On the Run

by Glenn Gamble

  “What would you do if the person who raped your daughter was in your face swinging his big dick around like a matador?” Frank shouted. “What the fuck would you do, Jim?”

  Before blurting out an angry rant, Jim looked at Frank for a moment and saw a dad who was upset over a horrific event that happened to his daughter. He wasn’t afraid of Frank and was confident that he could kill him if he needed to, but Jim didn’t want to agitate the burly man out of respect for what he was going through. Both men were standing in his daughter’s room now. With Jim standing over her battered body and looking back at his friend, he recognized that Frank was angry and elected to approach this matter differently.

  “I’m sorry, Frank,” Jim said. “Whoever did this will regret it, but I want you to keep yourself out of these potentially reckless situations where cooler heads would prevail.”

  “I know, but what would you do, Jim?”

  “I would at least make sure that I know he did it then I would extract my revenge slowly, but painfully.”

  “Well, I know he did it,” Frank said. “It was because we took his money.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Are you kidding me? Who else would have reason to do something like this?”

  “A child molester, and Steve hates child molesters,” Jim said. “In fact, he caught a case for beating a child molester within an inch of his life a few years ago.”

  “Are you talking about the mayor’s nephew?”

  “Yep, that’s him.”

  “What a fucking pervert.”

  “A politically connected pervert,” Jim said. “I can’t blame Steve for what he did to that child molesting fuck. He told me that the little boy was crying when the man was putting dick in his ass. Could you imagine that image playing in your mind over and over?”

  “Oh God.”

  “My point exactly, and now he might be in jail for the next decade if he doesn’t win the appeal and get a lighter sentence. All because he overreacted to a situation that he had no control over. Sound familiar?”

  “I get the point, but if Steve didn’t do it then who did?”

  “Someone close to you who knew where your daughter attended school and how to get to her,” Jim said. “Don’t worry about the details right now. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Stay by your daughter’s side. She’ll need that more than anything else right now.”

  “Who’s going to run the games while I’m here?”

  “No one,” Jim said. “We’ll be back operating when the time is right.”

  “What are you going to do for money?”

  “I have a job now, so I’ll get by just fine,” Jim said. “The only thing you and I need right now is for you to stay by your daughter’s side for as long as you need. And don’t do anything until you talk to me. Even if you are face to face with the child molesting son of a bitch.”

  “You got my word.”

  “Take care, Frank.”

  ###

  Jim walked out of the room and onto the elevator. Once he got to the main lobby, he called Pete to pick him up. After being told that he’d be picked up within two minutes, Jim walked outside to the patient pick-up area to wait for Pete’s car. Instead of riding with Pete, he was escorted to a burnt orange four-door sedan by a woman with a gun stuck to his back. There was nothing he could do except comply.

  “Get in the car now,” she demanded.

  “Okay, let me get the door open.”

  “Do it slowly before I get nervous.”

  Jim recognized the ‘before I get nervous’ phrase, but couldn’t remember who constantly said it. In his case, Jim was definitely nervous.

  Shit, Carla was right. I should have stayed my ass in Memphis. Ever since I’ve been back in Chicago, I’ve been getting caught in some dumb shit. This has been a bad day so far.

  The woman shut the door and got in the front seat and aimed her 9mm Beretta at Jim’s face. After looking past the barrel of the loaded gun, he recognized a familiar face.

  “Hey Jessica, it’s been a while.” He smirked.

  “Don’t move or you’ll regret it.”

  “Can I at least scratch my nose?”

  “Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you right now.”

  “Stevie,” Jim said, feigning excitement. “It’s like a big family reunion in this car. It’s so good to see y’all.”

  Steve backed the car out of the parking space, shifted the gear in drive, and peeled off, leaving behind a scent of burned tires and a monstrous vroom from the dual exhaust.

  “Jim, it won’t take shit for me to kill your worthless ass, so shut the fuck up right now,” Steve said.

