Writing Game post
Apr. 16th, 2004 11:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
realexplodingcatThis is a bit out of place. Part four of a writing game I'm playing with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adoka in which we're trading chapters back and forth. I officially wrote too much and exceeded the number of characters I could fit in a comment. So, I'm posting it here. Anyone interested in where this started can find other installments in the comments to this entry
I decided Jackie ought to remain a mystery. Trying to focus on remaining hellbent for Corpus Christi, I didn't want to stop again until at least the border. But Jackie Belancourt's voice still whispered in my ear.
They capped her only a day before they sent Frankie up to do me. I should have known it was the beginning of the end. Probably should have moved out that night. But after feeling guilty for leaving Jackie on the street, running from the bullets and the inevitable cop show that would take over the scene, I stuck around for another day calling hospitals. Couldn't find her. Either I wasn't looking in the right places or the Bull's men cleaned up the scene before the fuzz showed up.
Turns out she was alive enough to call, but I couldn't listen to the rest of that message. Not yet. I was thinking two things. Either she's in trouble, getting heat from the Bull and his men, or she's calling to apologize for ratting me out. Could've been her that tipped off the Bull. If she was in trouble, I didn't want to know because I'd have to turn around and save her. If she was working for the Bull, I didn't want to know because I'd have to turn around and kill her. So, I had to get far enough away to make both options impossible.
Either way, I assumed they'd have broken her. I'd let her in on my plans to go south, intending to bring her along. She knew I'd always wanted to use Corpus Christi as my jumping point. I had to assume Jack and John William were on my tail. Or Jack n' Jill, as they were often called. John was a bit of pussy. Never smoked. Never drank. Built like a tank, the dude could tear an encyclopedia in half, but he was a real pushover when cornered. However, that sharp nose of his could sniff a trail laid by a ghost and follow it straight to hell. And Jack. Quiet Jack. He could make a body prefer hell to his company.
I started banging my fists on the wheel again, cursing myself for beating down that security guard in Caddo Valley. Stuff like that attracted attention. I let up on the pounding, but I still heard a noise banging away inside the car. Not me. Flat tire, maybe? The Passat felt fine, but the thumping and banging continued from the rear of the car. Last thing I needed was a breakdown.
I rolled to a stop on the highway's shoulder. Didn't put the flashers on, because I didn't want to attract any do-gooders. Traffic whizzed by as I climbed out and walked around to the back. Bang bang bang, the noise still clamored on. The trunk.
A glance at the road told me that nobody was slowing down to check on me. I rapped my knuckles on the trunk. Then, silence. I stood there a moment, sun beating down on my neck and baking me from the underside off the pavement. I knocked a rhythm on the trunk, "shave-and-hair-cut..."
Bang bang. A little weaker this time.
"Shit," I mumbled, looking for the key.
Gently, slowly, I unlocked the trunk and opened it. A girl, looked young. Maybe twenties at the oldest. She stared up at me from behind a lock of bright blue hair, with a furrowed brow, a question in her eyes. She yelled through a cloth gag tied around her mouth and kicked at the lid of the trunk. Her arms were still tied tight around her back, but she had worked her legs free.
"Shit!"
I slammed the trunk shut, ran for the driver's seat, and gunned the engine. Hope city wasn't too far ahead. Maybe I could dump her there. No way in hell I wanted to be seen untying a girl on the side of the highway. My mind raced, trying to figure out this situation. The car dealer looked really shady. Shadier than most. He didn't even flinch when I paid in cash for the ride. Who knows what kind of mischief that Passat had on its record? The car was probably hotter than a fire in the desert.
My mind reeling, I took the next exit for Hope. State Route 29 would lead into town, paralleling a Union Pacific railroad track. I followed the track until I found an abandoned freight station, parked the car in a secluded spot, and got out, letting the engine idle. I went around back and popped the trunk, reached in and pulled the gag off her mouth.
"Christ on toast, man, what the fuck? Who the hell are you?" she yelled.
"I should ask you the same question," I said.
"You look surprised to see me."
"Yeah, I just bought this car off the lot this morning."
