by Glenn Muller
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Fenn was seconds from reaching the rock wall when the dogs caught up. He let them get within five metres then dropped to his knees and held the coveralls up like a screen. Competing for the prey, the vicious dogs lunged side by side at the presented target. Bowled over by a hundred kilograms of snapping fury, Fenn was battered by wolf-like legs and scratching nails. Their frothing mouths and hot putrid breath passed over his face as they snatched at the bait and took it with them.
Incensed by the smell of rendered meat, the dogs fought over the blue fabric and ripped it to shreds with violent headshakes. Fenn got to his feet and dashed toward the base of the cliff. His flight, noticed first by one and then by both, restarted the chase.
With no time to test the integrity of ledges he scrambled up the wall, sending shale and limestone raining down on the riled up beasts. He gasped in agony as a foothold gave way and threw weight onto the torn ligaments and muscles of his left shoulder. The fingers held. He found a new footrest. Below, the dogs danced on their hind legs and barked in frustration. His heels were beyond their reach and Fenn forced himself to slow down and select his supports with more care.
Keep your weight over your feet, he told himself, and three points of contact on the rock. He heard a car door slam and a squeal of tires. His hand found a tree root and he looked up.
Almost there.
== == ==
The car seemed huge but the gearshift, gas pedal, and steering wheel were all pretty standard. The GTO’s spinning tires turned rubber into smoke as the car lunged forward. Kim wasn’t used to this much power. Ahead, suits ran from the main entrance and fanned out before her. Another movement caught her eye. In the mirror she saw Tony running after the car. She hit the brakes and he caught up and jumped in on the passenger side.
It was then that she noticed her seat was the only one the car had. Tony flopped onto the foam slab in the rear and lay panting. Kim tromped the gas and spun the tires again. The suits scattered and the sudden launch rolled Tony off the foam. He grabbed the back of her seat and pulled himself up as she steered toward the exit.
“Go left when you hit the road,” he said.
She did, then overcorrected and swayed back and forth a couple of times. The oncoming lane was empty so she stayed on the centerline until she got a feel for the full-sized muscle car. Flashing lights appeared briefly in the mirror. They turned in at the funeral home at the same time the black limousine lurched into view behind them. Tony reached around her and fastened the lap belt.
“They’re coming after us,” she said, and thinking only of escape, mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The car surged and Tony tumbled to the rear once more.
“Sorry.”
He got back to his knees and finished snugging up her seatbelt.
“Mariah should be able to outrun them,” he replied. “Just do what I tell you to do.”
== == ==
From the cliff top, Fenn had a panoramic view of the action. The flat black Pontiac was making haste up the road and the funeral home employees were running for their vehicles. Jenner and the car wash dude got into the limo and headed for the exit. They left via the driveway’s north end as two police vehicles, lights flashing and sirens blaring, came in on the south side.
The cruisers blocked the exits and within minutes the officers managed to corral those that hadn’t already made it to the road. The dogs had given up on Fenn and gone back to chewing on the torn coveralls. An officer got one of the employees to call them over. Uzi and Magnum. How cute.
Two more police cars, unmarked with blue strobe lights on the dash, brought additional law enforcement. These guys looked more like detectives. Considering the time frame, Fenn noted the police were well represented for a fire alarm call. Only now could a fire truck be heard coming up Walker’s Line.
With Tony and Kim well on their way, there was no reason for Fenn to stick around. If the opportunity presented itself Tony would circle back to try and find him. If not, then he knew Tony would head for the barn. He turned his back on the lookout and started to thread his way through the trees on the plateau. Not far off there was a trail that exited onto Guelph Line. From there he would try to hitch a ride to Kilbride.
== == ==
Kim held the wheel in a tight grip and kept her foot down. The police presence at the funeral home would guarantee her safety but to make a turn on this narrow road, and then get past the limousine, seemed riskier than to race away and hope to shake the pursuit. Tony was kneeling at her shoulder.
