Advertencia: El autor ha señalado que contiene gran violencia Advertencia: El autor ha señalado que contiene lenguaje fuerte.
Fondo Recap; The trio area hiding out at an abandoned drive-in,
the trouble is the bad guys know where they are..!
A week ago...
The rain fell continuously, making the world cold, dark and slick.
Wet shadows shifted like hulking beasts from a black and white fifties horror movie. Coming ever closer, and tightening his feeling of claustrophobia to the point where his breath burned in his lungs.
Of course the running he was doing from an almost faceless enemy wasn't helping.
This was not how it was supposed to be. People should be running from him when they couldn't pay their debts, but one wrong move made his world fall apart like some delicately stacked house of cards.
He paused in an alley beneath a steaming grate, and a curtain of rainwater that made the neon signs shimmer like a dream. The holdall he dropped between his knees splashed in a puddle. His fingers were numb where the death grip had loosened to let the blood flow back into the joints as he flexed them.
He had lost the gun a few blocks back, but still had the switchblade tucked into his red cowboy boots. Not that it would do him much good in the situation he was stuck in. Wet and tired, and he hated to admit it, but a little scared.
With good reason considering the people on his trail, that was if you could call them people. A flash of silver to his right made him stand up, and through the downpour a voice called out loud. Clear, polite and cheerful considering who it belonged to.
"My, my, what terrible weather this evening don't you think?"
Trying not to scream like a girl the man swung the holdall over his shoulder once more, and stumbled from his former hiding place. He had run through back rooms and kitchens, alleys and rain slicked streets where the reflection of neon signs shone like rainbow oil spills beneath his feet. While this thing had seemingly been at his heels every step of the way.
He had considered running to his gang for help, but it was possible they had set this up to get him out of the way, and allow another top dog to take his place.
There were not many people out on the streets in this weather, especially at this time of night. One or two with no other place to be stared from the shelter of doorways and peered through the gaps of boarded up windows. Wrapped up against the chill and the rain and not even noticing his despair. They were too lost in their own shit to worry about how deep the pile was he had fallen in to.
The situation went bad quickly, knowing who he was only a few days ago until he had crossed paths with somebody else who had more respect and fear than he ever hoped to amount.
The car pulled up across the street blocking the way out. He could get past if he really had to, but the driver just wanted to let him know that there would be no more running tonight, especially not in such dire weather.
The door opened, and in the glow of headlights and neon a huge shadow flashed in his direction. A contradiction in terms really as the man who had stepped out into the falling rain was quite small, and apparently ill-tempered.
"No more running Jonny-boy. I'm pissed off with hide-and-seek in the fucking rain."
Water ran off the brim of the little man's hat, and Jonny Hu considered reaching for the switchblade in his boot for all of five seconds. Before the quiet click he heard over the weather made him realise whatever luck he thought he had come his way had ran off down the nearest drain with the swirling rain.
"I got your money, most of it."
His desperation did not even bring tears to his face that would have gone un-noticed anyway. The click was a gun being cocked, and the polite speaking stalker tapped him on the shoulder with the barrel of a .44 Magnum.
"Most 'aint all, now is it douche bag? Plus we have an obligation to our employer, I like you but this is business."
The diminutive man opened the back door of the car, and having all his hope wash away Jonny Hu let himself be guided inside. Not caring if his wet clothes caused damage to the upholstery within, hoping in fact that if it was the last thing he ever did, to cause these two freaks a little bit of discomfort.
Shoulders slouching he sighed, and thought to himself at least there would be no more running...
Twenty minutes ago...
Sherriff Bob pulled a face and spat on the road. In the heat of the day he would have smiled to hear it sizzle but now the heat was fading, being stretched out thin with the setting of the sun like a fire in the end of the sky. He looked again at the wreck of the patrol car on the side of the road and his deputy Jerry came back up to his side, waiting to be acknowledged before speaking.
