JamesGlenn Gamble / Thrillers & Crime
Chicago, Illinois, USA
© 2011 Glenn Gamble
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
James © 2011 by Glenn Gamble
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Glenn Gamble.
On the Run
A Thousand Chances
1001: Car Wash
“Where’s it at, Jack?”
“My name’s Jim, motherfucker.”
Jim felt a hard slap to his face. He grimaced from the painful impact as he sat in the backseat of the goons’ car with his hands tied together. “I’m not gonna ask you again before I put a bullet in you.”
“You’re going to do that anyway, but it just won’t be out here. So why should I tell you anything when one, I don’t know what you’re talking about; and two, you’re gonna kill me anyway.”
“But we might let your woman live, if…”
“Man, I don’t care what you do to her. I’ll shoot the bitch for you if you give me your gun.”
“You rotten piece of shit,” Jessica shouted. “Fuck you, Jim.”
“You did before I found out that you were a cannibal, remember?”
“Both of you shut the fuck up, NOW,” the goon shouted.
“Jim, I’m going to ask you one last time; where’s it at?”
“Where’s what at?”
“Guns?” Jim asked. "I got guns, but you didn’t have to taser me for them.”
“Where are they?”
“If you’d untie my arms and ankles, then I could find them for you.”
“Where are they?”
“Wait a minute? What’s in it for me?”
“How will I know that you won’t kill me right now?”
“Because Steve wants to kill you.”
Jim contemplated his options. He could tell them where the guns were and get killed on the spot, or he could stall and hope for an opportunity to present itself and escape alive. He calculated that he had a one-percent chance of surviving this ordeal. Having Jessica with him made it even more difficult. If it became necessary, he had no problem making her the sacrificial lamb, provided that he would escape alive. Sure he considered after all, she ran off with his best friend over a year ago—that no-good bitch.
“Where are they, Jim?”
“They’re in this abandoned warehouse where I keep a lot of things that I don’t want anyone to find,” Jim lied.
“How do we get there?”
“Start by driving the car. I’ll tell you where to turn as we’re driving.”
Carla was parked at the end of the block just as Jim instructed her to do whenever she came over to visit. This was to allow her enough time to escape if anything were to happen to him. Thank goodness she listened to Jim this time. Just as she turned onto his block, she noticed a midnight blue sedan parked in front of Jim’s house. Then two men carried Jim to the backseat of the car. Jessica got in the front seat unharmed. This isn’t looking too good. They got Jimmy and Jessica. I could care less if Jessica gets killed. In fact, I wouldn’t mind killing that home wrecker myself, but I can’t let these guys kill Jim.
She started the engine, but she turned the key too far and her alternator made a scraping sound. “Calm down,” she said to herself. “Breathe, Carla, breathe.” Carla started the engine once again and drove down the street behind the goons’ blue vehicle. She followed the car turn by turn from a half-block’s distance, occasionally allowing a car or two to get in front of her so she wouldn’t give any indication that she was following them. After a half-hour of driving, the blue car finally turned into an abandoned warehouse in a ghost-town outside of Memphis.