“Just ahead, the road curves left and then back to the right. After that it runs straight for a ways. Take it easy on the bend and then we’re gonna light it up and leave these guys in our dust.”
Light it up? What did that mean?
They passed a yellow warning sign with a black squiggly line and she backed off the gas. The speedometer needle dropped back to 80. This was a sixties car with sixties gauges. 80 meant 80 mph. After doing 100 mph, which translated to 160 kmh, the lower speed seemed slower than it actually was.
“Back off a bit more, Kim.”
The curve came on quickly and the car felt heavy on the wheel. She fought to follow the turn then threw the wheel the other way as the road went to the right. Tony spread his knees and struggled to stay upright. They came out of the curve partly in the opposing lane. An oncoming vehicle swerved to the shoulder in avoidance. It was another police car.
The cruiser shot past and into the curve. Tony turned to look through the rear window. Kim applied the gas and the road ran from under the trunk at ever increasing speed. After only a few seconds, however, the limo emerged from the bend on a perfect line. The driver had some skill. Tony turned his attention forward. It was time to play their trump card.
Kim sat ramrod straight, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The seat was too far back for comfort and she had to point her toe to keep the pedal to the floor. It was cramping her calf. Tony reached alongside her and flicked a toggle switch on the dash. There was a red button next to it.
“Okay, Kim. It’s time to lose these creeps.” He checked behind once more. The limo hadn’t gained any ground but hadn’t fallen back much, either.
“You are about to get a speed boost. It’s important to hold the wheel steady and keep your foot down. When I tell you to, push that button with your thumb and hold it there. Are you ready?”
Kim put her thumb on the button and nodded.
“Right. Hit it!”
At a 100 mph, the additional burst of power from the injection of nitrous oxide into the cylinders wasn’t enough to throw them back, but the car did respond as if it had fresh legs.
110 / 120 / 130 mph.
The limo receded rapidly in the mirror.
135 mph.
Now it was just a small black object with little detail.
140 mph.
“Okay, Kim. You can let go.”
She removed her thumb. Utility poles, sixty metres apart, were flashing past in rapid succession. The GTO actually handled well at this speed. Which was still increasing.
145 mph
“Let off the button, Kim!”
“I did!”
Tony crawled forward and stabbed at the button. The engine continued to race. Ahead in their lane, another car was rapidly growing larger. He flicked the toggle switch. No change. The speedometer needle had reached its limit of 150 mph.
“We’ve got to slow down or the motor will blow. Use your brakes but GENTLY!”
Kim put both feet on the brake pedal and applied as much pressure as she dared. The car began to lose speed but the big motor growled louder as if protesting the restraint.
130 120 110
Within the engine, the pistons pounded away with rising pressure. They began to clatter as the oil flow faltered. Channels that delivered the lubricant hadn’t been flushed in a generation and were not up to the extreme demand. A piston rubbed against a cylinder wall. Then another. The friction caused a vibration that began to sha
ke the motor. A heartbeat later it set off a catastrophic reaction that sounded like lightning trapped in an oil drum.
A valve jammed, then the camshaft broke, stopping the engine cycle. The transmission, overridden by the forward motion of the car, transferred all of that energy back into the motor. Out of synch and thrust against each other, parts bent and broke and welded themselves in place. Everything locked up yet the car’s momentum forced the wheels to turn. The right rear axle became the last weak link in the chain. It twisted and snapped, and the back wheel came out of the wheelwell.
No longer drivable, The Black Mariah swerved to the right and headed for the ditch.
CHAPTER 33
With the drivetrain seized and power assists gone the brake pedal was a rock beneath Kim’s foot and the steering wheel just something to hang on to. The GTO entered the ditch at 75 mph. The front corner dug in and, as if flung by a giant child, the car rolled on its axis for two complete turns. It came to rest in the adjacent field, right side up, facing the road.
