Heck On Wheels
by Michael Hansen

Michael Hansen writes, "When I was young, my life was a runaway freight rain: I was raised by bikers, and taught the intricacies of the Streets by gypsies & pimps, dealers, gangbangers and Nam vets. I've been a psychic friend, flea market vendor, kick boxer, door-to-door salesman, bouncer, taxi driver & jarhead -- as well as a homeless bum, and other professions less mentionable. Then I met my wife, had my son, and discovered writing (not necessarily in that order) -- now I'm almost functional!"

"What the hell are you assholes doing?" Pia stood backlit in her open front door holding a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun in both tiny hands, pointed at no one in particular. Light from inside her apartment spilled out onto the lawn in front of her, bathing the two bloodied men in stark light as they circled each other like gladiators. One of the men was Speedy, her neighbor; the other was an Asian guy she’d never seen, whipping a pair of nunchakus in a series of expert, intricate figure-eights. The Asian's head whirled up toward her. Speedy used the distraction to make his move. Taking a desperate leap forward, he rocketed his right fist to thud against his attacker's chest, directly over the heart. The guy coughed and stopped in mid-swing - the nunchakus slid from his hand and helicoptered through the air to thud against the grass. Then his knees bent and he slumped to the ground. He lay on his side, both hands pressed to his chest, occasionally grunting and convulsing as his heart lurched from beat to beat. His eyes looked at nothing.
"Damn! You messed him up! Who is he, Speedy?" Pia leaned over the railing and peered down at the man as he struggled for breath on the lawn, then her huge brown eyes fastened on Speedy's bleeding face with undisguised interest. Speedy and her had been neighbors for a while - they'd talked a few times, once they'd even drunk beer on her porch.
Speedy was gathering his breath to answer when Pia heard the bolts being thrown inside his apartment down the walk. His door whipped open to reveal a tall, wild-eyed Filipino-looking dude standing in the doorway to Speedy's place, holding a .44 Magnum the size of a howitzer. The Filipino saw his friend lying on the sidewalk and snarled as he lifted the Magnum to aim at Speedy. Pia whipped up her sawed-off to cover him. "Whoa! WHOA! Back the fuck off, NOW!"
"You're both dead!" the man shouted, but he didn't pull the trigger.
"Get up here," Pia hissed to Speedy. He ran unashamedly up the stairs and stepped into her apartment, then she followed with a bird-like hop to the side. Shutting the door with a bump of her skinny hip, she threw all three dead bolts on the door. "It's reinforced steel. We're safe in here." Speedy didn't seem to share her optimism.
He looked around the place - it was the first time she'd invited him inside. The walls were covered with erotic posters. Several cats eyed him, either balefully or with indifference. A state-of-the-art computer setup dominated one corner of the room. "So," she said, the shotgun dangling from her small hand, "You want to tell me what's going on, or what?"
"Can I wash up?"
Pia showed him to the bathroom and stood by as he hastily cleaned his wounded face. "That guy you backed down, his name is Jesse. Him and his crew are out to kill me. You saved my ass, standing up like that. I owe you." He patted his face dry with toilet paper. Pia appreciated him not ruining her towels.
Speedy turned to look at her. "Trouble is, you're involved now. You've seen Jesse's face, you've made him eat crow, and you helped me hurt one of his boys." Pia started to interrupt, but he held his hand up. "I know, I know, you weren't part of it. But that's how he sees it. He's gonna try to kill me, and he'll come after you, too - soon. So, we have to get away from here right now, so we can lay low until I can take care of this."
Pia was not happy, in fact she was pissed off at this unexpected trouble - unfortunately Speedy's words made sense: she'd opened her front door on one bad situation. No good deed goes unpunished, she thought, and grimaced. "So you think if I leave town for a few days, that you can fix this?" She looked doubtful.
Speedy smiled at her, trying to look reassuring but failing dismally. "Sure thing. You're in this because of me. Let me get you out of it, okay?"