"Shit, thank God. You look alright. Goddamnit, I ain't never seen so much crime in Philly, 'cept for my own shoplifting and some dope smoking," she said, sitting up in the trunk and trying to move her arms. "Soon as I cross the Mason-Dixon all hell breaks lose. Dude I'm hitching with starts looking at me funny and touching me and next thing I know my head hurts and I'm tied up. Hey, you wanna help me get the hell out of here?"
She looked harmless enough. Short, thin, crazy blue hair that hung down to her shoulders. She wore an old pair of black jeans and black t-shirt with the message, "Porn. It's what's for dinner," across her breasts. I worked the knots at her wrists and she kept talking.
"I'm fucking bouncing around in the trunk, all tied up. Don't know what the hell time it is. The car stops fast. I hear the guy get out. Hear some kind of struggle. Then they shoot the bastard! I was so scared I just held still. I could hear the shots! I guess some dudes jacked the car and pawned it off on a salesman. Crazy. Ouch! Pinching me. Hey, man, you don't talk much."
"Yeah. Well, you talk a lot."
She climbed out of the trunk and grabbed an old gym bag that she'd been laying on.
"Least he threw my stuff in there with me," she said, opening it to check for missing items. "Helluva thing. I must have fallen asleep in there. I'm glad you bought these wheels, I could have been in there for days."
"Look, this is your stop, okay?" I told her.
"Where am I?"
"Hope."
"Hey, I still believe in a town called Hope. Hell, yeah. But I need to get to Austin. I'm heading down to squat with some of my drifters this season. Crusty ass punks."
"No, you don't want to ride with me."
"Damn, I'm so close. Almost in Texas, right? I'm tired of being friendly. No more Mr. Nice Girl."
She reached into her gym bag and pulled out a gun. A pea-shooter, but it would leave a mark at this close range.
"Come on, man, just take me to Austin."
I just started laughing, looking at that little girl and her gun.
"If you leave me, I'll fucking call the cops. For all they know, you're the one that kidnapped me. And we both know this car is stolen."
I was still laughing. What kind of luck is this? I considered killing her then and there, but I thought better of it. Didn't want to leave a body for John William or the law to smell. All I wanted was a nice, quick trip to the bottom of the country. The plan looked so easy on paper.
adoka in which we're trading chapters back and forth. I officially wrote too much and exceeded the number of characters I could fit in a comment. So, I'm posting it here. Anyone interested in where this started can find other installments in the comments to this entryI decided Jackie ought to remain a mystery. Trying to focus on remaining hellbent for Corpus Christi, I didn't want to stop again until at least the border. But Jackie Belancourt's voice still whispered in my ear.
They capped her only a day before they sent Frankie up to do me. I should have known it was the beginning of the end. Probably should have moved out that night. But after feeling guilty for leaving Jackie on the street, running from the bullets and the inevitable cop show that would take over the scene, I stuck around for another day calling hospitals. Couldn't find her. Either I wasn't looking in the right places or the Bull's men cleaned up the scene before the fuzz showed up.
Turns out she was alive enough to call, but I couldn't listen to the rest of that message. Not yet. I was thinking two things. Either she's in trouble, getting heat from the Bull and his men, or she's calling to apologize for ratting me out. Could've been her that tipped off the Bull. If she was in trouble, I didn't want to know because I'd have to turn around and save her. If she was working for the Bull, I didn't want to know because I'd have to turn around and kill her. So, I had to get far enough away to make both options impossible.
Either way, I assumed they'd have broken her. I'd let her in on my plans to go south, intending to bring her along. She knew I'd always wanted to use Corpus Christi as my jumping point. I had to assume Jack and John William were on my tail. Or Jack n' Jill, as they were often called. John was a bit of pussy. Never smoked. Never drank. Built like a tank, the dude could tear an encyclopedia in half, but he was a real pushover when cornered. However, that sharp nose of his could sniff a trail laid by a ghost and follow it straight to hell. And Jack. Quiet Jack. He could make a body prefer hell to his company.
I started banging my fists on the wheel again, cursing myself for beating down that security guard in Caddo Valley. Stuff like that attracted attention. I let up on the pounding, but I still heard a noise banging away inside the car. Not me. Flat tire, maybe? The Passat felt fine, but the thumping and banging continued from the rear of the car. Last thing I needed was a breakdown.
I rolled to a stop on the highway's shoulder. Didn't put the flashers on, because I didn't want to attract any do-gooders. Traffic whizzed by as I climbed out and walked around to the back. Bang bang bang, the noise still clamored on. The trunk.
