On The Run

Tony

I swerve around the Honda Civic charging at me, then another little car as horns blare at me. People had road rage, but I could care less. I see a cruiser speed up on the Northbound side of the highway, sirens blaring and lights flashing. I wondered why they were speeding ahead- faster than me, even. It’s not like they know where I’m heading.

I roll my eyes and continue along swerving cars and clipping the guardrail. I feel the bump of the car as I do it again. I curse under my breath and straighten the car again. Cars continued to come at me, the radio was turned up, wind blew my hair, and I hear the sirens blaring on the other highway.

The wind tousles my hair as I swerve by a semi. I prefer to drive with the windows down, especially when being chased by the police. It calms my nerves. I glance over to the Northbound highway and see cars pulling over as three cruisers zoom after the one in the front, which was now out of sight.

I clip an SUV, the driver blasting the horn, and turn back to face the road. I really shouldn’t worry about the other side, they weren’t close to catching me, I could always turn around and head the other way when they get out of sight. I hear tires squeal and my rearviews show a pileup, a cement semi is overturned and the cruisers come to an abrupt halt. What good people, they’re going to help the innocent civilians hurt by the crash!

That leaves me with plenty of time to escape. If their leader circled back, that would be even better. It would get them out of my hair for a while, and I could cross back over to the Northbound highway and blend in.

I had ended up over here on the wrong side because it was the fastest way out of the bank. The money I had stolen sat on the floor, just under the glovebox. The bag was sealed tight so money couldn’t escape.

I face the road again. Upon turning around, I’m greeted with flashing lights charging towards me. I prepare to swerve, the cruiser only seeming to get faster as it approached.

“Pull over!” A megaphone shouts from the passenger window. I couldn’t see the driver, but whoever it was, they were skilled.

I groan, attempting to swerve around the cruiser to get into the Northbound traffic. If I switched lanes, I could go even faster. People might cuss me out, sure, but I would escape the police again.

I get ready to floor it, hoping to swerve and slide past the cruiser. Instead, it cuts me off and I crash sideways into it, the force of my car pushing it against the guardrail. It bent, one half of the car leaning into the ditch.

My airbag hits me in my face and I fumble with my seat belt. I didn’t have much time, now I had to travel on foot. James would be pissed. He’d be in my ear telling me what to do and harping me about my failure.

I finally get it undone and I wrestle with my mangled door. When I climb out of my car, I see a blonde woman helping someone out of the cruiser. The blondie was the driver.

She turns and sees me, then, cop-mode kicks in. “Tony! Wait!” She calls, trying to finish pulling her colleague out of the car.

I turn and charge into the woods, but she soon follows, calling for backup. I slide down a hill and flatten myself into a creek, pulling mud and leaves all over me and hunkering lower. I slow my breathing as her boots trample across the creek inches from my face.

Water splashes into my nostrils, but I don’t dare cough or splutter. I couldn’t give my location away until she had her back to me. Or until she was far away.

“Yes, Northshire Woods, about three miles from where the crash is.” She breathes into the walkie-talkie, pausing to look around, her gun clicking. She sounded scared.

“Where are you?” She calls out to the woods, clearly to me. She was average height for a woman. Average build. I could probably take her. “Tony, come out with your hands up!”

Does that phrase ever work? It’s basically turning yourself in, no one does it. No one normal. She walks a little further into the woods, checking trees for any marks I may have left behind. I’m not stupid, though.

I slowly crawl onto the banks, carefully placing my hands and knees. I couldn’t afford to break a stick. I stand and observe her from behind, steadying myself before running and tackling her to the ground.

She landed with a snap, on a branch.

“Tony, stop! You’re under arrest.” She squirms under me, trying to wriggle her hands out from my grip as I sit on her kicking legs.

“You’re gonna do as I say,” I casually pluck the gun from her hands and she goes still. Funny how a gun can make people listen to you. “Or you’ll get shot.”

“Yes, sir.” I hate when people talk like that. It doesn’t feel right- as if someone is better than others. But no one is better than anyone, definitely not the cops. They’re the worst of the newfound hierarchy.

“Don’t ‘sir’ me, for one. I’m not anywhere near that little status you guys have. I don’t like it and never will, so remember that.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay.” I don’t know why it bothers her so much, but I’m pleased to know she is afraid.

I can feel her shaking underneath me and smile to myself. She’s terrified. “I need you to remove any tracking devices and anything you can use to communicate with your ‘base’. You can do so like this, if you need help, let me know.”

She begins awkwardly fumbling with her radio and I see her hands shaking. She managed to unclip it, laying it beside her and removing her walkie-talkie and other devices.

“Is that it?”

She nods, but I don’t trust her. I scan her body, not spotting anything she could use to call her base. Back in the city, where she belonged.

She didn’t come from the country, or she wouldn’t be so terrified of the woods. Instead, she was afraid of everything around her, myself included.

“You’re sure?” I ask, hoping she’d lied to me. I could use a reason to shoot her, but there was nothing around to muffle the sound. Her friends are also probably looking for me, I haven’t been an open case for long.

“Yes.” The tears in her eyes had accumulated, and I thrived in her terror and hatred.

I press the gun against her neck and she freezes again, eyes widening. “How do I know you’re not lying?” I say quietly, and I think her breathing stops.

“I don’t know,” She cries. “How can I prove it?” She was becoming frustrated, and I found it humorous that she thought she’d get away.

I press the gun in deeper. “I guess I have to trust you, I’ll keep this gun a little longer, and you’ll continue to do as I say.” I’d never held someone hostage before, this wasn’t part of James and I’s plan. We were supposed to get money for our boss in New York, and it was already going to shit.

