On the Run by M Zeigler (online e reader txt) 📕

“Holy mother of Bob, and I thought I lived in the middle of freakin nowhere. How far back is this town of yours?” I grumble at Barrette as I shift into a higher gear now that farmer browns jalopy of a truck is no longer holding up traffic.

Barrette chuckles at my comment, but doesn’t seem to be giving me the answer I’m looking for anytime soon.

 “Slow down would you?” He asks after a few minutes. “Now you’re scared?” I mutter sarcastically under my breath shifting down to a slower speed.

 “See that tree over there?” Barrette points out across the highway; I look in that direction and see a gnarly scar marring the trunk of the tree he’s pointing to.

“Yeah I see it.” I reply looking back at the road then over to Barrette. “That’s the tree I crashed into; my truck was upside down right beside it.” Barrette explains as he points out a bald spot in the grass near by the marred trunk.

“I’m glad it wasn’t your time.” I say sheepishly to Barrette, it’s not something I say because I feel the need to speak, I say that because it’s true. I’m glad the man upstairs didn’t take him out so soon, I can’t imagine what I’d be up to right about now if I hadn’t met Barrette. I would more than likely be dead right now if he didn’t make it through that accident, surely I cannot be the only one who knows they would be dead if not for Barrette’s music.

 “Is that where heading to heaven came from?” I ask about one of his songs as I finally spot a sign ahead that reads Christianson 4 miles.

“It is.” Barrette replies simply then jumps to attention pointing to a turn off coming up on his side of the car. His actions are worried but excited at the same like he’s just spotted something miraculous only to him.

“Turn in over there.” Barrette encourages sounding a bit more delighted than he has in the last three days we’ve been on the road to Christianson Georgia. Giving no argument I make the right hand turn. In front of us is a small stone built bridge that crosses over a gorge, the water below is moving rapidly and appears to be very deep. Beyond the bridge is a newly paved frontage road, the only reason I’m confident this used to be a stage coach road is the poor placement. Back in the old days people though the easiest way to get some place was in a straight line, so, that being said, this road goes straight through the Georgia woods. It wasn’t until later years that people began to realize it’s much easier to go around the giant tree’s dotting the land.

 “Oh wow.” I say curiously easing my car over the bridge not sure if I trust the stone structure or not, I prefer most things that are old, but bridges that carry six thousand pound cars over a raging river, not so much. “Go left and follow it all the way out. I haven’t been down this road in years! Both bridges washed out about ten years back, man I was mad as hell over that, I used to drive like a mad man through here in the cougar.” He announces sounding like a teen boy who’s just found out his favorite team is playing on the Saturday game.

“Wanna relive old times?” I offer putting the mustang in park just on the other side of the bridge closer to the frontage road.

“Really?” Barrette exclaims sounding like a little kid now, I give a ‘whatever’ kind of look and step out of the car.

“What can I say, I trust you. Plus I know where you live if you wreck the car and run.” I smile jokingly at him as we pass each other at the hood of the car.

Barrette wasted no time getting into the driver’s seat, the moment I am in the car and have the door closed, he is already . He drifts my car out onto the one lane road and stomps on the gas pedal, a piercing screech of tires is followed by the roaring of my cars engine. Barrette really does know how to drive fast, I thought he was just singing about fast cars and freedom without any knowledge. That just proves an age old saying ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’

“Hell yeah!” Barrette shouts ecstatic to be able to drive fast down this old frontage road again, I’m guessing there is no other way on or off of this road with the bridges out. Which if you think about it, that’s kind of a nervous realization because if we were to have a freak storm and the bridge washed out we would be stranded over here.

“Ya know what this drive needs?” I laugh almost sounding girlish as I reach to the glove compartment where I pretty much put all small items, Barrette doesn’t take his eyes off the road as I pull out a homemade cassette with all his songs on it and press it into the tape deck. Yes it’s illegal for me to have duplicated his music, I really don’t care, he only makes CD’s and I have a tape deck so I copied his CD’s onto Cassette and he’s going to have to deal with it.

After a moment of clicking and humming the speakers jump to life, Real outlaws, jams it’s rocking tune earning a beaming grin from Barrette who pushes my old car to a hundred and ten. Having a few minutes of fun is well worth the while, God knows we needed at least a little bit of break from the drama we have been facing. We couldn’t even escape the Devon disaster when we were hiding up at the cabin, so maybe we can escape for a little while, residing here in his hometown where new faces are likely not welcome.

