The Avenged

by Charles Prandy

  Finally, Clopper Road approached. I turned hard, my left knee inches from the pavement as the bike took the corner with ease. I gunned the throttle again and the powerful engine of the Ducati accelerated like it was a rocket being shot of out a cannon.

  By now, there were several squad cars behind me, but they couldn’t keep up despite their powerful V8 engines.

  I took another hard left turn onto Waring Station Road. I gunned the throttle again, and in the rearview mirror, I saw the police cars getting smaller and smaller the faster I raced. Finally, I ended up at my destination, where hopefully I could lose the police.

  Seneca Creek State Park, also known as the Schaeffer Farm Trails, was where I’d gone mountain biking several times with my father-in-law. I knew the trails fairly well and also knew that the cops wouldn’t be able to follow me in with their squad cars.

  I came to the end of Waring Station Road and turned left into Schaeffer’s parking lot, where a dozen or so cars were parked. Some people were pulling their mountain bikes off their bike racks when the Ducati flew past them.

  “Hey,” I heard someone yell, “you can’t take that thing in there.”

  Too late, I thought. I already am in there.

  Eighty-six

  THE DUCATI SQUEEZED THROUGH two wood beams about four feet in height and three feet apart from each other at the entrance of the biking trails. I immediately came upon a V in the trail and had to decide if I wanted to go left or right. The sirens from the police cars grew louder as they neared, which caused me to make my mind up quickly. I went right.

  The rear tire kicked up dirt, rocks and small tree branches as I gunned the throttle. I looked back and saw that two uniformed officers quickly entered the trails on foot with their weapons aimed. No way they would shoot, but just in case, I zigzagged the Ducati until I was around the first bend and far enough into the woods that I felt protected by the trees.

  The narrow dirt path was challenging for a mountain bike, but equally challenging for a 200-horsepower motorcycle as I maneuvered through tree shrubs, uneven ground and logs lying in the middle of the trail. Don’t forget about the mountain bikers who were already in the trails, quickly pulling over to watch the Ducati pass by them. Some people clapped and raised their hands, while most stared, dumbfounded at the awkward sight.

  There were a few times when I had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a tree as the trail coiled through the woods. I remembered how much fun we used to have riding the trails on my mountain bike, and how easily I maneuvered around the sharp turns and bends, but it was a whole different story with the Ducati. This bike was truly made for the road.

  The rough terrain in the woods continued for another quarter of a mile and then partially opened to a grassy field on my right. I continued on the trail and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw an officer on a motorcycle crossing the field with his siren blaring.

  I quickly turned the throttle and the Ducati revved as it hugged the trail. The woods came upon me again in no time. I remembered that a sharp bend was ahead and slowed just enough to not fly off the trail.

  The siren from the motorcycle was right behind me. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the officer motioning for me to stop. Fat chance, I thought. More curves to the trail came and went, but I couldn’t be as careful as I had been earlier. I knew that if I got caught, the media would have a field day with me, and every good thing that I’d done so far would be thrown out the window.

  Above the tall trees, over the roaring sound of the motorcycle’s engine, I suddenly heard propellers from a helicopter. The police were up there, trying to get a visual on me. I needed to stay hidden under the trees, but I knew that the trail was leading me back into the open and through a corn field.

  There was nowhere to get off the trail, and the Ducati couldn’t handle the rough terrain of the woods. So I figured that if I had to be in the open, I might as well make it as quick as possible.

  When the last bend of the trail came and went, I gunned the throttle and the motorcycle hit the openness with a burst. The helicopter quickly turned around and was on my tail when I was spotted. I looked in the rearview mirror again and saw that the motorcycle cop was right behind me. I needed to lose one of the two and figured that the motorcycle cop would be the easiest.

  Cornfields now flanked me on both sides. Further up, I knew that there was going to be a steep hill which a lot of people on their mountain bikes like to ride down as fast as they can so that they zip down like a shooting rocket. The main difference was that a mountain bike would hit the hill going anywhere from six to ten miles per hour. I looked at the speedometer and was already topping forty. I hoped that the motorcycle behind me didn’t know about the hill.

  As soon as I passed through the cornfields, the trail widened and the hill was two hundred yards ahead. I moved over purposefully to allow the motorcycle cop to move next to me. And that’s exactly what he did.

  I looked at the speedometer and saw that I had just hit sixty miles per hour. The cop motioned again for me to stop. Okay, I thought, if that’s what you want. Three seconds later, I slammed on the brakes, and before the motorcycle cop had a chance to react, he was airborne over the hill. I spun the bike around, kicked up dirt as the rear tire tried to grip the earth, and rode back the way I came. Now, what to do about the helicopter?

  Eighty-seven

  LIEUTENANT POLENSKI QUICKLY RECOVERED from the woman’s devastating blows. He’d been in plenty of fights in his life, especially as a younger officer, but nothing like the flurry of kicks that had come upon him like a raging tornado.

  But the surprise of the day, even more than being knocked out by a woman, was that Jacob was still alive. Polenski had almost fainted when he realized that it was Jacob behind the old man makeup. How’d he managed to survive that night in the bay? And who was the woman helping him?

