The Death of a Giant

Chapter 14: Ripburger Gets Even

Maureen and I were on my bike, riding away from the factory building, heading in the direction of the prison where my gang was being held.  She was happier than I’d ever seen her.  To tell the truth, I was feeling pretty high on life, myself.  Her arms were wrapped around me as we headed down the deserted highway.

            “This feels really great, doesn’t it, Ben?” Maureen asked me.

            “Yep.”  I nodded, my hair flowing in the wind.

            “I mean, it’s almost like everything worked out perfectly for the both of us.  My father passed away, but he’ll always live inside me.”  Maureen pressed her head against the back of my jacket.

            “You’ve got to start suit-shopping soon, don’t forget.”

            “Ben…don’t remind me.  I’m not going to be like that,” she paused, “Hey Ben?”

            “Yeah?” I answered.

            “You don’t think things are going to be different between us now, do you?”

            “I’m not sure, Mo.  You’re in a different class now.  You and I aren’t necessarily ‘supposed’ to be together by any means.  You’re corporate, I’m a criminal.  You’re going to be making money while I’ll be stealing it.”

            “Yeah, but Ben… I wanted to tell you something.  Ever since we met I’ve felt this connection between us.  It’s like we’re…” Maureen began, but was cut off by the blast of a horn coming from a massive truck.  We both turned to look back and already knew who it was: Ripburger.

            “I’m not finished with you, yet!” he shouted through the truck’s megaphone, “You cost me everything and now I’ll get to kill both of you at once!”  He was insane.  He revved the truck’s engine and came up fast behind my bike.  “Die, you miscreants!” he shouted and then rammed the back of my bike, sending both Maureen and me flying off in opposite directions.  My bike’s back wheel attached to the truck’s grill, twisting around to attach to the mirror on one side, securely affixing the bike to the truck.

            “Maureen!” I shouted.  She had been thrown off the bike straight into the grill and was clutching it tightly.  Her grip loosened and she slid down underneath the front bumper and disappeared.  “Maureen!” I shouted again.  Maureen was dead.  I was gripping the mirror on the side opposite my bike.

            “She interrupted my speech, Ben!  She really shouldn't have!  I was just about to talk about the inherent dangers of motorcycle operation!  Now get the hell off my truck!” Ripburger shouted and stuck his arm out the window holding a pistol.  He fired once and it ricocheted right above my head, I was stuck.  I looked over my shoulder and saw the bridgeless gorge a few miles ahead.  Ripburger was planning a murder-suicide.  He wasn’t going to be satisfied until we were all dead.  No time to worry about Maureen.  I had to stop Ripburger from killing us all.

            I reached into my jacket and pulled out the tire iron.  I pulled off the cover of the grill and threw the tire iron straight into the spinning fan.  It nicked one of the blades but did nothing more.  I needed something bigger, something stronger.  I looked to my bike and contemplated sacrificing something to save my life, but decided against it.

            I wonder if Rip’s cane would work…

            I pulled the tire iron from the grill and, using it as a pry bar, opened up the hood on the front of the truck, blocking Rip’s view of the road.

            “Damn it, you fool!  I can’t see the road!  Do you want to get us killed before the gorge?” Ripburger shouted.  He reached out with his cane to close the hood and before he knew what had happened, his cane was in my hands.  I gripped it tightly and threw it into the radiator fan.  The cane must have been made of some sort of strong metallic alloy, because the fan stopped instantly and before I knew it, the radiator bubbled over spilling hot liquids everywhere.  I climbed into the grill, through the massive fan and over the engine block.  I crawled through the inner workings of the truck until I saw a light coming from a door leading out the back of the truck’s cab.  I twisted my body and kicked open the door.

            I climbed out through the back and crouched over the fuel lines facing the back of Ripburger’s head.  He must think I’m still attached to the grill.  I looked down at the fuel lines and saw a few nuts and bolts that shook whenever the truck hit a bump.  I chose one fuel line and began jumping on it and tearing at it with my hands until it snapped, hydro spilling everywhere.  I felt the truck’s speed diminish slowly.

            “What the…?  What the hell is going on?”  Ripburger turned his head and glared at me.  I smiled and waved, ducking out of sight.  Suddenly, I heard a low rumble coming from behind the truck.  I angled my body to look around the freight the truck was hauling and saw, to my surprise, a huge, wingless airplane.  The Vultures had some of the weirdest shit.  Amazing, the help of friends in your time of need.

            I could hear Suzi shouting. “Can’t this bitch go any faster?” she screamed from inside the cockpit.  The hatch on the front of the plane began to open like a gigantic bird’s mouth.  In one quick grinding movement, the truck was swallowed up into the belly of the Vultures’ wingless craft. 

            The truck hit the back of the plane’s freight bay and its engine died, my motorcycle thrown off the truck to one side.  Ripburger was furious.  I could see him inside the cabin of the truck raging in anger and I could hear him shout something just before a pair of machine guns appeared within the front of the truck.  Goddamned Ripburger must have modified the truck.  But why automatic machine guns?

            The twin guns fired simultaneously at everyone within the plane.  I looked around for Maureen’s body but could not find her.  Suzi and the rest of the Vultures ran and hid in various places around the plane’s freight bay.  The cockpit was empty and I could see sparks spitting from the control panels.

            Suzi shouted from her hiding place, “Ben!  The cockpit’s control panel is shot to shit.  We have to stop this thing from moving or we’ll all be killed!  Do something, Ben!”

            Oh for Christ’s sake… I break the gargantuan truck only to have to break an airplane too?

            I figured I was the only one in the plane with nothing to lose, except for the chickenshit Vultures, so I ventured out into the line of fire.  The truck’s defense system, controlled by Ripburger, activated again sending a shower of bullets in my direction.  I dove for the ladder leading to the cockpit, but not before a bullet hit my thigh.  It bit through my canvas pants and soared through the other side, leaving my leg with a bloody hole, burning in pain.  I grunted, gritting my teeth, and climbed up the ladder to the cockpit.  The last working control panel was the one that controlled the landing gear.  I activated the menu and quickly raised the wheels.

            I could hear everyone in the plane screaming and shouting as the plane shook and grinded along the pavement.  I looked out the front window and watched as the gorge came closer and closer and the plane was not stopping.

            Suddenly the grinding stopped as we hit the remains of the broken-up bridge and everything jerked forward.  The truck violently spit through the front of the plane’s massive beak.  I was thrown screaming through the jagged broken front window of the cockpit and landed on the hood of the sliding truck, unconscious.  It screeched metal on metal all the way ahead, almost to the end of the truck’s freight haul before it came to a slow stop.  My foot caught the edge of the truck’s damaged hood saving me from sliding off into the gorge.