Page 4 of Relentless Pursuit
My mother nodded. “We’re not going down without a fight. You know us.”
I laughed, and we hugged when something heavy struck my back, and pain ricocheted through my body.
“Aaaah!”
All three of us fell to the ground, and boots were shoved at our sides as we were kicked.
Shouts from my Uncle Dexter nearby could be heard as he cursed at the officers who beat us. But he didn’t move, most likely for fear that he would be reprimanded by his lieutenant and receive a dishonorable discharge.
I didn’t blame him for it. I didn’t blame anyone but myself, and as the pain continued to ricochet through my body from their continuous kicks, I pulled myself into a fetal position and waited for it to stop.
2
Dominic
The Federal Bureau Detention Center bus cut down a state road six miles from the facility. I pulled back on my trail and waited for the inevitable to happen.
If Penelope’s parents were the badasses they’d been reputed to be, this would be their time to try an escape, and when two black vans approached them from either side, I knew this was it.
The one on the left sped up, getting half a mile down the road. Suddenly, the van swerved to the side and stopped. The back doors to the van opened, and a foldable spike strip shot across the road.
I pulled my bike to the side of the road, gave the bus time to hit the spike strip, and watched it lose control, tires punctured and rubber burning as the bus rocked wildly and finally flipped on its side, windows shattering.
I glanced at my watch and turned on a timer. The men garbed in all black—black ski masks, black sweaters, black pants, boots, and gloves—had thirty seconds to get them out, leaving me thirty seconds to take the feet off the guards who’d stomped Penelope.
I revved the bike at twenty seconds.
The father was out. They pulled the mom out at thirty seconds, and I hit the gas.
Working together, they quickly yanked a piece of the spike strip back, jumped in the waiting van, and pulled off as I skidded to a stop outside the busted window.
A guard was trying to maneuver his way through the exposed upper side window frame, awkwardly wiggling himself out. Kicking the stand on my bike, I climbed off the motorcycle, approached his position, and yanked the guard out.
“Ah! Ah! Don’t touch me!”
The second guard dragged himself out as I lifted my hatchet and amputated the first guard's ankles.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
His bloodcurdling screams made the second guard shit as a toxic aroma of feces hit my nose. I sliced the other ankle, and the guard's body flipped, and blood spilled from the ends of his legs.
The second guard tried to wiggle back inside, but I grabbed his arms and yanked him out.
“No! No! I didn’t do anything to you, man! No!”
Slice…
“Aaaaaaaaaah! Nooooo… Please have mercyyyyyyyy!”
“Mercy is given to those who give it.”
Slice…
His body jerked, and blood pooled at his ankles.
Beep. Beep.
My time was up. I removed an empty duffle bag from my bike seat, confiscated the feet, and was off, following the parents’ directions to avoid the spikes.