I’m Just SayingDecember 18, 2014 5 By Christopher Davis
After a botched liquor store robbery, a small import car sped away in the rain from an all-night market. Surprisingly, at this hour, there were still a lot of people out on the streets of the city.
+++++“That was fucking sick man,” Timmy Owen said, high on meth and hanging on from the passenger side of the Asian import. Slamming a palm on the dash, he continued, “the way that dude exploded through the window.”
+++++Driver, Adam Birch, struggled against the slippery pavement to keep the car lined out for their getaway, “Yeah.” Birch said looking back in the rearview, “Yeah, it was sick wasn’t it?”
+++++Owen and Birch had known each other since kindergarten. Tweakers practically from birth, the pair couldn’t have been closer if they had been brothers.
+++++The car skidded through an intersection red light narrowly missing oncoming traffic. Wet tires making purchase, the import bounced off a family minivan before heading north.
+++++“Dude…” Owen said hanging on, his hat bill rolled upward and the number 13 inscribed underneath in permanent marker.
+++++Eyes still scanning the rearview, Birch commented, “It’s too bad that we killed him though Timmy. Fucking cops will be all over us dude.”
+++++“Whoa partner,” Owen said watching as the city lights went by in a blur, “We didn’t kill anybody. You killed that dude back there at the liquor store.”
+++++“We both killed him OK?” Birch said. “Why did we go there in the first place man? To get some cash right?”
+++++“I’m just saying dude,” Owen said preparing for the next intersection, “It was your finger on the trigger man.”
+++++The first of several police cruisers intercepted the underpowered import going for all it was worth and bumping the ass end of the Civic as it fell in behind.
+++++“Dude…” Owen said looking over his shoulder to the rear, “That cop looks really pissed.”
+++++“Fuck Timmy,” Birch said looking back again, “What did you think he would be, we just killed that guy at the liquor store.”
+++++“Correction my friend,” Owen said again, “We didn’t kill anybody.”
+++++“Fuck you man,” Birch said guiding the car into the next turn, “We, and that is the both of us, went to the store to get some cash to buy dope right, Timmy?”
+++++“Yeah, but,” Owen said smiling. “I didn’t pull the trigger now did I?”
+++++“Alright,” Birch said from his side of the car, “Let’s figure out how we’re going to get out of this huh?”
+++++A small sign reflecting the words, Drive safely, announced that the pair had reached the outer limits of the small city. Presenting itself in a great sweeping curve, the road ahead doglegged to the left.
+++++“Fuck dude,” Owen said looking through a rain speckled back window, “There must be ten of ‘em?”
+++++The first cruiser in line rammed the import causing the car to lurch and tearing away some of the rear molding.
+++++“Dude,” Owen said still looking over his shoulder, “That dick just took out our bumper.”
+++++Distant pilot lights from an Oakland bound stack train bore down on the coming intersection
+++++“No fucking way dude,” Owen said facing forward now and bracing for impact, “You’re not going to try it, are you? I mean…”
+++++Crossing arms lowered slowly ahead, their red lights flashing. The locomotives ditch lights were now alternating left and right, signaling intent on making the intersection first.
+++++“Got any better ideas?” Birch said down shifting the import and flooring the accelerator. Looking in the rearview, he added, “If we make it Timmy…no more cops man.”
+++++Still a few hundred yards distant, the engineer blew the horn. Both of the boys could hear it now.
+++++“Dude…” Owen said one last time, “If we don’t… no worries huh?”
+++++That police cruiser, following closely, hit the car again causing the import to roll onto its side and drift along the wet shoulder, stopping some yards short of the tracks. The train never slowed.
+++++Handcuffed and bleeding from his mouth and nose after impacting the windshield, Birch glared at his friend Timmy Owen, “Keep your fucking mouth shut Timmy.”
+++++Owen smiled and spit blood through his broken teeth, “Hey dude, I’m just saying.”
About The Author
Christopher Davis is a central California native and grandfather of three rambunctious little ones. When not tending the herd he writes Civil War, Western and Crime fiction, some of which can be seen on Shotgun Honey, The Big Adios and Yellow Mama (2015)