One’s dead, the other’s about to get arrested. Provided I don’t find coverage quickly. Luckily, she was an obedient little girl.

She nods and bites her lip. She’s still shaking, and I remove the gun from her neck. “Take your things and bury them in the water.”

I rolled off of her. As she stands up, I add, “Don’t try running, unless you want shot.” I keep the gun trained on her, and she brushes herself off a little.

She then nods. I watch her gather her devices and she starts digging a hole with her hands, in the creek where the ground is easier to move. I wish I had a shovel, she’d get her job done much faster. But I didn’t, because what criminal carries a shovel around?

Finally, everything is buried- not deep, but it’s concealed. I watch her as she steps down onto the earth in an attempt to better conceal it, water running over her combat boots.

Her stuff is surely broken, but I couldn’t risk them tracking where she was last seen and coming to investigate. I had to get out of here.

I grab her arm and lead her down to my cabin, where James and I used to live. It was small, but it worked for two people who laundered money.

The living room was big, and I dragged her through into the kitchen. The table was built for two, an old couple looking to settle somewhere peaceful or two best friends who happened to be criminals. Down to one now, I guess.

I shove her into a chair, grabbing ropes from my cupboard and tying her down. She doesn’t squirm, she just glares at me. I made eye contact, and her eyes were defiant. And grey. I never thought grey eyes existed, just pale shades of blue, tinted blue almost, but these eyes were grey.

“Don’t go anywhere.” I say, finishing the knot and standing back. I checked the tightness, she could breathe but not escape.

She nods, keeping her eyes down.

I head up to the bedroom and grab my knife, looking around the room. I didn’t care for it. James usually slept in here and I always crashed on the couch, but I guess that would change with his passing. I head back to the kitchen, taking a seat across from her. “So, cop.” I smirk at her. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She glared at me, as if she weren’t going to answer. I simply stared at her, waiting. Finally she gave in, her voice catching as she trembled. “Annabelle.”

“Annabelle,” I mumble, sizing her up and down. Blonde hair, grey eyes, pretty. Probably a cheerleader in high school, probably popular with lots of friends and a loving family. Perfect in every way.

Her uniform was very form fitting and I know James would’ve loved it. He always had an eye for the “fine women”, as he said. My guess on her height from when we were walking is that she’s maybe five-six, five-seven at most. She wasn’t small in any way, so I knew she would be a tough one to keep here.

“How lovely, and what should I do with you? I can’t decide, the possibilities are endless.”

I don’t mention that I’ve never done something like this. I couldn’t say why I was doing it now, other than it would keep her from telling the others where I went.

Annabelle looks up at me, panic in her eyes. I don’t plan on doing anything, really. I’m a criminal but I’m not that vile. “I don’t know, there’s not much for you to do.” That’s not a lie, but it isn’t the full truth.

I nod. I agree, but I can’t let her know. She doesn’t know my history, so she might think I do things like this all the time. I hope she does, because the police only know about things that get caught. There’s so many sick things I could do as long as I don’t get caught, but I‘m a good person so I won’t do them.

“Well, when you have a sick mind, there’s so many things that could be done. Especially to a girl.” I let that hang in the air, her fear skyrocketing.

“Please,” She whimpered. “Don’t.”

I smile. “Noted. I’ll think of something in the meantime. Let’s try and get you comfy.”

She looks away. I don’t think she’d cooperate, and I honestly wouldn’t, either. I haven’t done any of this, but James has. He interrogated someone like this, and he was good at it. Me? I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t want to be too rough.

I have an idea of what’s “supposed to happen” from TV, but I don’t want to do any of it. I sigh. “Look, I don’t want to hold you hostage, I just want to get to New York and give my boss his money, five hundred thousand isn’t the most money that’s been stolen. I need this money. That money was left in my car, so now I’m stuck having to get money elsewhere.”

Annabelle refuses to look at me, which surprised me because I had thought she would defend her career.

“You wanna call the cops on me?” I tease. “Do you want your phone? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have it anymore.”

I go over to my junk drawer and pull out the burner phone, only used for emergencies. I’ll tease her a bit, with the hopes that she’ll be rescued. “Use this.” I wave it in front of her, and she glares at me, then it.

She then looks up at me. “I can’t go back,” Her voice was soft, like she’d been crying, and I sigh.

“Why?”

“Because, without my gear, they’ll think I willingly went with you.” She said it like it was a bad thing. All she had to do was tell the truth and she’d be all clear. Even if she did come willingly, I’m sure she could tell them “It was a trick! I caught your criminal and now we can hang the bastard!”

“Tell the truth, it’s not that hard.” I smirk. “I know you wanna snitch, give me up and whatnot. All you have to do is turn me in. It’s your job.”

Annabelle looks away, crying. She looked angry, and she was panicked, unsure of what would come next and whether or not I would act on my threats.

She didn’t have to know I wouldn’t, I just wanted her out of my hair. I could let her make an emergency call then flee, she would be saved and I’d be long gone. They’d find her tied up and I’d be out of here, far far away.

“Is it really that hard?”

She glares at me frustratedly. “I look nothing like a captive, you just tied me up for not even fifteen minutes. You haven’t beaten me or anything, I’m not dirty, my body isn’t withering away. I’m not dying.”

“Captives don’t have to be dying when you find them. Maybe you’re lucky. I don’t want to keep you as a captive, I have to hit the road, so are you gonna make the call or not?”

She remains silent. “You have a week.”

She nods, and I untie her. “Should I go get my supplies?” She asks, rubbing her wrists.

“If you think it’ll do something.” I watch out the window as she leaves, preparing to follow her.