I’m Fixing To Play Dead (Part 32)
I’m Fixing To Play Dead (Part 32):
Since it’s a new year, and if my faithful readers will bear with me, I’m going to write a few lines to give all the slackers an opportunity to “catch up.” However, never fear, because we’ll return to the current action momentarily.
After walking away as the lone survivor of a plane crash in Birmingham, I had decided this act of fate to be the perfect opportunity for me to fulfill my burning desire to start a new life by playing dead, which had been brought on by the actions of my ex-wife and the destruction of my business (Veg-X) by the Government Office of Circumlocution.
After the crash I was rescued by an old ex-con named Leon Martin, who transported me to Atlanta to retrieve 600,000 dollars in cash that I had been hoarding, which he then stole from me and left me stranded. After which, I robbed the safe in my own business and hired Red, a red-headed taxi driver, to help me chase down Leon. By the time we caught up with Leon in Biloxi, Red had figured everything out, murdered Leon, kidnapped his girlfriend Louise, and stole the money Leon had originally stolen from me and lit out. Just before he died, Leon had told me what happened and where to find his old truck and give chase.
So now I had caught up with Red. I had spotted his taxi four cars ahead of me in the right lane of I-65 North about half-way between Mobile and Montgomery. Although I realized Red wouldn’t recognize Leon’s old truck, I knew that Louise would recognize it right off the bat, and I needed to keep the element of surprise on my side as long as I could. I tapped the brake and worked my way over into the right lane keeping three vehicles between the taxi and the truck, tried to relax and formulate a plan while I drove.
What I decided was to just follow them from a distance until they stopped, which eventually they would have to–for gas, food or relief. And when they did, I intended to accost them with my weapon, knowing I would have to move fast and hoping there wouldn’t be a lot of other people around.
Twenty minutes later, I knew I was going to get my chance when I observed the taxi slow and exit the expressway at State Highway 84. Red took a right at the top of the exit ramp and then turned into a BP gas station, but parked at the side of it rather than at the gas pumps, so I figured they were making a bathroom stop.
While observing this I pulled into a Texaco station across the highway and observed as my assumption proved to be correct when Red escorted Louise to the entrance of the ladies room, shook his finger in her face, then shoved her inside of it and closed the door. He looked all around before he darted into the adjacent men’s room.
“Now is the time,” I thought. Leaning down, I ran my hand underneath the seat, seeking for anything that might be of use. My hand closed on something round, hard and long. I pulled out a crowbar and placed it on the seat next to me. It was time to move. I eased down on the accelerator, and quickly drove across the highway, braced myself, and got up to about 20 miles per hour before I crashed into the rear of the taxi.
The impact didn’t jar me as much as I had expected, but it did the job. I heard the tail light crunch and saw the trunk buckle. That was what I wanted. I knew I had to move fast because I was already getting attention from people on both sides of the highway, so when the truck bounced back about two feet, I was already on the ground, pistol in pocket and crowbar in hand.
At the rear of the taxi, I placed the crook of the crowbar into the gap next to the trunk’s lock and leaned down on it with all my weight. The lock groaned, gave way, the trunk lid popped open and there it was, my old suitcase full of money, yearning for me to possess it again. But first I had to plant the evidence. From my pocket, I quickly pulled the shower cap containing the bath cloth soaked with Leon’s blood, and tossed it deep into the trunk of Red’s taxi.
An instant later Red came bursting out of the men’s room with a big-bladed knife in his hand, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me whip out my pistol, plant my feet, and point it straight at his head. The hand holding the knife dropped, limp at his side as he said, “How in the heck did you get—–?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” I interrupted. “Just get back up into that bathroom and close the door behind you, and if you open it within the next five minutes it’ll be the last door you ever open!”
A moment after Red closed the restroom door behind him Louise peeked out of the lady’s room with a dazed and bewildered look on he face. I called out to her, “Louise! we need to get out of here! Move, come on, let’s go!”
She took a few tentative steps before she stammered in a weak, quivering voice, “You-you-you must be Sonny Boy!”
“That’s right, a friend of Leon’s,” I told her.
“Leon’s dead!” she wailed.
“That’s right, and you and me might be fixing to be too if you don’t come on!”