Final Chaos

13

The Subaru engine was whining as they sped backwards.

Jim had the accelerator all the way to the floor. They were going as fast as they could.

The man in front of them fired two shots.

“He’s trying to kill us!” shouted Rob.

As if that was any help.

Jim didn’t know what the man was aiming for. Maybe the tire, or maybe Jim himself.

Both shots missed.

A third shot.

The bullet struck the corner of the windshield on Jim’s side, sending a spider web of cracks through it.

Aly cried out after the bullet struck the windshield.

Jim’s mind was racing through the possibilities.

Behind them lay the crashed plane. There was no cross street that would lead them to Aly’s mother’s house. Not for miles and miles.

He could keep going in reverse, turn around, and head a different way.

That was the safest course.

But it would cost them time.

And if they took another route, who could say that they wouldn’t run into another situation like this one?

The men in the Nissan clearly wanted the Subaru. Somehow, like Jim, they recognized the gravity of the situation. And they were acting early, trying to secure another moving vehicle. For whatever reason.

Not that their reasoning mattered much.

They were clearly willing to go beyond the law to achieve their ends. They were willing to kill.

The Nissan sat up ahead. It hadn’t moved. The man in the checkered shirt looked smaller now because of the distance.

There was a good possibility that if Jim turned around, the Nissan would just follow them. Wherever they went.

In an instant, he’d made up his mind.

“All right everyone,” said Jim. “We’re not going to turn around.”

They were far enough away now, out of range of the man’s handgun.

Jim stopped the car and put it into neutral.

“But they’re shooting at us,” said Aly.

“You can’t just drive by, Jim,” said Rob, sounding just as worried as Aly. “They’re going to blast us to bits.”

“Not if we put on an offensive,” said Jim. “Turning around is just as risky. We need to get to Judy’s house and out of here. We’re already losing time.”

Jim glanced down at his watch for a moment. It was already past twelve.

Turning around in his seat, Jim looked at the young woman that he’d hit with his car. “How are you feeling?” he said.

“OK,” she muttered.

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I know who I am and everything, but I don’t know how I got here, other than from what you told me.”

“You still think we’re a danger to you?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said.

“Jim, what the hell are you doing?” said Aly. “Why are you harassing her?”

“I’m not harassing her. We need her help.” Jim continued to look directly into the eyes of the young woman. “What’s your name?”

“Jessica.”

“OK, Jessica. Are you feeling OK? Mentally speaking.”

She nodded.

“Do you know how to use that gun that you had on you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve taken courses and everything.”

“OK, good.”

“Jim,” said Rob. “The guy’s getting back in that truck. I think they’re going to come after us.”

Jim didn’t even look.

“Are you crazy, Jim? She was pointing that at us! No offense, Jessica.” She added the last part hastily, as if she was worried she’d offend the woman.

“We need her help,” said Jim.

He took the woman’s Glock and handed it back to her, being sure to keep his finger outside of the trigger guard, with the handle facing the woman.

He watched her as she took it back in her hands.

She checked it over, checking to make sure it was still loaded.

“OK,” said Jim. “Now I’m going to drive by them. You’re going to switch places with my wife here, get the window down, and fire at them. You’re going to give us the cover we need to get past. Otherwise, they’ll shoot us as we drive by. You OK with shooting to kill?”

“Jim!” said his wife, her voice high and concerned.

“They were shooting at us, Aly,” said Rob.

Jim raised his hand for them to quiet down. “This is a life or death situation,” he said. He didn’t take his eyes off Jessica. “Are you OK with that?”

She nodded.

“OK, then switch seats. Aly, come on.”

Begrudgingly, Aly undid her seatbelt and started to squish herself up against the front seats, making room for Jessica to slide over.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jim. This isn’t the Wild West. Maybe we should just turn around.”

Jim shook his head. “Ready?” he said, taking one last look at Jessica.

She gave him a nod.

