Drunk Driving

by Zane Mitchell

  I was just about to slide from the back of Gibson’s car to the other squad car when the hangar’s front door flew open and Sergeant Gibson, Commissioner Villanueva, and Ziggy Thomas all came striding out, trailed by Officer Jones, who tugged Giselle Marrero by the elbow with one hand and held a gun in the other.

  “Shit,” I hissed under my breath, drawing back around to the side of the last police cruiser and pulling Frankie with me. I was thankful to see that Giselle was indeed alive but deeply concerned that, without our backup, we’d be unable to stop Gibson and Villanueva from leaving the island with her in tow.

  Giselle had gone no more than a few paces towards the waiting helicopter when she yanked her arm out of his hold, stopped walking, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going with you.”

  Jones pointed his gun at her. “You’ll go where I say you’ll go. Now come on.” He tugged her along, but she fought him every step of the way.

  “Lemme go!” Giselle screamed. Angry tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. Finally, her legs went limp and she fell to the ground intentionally.

  “Stand up!” Jones bent over and tried to force her back onto her feet using only his free arm.

  She swatted at him. “I don’t wanna gooooo!”

  Jones let out an annoyed sigh and then looked up ahead at Gibson. “Can’t we just shoot her here, boss?”

  Gibson kept walking but tossed back over his shoulder, “No, she is our insurance policy to getting off of this island safely. Once we have gotten to Isla La Fleur, then you may do what you like with her.”

  Giselle sat cross-legged with her arms folded over her chest. She stared down at the ground like a petulant child.

  Jones pointed the gun at her. “Get your ass up, or you’re gonna end up like your friend. I sure hope you know how to swim better than she did.” He snickered, glancing back at his boss.

  Giselle’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. Anger at what he’d done to Jordan seethed beneath the surface. Without a word to him, she lifted a foot and lashed it out, using the back of her heel to strike him sharply in the knee cap.

  Caught off guard by the attack, Jones crumpled to the ground. The scene was reminiscent of David bringing down Goliath and made me want to cheer. Jones let out a grunt as he fell, holding his leg.

  Giselle scampered to her feet and began to run back towards the hangar.

  I spotted that as being our opportunity to grab her. “Giselle!” I hollered.

  “Danny!” hissed Frankie, reaching for me. “No!”

  But I’d already scrambled to my feet and was beckoning her to come to us. “Over here!”

  Giselle’s eyes widened, and an overjoyed smile covered her face. She ran towards us. “Drunk!”

  Behind her, Gibson, Villanueva, and Ziggy had all stopped and turned around. I tracked Gibson’s eyes as they first darted over to see my Jeep parked beside the Escalade and then slid over to me, beckoning Giselle towards us. He pulled his weapon out while, off to the side, Jones struggled to get back to his feet.

  “Giselle, get down!” I screamed, training my weapon past her and on him.

  When she saw my gun pointed in her direction, Giselle’s eyes widened fearfully, but she did as instructed and immediately fell to the ground.

  “Don’t move!” shouted Frankie, now forced to her feet.

  Limping slightly, Jones fought through the pain in his knee to stand upright.

  “I said, don’t move, Jones!”

  “Bite me, Cruz!” he hollered, getting his own gun up and aiming it at us.

  Villanueva and Ziggy both stared at the showdown, neither of them moving. I hoped that meant that neither had a weapon to pull out, making it a little bit more of a fair fight. I felt slightly better about our odds, but I would’ve felt better if Al’s backup showed up.

  And then I heard a click behind me. “Drop your weapons.”

  My heart froze.

  “Drunk! No!” screamed Giselle from the ground before beginning to sob.

  I let out a sigh as I caught Frankie looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “Ames?”

  “Damn straight. Now drop your weapons,” he ordered, shoving the barrel of his gun into my spine.

  I hung my head, then reached down and put my Glock on the pavement.

  Frankie did the same. “Don’t do this, Ames. You’re better than this.”

  “Oh, zip it, Cruz. I’m tired of you being a goody-two-shoes all the time. Now march. The boss wants to have a word with you.”