  “You’re not going to kill me right now,” Jim teased. “You and Jessica are going to take me to an undisclosed location of your liking, so you all can kill me and eat me. Can you grant me one dying wish?

  “Steve, make sure that you eat my balls first. The thought of my balls in your mouth is comforting in the wake of my pending death.”

  Steve started toward Jim with the intent of attacking him, but the low-gas indicator started beeping. The constant beeping annoyed Steve.

  “Damn it isn’t there a way to cut this fucker off?”

  “Yeah, put some gas in the tank,” Jessica said.

  “No, we can make it on the gas that we have.”

  “Are you crazy?” Jessica said. “We’ll run out of gas before we get halfway there.”

  “Fuck.”

  Steve pulled into the first gas station that he came across, parked the car at the first available pump and shut the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition.

  “Jessy, I’m gonna play the lottery. You want anything?”

  “Some gummy worms and an iced tea.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back. Keep that gun pointed at him, and don’t let him out of your sight.”

  He just has to play the Powerball just because of the $400 million grand prize. Steve’s an idiot for not realizing that he just opened a window of opportunity for me. For him to tell this dumb bitch to keep the gun on me and not to let me out of her sight tells me that she’s not used to something like this. Oh, wait…look at how she’s holding her gun.

  “Are you going to just sit there looking like a statue?”

  “You think you’re so clever,” she said. “Now look at you.”

  “Don’t mind if I do?” Jim said with a hint of sarcasm. “Do you have a mirror?”

  “You are aware that you’re going to die today, right?”

  “No, I won’t, but you might.”

  “Give it up, it’s…”

  Jim grabbed the barrel and snatched the gun out of Jessica’s hand while using his other hand to pull his gun on her. She began to cry.

  “Bitch, you better pull yourself together before I kill you and him,” Jim threatened. “Do you wanna stay alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “First, wipe those fucking tears out your eyes.”

  While Jessica wiped her eyes and face, Jim emptied the clip and took the bullet out of the chamber then handed the gun back to her.

  “Hold the gun to my face just as you did before, this time with your finger on the trigger,” he instructed. “If you make any sudden moves you’ll be a dead bitch, and I’ll let Steve decide whether or not to have you for dinner before I kill him, too.”

  “Jim, remember when we used to love each other?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he said. “I have no time to rehash the past. Do what I fucking say and you’ll live.”

  Jim peered out the window through the corner of his eyes, watching Steve as he pumped the gas.

  Meanwhile Steve stood outside the car pumping the gas as he looked at his Powerball numbers wearing a stupid ass smile on his face. I’m going to win this time. Tonight is going to be my lucky night, I can feel it. Then Jessy and I will celebrate by having dinner. Jim will be the main course and with him out the way, Jessy will finally be mine. Steve fastened the gas cap, h
opped in his car, and gave Jessica the snacks she requested then turned on the ignition and before he could switch the gear he felt a forearm around his neck choking him. Before he could react, Steve felt a painful blow to his head.

  Jim knocked Steve unconscious, and instructed Jessica to push him out the car as he opened the door. Once Jim opened the driver’s side door, he caught Steve’s falling body as she pushed him out the car. Jim laid him on the ground, hopped in the driver’s seat and drove off.

  Chapter 8

  Jim drove the speed limit down I-94 and got off at the 35th Street exit to leave a gift at the security guard’s house. He made a right turn, passed two traffic lights then turned unto Union St. where he drove one block south and parked on 36th & Union, another car did the same. He instantly became suspicious, so he zeroed in on the green four-door vehicle with the car still running. Jim stuffed several hundred dollar bills in an envelope while keeping a careful eye on the car; no one got out. Instead of making his delivery he drove away. The green car followed.

  “I see we got company,” Jim said. “Are these your friends?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are we being followed?”

  “I don’t know,” Jessica shouted.

  “Fuck.”

