Part XIV – A tough pickle


‘RUDI!’ The word had left his lips before Barron consciously registered what happened. He lunged forwards, but Rudi pushed him back, coughing up blood as he did. Inspecting his bloodied hand and shirt, Rudi realized what had happened, realized he had made a fatal mistake. There was only one thing left for him to do. Looking Barron in the eyes, he dropped the keys in the front seat. He shifted backwards, gritted his teeth, balled his hands into a fist and with a loud scream turned around to punch his attacker in the face while at the same time closing the front door.

His attacker simply grabbed and stopped Rudi’s fist mid-air. The man then raised his pistol to Rudi’s face and calmly pulled the trigger. That ended Rudi’s battle scream.

Barron shook off his paralysis, lunged forward and with a press on the car key button locked all the doors. The man outside gave an amused smile as he heard the sound of the door locks sinking down.
‘You think that will save you boy? It is over.’
He raised the pistol through the window, aimed it at Barron. Another gunshot.

Barron slowly opened his eyes and inspected himself; no wounds. He was still alive? He was still alive!

Outside, the man tapped on the window with the back of his gun. ‘Hm. Bulletproof glass. Did not expect that. No matter.’ He took a few steps back and aimed the gun at where he knew the tank was. ‘It’s still over boy.’ He shot once… Twice…

An exploding car filled the exit with deafening noise and searing heat. But it was not Barron’s car that exploded – it was a police car. Car sirens blared, smoke flared up and those that were not hit by the explosion ran the hide behind cars, at which point a second car blew up, this time an undercover civilian vehicle. Big Man did not hide, but looked around to see what the hell was going on. What happened next, Barron would not have believed it if he wasn’t there to witness it.

From the other side of the exit, over the top of a low hill, came flying with roaring engine sound a black and red Ford Mustang. Well, flying for 2 seconds or so, before it hit the ground and drove towards Barron’s car at alarming speed. Meanwhile, a third car blew up. Just as Barron thought the car was going to crash into him, it braked and made a 180 degrees’ spin turn so that not only Big Man had to jump to avoid getting hit, but the car stopped right next to Barron. The front door opened. Barron did not hesitate for a second, unlocked his door and jumped into the Mustang.

‘Good. Close the door’, a voice with an Australian accent bellowed. As Barron did so, tires screeched and the car sped off. The police and civilian squad behind them had partly recovered from the chaos and shot bullets in the direction of the car.
The man laughed. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll take more than bullets to get through this baby.’
Barron took a look at his savior, and was quite surprised to see a bald fat man behind the steering wheel, wearing nothing but a blue bathrobe and a pair of slippers. Barron couldn’t tell, but really hoped the man at least wore underwear.

The car roared towards the same exit Barron had earlier entered from the other side when Rudi was still alive, and even more adrenaline pumped through Barron’s blood as he realized that they were going to drive in the wrong direction of the highway traffic.

3 thoughts on “Part XIV – A tough pickle

      1. I thought he was American, perhaps with Scotts-Irish ancestry. But then again, Brits, Yanks, Ozzies, Kiwis and Canucks don’t see each other as different from themselves. Kind of like how Indians from the same linguistic province see those from other counties in the same linguistic province. They might talk a little funny, they might be retarded cousins, but cousins all the same. Kin

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