"How is Jimmy-D doin' Jerry?"
"He'll live Sheriff, two broken legs and a knock to the ribs, but it was luck he was wearing his seat belt or he would be-"
"Asphalt pancake." The Sheriff finished for him and shook his head.
"Goddamn it Jerry this pisses me off. One hellova day giving me more grief then I'd get in a month, any joy on tracking that rig down after he shot up my boy?"
"Tracks move off road Sheriff, but Jimmy-D did say there were two vehicles, the rig and a car but as he was spinning through the air he couldn't get a make." Jerry replied.
Another deputy risked getting his head bitten off by the Sheriff, and called out to him from the car behind the barrier tape. The big man looked around, and in that moment the colours of the sky caught his mirrored sunglasses, his eyes flashed red with fire. Holding up the radio the smaller man called out.
"Call for you Sheriff. It's about the rig and the motel fire."
Sheriff Bob's hand slapped to his belt, and he realised he had left his radio in his car. Pulling up the creaking leather strap he straightened up and walked over, almost snatching the microphone from the other man and barked into it.
The big mirrored sunglasses stopped the other lawmen from seeing his eyes go wide with the news, and his face remained like a bulldog chewing a wasp. Muttering a reply he called out to his deputy Jerry.
"Hallelujah the good Lord provides. You guys clean up here, and you grab me my shotgun, seems we found a rats nest needs clearing out!" Then to much surprise he smiled...
Sid poked his head around the hole in the wall where his brother looked out, and saw what he saw. The approaching dust cloud from the two vehicles, and he felt a nervous snake churning in his stomach. Almost like just before he went on stage but bigger, deeper; enough to truly give him the shakes that a nice smooth rye on the rocks would calm down.
He wiped at his dry mouth, and wished they had chosen to hide out in an abandoned bar instead of this dump.
"So what's the plan then? This is your gig." He asked and A.J grunted in reply.
"No plan, we improvise."
"We what? Shit ourselves then run and hide. Shout curses and get blown to kingdom come?" Sid stammered as his brother walked back toward the decrepit concessions stand, and toyed with the empty revolver he had taken from the motel back before it went up in flames.
He wished for ammo like Sid wished for a drink, but shit happens. If he hadn't known the gun was empty the asshole he aimed it at wouldn't know either, that was the only comfort in holding the thing.
The drive-in was wide and barren, not many places to hide but a lot of junk was scattered at the edges, giving it the post-apocalyptic look that would have played in so many of the movies here once-upon-a-time.
He was trying to think but was not getting far with Sid's continued jabbering.
"Shut up." A.J snapped, and surprised his brother did just that. He pulled down and rolled his shirt sleeves up a couple of times, licking his lips a lot. His unconscious signal for a drink, he had left his jacket with Tiffany who hid in the wrecked building off to their right.
"We improvise, we wing it. I can take out the first vehicle in here, my guess it's the rig to smash through the gates. Listen this is what you do..." A sudden blast of desert wind snatched away the last of his words as he spoke. Leaning in close to his brother who nodded and ran off towards the screen which still towered above them; scratched and torn in places, stained by years of disuse.
There came a roar from outside as the group came closer, and A.J hoped his plan would work.
He was right that the rig would come roaring up first, the gates to the drive-in were no more than rusted frames held together with equally rusted chain, and tangles of tumbleweed. You could walk straight into the place if you only ducked through one of the many holes along its fence.
Then Lil' Daddy was never one for subtlety, he hoped that a blind display of strength and rage would scare the insects who scuttled among the ruins with his money, but then he never thought very far ahead.
The gates tore apart like paper in a storm; one of the front wheels of the speeding rig hit the hole in the bumpy ground. Or one of the holes that A.J had widened and filled with broken glass collected from where it had been scattered over the years.
The tyre blew out in an almost replay of the police patrol car a little while earlier except that this was a much larger vehicle and it jack-knifed...