Pia thought a few seconds more then shrugged in angry resignation. She hated not being in control, but Speedy knew the players - she'd accept his help. "All right. I have some friends in El Sobrante I can stay with. Let me pack real quick." She set down the shotgun. Speedy picked it up and stood by the door waiting as she tossed a few things in an overnight bag. Finished, she came to the apartment door and started opening the dead bolts. "Are we taking your car?" she asked.
Speedy shook his head. "Don't have one. Do you?"
"Yeah. But I don't drive it much."
"As long as it gets us away from here."
Speedy peeked out the blinds at the yard. Jesse and the chukker were gone. Speedy's apartment door yawned wide, all the lights on. Speedy opened the door. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder. He headed down the steps with Pia's shotgun before she could protest. Pia watched him go inside his apartment and waited, ready to slam the door and lock it if there was any trouble.
Speedy reappeared in the doorway after a few seconds. He shut his door and hurried back to rejoin Pia on the porch. "I knew Jesse wouldn't find my stash." He carried Pia's shotgun in his left hand, a .357 in his right.
Pia held out her hand angrily. "My shotgun, please." They locked eyes for a moment, and then Speedy handed it over to her and stuck the .357 down his waistband. She tossed her overnight bag at him, smirking as he caught it, and led the way down the stairs. They went warily, but no one jumped out or shot at them. Pia and Speedy continued around the building to the deserted back-alley parking area. The cars slumbered in a row.
"Which one's yours?"
"The green one." Pia pointed. Speedy stood aghast. The Ford had been green once, sometime back in the seventies. Now the car's body was rust held together by faded paint. The tires were bald, with cracked sidewalls. It was a bomb.
"Does it run?" Speedy asked, obviously wishing they had another car, any car.
"I think so. I haven't driven it in a long time."
"If you get the shotgun, I get to drive. Give me the keys." Speedy took them from her outstretched hand. He looked both ways down the alley: there was nothing in sight. Speedy opened the driver door and reached across the seat to let Pia in. He turned the key, pumping the gas. The starter sounded like a pit bull having an epileptic fit. Then, with a gargling, prehistoric cough, the engine caught and started. The fan belt squealed and the car was shimmying, but it was running by God. He backed out of the space and then they were on their way out of this trap and en route to El Sobrante.
Speedy headed for the street. That was when headlights came on at the other end of the alley. As Speedy turned onto 63rd, an Econoline van raced up the alley to tailgate the Ford, inches from their rear bumper. Jesse was driving. There were four other men in the van, all staring intently through the windshield at their prey.
Speedy pushed the gas all the way to the floor. The Ford sluggishly accelerated, the Econoline keeping up effortlessly. Pia knelt in her seat staring backward at their pursuers for a little bit. Then she turned around and faced forward without a word, clutching the sawed-off in her small hands. Now she wished she'd unloaded both barrels on Jesse when she'd had him in her sights.
Speedy turned onto San Pablo and continued the few blocks up to Ashby, with the van right on their butt. The faster Econoline kept trying to pass, but he swerved from side to side across the lanes to cut them off, preventing them from pulling up next to them for a shot. He ran the stop sign at Ashby and turned toward the Bay, merging into the heavy traffic without slowing - the van was forced to take an opening several cars back. He took the Eastshore Freeway on ramp without slowing, the Ford creaking on its ancient shocks. The van followed. He risked a glance at Pia as she sat next to him staring straight ahead. She was trembling.
"Don't worry, I have an idea," he said, trying to catch her eye.&#9;
"I'm reassured." She refused to look at him.
Rush hour was nearing its end, but traffic was still heavy as they continued north on 580. The Econoline held its position a few cars behind them, one more set of headlights in the crowd. Speedy looked down at the speedometer, quivering at about 57 mph. He had it floored; there was plenty of traffic to dodge around in. His eyes roved back and forth across the traffic patterns, regularly checking the pursuing van in his rear view mirrors in case Jesse tried to come up on them again.