  Polenski’s thoughts rushed a mile a minute and he didn’t hear his wife calling his name, telling him to slow down. He didn’t realize that he was sprinting to his car until his wife’s voice brought him out of thought. He quickly spun around as she was trying to keep up in her fitting black dress and high-heeled shoes.

  How am I going to explain this to Nathan and the judge? Actually, it wasn’t my fault; Nathan was supposed to have taken care of this. Then why do I feel like this is going to fall on me? No, Nathan said that he’d taken care of it. He should be the fall guy. The plan was foolproof. Then again, it wasn’t, because the fools were going to have to figure out once again how to get rid of Jacob Hayden.

  “Honey,” Maggie Polenski huffed, “where are you going?”

  “Don’t you know who that was?” Polenski quickly responded. “I need to call the chief and let him know what’s happening.”

  Lieutenant Polenski fumbled in his pocket for his keys and within seconds, his car doors were unlocked.

  “Hurry up and get in.”

  The roar of his 300 horsepower sky blue 1967 Corvette Stingray quickly came to life. He turned on the police scanner, hoping to catch the progress of the chase. Maybe he’d been caught by now? Polenski had the feeling that this was far from over.

  Dammit, Jacob, why you? Of all people, why you?

  Lieutenant Polenski had a fondness for Jacob, but his loyalty was to the judge. Judge Frank Peters had made Polenski into the man he was today, much like he did with a lot of other men. He owed his life to the judge. And because of that, he knew that Jacob had to die.

  Voices crackled over the police scanner and Polenski learned that the police had tracked Jacob to the Seneca Creek Park, where he was riding a motorcycle through the bike trails.

  Wait, a motorcycle? Polenski almost said out loud.

  The Corvette’s fat tires squealed as the car raced in reverse out of the parking spot, and then spun again as Polenski shifted into first and cut into the street.

  “Make sure your seat belt’s on, honey,” he said. “Hopefully all of the money I put into this engine won’t disappoint me.
”

  He stomped the pedal to the floor and heard his wife scream as the car shot down the road.

  Eighty-eight

  THE ONLY WAY TO get out without being caught was to dump the motorcycle and get off the trail. The trails all looped around and would eventually send me back to the entrance where everyone would be waiting for me if I was dumb enough to do that.

  The helicopter still hovered around, but I temporarily lost it under the cover of trees. When I felt that I had a little breathing room, I got off the motorcycle and ditched the helmet. I peeled the prosthetics off of my face and began to divert from the trails on foot.

  While I ran, I thought about Angela and wondered if she’d gotten away okay. She had managed to escape from an office building full of police, so getting away from this would have been a walk in the park for her.

  I kept running.

  Fatigue was starting to set in and each step seemed as though it was getting heavier and heavier, like I was running through mud or sand. I needed to stop and rest, but I wasn’t sure how far behind the police were.

  The police. I’m one of them, or at least, I used to be one of them. I’d been involved in plenty of hot pursuits in my career and the one thing I knew was that eventually the perpetrator would slow down, give up, or make some kind of mistake that eventually got them caught. It happens to everyone.

  So what mistakes have I already made? For one, I thought, I should have kept my cool at the funeral home. I shouldn’t have let Polenski get under my skin the way he did. Had I been quiet, I’d be heading back to Angela’s place, preparing for our next plan. I should have listened to Angela when she said that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go to the funeral. But I knew that I couldn’t stay away.

  I should have been a better husband to Theresa. If I had, she’d be alive right now. When it was all said and done, people may try and tell me that I did all I could, and that there was no way I could have known that she would have been killed. That, unfortunately, was not a good enough excuse. She’s dead and it was directly related to me.

  Maybe in some twisted way, Polenski had been right. It was because of me that she’s dead. So if my work was the reason for her death, then my hands are stained with her blood too.

  Damn.

  Eighty-nine

  MY UP-TEMPO RUN was now a light jog. The trails felt like they were miles behind me, but I knew I’d probably only run about a mile. Running a mile in the woods was much tougher than the average run I’d do on a treadmill. This run felt more like two or three miles, especially given that I was wearing a black suit and dress shoes. My legs felt heavy, like rubber tires. From time to time I’d still feel the slight pain from when I had been shot in the chest a few days earlier. Wow, that seemed like such a long time ago. Almost like I’d lived in a different lifetime.

  I thought about Theresa again and knew that if I’d been killed in that basement, she would still be alive. She’d be able to grow old and continue with her career of helping others. I would have left her, yes, but at least she’d be alive. And I wouldn’t have minded if, after she mourned my loss, she had found someone else to be her companion in life. That’s what life was really about, right? Companionship?

  I finally slowed to a walk and then came to a full stop, bending over and placing my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I looked around for the first time and didn’t recognize where I was. I’d never gone this far off the trails. I wasn’t sure if I was going north, south, east or west. I wasn’t sure how far the woods stretched until they got to a road. I wasn’t sure of anything, except that coming into the woods was my best bet of getting away. Now I wished that I hadn’t dumped the Ducati.