A glance at the road told me that nobody was slowing down to check on me. I rapped my knuckles on the trunk. Then, silence. I stood there a moment, sun beating down on my neck and baking me from the underside off the pavement. I knocked a rhythm on the trunk, "shave-and-hair-cut..."
Bang bang. A little weaker this time.
"Shit," I mumbled, looking for the key.
Gently, slowly, I unlocked the trunk and opened it. A girl, looked young. Maybe twenties at the oldest. She stared up at me from behind a lock of bright blue hair, with a furrowed brow, a question in her eyes. She yelled through a cloth gag tied around her mouth and kicked at the lid of the trunk. Her arms were still tied tight around her back, but she had worked her legs free.
"Shit!"
I slammed the trunk shut, ran for the driver's seat, and gunned the engine. Hope city wasn't too far ahead. Maybe I could dump her there. No way in hell I wanted to be seen untying a girl on the side of the highway. My mind raced, trying to figure out this situation. The car dealer looked really shady. Shadier than most. He didn't even flinch when I paid in cash for the ride. Who knows what kind of mischief that Passat had on its record? The car was probably hotter than a fire in the desert.
My mind reeling, I took the next exit for Hope. State Route 29 would lead into town, paralleling a Union Pacific railroad track. I followed the track until I found an abandoned freight station, parked the car in a secluded spot, and got out, letting the engine idle. I went around back and popped the trunk, reached in and pulled the gag off her mouth.
"Christ on toast, man, what the fuck? Who the hell are you?" she yelled.
"I should ask you the same question," I said.
"You look surprised to see me."
"Yeah, I just bought this car off the lot this morning."
"Shit, thank God. You look alright. Goddamnit, I ain't never seen so much crime in Philly, 'cept for my own shoplifting and some dope smoking," she said, sitting up in the trunk and trying to move her arms. "Soon as I cross the Mason-Dixon all hell breaks lose. Dude I'm hitching with starts looking at me funny and touching me and next thing I know my head hurts and I'm tied up. Hey, you wanna help me get the hell out of here?"
She looked harmless enough. Short, thin, crazy blue hair that hung down to her shoulders. She wore an old pair of black jeans and black t-shirt with the message, "Porn. It's what's for dinner," across her breasts. I worked the knots at her wrists and she kept talking.
"I'm fucking bouncing around in the trunk, all tied up. Don't know what the hell time it is. The car stops fast. I hear the guy get out. Hear some kind of struggle. Then they shoot the bastard! I was so scared I just held still. I could hear the shots! I guess some dudes jacked the car and pawned it off on a salesman. Crazy. Ouch! Pinching me. Hey, man, you don't talk much."
"Yeah. Well, you talk a lot."
She climbed out of the trunk and grabbed an old gym bag that she'd been laying on.
"Least he threw my stuff in there with me," she said, opening it to check for missing items. "Helluva thing. I must have fallen asleep in there. I'm glad you bought these wheels, I could have been in there for days."
"Look, this is your stop, okay?" I told her.
"Where am I?"
"Hope."
"Hey, I still believe in a town called Hope. Hell, yeah. But I need to get to Austin. I'm heading down to squat with some of my drifters this season. Crusty ass punks."
"No, you don't want to ride with me."
"Damn, I'm so close. Almost in Texas, right? I'm tired of being friendly. No more Mr. Nice Girl."
She reached into her gym bag and pulled out a gun. A pea-shooter, but it would leave a mark at this close range.
"Come on, man, just take me to Austin."
I just started laughing, looking at that little girl and her gun.
"If you leave me, I'll fucking call the cops. For all they know, you're the one that kidnapped me. And we both know this car is stolen."
I was still laughing. What kind of luck is this? I considered killing her then and there, but I thought better of it. Didn't want to leave a body for John William or the law to smell. All I wanted was a nice, quick trip to the bottom of the country. The plan looked so easy on paper.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Boom
Date: 2004-04-17 04:16 am (UTC)Re: Boom
Date: 2004-04-17 05:06 am (UTC)Next installment
Date: 2004-04-27 04:54 am (UTC)http://www.livejournal.com/users/adoka/207450.html?mode=reply