As we are rounding a bend in the road the sun lights catches the polished black and white colored metal of a police car; seeing the cop brings all fun and games to a screeching halt, or so I think. “Cop!” I yelp as Barrette flies past the black and white that is hiding behind a billboard sign reading Good Ol’ days in big red letters on a white back drop sign.

 “Barrette, no!” I shout at him as he shifts up to top gear and pushes the gas pedal all the way to the floor. When I realize that Barrette is going to make a run for it I can’t help but erupt into laughter as I throw my belt off and look between our seats to the cop who just tore out from behind the billboard sign with lights and siren blaring trying for a high speed chase. If this guy wants a high speed chase then he is going to get one, this car doesn’t slow down for anyone!

 “Yup! Just like them good ol days!” Barrette shouts sarcastically hinting  at the billboard sign we discovered the cop hiding behind. His sarcasm and southern drawl brings me back to my grandmother and Clyde running from the law. If my imagination really went to work I could see my grandmother looking out the back window between Blanch Barrow, and Buck Barrow, screaming for Clyde to drive faster.

Turning back to face the road again I see a steep turn coming up and Barrette is not slowing down at all, I don’t know how curved that turn is because it slopes down the other side of the hill we are on.  

My eyes widen when Barrette takes the last possible second to screech around the corner having only slowed just enough in the nick of time to make the turn without getting us both killed. To my surprise the officer chasing us manages the turn as well but there is no way that old police cruiser can keep up with my baby in this canyon road. Barrette has proven that he can match my driving skills, that means he will win this race.

“There is no way that clunker can keep up with my baby!” I shout towards the back window again even though the cop cannot hear me. “I aint your baby!” Barrette calls back amusedly.

“I didn’t mean you! I meant the car, Mr. Ego!” I say as he hits the first series of winding turns with precision, there is no gracefulness with his driving pattern but he is still very good. His style is more aggressive than it is graceful and showy, that is if you can actually use the word graceful in the same sentence as police chase.

After the third twist in the road the police officer vanishes, the lights and sirens vanish as well, only a distant ringing that can’t be heard over the Mustang’s engine. “American Muscle!” I cheer from the passenger’s seat as I punch the roof showing my excitement.

Knowing the officer is no longer in sight or a threat I flop back in the passenger’s seat laughing hysterically, that was definitely well worth a potential traffic ticket showing up in the mail back at my dad’s house or whatever else can come of us escaping small town police.

Four miles later Barrette is pulling out onto one twenty nine again, the cop is far behind us now and neither of us can stop laughing. That was definitely a wild and fun ride that neither of us will soon forget, then again this entire case has turned into a wild ride we will never forget.

“That was awesome!” I squeal leaning over the shifter to hug Barrette; he has a huge toothy grin on his face already; which widens when I hug him. “You are wicked.” I laugh quietly, he turns to look at me but is closer than expected, the close proximity causes a shiver to run down my spine. This adulterous reaction really needs to stop I refuse to let another man into my life.

 The effect this man has on me is not something I care to talk about, and really want to admit is even there to begin with. There is this insanely strong pull between us that cannot be broken but neither of wants to admit it’s there. He’s had his heart ripped out and thrown through a tree shredder by women, and I have been tortured by men.

However Barrette seems to be swiftly forgetting his distaste for women as he leans in a little closer to me. In a moment of fearful discomfort I leap back into my seat immediately finding the window to look out. There’s a heavy sigh from the driver’s seat as Barrette speeds up to get us past all the traffic currently cruising by at a snail’s pace.

“Cop.” I announce a second time, but seeing as were going the speed limit this guy doesn’t seem to really care all that much. However the officer driving the patrol vehicle looks directly at Barrette, his eyes go wide, just as were passing him up he reaches for the two way radio and talks into it.

 “Uh oh. You up for a second run?” I ask Barrette, he looks at me quizzically with one brow raised. “That cop back there looked at you and radioed back to the other guy.” I say to Barrette who instantly has a small smile pulling at his lips.

“There’s no sense in running, now that they know it’s me they’ll know exactly where to find me. That’s why I’ve been arrested so many times.” Barrette replies taking a short off ramp into a tiny little town half the size of the one I lived in with my mother.

“Now this is a tiny town.” I say