Break Free & Be Broken (12 page)

My tires screech in fuming protest as my car slides from dirt to asphalt. The drift is working all right. The problem: my car is only spinning, not turning. Our direction of travel continues forward. We slide sideways all the way across the street. When we hit the dirt on the other side, the spin continues-faster now. The tail sweeps around hard. I expect to get whipped into a full 360, maybe more, but we never get the chance. There's a loud crash. My body flings against the door, bringing my head into a splitting collision with the window, and then—

Black...

But just a moment of it; long enough for the entire world to shrink down into my head and come exploding back out accompanied by a tremendous ache. Literal stars flash before my eyes-something I didn't know happened outside of cartoons. "Jesus fuck..." I mutter, clutching at my skull.

"Get out and follow me!" The stranger yells.

Huh? My senses are failing to recover.

"Hurry!"

I do as he says despite not being sure what he means. My brain is reeling. I can't really remember what's happening. I climb out of the car and notice that the world is illuminated by the headlights of two vehicles pointing directly at me. I stop and stare at them. I know what's happening... so why can't I remember? A hand falls onto my collar and snatches me back, dragging me across the hood of the car and onto the ground on the other side.

The stranger, standing above me, starts firing his rifle at the two vehicles. The cracks from the gun are loud and obnoxious. Each bang drives a shock of pain deep into my already aching head. What the hell is happening? Heavy gunfire from multiple guns erupts from the direction of the two vehicles, causing the stranger to duck down beside me. I listen carefully to the musical dings of metal ripping into metal as bullets embed themselves in my car.

The violent music wakes me the fuck up. The stranger did something to piss these guys off, and now they’re going to kill us! Ah, fuck! I scurry behind the boulder we crashed into and curl up in a seated position, fearing for my life. The stranger pops up, fires off a few more rounds, then dips back down beside me.

"I'm glad you're alive. Take this." He says, dropping a pistol into my lap. He then pops back up and fires off another salvo. I just stare at the damn thing, too shell shocked (or perhaps too scared) to make a move. The stranger drops back down. "What are you waiting for? I could use a hand."

I don't reply. I can't. It isn't that I can't shoot-I'm no stranger to guns-it's that I don't want to. And it isn't because I don't want to kill these people: I don't want them to kill me! Best to stay low and not give them a chance. I grip the gun tightly, cover my ears, and put my head into my lap. The stranger mutters something, then leans out sideways to unleash more hell on our attackers. He quite possibly said the word 'pussy,' but who cares? Fuck him. He didn't tell me what we were getting into.

I start counting dings to calm my mind. Each ding is a sort of victory-a bullet my dear car defended from my flesh-and since it’s getting shot a lot, there’s a lot of victory. Each time the stranger stands and shoots, the opposing gunshots lessen and the dings become less frequent. After a while, they stop all together, leaving nothing but the low growl of engines to feed my ears.

The stranger starts walking away. I pull my head from my lap and almost follow, but I'm still too scared to leave cover. I give it a good minute of him not getting shot before I finally stick my head up to see what's going on.

The two SUV's are idling side by side with doors open, their brights shining toward us. I can't see much behind the lights, so slowly: cautiously, with one hand tight on the pistol and the other shielding my eyes, I move forward. It isn't until I'm quite close that I can see well enough to see the stranger. He is busying himself examining bodies, picking up weapons, and throwing them into the back of one of the cars. I just watch him for a time, not sure what to say. Part of me is angry that he got me into such a mess, but the bulk of me is simply grateful he got me out.

Shame at my own uselessness creeps on me hard. The grand tarp scare at work comes out of my memory and places its hand on my genitals, threatening to steal away my useless balls. This is another situation I thought I knew what I was capable of, and another situation I now know I'm a damn bitch. And I thought I had what it takes to be in the Special Forces... what a joke.

The stranger continues looting corpses; I continue to sit and stare. He doesn't talk and neither do I. What is there to say? I guess I could ask for my money, but no. I didn't earn it. He said he'd pay if I gave him another ride, but now... ahh shit. I wonder what condition my car is in. I know there's a lot of body damage from bullets and the crash. I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't drivable. I sigh. If my car is dead...

"Something wrong?" The stranger asks. It startles me.

"Yeah, it's..." I consider dropping the full load of my night onto him-I almost do-but something stops me, so rather, I just part with my disappointment that pertains to him. "Sorry I didn't help you. I dunno what happened, but I couldn't even move when you gave me the gun."

"I knew there was a good chance you wouldn't. Your reaction wasn't strange or uncommon. Don't sweat it. If it ever happens again, you'll be ready."

"You called me a pussy..."

"Indeed, a regrettable slip of the tongue resulting from the extreme nature of our predicament. I knew you probably wouldn't be able to help, but that doesn't mean I wasn't hoping for it. Like I said, next time."

Next time...? "Are we gunna be in more gunfights tonight?"

"I might. I don't see why you would. Why are you asking?"

"Oh... you just said next time, and I dunno... I thought maybe..." The sentence never finds completion. My hope-my bizarre, outlandish, nonsensical hope that maybe he'd keep me with him-vanishes. I hadn't even realized I was harboring such an idea until it was already dead, yet its death saddens me greatly none the less. The stranger picks up on my falling mood.

"Were you hoping for another fight?"

"What? I don't know, I guess not. This has just been a weird night for me."

"You want some cash?"

I blink at him. "Are you offering to pay for my car?"

"Of course not. You ruined that with your own terrible driving, but I will give you that extra two thousand even though I don't need a ride anymore. You did wait, after all, and you did try. And feel free to take this," he motions to one of the SUV's, "I imagine it's in better condition than your car."

