Amnesia

by Rick Simnitt

  Not certain of the H2 driver’s intentions, Drake decided to force the issue, to see if his paranoia was just that, an irrational fear that someone was chasing him, or if they really were in harm’s way. He hated disrupting the serenity on Lissa’s face, but knew he had to do something, if only to know where they stood. He didn’t have long to wonder.

  The Hummer pulled onto the road behind them and gunned its powerful engine to quickly close the distance between the two cars, unconcerned with the other cars that had to slam on their brakes and swerve to avoid a collision, horns blaring. The obsessed driver raced forward, ignoring all traffic save the Saturn, throwing all semblance of anonymity to the wind.

  Drake gunned his own engine in response to the threat. The smaller motor screamed as he passed Main Street, running the red light, and barely avoided an accident of his own. He glanced into his rearview mirror to find the reaction of his pursuer, only to see him follow right behind him, running a Dodge Colt right off the road in his wake.

  Knowing now of their danger, Drake pulled the steering wheel hard left onto Idaho Street, slipping between an old Ford pickup and a large diesel semi hauling a double trailer. He thanked heaven silently that the traffic was heavier here. It would force the Hummer to hold back while he searched for an escape.

  He risked a glance at Lissa to ensure she was alright. He disconcertedly noticed her ashen face, as pale as if she had seen a ghost. He almost asked her if she was okay, but held his tongue, chiding himself at the obvious answer. He shook his head imperceptibly, wanting nothing more than to provide this wonderful woman with safety and security, but seemingly unable to create either. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, glanced over his shoulder, and headed lane by lane over to the right, intent on getting off the road, hopefully losing their hunter.

  Hitting 13th Street he swerved right again, avoiding the downtown area, praying that the H2 didn’t see him turn. Going down one block, he turned immediately left again onto Front Street, just at the bottom of the connector, again slipping between two angry drivers. He hazarded a look into the mirror and discovered to his dismay that the Hummer had seen his maneuvering. Drake gunned the engine again, swerving in and out of traffic, narrowly escaping collision many times, but somehow remaining unscathed.

  The Hummer followed doggedly, but without the same luck. It clipped the front bumper of an old Chevy pickup spinning it across traffic. Behind it another car had to swerve hard to avoid broad-siding the pickup, barely getting out of the way in time, ending up off the road but out of danger. Now alerted to the danger, the following cars slowed considerably, thankful they weren’t involved.

  Shaking his head angrily, Drake determined that this must end before someone got seriously hurt. But how? He couldn’t just pull over and plead for mercy from the Hummer driver, obviously Marcuse. They were quickly approaching Broadway, and beyond that the traffic was mostly clear. He swerved around a slow moving Lincoln Navigator and rushed for the clear road ahead. He got to Broadway just as the light turned green, and he pulled ahead into the clear, speeding toward the light at the Beacon intersection. He didn’t have to look in his mirror to know that the Hummer was still there and getting closer.

  The two vehicles passed the Beacon intersection onto Parkcenter Boulevard within seconds of each other, the bigger engine of the Hummer quickly outpacing the Saturn. Just as Drake was about to pull into the right lane to get off of the road, the Hummer back-ended them, jolting both Drake and Lissa hard. Momentarily losing control, the Saturn pulled sharply left, inertia pulling the driver-side slightly off the ground, before slamming back to earth, bouncing the passengers hard. Luckily both were wearing their seatbelts and were still unhurt but terrified. Drake fought for control of the car and finally got it straight, headed the right direction. He fought for control of himself as well, panic welling up inside of him. He almost had it under control when the Hummer made its next move.

  Still racing at break-neck speeds down Parkcenter, the Hummer stayed right beside the Saturn, then pulled hard to the left, swerving into the smaller car’s lane, coming within inches before Drake realized what was happening and swerved himself. The truck righted itself, allowing the car to do the same, before it repeated the action.

  Drake glanced over at the hostile vehicle, hoping to put a face to their enemy, yet catching only the briefest of glimpses at the maniacal man. For a moment he thought he recognized him, but didn’t have time to search his memory before the Hummer swerved again, this time turning right in front of the car.

  Drake snapped his focus back to the front, instinct pulling the wheel sharply to the left, too late to avoid the accident. The speed was too great to turn that sharply, and the lighter car skidded across the asphalt, careening into the Hummer, crunching the metal, and smashing the window, creating a massive web of cracks through the glass. Both cars slipped to the right with the force of the impact, until they came to a full stop as one.

  Seeing a road directly before him, Drake stomped on the accelerator, the side of the car scraping against the Hummer, creating an ear-piercing whine of screeching metal-on-metal. Pulling forward with all the power the damaged car would allow, he traveled down the road, the Hummer right behind him.

  He pulled left at the T-junction at the end of the road, the crushed wheel-well barely allowing the maneuver, ripping at the exposed tires. He turned left again at the next corner, this time puncturing the exposed right front tire from the jagged metal torn loose by the impact with the Hummer.

  Ignoring the limping tire, Drake pulled into the opening at the right, his jaw dropping as he saw the burned shell of Lissa’s old apartment above them. He had no idea this was where they would end up; he was simply trying to get away from Marcuse. Instead he inadvertently went right where he wanted them.