  Jim drove to 37th Street and made a right then made another right on Emerald and drove back to 35th Street. The green car followed Jim’s every move. He knew they were being followed and had to think of the next move. Jim called Pete as he drove.

  ###

  “Pete, where are you?”

  “Jim, where are you?” Pete said. “I’ve called you 30 times.”

  Jim looked at his phone and realized that he turned the ringer off by mistake. No wonder he hadn’t heard from him.

  “I was busy being kidnapped, but I got through that,” Jim said. “Where are you?”

  “I’m still at the hospital, where are you?”

  “In Bridgeport getting chased by a green four door car.”

  “Are you running?”

  “No, I knocked Steve out and took his car. He’s still at the gas station in dreamland.”

  “They probably think you’re Steve. He owes money to the big mob guy over there, Don Carson.”

  “I don’t think these are his people. This car looks like one of those that the gangbangers buy for $1500 and put $10,000 worth of work into.”

  “No, I bet he hired them.”

  “Meet me at Church’s Chicken in Chicago Heights.”

  “Jim, you must be fucking crazy, that’s the ghetto.”

  “Yeah, I need some place they’ll stand out like a sore thumb,” Jim contemplated. “Meet me at Orland Mall in an hour. If you don’t see me there, it’s because I’m dead.”

  “What about the gangbangers?”

  “I got something for them.”

  ###

  Jim made a right turn on Wentworth and sped down the entry ramp onto I-94, but slowed down enough to allow the green car to keep him in sight.

  “Jim, why are you slowing down?” Jessica shouted. “Don’t you see them following us?”

  “Yes, but the last thing we need is to turn this into a high speed chase. Let’s do the speed limit.”

  “You’re going to get us killed.”

  “I sure hope not. I have a plan A and a plan B.”

  Jim maintained the speed limit until they encountered rush-hour traffic. His stolen car was ahead of the green car by two car lengths. Jim and Jessica were in the right hand lane, the green car was in the 2nd lane sandwiched in-between cars on each side. The traffic was stand still and Jim kept his eyes on the green car in his side-view mirror. Good thing he did. All four men got out of the car. Two men ran toward Jim’s car with Tec-9 machine guns and began firing.

  So much for having a plan A and B.

  “Jessica, get down!”

  Bullets rained everywhere on I-94, tearing into innocent bystanders’ car windows that were near Jim’s car. These guys were ruthless, yet sloppy. Bullets shattered Jim’s back window, but surprisingly Jim’s side-view mirror hadn’t been shattered and he could see both gunmen as they approached their lane. They walked behind each other, big mistake. Jim put on one of Steve’s hats, grabbed a glove from Jessica’s purse and threw her iced tea out of the sunroof toward the gunmen. Their natural reflexes caused them to shoot toward the flying target. Jim opened driver side door, rolled out of the car with his left knee landing on the pavement, and took out both gunmen.

  The other two gunmen who were strong arming passengers on the left side to move out their way to forge an escape route noticed that the gunfire had ceased. They called out their partners’ names and began firing after getting no response. The men fired numerous shots and hit everything but their targets. These guys were bad shots, but Jim didn’t have that problem, he was an excellent shot. Using the car on the side of him gave him enough time and cover to survey the two men who were shooting. Just like the previous two men, these guys were standing in the same proximity. Jim grabbed a can of Armor All and heaved it toward the men. The two men didn’t fire, but they were distracted by the flying object. Before they could look up, a bullet was lodged into both of their skulls. Jim got back in the car and sped down the median and up the 63rd Street ramp with no regard for the stoplight. Luckily for the other drivers his light was green. Once they drove past St. Bernard Hospital, Jim realized that they were in the Englewood neighborhood which was a bad place to raise children, but a good place to ditch a car.

  “Jessica, are you okay?” Jim asked.

  “We almost got killed,” she shouted. “What do you think?”

  “We need to find a vacant lot to ditch this car.”

  “And walk around in this neighborhood?”

  “Either we ditch the car and walk, or we go to prison for murder,” he shouted.