The first roll had weakened the roof pillars. On the second roll the corkscrew effect had flung Tony hip first through the rear window. He’d landed ten metres away, broken and unconscious, at the edge of a small pond.
The lap belt had held Kim in her seat but without a shoulder strap her upper body came into hard contact with the steering wheel and side window. Rag doll limp, eyes half open, she waited though wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. There was an odd smell and she couldn’t fathom what she was supposed to do about that, either. Perhaps a nap would help. Just a short one. The seat was comfortable, and all was quiet. It was a good thought and she closed her eyes. A nap would give everything time to sort itself out.
== == ==
Jenner saw the Pontiac pulling away and slammed his hand on the wheel. He knew the road would soon fork in three directions and with the lead his quarry had it would be hard to see which way they went. He kept the speed up. The funeral home was crawling with cops and it wouldn’t be long before they put out an APB on the limousine. Time and distance was of the essence. He passed his cell phone to his companion.
“Here, Tad. Try to contact Harrowport. Find out what he wants us to do.” Jenner peered ahead. A sudden puff of white smoke had caught his eye. The GTO seemed to be having trouble.
“Holy Cow!” He nudged Tad and pointed. “Did you see that?”
Skid marks curved off the road. Jenner pulled onto the shoulder and stopped beside the ditch, across from the smouldering car. Battered, and smeared with mud, it looked like third place in a demolition derby. Tad and Jenner left the limousine with the engine idling and went to examine the wreck. Kim, still semi-conscious in her seat, was unaware of their presence.
Tad spotted Tony, by the pond. “That guy doesn’t look too good.”
“Forget him. Help me with Blondie, here.”
A horn tap got their attention. The white van had caught up and stopped beside the limo. Jenner waved at the driver to keep going and the van sped away.
Kim woke up as they pulled her from behind the wheel. At first she let them carry her then as Jenner’s face came into focus she began to struggle. It wasn’t much of a contest but with no rope or tape to restrain her Jenner knew she’d be a problem in the car.
“Tad. Open the trunk. And hurry.”
From the direction they’d just come Jenner could see flashing lights. The cop they’d passed on the bend had probably put two and two together and turned around. Jenner gave his captive a quick jab below the ribs to quell the last of her resistance. The trunk lid slammed shut. Certain the cop would stop when he got to the GTO, Jenner raced away with Tad looking nervously to the rear. He snapped his fingers to get Tad’s attention.
“Get on the phone,” he said. “It’s time to ask the boss for a raise.”
== == ==
Fenn emerged from the wood and walked the short distance to Guelph Line. He figured it was about 10 a.m. His watch told him he was five minutes off. At the road he stuck out his thumb and tried to not look like a reprobate on the lam. Cars approached and passed him by. Across the way was a family restaurant where he’d occasionally eat between lessons. Decent food—nothing special. A meal would certainly restore his energy and perhaps he could bum a ride from one of the patrons. Country folk in coffee shops were generally more open to that sort of thing than the city folk that flew by in steel cocoons.
He shook the dirt from his denim jacket and swiped the paw prints from his jeans. Inside the diner three tables were occupied by an elderly couple, a guy in a sports coat reading a newspaper, and a chap who likely drove the tanker truck parked at the side of the building. Fenn went straight to the Men’s room to clean up. The mirror reflected scratches on his cheek and neck, and a welt high on his forehead. He pushed his hair across to cover it.
The diner’s manager brought a menu and filled Fenn’s cup with coffee. He noticed the abrasions.
“Get your girlfriend mad at you, this morning?” He handed Fenn a napkin and indicated his cheek.
Fenn grinned. “Naw. I was just out bushwackin’ across the road, there.”
“Looks like the bushes did most of the whackin’. What can I get you?”
