A rock began to form within the depths of my stomach and slowly rise to my throat. It threatened to explode in a rage of unsettling nerves. Had they finally found me? Did they even know I still had the file? The thought of them scaling my guts out on a table didn't appeal in the slightest, and I wanted Katrina to pull over. Desperately.
"Hey, you alright? You're a little pale."
I nodded, staring down at my nails as I tried to quench the nausea building up. I felt her eyes bore into the side of my face.
"You know what? I don't want you barfing all over my car, so I'm gonna pull over."
She'd just made another mistake.
Impulsively, I leaned over her and grabbed the steering wheel, forcing the car to swerve three lanes too far and scrap against the concrete barrier separating the lanes. We wrestled each other for dominance over the wheel as our hands dramatically tugged it, and our fingernails scraped the skin off each other's hands.
"Geez! Calm it!" she screeched at me.
Giving her a glare, I decided to be the better person and sat back leaning my head against the headrest. I closed my eyes. "If only she knew," I muttered to myself.
"Huh," Katrina said to no one in particular.
Slowly, I opened one eye and looked at her. Her attention was drawn to the rear-view mirror.
Opening both eyes, I followed her gaze as she began to pick up speed. The two outer cars began to speed up. I let my body slide further and further towards the car floor; my gaze still fixated on the mirror. How could they have found me already?
The two outer vehicles had matched our speed and were now aligned either side of us.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath.
"Oh, come off it you asshole!" Katrina yelled as she looked back into the mirror. "Give me some room!"
I sensed her foot press down harder on the accelerator. My eyes glided over to the speed dial as it shot up. This wasn't going to end well at all.
"Show time!" she yelled through gritted teeth.
The car lurch forward, its engine roaring.
"There's a shot gun in the back," she suddenly disclosed at me.
"No time to explain, just get it!"
"God damn it Butch! Just get the god damn friggin' gun!" she pleaded.
Confused and shocked at the request, I turned to look at the back seat. Yet another mistake. A massive pile of assorted junk confronted my eyes. There were tubs filled with household items, statues of strange ducks and a ton of screwed up dusty clothes. How could one woman own so much useless junk?
"Hurry Butch!" she yelled over the roar of the engine.
Upon hearing her urges for action, I reluctantly planted my hand into the pile of junk that littered the back seat. I squeezed my eyes shut, my right hand grabbing my left as I fumbled around in the abyss. I wish I had a glove. Then my hand touched something sticky and wet.
"What the fuck was that?" I yelped, retreating my hand.
"Butch! Please, just get it!"
"But it's brown!"
"Butch! Stick to the task!" she instructed.
I screwed my face up. Taking a deep breath, I plunged my hand back into the gross pile of backseat junk. I was on the verge of vomiting, and I swear I could smell something decaying within the pile. I just hoped my hand wouldn't ever have to greet that too.
Eventually, through my desperate search, my hand felt something hard and long. I grabbed it, excited that my time in the pile was finally done, and pulled it out.
"Now what?" I yelled back at her. The gun was surprisingly heavy. It gave me a nervous vibe. I didn't know where to place my hands or even if it was loaded. All I knew was that I was a hopeless person to believe in and an even worse sidekick.
"Are you telling me you've never used a gun before?" she screeched back.
"No! Why the fuck would I have used a gun before!?" I wailed back at her.
She gave me a side glance, before scouting each of the cars beside us.
"It's loaded, just point and shoot."
I nodded quickly. Now I understood why people thought she was crazy.
"Here's the plan, they want this," she pulled out a small slip of folded paper. "Now, I'm going to hold it up and then you're going to point and shoot them through the window. Got it?"
"You mean you stole something too?"
"Butch! You got it or not?" she snapped at me.
"Ye...yeah, I think so," reassuring myself of my incompetence to actually warrant shooting someone.
"Well, you either do or you don't. So, let's assume you do because I'm not dying over a slip of paper, mate," she said, rolling the window down and holding up the slip of paper.
The two of us stared out at the black jeep on her side. Both of us were probably doing the same thing, trying to look past the extremely tinted windows. It was an exaggeration for someone to need windows that black. Who the heck wanted to wear sunnies every time they looked out a window?
"Nothing's happening," I shouted into her ear as we stared down the invisible driver of the car.
"No shit, Butch!"
"Well, if it was the paper they wanted, they would have done something by now."
"Butch...just shut up, okay," she turned to look back at me. It was at that exact moment the slip of paper flew out of her grasp and fluttered past the cars'.
"Shit!" She rolled up the windows. "Butch! What the fuck do we do?"
"I don't know, Katrina!" I cocked back at her. "You were the one with the piece of paper!"
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" She swivelled back to stare at them, before succumbing to a frightened frown and staring down the road.
"What was even on the piece of paper?" I asked curiously.
"None of your business, mister!" she snapped.
We both sat in silence thinking of an escape plan.
"Round two, you shoot the gun at them and hope they don't fire back at us."
"Why me?" I burst out, offended at her really shit plan.
"Because I'm driving!"
I sighed. "The windows are probably bulletproof."
She paused for a moment, processing what I'd told her.
"Okay, round three."
Without warning she pulled the breaks.
The whole car lurched as it grinded to a sudden halt. A loud snap indicated something had broken off the car as my face flew into the dashboard. The car crumpled into a shrivelled prune as my seatbelt dug into my chest and my head whipped back to hit the roof.
Thanks for reading another chapter of Butch's story. I hope you are enjoying this so far and will continue to read! ~ H.W.
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Being Butch GreenHumor
A file. A boy. A criminal. An illegal medical lab. All is not what it seems when young rebel, Butch, decides to make a run for it with his criminal file. There is just one problem... he grabbed the wrong file and now he is wanted by the police. On...