  He slammed the car into park and threw open his door, grabbing Lissa’s hand pulling her out the driver’s door, knowing the passenger door wouldn’t open. They had just started to run past the building before them when they heard the crash behind them. Turning at the sound they saw that the Hummer had rammed right into the Saturn, pushing it into a retaining wall, rendering the car a total wreck. They also noted that the Hummer still functioned perfectly, a tribute to its designers, as Marcuse reversed, then slammed the car a second, then third time, crushing the former car into a destroyed hulk of twisted metal.

  Startled from their shock at the destruction by the opening of the driver’s door, the two started to run up the greenbelt laid throughout the complex. They knew Marcuse was right behind them, and pushed their bodies as far as they could, grateful that they were at least somewhat fit, despite having neglected good exercise routines. It was an area in which they quickly found Marcuse was not derelict.

  Having no idea where they were going, just trying to escape the more seasoned runner, they ran beyond playground equipment standing vacant in the blistering heat, through well-manicured landscapes, and past several buildings, until they had to stop, their hearts and lungs threatening to burst from the strain. They ran up to a building and crouched down behind the shrubbery, fighting to get control of their aching bodies. They waited as the man following them came around the corner and ran past their hiding place, leaving them in peace. They held still a few seconds longer to make sure he had passed them, and then stood, intent on going the other direction.

  “No—you need to go this way.”

  They froze, hearts sinking at the sound of the voice. Slowly they turned, searching in vain for a weapon or means of escape. Finally they brought their faces around entirely, and stood mouths agape in bewilderment at who they saw

  “Please, hurry!”

  Numbly the couple followed Ernest Dall as he turned and slunk off toward the end of the building and disappeared around the corner, amazed at their good fortune, prayers of gratitude sent heavenward. They headed down the side of the building, hugging close to the wall, until they found an old shack hidden in the trees.

  Dall called a halt to their mo
vement, indicating that they should get low behind the shrubs again, and he stepped carefully out, watching intently for any sign of people, specifically Marcuse. Seeing no one, he proceeded to the door of the shed and disappeared inside.

  Drake and Lissa sat motionless awaiting his return, wondering what he could possibly be doing. They were both drenched in sweat; only partially because of the heat and exercise. Fear still raced through their veins. Every sound and espied movement sent quivers of dread down their spines. The waiting was even more terrifying than the running.

  Finally Dall reappeared dragging what appeared to be a small canoe and paddle. Silently he indicated that they should follow him, heading through the trees behind the shack. Ensuring there was no one else around them, Drake pulled Lissa up and ran up to Dall, taking hold of the small boat, easing the burden.

  They headed west a ways until they broke through the trees, exiting onto a small footpath—part of the Boise greenbelt that bordered the Boise River. He took them down to the river, placed the boat in the water, holding it in place while the two boarded, then handed Drake the paddle.

  “It’s an old boat, one my brothers used to use. Hasn’t been out in years, piled underneath all our old junk, but it should get you down the river. I’ll call Cap’n McConnell and tell him what’s goin’ on when I get back to my place. I’ll tell him I’m sendin’ you down the river, and to wait for you at Ann Morrison Park where the floaters get out.” He paused, looking up and down the river, seeing the hordes of people, and handed them his cell phone. “You may need this too.”

  He paused again, as if trying to decide what to do next, then shook his head slightly, as if he were about to do something very necessary, but was extremely difficult. He sighed deeply, took off the jacket that he was never without, and handed it too Lissa. “Here, you may want to use this to stay hidden.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she gazed at the small thin frame he had always kept covered. He looked so awkward standing there, so vulnerable and weak, yet he was willing to literally give her the coat off his back. She threw her arms around the tiny shoulders and hugged him fiercely, recognizing now the depth of his concern and sacrifice. She realized for the first time how he had always been there watching over her, making sure she was okay. Then when she needed a rescuer, there he was, thinking of her and her needs, taking no notice of his own. Never again would she take him for granted. She would never overlook this small man with such a big heart.

  “Thank-you, Ernest,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, “I’ll never forget this. Never.”

  He blushed at her comments, hearing her use his real name for the first time, feeling ten feet tall in the caress of her words. He looked around nervously, partly to see if Marcuse were there, partially from embarrassment from her actions. Or more accurately his response to them.

  “You better go. Good luck.” He turned and stepped back through the trees, disappearing from view.

  “He must be a good man,” Drake commented, sitting down at the rear of the canoe, indicating Lissa sit in front.

  “I really never noticed before,” she replied, putting the cell phone into her pant pocket, and sitting where he pointed. “But I think you’re right. Somehow I’ll have to make this all up to him.”

  “We’ll have to worry about that later. Now lie down and cover up. I’ll tell you when we’re clear.”

  Doing as she was told, Lissa curled up using Drake’s right leg as a pillow, and pulled the coat over her, leaving a crack next to her head to allow for air. The day was sweltering hot and she wondered for a moment if heat stroke might be more of a threat to her than the man chasing them. Drake in turn pushed out into the current using the small fiberglass oar. Soon they were in the center of the water, floating calmly down the river.

