Play Dead (Part 24)
I’m Fixing To Play Dead (Part 24).
While I was sitting in the back seat of Red’s taxi he maneuvered us skillfully onto the I-459 Bypass and took it all the way to I-65 South, and when I looked back through the rear window I observed the lights of the Magic City fading away. Not that it bothered me much, except it had been the place where fate had been kind enough to see to it that my life was the only one spared in a tragic plane crash.
But on the other hand it had delivered me into the hands of an ex-con named Leon Martin. He had gained my confidence and then made off with my $600,000 in cash. It seemed like an eternity since that plane crash, during which time I had been playing dead, but it had begun only this past Thursday, only two days ago, but would soon be three days, because it was approaching Sunday morning as we sped south on the trail of Leon.
We were well south of Birmingham when Red broke the silence. “Hey, Ralph, it probably ain’t none of my business, but are you chasing somebody and don’t want to leave a trail?”
His question caught me off guard and I wasn’t sure how to answer it for a short time. Then I came up with, “Uh, I might be. Why is it you ask?”
“Because if you are, I’m wondering why you wouldn’t just go to the airport, buy a ticket for less than you’re paying me. You could have jumped on a jet and been there in less than an hour. I know it’s too late to do that tonight, but you could have done that in the morning and been there not long after we get there driving.”
I was beginning to feel a little bit agitated because of Red’s question, but I attempted to keep any tone of that emotion out of my voice. I had already trusted one stranger and he had robbed me. So I calmly said, “Red, what’s the longest fare you ever had?”
“Let’s see?” he said, “about five years ago when an ice storm closed down the Atlanta Airport I drove a lady from Atlanta to Savannah.”
“Then this trip, the two of them, are the best fares you ever picked up, and you’re getting paid very well for them, right?”
I knew Red had gotten my point when he said, “I got your drift, Ralph. Pardon me for being nosy.”
We traveled in silence until we got off the expressway in Montgomery for gas, pit stops and bottles of water. When we were ready to go, Red invited me to sit up front with him to help keep him awake. That sounded like a good idea, but I realized that I didn’t want to get to know him too well, because that’s what happened with Leon, and the thought of it frightened me, but I accepted his invitation. Well south of the River City, Red put on a Ray Price CD, and I went to sleep somewhere in the middle of “Oh Danny Boy.”
I woke up with a start. There was no motion to the car and it only took me a moment to realize we were at a dead stop. I quickly looked left and right and said, “What’s going on Red? Where are we?”
In a tired and sleepy voice he said, “We’re at an exit off the interstate a few miles north of Mobile. I can’t make it no further. I keep falling asleep.”
“How far are we from Biloxi?” I asked.
“Bout an hour and a half, but I’m beat, and it ain’t safe for me to drive anymore.”
“Then I’ll drive the rest of the way and you can sleep,” I told him.
“All right, but just don’t speed because if you get a ticket it’ll get back to the company I work for and I could lose my job. When you get through Mobile take I-10 East and get off at exit number 50 and it’ll take you right down to Beach Boulevard.”
Red went to sleep immediately and while he snored I cruised down the interstate and passed through Mobile, where the traffic was light. In my mind, I could see Leon in the midst of the multi-colored lights of a casino, hear the binging and bonging sounds of the slot machines, and the barking of dealers at the tables while he was gambling my money away. As my imagination raced away, so did my patience.
I was traveling at 70, the speed limit, but there wasn’t much traffic so I pushed down the accelerator and watched the speedometer climb up to 85. Speeding along in the night, I crossed the state line between Alabama and Mississippi, and it wasn’t long before I saw the exit sign for Pascagoula. It was only a couple of miles past that exit when I saw the dreaded blue light in the rear view mirror.
As the panic began to seize me Red woke up and immediately began cussing. “I told you not to speed! Now you gonna get yourself a ticket, and I’ll probably have to find a new job!”
That’s when I told Red I was fixing to make him a proposal he couldn’t turn down.