Speedy continued down the freeway in the right lane past Richmond. The van hung way back, sure of them now.
For some reason he seemed to feel the need to justify himself to Pia. "I'm really sorry you got involved in this, Pia. But I couldn't just leave you at your place, they would have come in after you, whether I was there or not. At least out here, we have a chance - not like fish in a barrel, you know?"
"Okay. You're right, whatever." Pia looked over her shoulder at the Econoline, not even listening to him. He gave up.
As they neared El Sobrante, a motel stood off the freeway to the right. There was a busy restaurant next door. "We're getting off the freeway here." Pia looked at him, but he said nothing more.
The van followed them down the off ramp, in no hurry. As they pulled into the parking lot, Pia looked longingly at an Alameda County Sheriff's car and a California Highway Patrol car parked side-by-side. The restaurant was apparently popular with law enforcement. He drove past them to the motel office and stopped with the engine running. He pawed a wad of bills out of his pocket. "Here's some cash. Go in and get us a ground floor room, away from the highway." Pia looked at him doubtfully. "This is where we take care of business, Pia. Trust me, okay?"
Finally she handed him the shotgun with obvious reluctance, took the money, climbed out of the Ford and marched into the office.
Pia ran out of the office and hopped in the car, the key clinking in her hand. "Room 37," she said, pointing toward the back of the motel. The Ford slowly chugged its way back toward their room. He backed into their parking space and looked once more at the van. It still hung by the entrance, Jesse obviously expecting them to make a break for it again. Speedy killed the engine and got out, holding the shotgun along his leg.
As Pia unlocked the door and led the way into their room, she saw the Econoline whip up to the office and stop. A young Asian guy in a leather jacket climbed out and ran into the office. Speedy shut and bolted the motel room door, tweaked open the venetian blinds a crack with his finger, and watched. Pia stepped up and stood on tiptoe to peer over his broad shoulder. The van slid toward them like a shark then backed into a space a few rooms down. All five men got out and stood in a huddle for a few seconds, staring down at the Ford and Room 37. There was Jesse and the nunchaku guy; the kid in the leather jacket; a stocky black dude with a shaved head, built like a fire plug; and a pale little shrimp of a white boy, with black circles under his eyes and long ash-colored hair. Jesse unlocked their door, and they filed inside. Speedy waited about a minute, then opened his door and stepped outside. A few seconds later he darted back inside. Mocking laughter spilled into the open doorway, cut short as Speedy slammed the door and locked it.
Pia perched on the edge of the bed, watching him and looking around at this rat hole he'd led them to. She was not optimistic. "What was the point in dragging me away from my home to this dump. I mean, what's the difference? Hell, the cops are right there at the restaurant - why don't we get some help?"
"Help?" Speedy scowled at her in shocked disbelief. "From the cops? Get real - even if they believe us and arrest these assholes, all they have against them is weapons charges. So when they're released, we have no idea where they are, and they can come up on us and waste us whenever they want. No, thanks! They know where we live, remember? This way, they're all together in one place, and I know where they are. Right now I have the initiative, and I'm gonna keep it." He was breathless from his speech. "I'm gonna take care of it, okay?"
Pia's eyes searched his face, as if for the first time. "Okay," she said softly. Her tone of voice caught Speedy's attention, and he looked at her, startled. Something passed between them as they stared into each other's eyes. But Jesse hovered over their lives like an evil moon - Speedy wrenched his eyes away from hers and looked out the window.
The pale shrimp was guarding the van. He leaned against the front bumper of the Econoline, smoking a cigarette and looking bored. Pia turned on the TV and started surfing through the channels with the remote. There was nothing on. She turned it off.
