Issue #76 : Chase

Jarred pulled the satchel tightly around himself as he sprinted, the sound of his feet slapping the pavement the only thing he could hear over his ragged breathing. The burning in his lungs, the ache in his lower back and arms, the pain in his legs were irrelevant. He could not let the train beat him. He turned off the road, parallel to the tracks and listened as the force of his footfalls kicked the gravel out behind him as he ran.

Everything was on the line and it all would be decided in the next minute. His leg buckled slightly where the ignorant hick had gone crazy with the hockey stick. He tried to block out the sensation of blood trickling down into his ears from when one of the other ones had smacked him with a putter. It was essential that he not let the burns on the bottoms of his feet from the cigarette lighter slow him down. If he didn’t make it onto that train, all of this would seem mild in comparison.

From behind him in the distance he heard the sound of the truck. It was the kind of truck that was worked up so that it could be heard from seven counties away. It was the kind of truck whose owner wanted people to know that they filled their gas tank up every other day and dreamed about running down baby seals under their over-sized tread. He heard those tires screaming for purchase as the engine revved even louder. The train was what mattered. The train would be his salvation.

He felt like he was running down a long narrow tunnel as his vision focused down on the one thing he needed more than anything else. His lungs felt like they were going to burst out of his chest in protest and his cramping legs were on the verge of collapsing. He wasn’t even sure if he would have enough strength left to jump onto the flatbed car even if he got there. And to top everything off, dizziness was starting to set in, adding another voice to an already crowded chorus.

Then, he reached out to his left and took hold of the rusted rail of the train car. His legs weren’t strong enough to push himself up but his hands were strong enough to hold him in place as he let the momentum of the train lift him up and into the car. He felt the rush of relief as he skidded to a halt and turned to look back for the first time. Only then did he see the hick and his four idiot friends standing on or next to the truck yelling and shaking fists at him.

Jarred laughed and shook his head. He turned and pulled the door shut, letting himself fall down to the floor and began catching his breath. So he had slept with the hick’s wife and stolen most of their money. Why were they so upset about it? He thought it was fucking hysterical.

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