  Across from us, Sergeant Gibson holstered his gun and turned to say something to the rest of his men, then began to walk towards us.

  “He’s not my boss,” growled Frankie through gritted teeth as we walked towards the helicopter.

  “Ohhh, you hear that, boss? Cruz says you’re not her boss anymore,” sneered Ames as he leaned over and forced Giselle to her feet.

  “He was never my boss.”

  “Awww, Officer Cruz, that saddens me to hear,” said Sergeant Gibson with a bit of a chuckle.

  “All that time I thought you were a good man. And I thought that I wasn’t good enough,” she said bitterly. “But now I know. I was wrong.”

  Sergeant Gibson let out a little tsk, tsk, tsk. “Oh, but, Officer Cruz, the truth is, you were right! I am a good man, and you aren’t good enough.”

  Jones and Ames both laughed.

  I wanted to lunge across the short distance between us and wipe the smug smiles off the crooked officers’ faces, but Ames shoved his gun harder between my shoulder blades, forcing me to stay put, feeling helpless. “Don’t listen to him, Frankie.”

  “Oooh, Frankie,” said Ames behind us. “I like that. Makes you almost sound tough, Cruz.”

  “Fuck you, you piece of shit. The woman’s tougher than hell. Why don’t you put down the gun and come over here? She’ll kick the shit out of you.”

  I glanced over at Frankie. I’d never seen her look so angry before. I could tell she wanted to unload on her former coworkers. Then I noticed Commissioner Villanueva making a move towards the helicopter. “You know you can’t hide, Villanueva. No matter where you go, we’ll find you.”

  Villanueva stopped walking and sighed. He looked over at Gibson. “Who is this guy, Gibson?”

  “This is Officer Drunk. The American pest we have been hearing about,” he explained.

  “You’re the one that snuck into my friend’s party?”

  “Damn straight. And we’ve got the evidence we need to bring you down.”

  Gibson chuckled and pulled the USB stick we’d given him out of his pocket. “No, we have got the evidence you need. You have nothing, I’m afraid.”

  I glanced over at Frankie and chuckled. “They really think that’s the only copy?”

  She shrugged, shaking her head slightly. “I guess so.”

  Gibson strode over to me and stared up at me, his eyes shining with contempt. “You made a copy?”

  “You think we’re stupid? Of course we made a copy.”

  “Who has the copy?”

  “Oh, you’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

  “Gibson, you said you had this handled,” snapped Villanueva from behind him.

  “Do not worry, Commissioner. I shall handle it,” he said, pulling his weapon again.

  But I wasn’t done taunting Villanueva. “Pretty soon, the entire island will know about your precious PGC, the sex trafficking, the embezzlement, all of it. You’re about to be the most wanted man in all of the Caribbean. There’s nowhere you can hide, Commissioner.”

  “Shut him up!” roared Villanueva.

  “Gladly.” Jones walked over to me and punched me in the stomach, hard.

  “Danny!”

  My breath left my body, and it took me a moment to regain my composure. In the meantime, the men all laughed. When I was finally able to breathe, I glanced over at Ziggy Thomas. “And don’t think you’re not gonna be the talk of the town.” Hunched over, holding my stomach, I gave Ziggy a little win
k. “They’re gonna write blog posts for months about your trial. But don’t worry, looking like that, I bet you’ll still find a date. Of course, it might be your cellmate, but whatevs, right?”

  Ziggy’s eyes shifted around nervously.

  Villanueva’s nostrils flared. “Get this thing started,” he said to Ziggy.

  “I’m on it.” Ziggy got in the helicopter.

  Villanueva turned his attention to Ames and Jones next. “Put the girl in the chopper and kill these two.”

  Giselle screamed when the two men surrounded her. Each of them grabbing her by an elbow, they began to drag her towards the helicopter. “Nooo!”

  “Let her go!” I hollered, making a move towards Ames as they walked past me.

  But Gibson grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backwards.

  “Drunk!” screamed Giselle, crying as Ames shoved her into the helicopter.

  The helicopter’s motor let out a high-pitched whine. It was now or never. If Frankie and I didn’t get Giselle off that helicopter now, we never would. I shot Frankie a sideways glance. We had to do something.

