Page 6 of Chasing Storm

The woman sighs and turns to me, asking what I want, and I respond, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

She laughs and the gum shoots onto our table as I shove into Teagan to avoid it hitting me. The waitress picks it up, puts it back in her mouth, and says, “I’ve seen that movie. Ain’t itWhen Harry Met Sally?”

Off the waitress goes. Teagan and I sip our coffees, repulsed by what just happened, and then laugh at the situation. I scope the place out. The average age of the people is around fifty and everyone knows each other. Figures in a town of 250 people. A table over, a man tells another about how some man named Jeremy died last night. Correction. A town of 249.

Our food arrives, covering every inch of our table, and we devour it. Teagan and I are too consumed with eating to talk, but I occasionally glance up to find people watching us in disgust. I’m not too concerned since we’re not sticking around for long-lasting friendships.

The bell above the door chimes and there’s silence again, except for Tea and me. An indication he’s not from town or wanted. Placing the fork on the table, I push Tea closer to the wall and scrunch next to her, so he doesn’t have a direct line of vision. A motorcycle dude, dressed in leather, patches, tattoos, and a handlebar mustache walks over to four men at a table. He drags a chair over, turns it around, and sits backwards. The man’s eyes scan the place. I’m waiting for him to draw a gun. He’s not here to eat. He’s here for us. No doubt he polished the bullet he wants to put in my head. The question is, is he willing to do something in broad daylight in front of all these people? Maybe so, and then he’ll burn the place down.

My mouth is near Tea’s ear. “Something’s going to go down. Don’t panic and listen to me.” Her eyes widen. “I got you, Tea.”

The motorcycle dude’s eyes land on mine. It’s a stare down. One of the men at the table he’s sitting at asks him a question and the guy ignores him. Instead, he reaches behind his back as I do the same. He pulls out a knife and begins cleaning his nails, still spying me. Without taking my eyes off him, I toss money on the table, and scoot out with Tea behind me, holding the gun to my side. There are gasps when they see the gun. People drag chairs away from us, forming a path to the door. The guy’s eyes keep to our movements.

Once we’re outside, he stands, and I push Tea toward the car, telling her to get in the driver’s seat and lock the doors. I head in the opposite direction to the side of the next building. He walks out at a steady pace, following Teagan. I’m sure he thinks holding her captive is a sure bet to getting me. Unfortunately, he won’t get the opportunity. Five feet behind him, I cock my gun, and he stops. In slow motion, he turns toward me, hands at his sides.

He's wearing a crooked grin. “Well, well, you’re one popular dead man.”

“Lift your arms above your head.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me, but then they rise at a snail’s pace, as if he’s anticipating a Western showdown.

“Don’t even think about it.” I pulse my gun his way. “Move and you’ll be dead before your left nut shifts to the side.”

He laughs. “Nah, I’m not going to move.” His smile fades and it clicks. Someone else has their gun leveled on me. All he had to do was get me outside. “Don’t need to.” And he just confirmed it.

There’s a sound in the distance. I drop to the ground, shoot the guy’s leg, and roll to the side. The biker dude goes down, clutching his thigh, so I slide behind him, dragging him along in front of me. I shout for Tea to unlock the doors and get down. A bullet hits the side mirror. Whoever it is, has bad aim, but I can’t let them get the tires. I reach up for the door handle, shove the guy away from me, and crawl into the car.

I shout, “Start it and stay down!”

We’re crouched low in our seats, and when the car starts, my leg stretches over, and my foot slams on the gas, peeling away from the curb. Old bench seat cars make it doable. More shots fired. I reach for the steering wheel and ease myself up enough to see over the dashboard. No one’s in the street, yet I haven’t let up on the gas. Teagan crawls over my lap while I slip into the driver’s seat. This isn’t her first time, so she stays down. Suddenly, a swarm of motorcycles come racing toward us.

Fuck me!

There’s not much around these parts other than a bridge. Unfortunately, it’s behind us, so I jack the wheel to the left, and spin, facing the opposite direction toward the bikers. A couple of bikers can’t stop in time and fly over the car. I step on the gas, jetting toward the bridge. If I can knock some bikers over the sides, it will give us a chance. Further ahead, I see the bridge, and what looks like flashing lights to the side of it.This is our lucky day.I instruct Teagan to put on her seatbelt. Of course, the woman doesn’t listen. She puts my seatbelt on before clicking hers into place.

“Tea, there’s a drawbridge ahead. If I can time it right, we’ll jump over onto the other side as the bridge rises. Hopefully it will stop the bikers from following. Hold on to whatever you can.”

I notice her hand clutching the door handle, and her other hand braces against the roof. Smart girl. My foot releases the pedal a little. A biker comes up beside my window. I shoot out his tire and he flies off to the side. It’s too good not to smile. The gates start to go down in front of the bridge, so I floor the gas. We approach as the gates are down and the bridge rises. Our car crashes through the gates, the front tires pound against the rising street bridge as we ascend upward, and then we’re airborne. With one hand on the steering wheel, I use the other to brace against the roof. The bridge rises, and the car is halfway over a ravine. Our tires are in range of the opposite ramp as it continues to rise. We’re almost there. The wheels hit the pavement on the other side of the road, and we bounce around the car. One bounce. Two. We’re jostled, bumping the tops of our heads on the roof. The car swerves, spinning halfway to one side, and then the other. I lean toward Teagan to avoid hitting my head on the steering wheel while the car swerves left and right. Once it slows, and I have control of it, I floor the pedal and look in the rearview mirror. There are a couple of bikes laying on each side of the bridge. No drivers. I drive until I come to a sign pointing to the highway, and get on it, never looking back.

Teagan has recovered from our…adventure? After the initial shock wears off, she suggests our lives are like Thelma and Louise.

“Uh, you better mean, Louie.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “It’s a movie about two women on the run. In our case, it’s Tea and Graffiti.”

Teagan uses the name she called me early on in our relationship because of my tattoos. She’s listening to the radio while the scenery breezes by. The thing that’s bothering me the most is how the hell they found us. We were in a small barn, undetectable by ground or air. My gut tells me we’re being tracked, but I have no idea how. I’ve already gone through all our suitcases and duffel bag to see if there were any tracking mechanisms. Nothing. Plus, no one has come into contact with our stuff except Tea and me. This car isn’t even our original ride. I’ve changed out cars twice already. I can only think of one thing that’s being tracked, and Teagan isn’t going to like it. At the next exit, I leave the highway in search of a motel.

Tea’s head perks up. “Why did you get off?”

“We’re going to a motel for a couple of hours.”

“Why?”

“Let’s find one first, and then I’ll explain.”

I turn into the parking lot of a run-down motel a mile from the highway, with a broken flashing motel light above a four-hour nap sign. I check us in and hide the car behind the building. Teagan is on the bed when I walk into the room. Instead of joining her, I sit in a chair.

“Tea?”

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