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The Getaway

By: dcrayk

The Boy could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead, and his heart beating in his shirt like a drum. He found it ironic that only hours before he was lying in his bed, the whole world for the taking, and now, here he was in the last throws of life. He was bleeding from a gunshot wound in his arm, and the blood was pooling in the center console of the stolen 1972 Coup De Ville. His eyes followed the red river in a faint path to the passenger seat where a backpack lay, large currency protruding from all openings. The bills and blood formed a swirling tapestry that stole his gaze from the road. The bright red and blue lights thumping away in his rearview mirror snapped him back into reality. He let his foot weigh down on the gas pedal, and swerved around a car sitting idle at a red light. Two cars heading in the opposite direction slammed into each other, avoiding his wrath, but lay smoking, just another piece of destruction left in the boys wake. Still though the cops stayed on him like bees to honey, as his speedometer crept upwards of 90. He reached to his side and ignoring the anguish in his arm, picked up the 9mm he had bought only yesterday. He cocked back the retractable top of the gun, and lead slammed into place, waiting to be expelled at the boy’s whim. He jerked the steering wheel to the left, and the sight of a Police roadblock filled his vision. Two standard police cruisers and one swat van waited side by side with figures in all black swarming around everywhere. In the moment a panging struck his heart, and crept down to his stomach, legs and arms, that fleeting hope of getting away, that ever-faithful mystery that is tomorrow. In that instant he had made his decision, and suddenly he was more free than he had ever been in his life. He urged his makeshift bulldozer forward an a frenzied charge. He saw the cops abandoning their posts, as he raced towards them. Closer and closer, any second now he knew. Metal slammed into metal and his consciousness was filled with a blinding light and bone crunching sound. He felt a torturous fire, blaze a path from the nerves in his leg, from where the metal had penetrated it. The nerve sent pain signals up his body into the frontal lobe where it fought for control of his body. He gazed wearily up through the shattered windshield and saw the swat men swarming to his vehicle semi-automatic guns trained on him. Than it was as if all time paused for him. The world around him seemed in limbo, and he was suddenly in control. He looked around, in no particular hurry, and his eyes fell on a man behind the barrier, shouting into a radio, pointing in his direction. The boys focus centered in on him, and a lifetime worth of rage and anger filled his being, all directed at this unknown man, surely plotting the boys demise. The feeling was all powerful and took control of the boy in an instant. He reached out and grabbed his pistol, opened the door and slowly stepped outside. Hope and faith forgotten, the boy saw himself as if he was on a TV. He saw himself get out of the car step into the open and slowly raise his gun.

dcrayk (Rate Passer) added to this story on Tue, Jul 07 2009 18:06:43 EST

The Boy could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead, and his heart beating in his shirt like a drum. He found it ironic that only hours before he was lying in his bed, the whole world for the taking, and now, here he was in the last throws of life. He was bleeding from a gunshot wound in his arm, and the blood was pooling in the center console of the stolen 1972 Coup De Ville. His eyes followed the red river in a faint path to the passenger seat where a backpack lay, large currency protruding from all openings. The bills and blood formed a swirling tapestry that stole his gaze from the road. The bright red and blue lights thumping away in his rearview mirror snapped him back into reality. He let his foot weigh down on the gas pedal, and swerved around a car sitting idle at a red light. Two cars heading in the opposite direction slammed into each other, avoiding his wrath, but lay smoking, just another piece of destruction left in the boys wake. Still though the cops stayed on him like bees to honey, as his speedometer crept upwards of 90. He reached to his side and ignoring the anguish in his arm, picked up the 9mm he had bought only yesterday. He cocked back the retractable top of the gun, and lead slammed into place, waiting to be expelled at the boy’s whim. He jerked the steering wheel to the left, and the sight of a Police roadblock filled his vision. Two standard police cruisers and one swat van waited side by side with figures in all black swarming around everywhere. In the moment a panging struck his heart, and crept down to his stomach, legs and arms, that fleeting hope of getting away, that ever-faithful mystery that is tomorrow. In that instant he had made his decision, and suddenly he was more free than he had ever been in his life. He urged his makeshift bulldozer forward an a frenzied charge. He saw the cops abandoning their posts, as he raced towards them. Closer and closer, any second now he knew. Metal slammed into metal and his consciousness was filled with a blinding light and bone crunching sound. He felt a torturous fire, blaze a path from the nerves in his leg, from where the metal had penetrated it. The nerve sent pain signals up his body into the frontal lobe where it fought for control of his body. He gazed wearily up through the shattered windshield and saw the swat men swarming to his vehicle semi-automatic guns trained on him. Than it was as if all time paused for him. The world around him seemed in limbo, and he was suddenly in control. He looked around, in no particular hurry, and his eyes fell on a man behind the barrier, shouting into a radio, pointing in his direction. The boys focus centered in on him, and a lifetime worth of rage and anger filled his being, all directed at this unknown man, surely plotting the boys demise. The feeling was all powerful and took control of the boy in an instant. He reached out and grabbed his pistol, opened the door and slowly stepped outside. Hope and faith forgotten, the boy saw himself as if he was on a TV. He saw himself get out of the car step into the open and slowly raise his gun.

dcrayk (Rate Passer) added to this story on Tue, Jul 07 2009 18:06:43 EST
Print The Getaway
Genre: Thriller
Created: 07-07-2009
Word Count: 1154

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