Fleeing from Justice

The sun shines brightly overhead, promising a warm afternoon despite the turbulent wind whipping across the flat, prairie land. Recovering from her last fright, nearly being discovered by the law, Abby quickly devoured a significant portion of the food Thelma and Ned has so graciously packed for her.

She scans all the empties, laughs, and says I didn't realize I was that hungry. Nausea suddenly hits her. Her stomach begins to ache. She grabs her aching middle. "I have a feeling that I'm going to pay for my overeating the rest of the trip." Reaching down, she unfastens her pants then sighs with relief. "At least now I can breathe." She looks towards the front. "Guess it's time to get back to the dusty trail as Ned would say." He always seems to be quoting a line from his favorite western.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she glances at the map and then her watch. I should be able to reach my destination before dark if I make this my last stop. After six grueling hours, she'll be happy when this part of her journey is over.

I can't wait to curl up in a nice soft bed. Abby pictures the blissful scene in her mind as she pulls onto the highway. I'll probably sleep for days. She leans her head against the window.

Abby's brain becomes foggy, her body weary. Exhaustion slowly creeps in. I need to stop thinking about it. Yawning, she straightens up in her seat. A few miles down, her eyes begin to droop. She forces them open. I need to do something to stay awake. She yawns again. Abby rolls down the windows hoping the fresh air will help.

A crisp breeze quickly fills the van. That woke me, but now I'm cold. Shivering, she rolls up the window and turns on the heat. I didn't realize how chilled I was. She shivers.

The warm comfort, the purr of the engine begins to lull her. Her head slowly falls towards her chest. Abby startles awake. I'll go to sleep if I don't do something quick. Reaching over, she turns off the air. Maybe a little music will help.

She's fiddling with the radio when she hears tires screech. A loud, metallic bang follows. Looking up, Abby sees a massive pile up a few feet ahead. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, she cuts her wheels to the left. The van skids around, crashing into another car. Her body falls sideways. Her head smacks the glass.

Abby feels a warm sticky liquid trickling down her face when she comes to. Reaching up, she discovers a large gash on the side of her head. Abby is checking the severity of the wound when she hears a thudding noise beside her. Glancing over, she sees a semi barreling her way. Unfastening her seatbelt, Abby shoves her door open. The barrier slams against the adjacent car. She glances at the small opening and then the truck. I can't squeeze through there. Realizing the noise is getting closer, she looks up to find the semi is a few feet away.

****

Romero's thoughts race a mile a minute as he paces across the dark burgundy rug waiting for his call to connect. He decorated his home to reflect the styles of Italy. From its expensive artwork down to the intricate Italian handwoven rugs. Each tiny detail exhibits an element of the land he admires so much. I need to get out of the country but to where? He'd love to go back to his homeland but knows it's out of the question with their expedition treaty in place. Guess I need to figure out what countries don't expedite and go from there. His thoughts are interrupted by Antonio's deep voice echoing through the phone.

"Antonio, it's Romero. The police found the file on Abby's computer. A device you should've taken care of instead of playing cat and mouse with the girl."

"I thought she had the file on her since I couldn't find it in the house."

"Leave it to you to not check the obvious first." Running his fingers through his thick mop, Romero stomps across the floor. "I should've known better than to send an imbecile like you to do a job like this." He shakes his head. "I should've known you'd screw it up. I should've known. I bet my eight-year-old nephew would've done a better job than you.

Furious, Antonio skids to the side of the road. Scooping up his phone, he yells, "Hey now, you just hold on there a minute, Romero." Disgust drips off every syllable as he spits out his name. "I've done a lot of things for you through the years. In fact, you wouldn't be the successful man you are today if it wasn't for me."

"How do you figure?'

"I'm the one who saved you from going to prison not once but twice. I took care of the pesky detective for you and a fair share of busybodies too. And I was the one who said the break-in wasn't a good idea, but you ordered me to do the job despite what my gut was saying. So the way I see it, this mess is as much your fault as it is mine."

"Are you finished?" Romero growls.

"Not quite. You've treated all your workers like shit, Romero burnt a lot of bridges too, and someday soon, it's all going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Are you threatening me, son?"

"You'd be wise to watch you back." Hanging up, Antonio throws his phone on the seat. The nerve of that man, trying to blame this mess on me. The file wouldn't even exist if he hadn't hired Brambilla in the first place.

Antonio and a few others warned Romero about hiring him, claiming they didn't have a good feeling about him, but Romero did it anyway. A week in, and Antonio knew their hunch was correct. He got rid of Brambilla discretely, but the damages had already been done. He'd conjured up enough evidence to put them all away for life. I wish I would've listened to my gut got rid of him on day one. Well, what's done is done. I need to get out of the country, and I need to do it fast.

He's trying to figure out where he can get a fake ID when a strange voice echoes through the car; Antonio jumps then laughs at himself when he realizes what it is. "Damn phone." He picks it up to see the red dot is just a few feet away.

"Continue west on I 44," The robotic voice repeats.

It doesn't matter now. Antonio starts to turn around when another thought comes to mind. "No, the bitch caused this mess, so she needs to pay." Smiling, he punches the pedal to the floor.