  The stress of everything that had happened in the past weeks finally caught up to me and I fell to my knees and screamed louder than I ever had. Once the screams were done, I cried harder than ever before. The kind of crying that caused slobber to hang from my mouth and mucus to drip from my nose. I felt alone, depressed, ashamed and utterly worthless.

  I laid on the ground on my back and felt tears roll off the back of my head. With the back of my hands, I wiped my eyes and found myself staring at the tops of the tall trees above. What was life like up there? Majestic? Peaceful? Could I live up there and leave all my problems down here, never to be faced with them again?

  I raised my arms and stretched my fingers towards the trees. Now I was looking past the trees, to the bright blue sky that held the heavens.

  “I’m ready,” I whispered.

  More tears streamed from my eyes, but I wasn’t sad anymore. I was…ready.

  What did ready mean?

  A slight wind picked up which stirred the surrounding leaves and grass. For the faintest of seconds, I couldn’t breathe. I felt smothered. Something was in the wind. A presence. The wind picked up harder but only blowing over me. My outstretched fingers tingled as the wind blew through them. I felt something touching them, like the fingers of another hand. And then, just as quickly as it came, the wind was gone.

  My hands fell to the ground. I took in a deep gulp of air and sobbed again. What just happened? Never in my thirty-four years of life had I experienced anything like it. I’d heard of people who said they’ve felt the presence of a loved one after they were gone, but nothing ever like this.

  I wiped my eyes and sat up. Leaves and dirt stuck to the back of my head and shirt. I was in a state of shock because, in that instant, for the briefest of seconds, I knew that I was with Theresa once again.

  Ninety

  LIEUTENANT POLENSKI’S CAR WAS parked behind an unmarked police car that was parked behind close to a dozen police cars and media vans in front of the bike trails. He told his wife to stay put while he checked on the status of the search. After speaking with a couple of uniformed officers, Lieutenant Polenski found a spot where he was out of earshot and reached for his cell and punched in Nathan Hunt’s number.

  He assumed by now, if Nathan was anywhere near a television, he would know that Jacob was still alive. Besides the police helicopter flying over the park, the news helicopters were scouring as well. Jacob hadn’t been seen in more than twenty minutes. How did this guy keep getting away?

  “Nathan here,” the burly voice spoke.

  “It’s me,” Lieutenant Polenski quickly responded. “Where are you?” His voice sounded desperate.

  “I’m out. What’s with you?”

  “You need to get your ass to a TV. Jacob’s still alive.”

  “That’s not funny,” Nathan quickly responded, almost sounding dismissive. “Is today April 1st?”

  “Listen to me,” Polenski nearly shouted, but quickly got ahold of himself. His face was red and veins bulged from his forehead and neck. “You said he was dead. You said he was shot. How could you screw something like this up?”

  Nathan must have realized that this wasn’t a joke because all Polenski heard was dead silence.

  “He showed up at his own wife’s funeral, for God’s sake,” Polenski continued.

  “Where is he now?” Nathan asked. His voice lacked its usual sarcasm.

  “He’s in Germantown in the woods. The police have this place virtually surrounded.” He looked around to make sure no one was around him. “If they catch him, he’ll tell them about us.”

  “We have all the evidence,” Nathan quickly shot back. “It’s his word against ours.”

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better? It doesn’t matter that we hold the cards. All you need is some snoopy DA out there to look into his allegations and we’re in hot shit. I will not go to jail for this bullshit, Nathan.”

  “None of us are going to jail. Preparations have already been made. We’ll just have to speed things up a little.”

  “Where’s Frank?”

  “He’s packing. I suggest you do the same.”

  “What am I supposed to tell my wife?”

  “That’s not my problem. Be at the plane by 9 a.m. tomorrow or else we’ll be seeing you in the next life.”


  “9 a.m.? Where are we going?”

  Nathan had already hung up before Polenski got off the last word.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

  Polenski turned around and headed for his car. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

  “What am I going to say to my wife?”

  Ninety-one

  THE SOUND OF THE helicopter quickly neared. I stood against one of the big trees and tried my best to stay still as the helicopter flew by. The rumbling grew louder the closer it neared and then started to fade as it quickly made its pass and continued its search. After it passed, I continued on.

  My mind was still trying to deal with what had just happened. Had I really felt Theresa? Was my mind playing tricks on me? In my emotional state, it was very possible that that was the case. But I had felt her, just as if she’d been standing right next to me and grabbed my hand. That’s how real it felt. I’d heard of phenomena just like this too many times for it not to have been real. Theresa had communicated with me and let me know that she was alright. I missed her dearly, but if she was alright, then I needed to move on and make sure I got out of this alive. Theresa would want me to move—

  “Hey, I see him,” a loud voice came from behind.

  I quickly turned around and saw an officer fifty yards away start to run towards me.

  “Stop right there!”

  My heart skipped a beat and adrenaline suddenly overcame me. A wave of intense fear caused my muscles to suddenly wake. “Oh shit.”

  I spun and dug my feet into the ground. With a burst that I hadn’t felt since my high school track days, my legs stretched to their fullest length and stomped and stomped and stomped across the wooded terrain until I was nearly at full speed, blowing by tree after tree.