  The summer had been extremely hot and had driven people en masse to the water to cool off in the chilled liquid. Inner tubes, rubber rafts, canoes, indeed anything that could float was in the water, their owners hanging on to them, or even just sitting back on their life jackets. Amazingly the individual groups worked extremely well together, making it an enjoyable experience for all.

  Today was no different, with scores of revelers in the water, escaping the heat of the city, spirits high, enjoying the wonder the earth offered them. People who would otherwise be shouting, cursing and honking at each other while sitting in their cars on the pavement greeted each other with smiles and waves while on the water.

  One such group approached them just as Drake and Lissa pulled into the current. A group of two teenage boys and their female companions called out a hearty welcome to the passengers in the canoe. Drake answered back as cheerfully as possible, and then pulled ahead, quickly outdistancing the group, using the oar to speed them along their way, not willing to wait for the river to get them to their destination.

  Drake hadn’t had the paddle long before he realized that he was familiar with this mode of transport. Somewhere in his head sat memories of comfortable days spent lazily paddling across lakes and rivers. He tried a few maneuvers, getting the feel of the boat and the river, confidence building inside of him as he felt a semblance of control for the first time in days. He had almost convinced himself that he would get them out of there safely, until he heard the shouting behind him.

  Spinning around in his seat, Drake felt a new surge of terror as he saw a man, obviously Marcuse, laying into the group on the raft behind them. Holding a gun, the man was shouting and waving wildly trying to commandeer the vessel that had gotten too close to the shore. One of the boys stood up to him, and received a belt with the butt of the pistol to his head, knocking him overboard. His friends quickly dove in after him, realizing the rented rubber raft wasn’t worth their safety. Drake felt relieved that the kids would be alright, but felt fear swelling inside of him as he knew he was again in the sights of the evil man behind him.

  “Marcuse is behind us,” he said quietly to Lissa. “Stay down. I don’t think he knows you’re here.” He pulled harder on the oar, trying to pick up speed to escape the demon breathing down his neck.

  “You can’t get away Drake,” Marcuse yelled across the water. “I’m in a lot better condition than you, and I know this river.” He laughed loudly at the statement, eager to prove his words.

  Up ahead Drake could see whitecaps of water cascading over rocks, and looked for the best way through it. His first impulse was to skirt the rocks, taking the safest route, but then reconsidered. Going straight through would be the quickest, and would allow the faster current to help. Unfortunately the metal skin of the canoe wouldn’t react as nicely as the forgiving rubber of the raft. It was a chance he had to take.

  He skillfully steered the boat directly into the middle of the river, watching for the whitewater ahead. Nervously he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Marcuse was gaining on them, true to his claim of skill and fitness. He was pulling hard on the small paddle, pushing the raft to its limit, but was disadvantaged by the shape and material, allowing the canoe a small breadth of a chance. Just a few more feet, Drake thought, just a little more. He whispered to Lissa to hold on tight and reached down to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding them both of their love and the promises they had made to each other. Then he hit the first rocks.

  Drake, sitting in the back, weighed significantly more than Lissa, shifting the center of gravity in the boat, causing a slight lift in the nose of the vessel. As soon as the metal skin passed the first rocks the nose stood out in the air while the bottom in the back ground against the stones below. The momentum of the craft, accompanied by the drag of the current, pushed the canoe past the center of gravity, where the nose tilted back down, sending the boat crashing down into the water, sending a spray into the boat, soaking the passengers.

  The sharp bottom of the canoe found itself shallow enough that it listed heavily to the right, threatening to roll over. Drake threw his weight hard to the left to compensate, pulling the boat back upright, but also bringing the nose abou
t, turning it slightly to the left as it found deeper water. He righted himself and pulled hard on the oar to turn the craft around to hit the next set of rocks straight. He didn’t quite make it.

  When the small boat hit the next cascade, it was turned slightly to the left, sending the nose into the air at an awkward angle, listing again to the right, coming down off-center, nearly capsizing the canoe. Again throwing his weight to the left, Drake fought to keep the vessel upright and barely succeeded, but again sent the boat turning. Unfortunately, the water here was deeper and there was more momentum from the swirling liquid, rotating them completely around, so when they hit the third and final tier of rocks, they went down backwards.

  This time the weight was reversed, with the center of gravity heading down the slope first. The rocks again acted as a fulcrum and sent the tail down sharply into the water, submerging a good part of the metal skin. Water flooded the interior of the craft, while the nose rose high into the air. For a moment it appeared that the canoe would flip over, but the current came to the rescue pulling the bottom of the vessel downstream, allowing gravity to bring the nose back down to the surface, sending the boat scooting down the river safely. Inside, the canoe had taken on much water so was riding much lower, making it much more difficult to maneuver, especially going backwards.

  Drake pulled the oar through the water, again turning them around until they were at last facing the right direction. Exhausted from the ordeal, particularly in conjunction with all else that had happened that morning, he pulled the paddle back into the boat, and rested his aching arms. Only then did he notice that Lissa had discarded the coat and now sat up straight, a look of concern on her face as she gazed at her brand new fiancé.