Criminals Pt. 3

"You!" I whispered fiercely. Though he was in a balaclava I could tell he was the same carpenter I'd seen earlier in the day. His ladder was identical with the same chips and paint I'd noticed as well. He had been trying to take ownership after all!

He waved his hand at me, and I gritted my teeth, shook my head, and gave him a glowering look. I watched as he firmly placed his feet on the ladder, bold enough to break in with me watching. 

"Hey!" I whispered to him. He glanced up at me again.

"I'm busy, shove off."

"This is my house!" I was still speaking in a fierce whisper. He glanced up at me and even with his face mask on I could see that he was annoyed. Then a light turned. I could see the golden-yellow lamp light illuminating his face. As quickly as he could, he dashed down the rungs. Once on the ground, with silent precision, he folded up his metal ladder and began to fast walk into the woods.

"Hey!" I whispered. Obviously, he wasn't going to turn around. I chased him into the darkness. I couldn't believe how adept he was at maneuvering that ladder in and out of the trees, not even grazing one. I ran over and stood in front of him. 

"Are you bloody mad? F*ck off straight out of here. Or go back to where you came from," he whispered. I moved and he continued through the woods until it opened to a dirt road. I watched him put the ladder in his work truck.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, still whispering. He stopped and put his hands on his hips.

"Get in the bloody truck!" he exclaimed, pointing to the driver's side. I waited while he slipped in and then unlocked the door. I had to use the built-in step up to the seat, it was so high. Once I was sitting, I closed the door as quietly as I could, having to yank it a few times to get it to click.

He sighed as he pulled off the balaclava and tossed it into the back. Then he started the engine.

"Wait, where are you taking me?"

"I must get leave before someone finds this vehicle. We can talk about whatever you've got on your mind after we're gone."

"But to where?"

"At least to the highway." I sat back feeling slightly anxious about not having a destination in mind. "Go on, then. Talk."

"Well for one ... you're one of us?"

"What gave that away?" he asked, sarcastically.

"Who do you work for?"

"Nobody," he answered. "Never worked well with others." I made a discreet mental note of everything that was in this truck. It was cluttered but not by much. I wondered what he had for identification. Had he changed his name to get the job or was that contracting by word of mouth?

"I was working with someone but that didn't work out."

"See? Follow my philosophy and go it alone."

I watched him weave in and out of traffic with more finesse than I possessed. When we got to Sonic, he pulled in by one of the outdoor ordering stations. He shut the engine off. Then he turned to me.

"Look, we need a system, yeah? If you happen to see me in a neighborhood, leave."

"I will. I thought you were a legit carpenter."

"I am legit. I have a day job. Why am I telling you this?"

I turned away from him looking out the window. For a moment I missed Chase but when the image of him with Tina invaded my mind, I suddenly felt panicked. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe rhythmically to calm down.

"Do you mind bringing me to my hotel?" I asked. He scoffed.

"And give me away on the cameras? No thank you."

"There are cameras here." I pointed around us.

"Yeah, and this is a great alibi but going to a hotel ain't. The fuzz occupies those places as undercovers. Just trust me."

"Then bring me back toward the neighborhood so I can pick up my bike."

"You rode a motorcycle to a site? Are you barmy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Have you lost your bloody mind? Them things are loud as h*ll."

"It was parked on a dirt road nobody ever goes down."

"Nobody?" he asked. "You have."

"Except me, yes. What's your point?"

"That there might be others who only stop by occasionally, like you," he said. "Is it a nice bike?"

"Yes, it is. Can you please take me there?" He had me worried someone was going to steal it.

"I'll bring you closer but I'm not going in that neighborhood." He pointed at me.

"Fine."

He drove me back to the beginning of Plantation Pointe and I hopped out. I was about to say something, but he reached across the passenger seat to the door and slammed it shut. My hair went flying from the gust.

I crossed in back of his truck and was about to cross when he shouted, "Rope ladders are well," he paused with a half-smile on his face. "They're shite." I heard him laugh at me as he pulled away. Glancing down at the rope ladder under my arm, I felt the urge to cry. Today was not fun.

I began the walk down the road until I was next to the entrance for the neighborhood. I searched for the old dirt road where I had put my bike, but it wasn't there. Thinking I was wrong, I went down the dirt road, scaling the rusty chains and ignoring the "Keep Out" sign.

It was never a good idea to ignore sound advice, and, in this case, the advisor was the sign. Of course, sound advice is usually ignored just as I was doing right now. I wandered deeper down the trail until I was upon a small dwelling. I wouldn't call it a home, but I wouldn't call it a shack either. A light flickered inside.

Turning around I began to sprint as I heard someone in a southern drawl say, "Can't you read? If not, I'll teach ya!" Suddenly, I heard gunshots and bullets whizzed by my head. I dropped to the ground and carefully crawled underneath the huge rusty chain gate. Springing up, I continued toward the road when I felt searing pain in my leg.

Not only was this excruciating but it changed my capability to walk properly. I dragged my foot unintentionally like a zombie toward the main road. I wasn't sure where I was going to go once, I got there but maybe someone could help me.

I watched as my bleeding had increased steadily oozing out my tight black yoga pants. Hobbling, I watched as a car approached. I waved to them, tossing my rope ladder into the nearby brush.

Continuing to wave with both hands now, I tried to get their attention. As they approached faster, I could tell the vehicle was larger than a car. The headlights blinded me as they came to a screeching halt. It was the man I was riding with earlier. He popped open the passenger side door and leaned over.

"Get in!" he exclaimed. A bullet hit the side of the truck. "GET IN!" I tried climbing up, but I couldn't. Instead, I held my arms out to him and with a [heave] he pulled me in. He moved across me and closed the passenger door. I watched him glance at me and then at the blood as he sped away. "F*ck me, you're hurt ain't ya?"

"What gave it away?" I asked, in the same way he had earlier.

"Funny," he commented. "What happened?"

"That guy shot me."

"Bloody hell. I'll take you to hospital."

"I don't have the money to pay for those kinds of bills."

"Don't worry about that now," he whispered.

He sped onto the main stretch of Two Notch Road then all the way to the hospital. He helped me walk until we got to a wheelchair. A nurse came running out. My savior explained what happened and I was taken away. 

"Thanks," I said over my shoulder to him and then I was brought to a hospital room. Immediately, they removed my shoes and socks. Then they cut up the side of my yoga pants. I watched as they wiped down the wound on my calf. Was the bullet still in there?

"What happened?" one nurse asked me while he was cleaning it up.

"I was on someone's land. They didn't like that." 

"Here," he said placing an oxygen mask on my face. "Breathe in with big deep breaths." He imitated by inhaling loudly and puffing up his chest. I did what he asked. "We'll need to put you under. Count backwards from ten for me."

"Ten, nine, eight, sev--" 

I was out.