Vol 1: Part 14

There is a certain buzz to speeding down a road at stupid speeds. Then there is the anxiety of that speed, the many variables that could end in death, and of course your own trust of the driver's skills. Give me a street fight any day.

It was rather surreal everything outside was moving so quickly, but inside Jackson seemed to move in slow motion as he smoothly changed gear twisting the vehicle through the corners, as he insisted on calling them, tires screaming as they bellowed out a pungent smoke. I didn't dare move a muscle since a single lapse in his concentration could send us both hurtling through a building. A rather messy death that I would rather avoid.

Everything was under control until the first gunshot. The bullets thumped into the car tearing up the paint. "Briefcase." Jackson shouted after the first shot thumped into the car.

Without replying I flipped the latches on the briefcase that I was clutching onto in my arms opening it up I found an Uzi with a foldable metal stock there were about five extra mags neatly piled in as well. With a smile I unfurled the stock, turned off the safety, and opened the bolt.

I rolled down my window and the wind ripped across my face as I leaned out and let out a retort in the form of a short burst of automatic fire. I didn't stick around to see if I hit the hostile vehicle as I ducked back inside.

The engines of the passing traffic was replaced with a high pitched whine as sound faded away. If Jackson felt any discomfort it didn't seem to affect his driving ability as he kept the car going.

We did this song, and dance a couple times they would fire a burst then I would lean out and return fire. Aim was out of the window quite literally in my case. It was after I slammed the third mag in that the car started drifting a lot more sharply than normal.

Jackson's face started going an unsettling shade of red, and was what I could only assume, if my ears weren't still ringing like a pair of demented church bells, was an uncustomary long string of curses and foul words, by no means was he a saint in his choice of words, but it was usually an early warning that things were going to get hairy. I hastily switched the safety on I had just finished stuffing the remaining two full mags down my belt when the worst word in a speeding vehicle was felt or that's what I got from the tone of his incoherent cry.

"Fuck!" Jackson mouthed as the rear view lit up with the bright sparks of metal on tarmac. I put my head in my hands, and started to pray for deliverance, or at least to survive with enough time to put an unhealthy amount of lead into our pursuers.

The world started to spin, and the car filled with the noxious fumes of burning rubber. Various parts of the car started screeching in unholy harmony. We eventually came to a rather rough stop with a sharp bump signaling our arrival into the rear of a parked car.

The world seemed to lurch forward.

I snapped out of my braced position. A wet warm feeling rolled down my chin as I looked down I could see dark stains dotting my suit. I touched my nose and pulled my hand away. I could see the familiar sight of blood.

I took stock of the situation. We were positioned at an angle out into the ghostly night road. No other pedestrians, and an unsettling absence of police. Putting those kinds of thoughts that were lower on the priority list than imminent survival away. I looked around for our pursuers as I put the gun in my hands off the safety, and put it on full auto.

It didn't take long for me to notice them, and of course for them to notice us as they swerved around the corner, probably following the trail of the tire stained tarmac we had left in our wake. They slowed down as they approached on my side. The armed passengers stepped out of the car their weapons raised. It appeared that they needed confirmation that they killed their target.

Reaching down, and in a flash I undid both of our seatbelts. Leaned over and opened the drivers door. Pushing, Jackson and myself out the door as the familiar crack that signaled a bullet went past my ear. I hauled both of us over to the engine block.

I whipped out my pistol from my suit jacket and put it in Jackson's hands. He didn't seem to be in the best condition, but it was better than nothing.

My hands were slick with sweat as I started to move. Crouching, low to the ground as I moved around the front of the car we crashed into.

I ducked as the feeling of more shots went through the air. I carefully poked my head from the rear of the car I was hiding behind.

One of the two people that stepped out was providing bursts of suppressing fire as the other one started to cautiously walk around the car.

I took careful aim at the man laying down the suppressing fire. He wore large, baggy, navy blue overalls like a homicidal janitor with a frizzy Afro. With a tight pull of the trigger I sent out a burst of bullets.

I could feel a sharp punch as the stock dug into my shoulder as I tensed, and controlled the recoil, the man seemed to stand still as I kept firing. He started to crumple to the floor. I started to switch targets.

It turned out I didn't need to. I had just turned my gun towards the second person when I saw a puff of crimson coming from his head as he got blown backwards.

The driver having seen this rushed to reverse then after he swerved around, put the pedal to the metal as the devil himself was chasing him.

I watched him leave, and as everything started to calm down the untimely sound of sirens, and flashes of red, and blue turned around the corner. "This is the Los Sueños police department. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands raised!" A voice shouted through a megaphone.