peer out the window.

"I'm guessing it was their lab," I said, feeling utterly sick to my stomach. That is, even more utterly sick to my stomach than I was already feeling. "They must know that the cops are on their way. They're probably getting out and trying to cut down on the evidence."

"Do you think Roger and Samantha were…?"

"They're fine. They have to be fine." Unless Mr. Burke and Troll had gone suicidal like Witch, they probably weren't in the lab when it exploded. And they might have brought along Roger and Samantha, if only as hostages.

I'd gone through too much on this crappy vacation to lose my best friend. It was possible I'd never be able to reconcile with my family, but at least they were going to get out of this alive, and damn it, so were Roger and Samantha. I hadn't vowed many things in my life, but I was vowing this.

We sped down the road, kicking up clouds of dirt in our path. This is what I'd always envisioned driving a limo to be like.

Because of the way my screwed-up mind works, I thought of several amusing and insensitive comments to make about our current situation, but I didn't think they would be taken in the "mental defense mechanism" spirit in which they were intended, so I kept them to myself.

I slowed down around corners because of potential tire shredders, but apart from that we were making great time.

Then, up ahead, was a semi truck. The back of it didn't contain a helpful sign reading "Looney Cyborg Makers, Inc." but I was pretty sure this was a good development. Now I just had to trust that my friends were inside.

The semi was going fast, but the limo could go faster and I drove up right behind it, doing about fifty.

Now what?

"Helen, I need you up front," I said. "You'll have to drive."

"Why?"

"Because I'm getting out."

Helen climbed over into the front, wincing in pain as she bashed her injured foot against the seat in the process.

I didn't want to let the semi out of my sight, but I also didn't want to do something dumb like crash in the middle of a tricky driver-switch maneuver, so I applied the brakes gently enough to avoid catapulting Theresa onto the floor and brought the limousine to a stop. Helen and I switched spots, and then we took off after the semi again.

"What exactly are you planning to do?" Helen asked.

"I'm getting onto the semi."

"How?"

"Still working that out."

"Andrew, you don't even know if they're in there!"

"They're either in there or they were in the explosion. I'm just trying to hope for the best."

It took about a minute to catch up to the semi. I wasn't sure if the occupants knew they were being followed.

"Get as close behind it as you can without ramming it," I instructed.

"You're not going to jump, are you?"

"Still working that out. But yes."

"No!"

"I'm not letting Roger die in there! You have no idea what they're doing to people, even their own people. They're turning them into cyborgs."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Cyborgs. Half-human, half-machine."

"I know what cyborgs are, I just mean… I beg your pardon?"

"I'll explain it later." I rolled down the passenger-side window. "Okay, I'm going to climb out on top of the limo and then out onto the front hood. When you get close enough to the semi, I'm going to jump onto the back."

"Andrew, that's crazy!"

"I don't have any choice!"

"Sure you do." Helen applied the brakes. "Let me stop the car, and then you can get on the hood."

"Oh. Yeah. That's much better. Thanks."

When the car stopped, I threw open the passenger door and got out. Joe barked in what I assume was support for my cause. "Make sure the kids know never, ever to do this," I said, shutting the door and climbing onto the front hood.

Helen resumed driving. None of the insane things I'd done in my life up to this point including jumping from moving vehicles, so it would be nice to add a new experience to my résumé.

It wasn't long before we caught up to the semi again. I inched my way closer to the edge of the front, not feeling particularly secure in my balance. I hoped my missing pinky wouldn't be a liability.

I waved for Helen to move closer to the semi. Now about two feet separated the vehicles. If the driver of the semi suddenly decided to slam on his brakes, I was going to be extraordinarily squished.

Okay, you'll be fine. You can do this. You've seen it in hundreds of movies. The only thing those actors have that you don't are stunt doubles and CGI effects.

Helen got closer. I moved into a squatting position, promptly lost my balance, and very nearly took a dive right off the front of the limousine. I managed to steady myself and recover from my heart attack, and then I got myself back into the squatting position.

It really wasn't that bad of a jump. Hell, if she got any closer, I could step across. No problem. Piece of cake.

Either the semi slowed down or Helen sped up. The front of the limousine hit the back of the semi, not hard enough to do any damage but hard enough to give the limo one hell of a jolt.

I tumbled backwards, breaking my fall with my elbows. I'd never ridden in a semi truck before, so I didn't know for sure, but I assumed they'd be able to feel a limousine ramming into their back.

I glanced back at Helen. She looked apologetic.

The semi didn't seem to be slowing down or swerving or anything, so I got back into my jumping position. If they knew we were back here, it was more crucial than ever that I get Roger and Samantha to safety as quickly as possible.

Helen brought me closer to the rear of the semi again. I took a deep breath, imagined myself as Indiana Jones or James Bond or even a Buster Keaton instead of the Stan Laurel that I really was, and made the leap.

MAKING THE JUMP onto the semi was surprisingly easy. Almost too eas y, making me think that perhaps the back half of the semi was going to topple over and crush me.

Now, the big question was, if I were a hostage in this semi truck, where would I be? If Roger and Samantha were up front, that was going to force me to climb up onto the semi's roof, crawl to the front, and do some sort of daring maneuver to get into the front seat, after which I'd probably get shot. Hopefully they weren't up front.

I'd check the back first. It was closer.

We sped past a faded wooden sign reading " Wreitzer Park." Though I only got a glance, I had to admit the place looked pretty nice. Savage killers notwithstanding, Samantha had made a good choice.

I crouched down, not having much room to crouch, and grabbed the handle that unlatched the sliding rear door.

It wouldn't budge. I pulled as hard as I could, but the handle held firm. I noticed a keyhole in the lower corner of the door. Damn.

Helen had fallen back, so I waved for her to drive closer again, and then motioned for her to roll down her window. "I need the keys!" I shouted.

Helen stuck her head out the window. "What?"

"Keys!" I made a key-turning-in-a-lock motion. "I need Medusa's keys!"

I wasn't sure if Helen knew who Medusa was, but she nodded her understanding and went to work, presumably detaching the limo key from the rest of the keys on the ring.

She held up the key ring. "Throw it!" I shouted, reaching out with one hand while holding on to the semi with the other.

Helen got as close to the semi as she could without ramming it again, and then tossed me the keys.

I caught them.

And they bounced out of my hand.

I lunged for them, momentarily losing sight of the fact that I was hanging off the back of a speeding semi truck, and fell forward. I caught the keys as I fell and both of my hands slammed onto the front hood of the limousine.