  “But our prints are all over this car.”

  “Not if we burn it.”

  “Steve keeps lighter fluid in the trunk.”

  “That’s the one thing he’s done right.”

  They found a vacant lot on 65th & Lowe and parked the car there. Jim and Jessica hopped out of the car, popped the trunk and grabbed a car tarp, and several bottles of lighter fluid. Jessica looked across the street and noticed several neighborhood thugs standing around blaring loud rap music from an 1980-something Chevy. Some were stool pigeon drug dealers, a few were lookouts and others were local hoodlums.

  “Jessica, squirt the lighter fluid all over the inside and the exterior of the car, I’ll be back.”

  “You’re going to leave me over here by myself?”

  “What the hell are you worried about?” Jim scolded. “I’m the one going across the street to talk to some reckless criminals. Now if you want any chance of us getting out of here alive, then do what I say.”

  “You better be right about this.”

  “Jessica, if I’m not right then you’ll have several homeboys who’ll stick some dick in your ass, now make sure you put that tarp on the car to cover everything except the back window, for obvious reasons. Make sure you torch the motherfucker.”

  Jim took off his hat, threw it in the car, grabbed the $100 bills from the envelope that was intended for the security guard’s wife and stuffed them in his jacket pockets. Then he walked across the street optimistically. The street thugs were looking at the two misfits from the moment they parked their car in the vacant lot across the street from them. Two things stood out to them: they dressed differently from the people who lived in their slum and clearly didn’t live in the Englewood neighborhood, and their car had several bullet holes on it.

  “Ay, what chu doin’ walkin’ over here, man?” the bare-chested thug asked.

  “I need a ride to 115th & Kensington,” Jim answered.

  “You don’t look like the type that belongs over there, man. In fact, you don’t belong over here either.”

  This wasn’t going good so far. Jim wanted a p
ass to talk to the driver who was overseeing his street-level drug operation. The thug wanted to protect him, which was understandable, but the hostility was worse than he initially thought. Shooting the motherfucker was a passive idea, but then he would have to kill everyone, and his chances of surviving a gunfight with several armed hoodlums were slim to none—Jim calculated his odds at twelve million to one—and even if he did survive, they would leave another trail of bodies which would lessen their chances of evading the police. He had to show strength without agitating the crash dummy hood, especially with the other men on the block looking at them. Jim then realized that his gun was in his jacket pocket so he pointed it at the hood without taking it out.

  “Look man, I just wanna get out of this neighborhood without firing one bullet.”

  “You ain’t got no gun in that pocket,” the thug said.

  “You could be right, but what if you’re wrong?”

  The hood contemplated what was said and didn’t want to find out whether he was right or wrong. If he were wrong, he might’ve paid the ultimate price.

  “Now look, I don’t want to shoot you because there is more of your crew than me, but I won’t hesitate to take your ass out and take my slim chances with them if you pull anything. I don’t want it to go down that way. All I want you to do is put this $100 dollar bill in your pocket and walk over to your buddy and ask him if I can talk to him. If he agrees to have a word with me, I’ll give you another $100 bill.”

  With the gun in Jim’s right pocket, the man took the $100 bill from his left hand and ran to his boss’s car. They talked for a few moments and the hood waved him onto the car. Jim gave the hood another $100 bill as promised and bent down to talk to the man in the car.

  “What cha need?”

  “My girl and I need a ride to 115th & Kensington,” Jim said

  “How come you can’t catch the bus?”

  Here we go with this bullshit.

  “The police is after us,” Jim said. “Now are you gonna give me a ride or not because I don’t have time for this 20 questions shit.”

  “It’s gonna cost you more than $200.”

  “Give me a number that sounds fair to both of us.”

  “Give me a stack.”

  I would have gotten a better price for a limo. This motherfucker knows something because this is robbery.

  “A thousand dollars for a cab ride?”

  “Shit, you two are all over the radio.”