  She gave me the slightest of nods as the motor revved up louder and the propellers began their slow rotation.

  Gibson stood behind me and slightly to the side. With my adrenaline racing, I slammed my head backwards, head-butting him directly in the face. Blood spurted out of his nose, catching him off guard long enough for Frankie to grab the gun out of his hand.

  She swiveled around on him and fired one round into his shoulder—making sure he would survive the shot and be able to pay for his sins. Holding his arm, Gibson fell to the ground.

  Then she turned the gun on Jones, who was just climbing into the chopper. She aimed at his shoulder, but when he saw that he was in her sights, he charged at her. She pulled the trigger just as he turned towards her, sending the bullet hitting him squarely in the chest. His torso kicked back and his uniform exploded in red. His knees buckled and he went to the ground.

  The propeller blades were spinning full speed now, whipping up the air around us, making dust and dirt fly. Villanueva ran for the helicopter and jumped inside.

  “You stay with them, Frankie. I’ll get Giselle,” I hollered. I ran to the side of the helicopter and launched my torso inside the cabin just as the landing skids left the ground. There were two rows of leather seats facing each other just behind the pilot and passenger’s seats. Ziggy was in front in the captain’s seat. Villanueva was in the back, seated next to Giselle. Ames stood in the center aisle. Giselle and I made eye contact for a split second. “Jump!”

  But I’d no sooner gotten my feet secured on the landing skids than I took a kick to the ribs from Ames. Holding on to the helicopter with one arm, I reeled back, trying to catch the air that had left my lungs. But I came back with everything I had. I lunged back into the cabin and grabbed hold of Ames’s ankles with both hands, pulling his legs out from under him and sending him straight down onto his back. The force knocked the gun out of his hands. It flew backwards, out the helicopter’s other open door.

  Villanueva, who had until that point seemingly wanted to let Gibson and his men do the manhandling, stood up. “Get off my helicopter, you annoying insect!”

  In one smooth move, he delivered a polished black shoe to the underside of my jaw. Pain shot through my face. Before I could recover, he gave me a hard shove with his other foot, and my body kicked back from the helicopter. My feet slipped off the landing skids, but I managed to grab hold of a metal bar attaching the seat to the cabin floor.

  I dangled there for a moment, my feet not attached to anything and my one hand holding the weight of my body. I stared down at the ground. We still hovered only feet off the ground, but with me out of the cabin now, Ziggy began to move the helicopter to a higher altitude. I’d jump, but I’d yet to retrieve Giselle.

  The earth grew further away, and I quickly realized that I couldn’t hang on like this. I panicked. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I saw guys hanging from helicopters all the time in the movies, and yet they managed to hang on forever, all while shooting the bad guy. But now I found my hands to be slippery, and I could barely keep my grip on the helicopter.

  Fuck.

  As I dangled there, trying to figure out my next move, out of my periphery, I saw my bright yellow banana boat barreling full speed ahead towards me. Frankie was behind the wheel. Was she going to try and catch me if I fell?

  I struggled to hold on long enough to find out. But when I looked down once again, I saw that she’d stopped the vehicle and gotten out. Giselle was in a heap on the ground! She must’ve jumped out when Villanueva had kicked me off the helicopter!

  It was now or never. This helicopter was never getting any closer to the earth than it was right now. I held my breath and let go. I landed on my feet, but the force of the fall sent me rolling across the pavement several times. Sitting up, I held my ribs. I was pretty sure my stitches had popped. Wincing, I glanced around me. Ames’s gun, which he’d lost during our struggle, lay on the pavement just a few short yards away.

  I crawled over to it, flipped over onto my backside on the pavement and emptied the entire clip into the tail rotor. I managed to shoot off one of the propeller blades, and the helicopter began to rock woozily back and forth in the air like a drunk barely able to stay on his feet. The next thing I knew, the chopper went into a spin. It rocked around and then started to make like a boomerang and head back towards me!

  My eyes widened. I struggled to get to my feet, but as soon as I did, I began to run.

  “Frankie! Giselle! Run!”

  The helicopter was coming at us, spinning out of control.