He didn’t bother to hope that they’d make it, that the plan would work. The only thing to do was try it. The only thing to do was to make it work.

“The rest of you, get your heads down,” said Jim, as he pressed his foot against the clutch and got the car into first.

He jammed down on the accelerator and the engine whined.

Up ahead, the pickup was still in place. The man in the checkered shirt glanced back at the driver, and shifted his weight, as if he was unsure what to do.

The Subaru was moving.

Fast.

Jim shifted into second.

Now third.

They were close now.

“Wait until you have a clear shot,” shouted Jim.

The man in the checkered shirt had his gun raised.

Before Jim could even shout, “Now,” Jessica had fired.

Two quick shots. Two bursts of sound that echoed throughout the interior of the Subaru.

The man in the checkered shirt collapsed to the ground before he could get off a shot.

Jim didn’t slow down. He was about to pass the pickup.

Suddenly, the pickup lurched forward, driving directly into the path of the Subaru.

Jim slammed on the brakes.

But it was too late.

He only succeeded in slowing down slightly.

The Subaru slammed into the side of the pickup, jerking to a sudden stop.

Someone cried out in pain.

The engine had stalled.

Jim heard the creek of unoiled hinges as the pickup door opened.

For a second, he caught a glimpse of the pickup’s driver, and then the man was ducking down, out of view behind the pickup. Jim had to assumed he was armed as well.

Jim had to act fast.

“Back me up,” said Jim to Jessica in the back, before throwing open the door of the Subaru, and reaching again for his Ruger.

He heard her door open too, but didn’t glance back at her. He needed his eyes peeled for the driver.

Jim’s mind had a singular focus. He was zeroed in.

This would be a quick fight.

One shot and it was all over.

There was hardly any distance between them. A matter of a few feet.

Jim had his Ruger in both hands. His grip was good. The right technique. He inched forward, listening carefully.

The pickup’s engine was still running.

He was behind the bed of the pickup, about to turn the corner.

He heard nothing. And saw no signs of the driver.

But the man was right there. Waiting. Only a few feet away. Unless he’d gone around the other side.

It’d be a question of technique and reflexes.

Jim had his finger on the trigger. With his thumb, he cocked back the hammer of his Ruger.

Jim wasn’t going to use the sights. He kept his Ruger low. This was going to be a reflex shot to the chest at close range.

He was about to take his first step around the back corner of the truck, when he saw the foot moving.

Jim didn’t let his eyes travel down to the foot. He took a step back and kept his eyes and gun pointed at chest level.

The man appeared there suddenly, moving swiftly, a rifle in his hands.

Jim pulled the trigger. His knees were slightly bent.

One shot rang out.

The man in front of him, mere feet away, gasped as he crumpled to the ground.

The rifle clattered to the pavement.

Jim took a look around before bending down. The Ruger didn’t leave his hand.

There was a growing patch of blood on the man’s chest, staining his dirty shirt.

Jim put his fingers to the man’s neck to feel for a pulse. There was none. He was already dead.

It had been a good shot. Right to the heart, probably.

Jim was surprised at himself. He’d shot two men dead in one day. And they’d been good shots both times.

Surprisingly, he felt nothing. No remorse. Only relief. And satisfaction at his aim.

He’d always figured that if the day came that he had to shoot someone, he wouldn’t be as good of a shot as he was at the range. That was what everyone always said, anyways, that the stress of an intense life or death situation wrecked your aim.

Not so far, though.

He couldn’t get cocky, though.

Jim grabbed the rifle before standing up and moving back over to the Subaru.

“Everyone OK?” he said, remembering the shout of pain he’d heard as they’d crashed.

He glanced in the car. Rob and Aly looked back at him, strange expressions on their faces. Aly looked at him with wide eyes, almost as if she didn’t recognize him.

“You got him?” said Jessica, appearing on the other side of the Subaru. She stood tall and looked confident. She held her Glock in a way that made him think she knew what she was doing.