"They'll wait until things are completely dead before they come for us," Speedy explained. "They know we at least have the shotgun, so they'll force us out somehow, a grenade through the window, I don't know. Five guns against two, we're dead. But we still have a little while." Speedy turned back to look at Pia. "You need to call Jesse and buy me some time, distract them for me - I'm gonna take care of their van."
Pia held the phone against her ear, watching Speedy. He stood next to the unlocked door, peeking out through the blinds with his pocketknife open in one hand. He nodded, and she dialed the office, the shotgun lying next to her on the bed. It rang awhile before the manager answered.
"Could you connect me with Room 27, please?" she asked, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. She waited while the connection was made. Then the phone was ringing, and she saw Speedy tense at the door, open it, and dart out into the night bent over at the waist. He closed the door behind him but didn't latch it.
The phone was picked up in Room 27, but no one on the other end said a word. It was as if she were listening to a void. Her heart was pounding, and she felt as if they could look right through the phone line into her heart, and see her fear. She could hear someone whispering in the background on the other end. "Hello?" she said softly, as if she didn't want anyone on her end to overhear. "Am I talking to Jesse?"
More silence, then a voice, Jesse's voice. "You’re the bitch with Speedy. What do you want?" He spoke with a California twang, as American as apple pie. It suddenly occurred to Pia that he was just another guy, and she relaxed, in control of the situation now.
"That's me, the bitch. I just want to see if there's a way out of this for me. I mean, this is between you and Speedy, right?"
Pia could almost hear the wheels turning as he thought. "Yeah. Yeah, cool. Where is he now?"
"In the shower. That's why I was able to call you."
"Yeah, cool. That bastard killed my little brother, and one of my homies, but I got no beef with you, we’re cool. If - you do one little thing for me. You let us in the room, I let you walk. Deal?" His voice oozed sincerity - Pia felt greasy just talking to him. She opened her mouth to answer.
The door flew open and Speedy rushed in from the parking lot, still bent over. He straightened, then strode over to her and whispered, "Let's go - now!" Pia dropped the phone and grabbed the shotgun. Pia could hear Jesse’s voice still buzzing tinnily from the phone handset as they hurried outside to the Ford.
Speedy had left the car doors unlocked, so he and Pia piled right in. He tossed the .357 onto the seat next to him before sticking the key in the ignition. Miraculously the old bomb started right up, and he gunned it as they pulled out of their parking space, headed for the street.
The shrimp had stared open mouthed when they first came out, but recovered quickly. He pounded on the door to Room 27 and the whole crew was boiling out and climbing into the van by the time the Ford was leaving the parking lot. Speedy had the gas floored, but headed away from the freeway. Instead he followed a two-lane snake of a road that wound its way up through the foothills into the darkness between towns. Pia was facing backwards, kneeling in her seat and breathing deeply. As she watched, the Econoline pulled out of the parking lot and began closing the gap between them, a predator closing in for the kill.
Pia spun in her seat to face forward, and clutched at her face with her hands. "Oh no! I thought you disabled it!" she wailed. "Oh God! What'll we do now?"
"Calm down! I cut their brake line with my pocket knife - they should go over the edge on one of the curves." Pia's eyes widened, and she whirled around to stare at the oncoming Econoline in fascination. They were into the first curve, a steep drop to their left, and Speedy's face was grim as he took it without braking. They straightened out momentarily and barreled into the next curve. Pia watched the van as it steadily overtook them, about five car lengths behind them now. Its headlights stabbed through the Ford's rear window into her eyes and she squinted against their glare as she waited for the finish.
Now the Econoline was close enough she could have spit on it, and Speedy was taking them into a tight hairpin at full speed, the bald tires shrieking across the asphalt as the car skidded almost to the sheer drop off at the shoulder. Behind them, the van roared into the hairpin fast and headed straight for the edge of the road. Suddenly the Econoline swerved away from the drop as Jesse realized he had no brakes - but the van was going too fast and he lost control. The van rolled once, bounced into the air and tumbled into space and down out of sight, the headlights slicing wild arcs through the empty night. Pia thought she could hear screaming, but she knew that was only her imagination. The Ford was halfway into the turn, and Speedy had to stomp on the brakes to keep them from going over the edge of the road themselves. That's when the Ford's right front tire blew out.