  I ran as fast as I could, helping Frankie get Giselle to her feet. The three of us veered left as the helicopter veered right and crashed into my Jeep, sitting where Frankie had parked it.

  I rolled over the top of Giselle and Frankie as the Jeep and helicopter exploded behind us, sending shrapnel flying around us. My body shuddered as the violent burst of flames warmed my backside and thundered in my ears.

  43

  “You alright, Giselle?” asked Frankie. We’d just gotten her to her feet and had started to dust her off and check her over for blood and/or broken body parts.

  Tears and dirt stained her cheeks. Her hair was wild around her face. But she nodded anyway. “I think I twisted my ankle when I jumped, but otherwise I’m okay,” she said with a sniffle.

  Though my own body had its own aches and pains, I helped her wrap her arm over my shoulder as Frankie did the same. “Your mom’s gonna be so thankful that you’re okay.”

  Giselle looked up at me with surprise. “My mom knows they had me?”

  I nodded as we began to help her towards the hangar. “Yup. No more secrets. When we get you back to her, we’re telling her everything.”

  Giselle’s head shook wildly as she made a sudden stop. “Noooo. She doesn’t need to know everything.”

  I winced. My own side was on fire, and I was pretty sure I’d ripped off a significant amount of skin from my back when I’d rolled on the pavement after falling off the helicopter. But I fought through the pain. “She does need to know everything, and she will know everything.”

  “Oh, come on. What happened to Funcle Drunk?” asked Giselle, shooting big puppy dog eyes up at me.

  “Funcle Drunk died when he fell off that helicopter,” I assured her. “Look, Giselle, I was wrong in keeping secrets from your mom. She was pretty upset with me. She thought we were having an affair.”

  Giselle giggled as the three of us hobbled together towards the hangar. “Eww. As if. You’re like a million years old.”

  I glanced over at Frankie, who had quirked a smile at that stinging insult. I sighed. “Well, maybe not quite a million. Not until my next birthday anyway.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said. She narrowed her eyes and stared at the pavement up ahead. Gibson’s body lay on the ground next to Jones’s. Giselle’s body shuddered against my side.
/>   “You alright?”

  She nodded towards them. “Are they dead?”

  Frankie sighed. “The big one is. Sergeant Gibson’s alive, but he took a bullet to the shoulder. I’ve got Sergeant Gibson handcuffed, so don’t worry. He’s not getting back up without a little help.”

  Giselle put her head on my shoulder. “That big one scared me so much,” she whispered as tears began to fall again. “He’s the one that came in my house and took me.”

  I gave Giselle’s side a little squeeze. “Don’t worry. No one’s gonna scare you like that again. Okay? Gibson’s going away for a very long time.”

  “But what about Harvey?” she asked, looking up at me.

  “Don’t worry about Harvey. We’re gonna get him next. I promise,” said Frankie assuredly.

  Just then, a line of military vehicles appeared on the main road and, turning down the driveway, started towards the hangar. “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  Leading the lineup was a sky-blue Toyota Land Cruiser, and an ambulance wailed in the distance.

  “What in the world?” whispered Frankie.

  Wide-eyed, I pointed at the Land Cruiser. “That’s Gary the Gunslinger’s vehicle!”

  “Gary the Gunslinger?”

  “Gary Wheelan,” I clarified with a grin. “He’s a friend of Al’s.”

  Frankie’s smile widened. “So this is the backup Al arranged?!”

  I shrugged and quirked a smile. Al was full of surprises. “I guess so.”

  The parade of vehicles drove across the landing pad and stopped just short of us. I could see Gary behind the wheel of his vehicle and Artie seated shotgun. The back door opened, and Al slid out. I shook my head. I couldn’t believe it. We all walked over to them.

  “We’re too late?” asked Al, looking behind me at the fiery flames that engulfed both the helicopter and my Jeep.

  “No. You’re just in time,” I said. I nodded towards the military fleet that had surrounded Gibson and Jones, who still lay on the pavement between us and the hangar. Another pair of vehicles headed straight past us towards the fire in the background. “How in the world did you manage all this, Al?”