Not a great consolation, but a consolation none the less. No way I can keep it, but at least I can use it to get me outta the boonies if my whip is done.

"Okay." I mumble, falling back into despair.

The stranger walks up to me and hands me the money. "Try to have a good night, buddy." He says, tipping me an imaginary hat.

Right... a good night. How the hell am I gunna do that? I start walking back toward my car. The lights are still on... so something's working. I move to the far side to check out the damage from the crash. The back door is crushed almost all the way to the wheel. Upon inspection, the wheel seems to be intact, so I also have that going for me.

I climb into the driver’s seat and attempt to turn on the ignition. To my dismay, the keys are still corked forward to go, but the car isn't running. I twist them back then forward again. Nothing. Not even a sound. I take them out, blow on them as if they were a video game cartridge from the 90's, and give it one more try.

Nothing.

Awesome! Fuck yeah! On top of everything else, I no longer have a car! I literally have nothing but the clothes on my back, and it's hardly an outfit. I don't even have sleeves, for god sakes. I have nothing.

Well... not completely nothing. I have the money the stranger gave me.

In a daze, I get to picking up the twenty-two hundred that was scattered when we crashed. A lot of it ended up over in the passenger seat. I keep picking up hundreds, one at a time, trying to formulate what is so wrong with this picture.

When it hits me, I almost puke.

My car is dead. I can't drive it away from here. My car-the one registered in my name, the one that is stained with a dead woman's blood-has to be left here... at the scene of a mass shoot out. I let my head slink against the steering wheel, too defeated to even cry. I'm fucked. Fucked at the ultimate level. There's no escaping this. The smoothest tongue that's ever been and ever was couldn't talk its way out of the clusterfuck in which I find myself.

What am I going to do? How can I get away from the monster that is my life?

Not jumping was the worst mistake I've ever made. Maybe I was supposed to die tonight, and now I'm cursed: cursed until I'm dead. I look at the pistol still in my hand. Maybe I could do it now... HA! As if I had the strength. No matter how terrible things get, I'll never be able to do it.

Instead, I get to drive a shot up SUV back to an obliterated, burnt out life. But oh, at least I've got some money. God, I could use some heroine. I just wanna go somewhere and get high. Where can I find some—

An extraordinary thought pats me on the bum, making me just the tingliest little boy there is. The stranger is a shady dude. Surely he knows where I can score some drugs! I leap from the corpse of my car and dash over to him. He looks surprised by my hasty approach.

"Uh, random question for you. Do you know where I could get some heroine? Or really anything, for that matter? I could use a score."

"As a matter of fact, I'm going somewhere you could get heroin this very minute-lots of it."

A ray of sunlight curls around from the other end of the earth and lands upon my face, bringing my spirits to new heights with the glory of its warmth and energy. My only possession right now is money. If I can turn some of that into drugs, then my my my, there will be reason to smile after all. "Is it all right if I join ya?"

"Ehhhh... I don’t think so. I'm in the middle of something."

Wait... seriously? "Then why did you even bother telling me about it?"

"Because you asked and it's the truth."

A simple, reasonable answer: don't think that means I like it. "Look man, please. I'm telling you, drugs are about the only thing that could turn things around for me. This night has been complete shit. I've got nothing in this world but the clothes I'm wearing and the money you gave me. I've got nothing to lose, and I could really,
really
use a high."

The stranger looks at me with thoughtful eyes. "Okay, my friend. Now that my brain's in motion, I'm thinking you might actually be able to help me out. If you do, you won't have to buy any heroin-I will give you heroin. And I don’t know what you’re used to, but I’m talking old school China white, brother, at least a pound, probably more. Does that sound all right?"

"All right?" A huge smile spreads across my face. I pump my fist into the air. "All right? That sounds amazing!" I feel change on the wind... "So what do I have to do?"

"Simple. Just a bit of acting, but we really need to get moving. We'll talk on the way. Check that car for anything useful, then we'll head out. We've wasted enough time as it is."

I do as he says, moving to the SUV that’s technically now mine. I try my best not to look at all the carnage strewn across the ground, but it's such a new and unusual sight, my eyes are hard pressed to remain from the bodies. These aren't nearly as bad as the woman was. In fact, these are hardly unsettling at all. Most of the blood pooling from them is coming from places in their chests and stomachs. The only thing even remotely disturbing is the way the moonlight glints off their glossy dead eyes. That really isn't so bad though, and now that I think about it, even the head smashing wasn't
that
bad.

The lady’s flaccid jaw and loose eyeballs pop into my head. I shake them out.

It was that bad.

All I find in the car are a couple Kevlar vests. I laugh. They weren't really useful tucked away in the back seat. What dummies. I reach in to grab them. They are heavier than I expected. When I'm feeling their weight in my arms, the surreal nature of the situation takes a hold of me.

I was just in a firefight-not between some low class gang members-but between some well equipped, well trained individuals. I pause. Maybe the drugs aren't worth it. I already seem to be in over my head, which means the only question left is how long I can stay under before suffocation.

But what the fuck else am I going to do? I need drugs, and if I get a pound or more I'll be set for years. Maybe I could even use some as a peace offering to smooth things over with Griff-start getting my life back on track.

I have to do this.

Steeling my resolve, I take the jackets to the stranger's SUV, throw them in the back, and climb in. He gets in right after I do and extends me his hand.

"The names Sage, by the way."

“Hi, Sage. I'm Chales."

"Well Chales, I hope you're ready. We may just be in for a wild night."

He might as well have just told me clouds were coming in while I'm already standing in rain. I smile and let it pass.