Baked Scribe flashback! Issue #25

Already, the exact sequence of events was starting to blur in his mind. All he could really remember had been the hulking rust pile of a Chevy Nova racing up on him. The car pitched to the right and left, mere feet off his bumper as he tried to focus on the road ahead of him. This went on for several minutes before the Nova pulled sharply to the left with a scream of tires and horsepower and raced past him.

That was precisely when Cliff had decided to give the guy the finger.

It was cathartic for about a second but as he lowered his hand, he saw the Nova swerve to the left, spraying dirt and gravel before pulling back out onto the road, over-correcting and almost ending up going off on the other side as well. Through the tinted window, he could have sworn he saw the driver twist around in his seat to look back. His stomach eased somewhat as the Nova took the next off ramp and exited the freeway. As he looked though, his relief quickly diminished as he saw the Nova come to a cursory stop at the intersection before charging ahead onto the on-ramp, accelerating back towards the freeway where he would again be positioned behind Cliff.

He looked back ahead of him in time to see the bright green overhead sign for the turnoff onto the tollway and decided to hang the expense. If nothing else, there would be more troopers on this road or at least the gridlock would slow down the guy enough that maybe he would cool down and give up on whatever reprisal he was hatching for the finger incident.

Cliff had never seen the tollway this empty.

There were a handful of cars moving along around him but nothing like the usual cesspool of bumpers and car horns he usually found here. Nothing to create any kind of protective buffer between him and the psycho back there, not even cops anywhere to be seen.

A dull car horn erupted from behind him and he saw the Nova, again right off the bumper swerving from side to side in an attempt to intimidate.

It was working.

Why couldn’t there be an old fashioned speed trap when you really needed one?

Cliff was knocked back against his seat as the car rocked forward, swerving as his hands slipped off the steering wheel. The guy had actually rammed him from behind. He saw the Nova in his mirror, now several car lengths back but looking like it was readying for another charge.

“Come on!” he screamed out for the first time as the Nova sped up to run it’s shitty, rusty bumper into the back of Cliff’s import. He cursed himself for not taking the extra minute to walk back into the kitchen for the cell phone.

It was becoming clear as the Nova looked close to taking a third charge that there was no hope of outrunning the guy and there was evidently no help to be expected out here on the road. He actually began to consider just pulling over and confronting the guy but who knew what he was capable of; for all Cliff knew, he would just end up getting run down by a few tons of metal and rust.

The police siren made him jump and practically melt into his seat from relief at the audible tones of his salvation. He promptly pulled over to the shoulder and watched his pursuer do the same. All of this would end up being worth it just to see the crazy getting dragged out of the car and thrown in cuffs as he was stuffed into the back of the police cruiser.

The cop raced past them without even slowing.

Cliff watched the car door of the Nova swing open and the hulking heap of a driver step out. Before he could come any closer, Cliff jumped out, slammed his door and raced around his car to the metal barrier along the side of the road. He scrambled over it and made his way down the short embankment that leveled out into a small parking lot. The building that was looming over him looked like a low end apartment building but at this point he couldn’t really care less what it was as long as he could make some distance. As he pulled open the back door, he could hear feet slapping pavement behind him as well as the sharp, ragged breath of Mr. Friendly.

He took the steps up two at a time and had gotten halfway up the second floor before he heard the door open below and the second set of footfalls on the stairs. The only thing he had going for him at this point was that the other guy looked completely out of shape. If he ever got those meat slabs for hands around Cliff’s throat it would be all over but staying ahead of the guy seemed very possible.

There were six floors total. When he got to the fifth, he stopped long enough to kick the door open, trying to make as much noise as possible in a desperate attempt to throw the guy off. He took to the stairs again, trying to control his breathing and not make any noise as he ascended; reaching the top floor and carefully letting himself through the door and into the hallway. Apartments lined each side as he walked and even though he imagined the walls to be paper thin, he couldn’t really make out any sound as he walked. God forbid there be anyone up there that might help him.

Cliff got to the end of the hall and was looking up at the emergency exit when the door behind him was thrown open and the buffoon who had not been fooled by his idiotic ruse came stumbling into the hall. The two men stared at each other from their respective ends of the hallway and all Cliff could see was the biological picture of rage, residing in those eyes. Cliff backed into the emergency exit, pushing it open and stepping out onto the balcony. The door closed behind him as he turned to try and take advantage of the few seconds he would have to make the right decision.

The balcony stood perched alone, attached to the side of the building. There was one thin railing going all around except for the right side where Cliff guessed at one point there had been either stairs or a ladder. As of now, there was nothing connecting this balcony to the fifth floor below. Apparently if there was actually a fire, residents of the sixth floor were supposed to float away, or just not be home.

Cliff was thrown against the railing as the door pushed open, one linebacker-sized, pissed off driver coming at him from the other side. His time to contemplate was done. Cliff took two steps back, ran forward and jumped. He watched the balcony on the next floor down rush up at him as he kicked his legs through open air. Somehow, he managed to land squarely in the middle of the balcony, his momentum causing him to bounce and skid across and nearly over the edge. He was able to put a leg out just in time to brace himself against the railing and he winced at the screaming of straining metal; the image in his head of the balcony simply detaching from the building to crash to the ground below.

This did not happen, and the fifth floor balcony actually still had stairs. Cliff raced down, gripping the rail and taking the steps four or five at a time until he was at the third floor balcony, then the second and finally back down to the ground. He took a moment to look back up at the sixth floor where he had started. The guy was still standing up there, glaring down and looking like he knew the chase had been lost. Cliff gave the guy a mock salute and just for good measure, threw him the bird one last time before returning to his car.

Ten minutes later, he was racing down the tollway and back into the kind of traffic he was more accustomed to. He flicked his headlights on and off as he cruised just off the bumper of the guy in front of him who refused to drive just a little faster. Cliff swore under his breath and swerved over to pass the guy, not understanding how some idiots were given drivers licenses. Some people actually had to get to work on time. He passed the car and just as their bumpers cleared, he swerved hard, back into the original lane, causing the other driver to swerve in surprise from the near collision. Cliff smirked as he watched the car dwindle into the distance in his mirror and for a moment wondered if this had been why the guy in the Nova was so pissed off.

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