She looked so different from the terrified, frantic woman that had been pointing her gun at him in terror not so long ago at the police station.

She might yet prove to be a useful member of their little group.

Jim nodded at her.

“Check the truck for supplies,” he said.

Jim’s mind was back in action. Back to planning. Time was still weighing down heavily on them. He glanced down at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye.

The damage to the Subaru didn’t look bad. The fender was bashed in on one side, and the headlight and lower fog light were shattered. He didn’t think there’d been enough force in the crash to damage the transmission, but he wanted to check.

“I’m going to make sure it still runs,” he said, “before we load all their gear into our car. Make sure you check the glove compartment.”

Jim hopped back into the Subaru and it started right up. He reversed it, drove a couple feet, and drove forward again.

Everything seemed fine. No strange noises. No grinding sounds. No noticeable resistance.

“I can’t believe you did that, man,” muttered Rob.

“Come on and help me,” said Jim. “Looks like they’ve got some gear in the bed.”

“You’re going to rob them?” said Aly.

“It’s not robbery,” said Jim.

“You killed them and now you’re going to…”

“What would you rather I do? Let them murder us for the car?”

Aly said nothing.

“Now come on and help me.”

Jim threw open the door a little harder than he’d meant to.

He’d gone to so much effort to get to his wife and to keep her safe. And now she was criticizing everything he was doing?

Whatever. He needed to forget it. Aly would catch on soon enough to the seriousness of the situation.

Once what had just happened sunk in, she’d realize.

After all, off in the distance behind them, the burning wreckage of the plane could still be seen. The black clouds of smoke had grown and widened, seeming to take over the entire sky as they reached towards the grey clouds above.

“Some medicine from the glove box,” said Jessica, holding up some small cardboard boxes to show Jim.

“Good, throw it in the Subaru. We’ll go through it all later.”

In the bed of the pickup truck there were some bunched up tarps, some loose dirt, some scattered hand tools, a duffel bag, and a plastic jug of gas.

Jim went for the gas first, and he let out a grunt of disappointment when he lifted it up and felt that it was completely empty.

Should he try to siphon the gas out of the pickup? He could store it in the can for when the Subaru eventually ran out.

No, there wasn’t enough time.

And he didn’t have any sort of tubing. Even if he was able to improvise something, it would take a long time.

Jim grabbed the duffle bag without checking its contents and tossed it to Rob who had finally gotten out of the Subaru. Rob stood there, his legs visibly shaking, his eyes wide with fear.

Jim glanced at his watch.

They had to get moving.

Hopefully there was something that’d be helpful in that duffle bag.

The rifle had been a stroke of luck. He’d been worried about just having a handgun.

“Jessica,” called out Jim. “Can you get the dead guy’s handgun?”

“Already got it,” called out Jessica.

He glanced over at her and once again she looked ready. Poised for anything.

She was the greatest surprise of all. He’d thought she was nothing but a liability, one that he had to take care of out of guilt.

If only his wife and Rob were more like her.

Right now, they and their disbelief were the real liabilities. They were the real threats to their survival.

And, of course, the chaos that was to come.

“Everyone in the car,” shouted Jim.

This rousted Rob from what seemed like a nervous stupor.

But he still didn’t move.

“Rob, come on!”

Jim threw himself into the driver’s seat, started the car, and slammed the door closed.

He was depressing the clutch when Rob finally got into the car, moving slowly and shakily, the duffel bag clutched in both hands.

In the back of the car, Aly was breathing heavily and rapidly. It sounded like she was hyperventilating.

Another one of her panic attacks.

Normally, Jim was always there for her. He’d go to her side and comfort her.

But there wasn’t time for that now.

She’d have to learn to deal with it. She’d have to dig herself out of the hole herself.

Jim put the car into gear and the Subaru lurched back, away from the pickup truck and the two dead bodies.