The Ford started a fishtailing skid, its rear end drifting across the road as the blown tire flapped and the rim sang on the asphalt. Speedy's hands blurred on the wheel like a cat beating up a mouse, his wrists never crossing as he fought to maintain control of the car. Pia was watching Speedy's stony profile, the world sliding sideways behind him as they spun toward the edge -- then he recovered and they rocketed away from the drop to slam into the hillside. Speedy's head cracked against the door and Pia slid across the seat and thudded against him unharmed. She disentangled herself and looked at him. His eyes were closed, and he didn't move. Pia reached out a trembling hand and felt his neck: a pulse, strong and steady. She remembered to breathe.
Pia got out of the car and looked at the blown tire. She'd have to change it - she wanted to get out of here, yesterday. Pia suddenly sensed movement out of the corner of her eye, about twenty-five yards back where the van had gone over the side. She turned her head for a better look and her skin crawled as she saw someone or something pulling themselves up over the edge. She gasped and bent to fumble inside the car, looking for Speedy's .357 or her shotgun; she found her sawed-off on the front seat floor, and grabbed it. When she stood again and turned back, she could see the man clearly in the bright light of the full moon. It was Jesse.
He stood there a few moments, swaying drunkenly as he stared at Pia and the car. Then he started toward her, dragging one leg. The Magnum was in his hand.
"Stop right there!" Pia quavered. Jesse ignored her, limping steadily closer. She stole a glance at Speedy: still out cold. When Pia looked back at Jesse, he was close enough that she could make out more detail - his left arm hung at an unnatural angle and he was drenched in blood.
"Please stop!" He did, about ten feet away. Jesse's right ear was half torn off, dangling by a flap of skin; he looked like he could barely stand. His eyes glared at her like headlights as she aimed the sawed-off at him with both trembling hands.
"My brother. My homies," Jesse mumbled through broken teeth. He began to raise the .44 and Pia let go with both barrels, the kick wrenching both her wrists up and back. The muzzle flash blinded her momentarily, and she stood there blinking until her vision cleared. Then she looked down and saw what a sawed-off shotgun does to a human body at close range.
Pia could hear Speedy stirring in the car. He finally got out and came to join her, the .357 dangling idle in his hand. They both stood for a moment, looking down at what was left of Jesse. Pia suddenly realized that she was glad that she was alive, and that Jesse and his crew were dead instead of her.
She shivered and clutched her jacket shut against the wind blowing up the canyon, and turned to Speedy. "I think I sprained my wrists."
Speedy nodded. "That can happen with a sawed-off if you're not careful. You did good, though - heck, it was you or him." He looked up and down the road. "Let's check the others, then we need to get out of here before anyone comes."
Pia followed him back to the curve and they looked down. The van lay belly up at the bottom of the gully, about a hundred feet down. They could hear the tick of cooling metal, and a minor rockslide tumbling down the slope. Nothing else. Pia didn't think this particular crew would trouble anyone again.
They walked back to the car and Pia watched as he changed the tire. Speedy kept glancing back up at her, over his shoulder. Finally, she had to ask: "What?"
Speedy stopped work for a moment and stood to face her. He looked uncomfortable. "I was just wondering if - maybe you'd like to go out again sometime, I mean on a date or something."
Pia's eyes widened and she grinned, then she threw her head back and laughed and laughed until tears came. When she finally stopped because her ribs hurt too much to laugh anymore, Speedy was looking at her with a hangdog look on his doberman face, and she quickly reached out to touch his arm. "Of course I'll go out with you - it's just that I wonder what we'll do for an encore?"