Fenn ordered a full breakfast with extra toast and dug in with more appetite than he’d been aware of. The adrenaline had worn off and his hands shook a little until the food and familiar environment restored a sense of normalcy. Gradually, the realization that he and Tony had made a raid on the funeral home and rescued Kim began to sink in. He felt a sudden urge to laugh. They’d pulled it off! Reis and Jenner could go screw themselves.
A taxi pulled up to the door and the driver came in carrying an empty travel mug. Fenn drained his coffee and took his bill up to the counter. Five minutes later he was in the cab, heading for the barn.
“Heard there was some excitement at that fancy funeral home, this morning,” the driver was saying.
“Oh, really?” Fenn said. “What did you hear?”
“That there was lots of cops, and people taking off. One of ‘em crashed.”
Fenn felt his coffee making a comeback. “Probably zombies, again,” he said with false humour.
The driver laughed, signaled, and turned off the road. “Could be. Well, here’s your stop.”
Fenn overtipped for the short ride and went into the barn. There was no sign of Tony, Kim, or the Black Mariah. They ought to be here by now. Unless they'd gone to Kim’s house. Or to the police.
Or …
Or was unthinkable yet had to be considered. He needed to find a phone. He scribbled a note that he’d return at 5 p.m. and tacked it to the door. Opening a locker where he kept the bulk of his climbing stuff, he transferred a knapsack, rope, and a blanket roll to the Challenger’s trunk. He may not need it but it was best to be prepared. From the portable firesafe he also took some cash and the compact disc.
If Fenn was superstitious he’d believe the disc was cursed. Some people had died and others were willing to kill for it. His native ancestors would have called it bad medicine and had ceremonies to ward off the harm it might bring. Fenn flexed it between his fingers. He could snap it in two, and destroy the power it held, but until he knew that Kim was safe he would have to be its keeper.
He reached in a pocket for car keys and found the amulet, instead. The jury was still out on the luck associated with that charm.
The country road was lightly travelled. He rallied through the curves and passed cars two or three at a time on the straightaways until he turned the Challenger onto Highview Drive. Kim’s house was as he had left it and the Golden Retriever followed Fenn down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Here, Jess. Go outside.” Fenn opened the back door and the big dog, who really didn’t want to go out, ambled obediently into the backyard.
The voice on the phone was emotionless. “Directory Assistance.”
“Put me through to Baltzer’s Towing in Burlington, please.”
“One moment.”
He h
eard rings then a click as the other end picked up.
“Baltzer’s. This is Bob.”
“Chas Fenn, here, Bob. How are you doing?”
“Oh, same as ever, Chas. You calling about a tow?”
“Sort of. Did you guys do a pickup somewhere north of Burlington in the last couple of hours? Might have been a contract call.”
“Yeah. I took that call myself. Just got back from the pound.”
Fenn didn’t want to ask but he had to.
“Could you tell me what you picked up?”
“Some piece of shit Pontiac. Old-style GTO. Looks like it rolled and threw the driver from the car.”
Fenn felt the blood drain from his face.
“Was she okay?”
“She? No, this was a guy.”
“I think I know that car, Bob. Anybody else involved.”
“The cop thought the Pontiac had been racing a limo, but there was no-one else at the scene when he got there.”
Fenn pulled a kitchen chair over and sat down. He now felt as if the blood had drained from the rest of his body.
“Still there, Chas?”
“Yeah. Just one more thing, Bob. Any idea where they took the driver?” He held his breath. Please don’t say the morgue.
“Ambulances up that way usually go to Milton District Hospital. The guy was conscious but he won’t be racing anytime soon.”
Fenn exhaled. “Thanks for the info, Bob. I’ll let you go.”
“Hey, hold on a minute. One of my guys pulled a Toyota off a garbage truck, yesterday. It’s a write-off, and apparently it’s yours. What do you want me to do with it?”
“I’ll come by later and get my stuff out of it. Just do my boss a favour and take the driving school sign off the roof.”
Bob laughed. “You sure know how to take the fun out of life. Okay. See you later.”