This is where I'm posting excerpts as I'm going along, so keep in mind that everything on this page is very Rough Draft. --G
La Luna Bleu
San Francisco, California
The plan was simple. The plan couldn’t have gone wrong. It shouldn’t have gone wrong.
Tommy and Leo were running for their lives.
“Shit, man!” Tommy yelled. “Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!”
“Shut up!” Leo yelled back. “Shut up and head for the van!”
“Where do you think I’m going? Vegas?”
“Shut up and run! We’ll talk destinations when we get out of here!”
“Shit! Damn! What about Patrick?”
“Fuck Patrick! This was his idea! Shit!”
Wide beams of light swept across the lawn, crisscrossing the grass. Sirens were wailing somewhere off in the distance, theoretically somewhere in the general vicinity of where Patrick was now being held by a group of particularly pissed-off security guards. Leo and Tommy had just barley made it back out the way they had come before the security gates around the power lines had slammed shut. The group had gotten into the museum by finding one of the portals where the cabling ran into the building from the power lines on the street, then used rappelling equipment to slide down the cables, through the narrow opening that, serendipitously, had been left open, and down into the building. It had all been extremely thrilling, very Mission Impossible. Then the sirens had gone off, and Patrick hadn’t made it back out.
Tommy was the first to reach the van, but Leo had the keys. Tommy jumped up and down as Leo fumbled with the driver’s side lock, then Leo flung his door wide, dove inside, and started up the engine. Tommy banged on the window of the other door until Leo reached over and yanked up the lock, then Tommy threw the door open and jumped inside himself. The van peeled out and took off towards the highway.
“Shit!” Leo howled. “This never happened before! Do you think any of them recognized me?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Tommy demanded. “Shit! What should we do about Patrick?”
“Don’t worry about Patrick,” Leo fumed. “His dad will get him off. Christ! It was like they were waiting for us!”
“Well, no shit!” Tommy yelled back. “That’s what happens when you make a crime into a tradition! Shit! What the fuck were we thinking?”
“Shut up!” Leo yelled. “Listen!”
In the distance they could still hear sirens, but these were different kinds of sirens. Before, they had been alarm klaxons going off from inside the museum. Now, this was the sound of patrol cars getting closer.
“Aw, hell...” Leo cursed. “Now what are we going to do?”
“OK. There is a way out of this.” Tommy frowned and closed his eyes. “Gimme a second!”
“We don’t have a second!”
“All right, all right! Listen...” Tommy swallowed hard. “Get on the freeway. If we’re lucky, they haven’t seen the van yet. Don’t speed. Go 55. Look innocent. No...” Tommy began to roll his window down, and he reached for the stereo.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Leo yelled.
“Saving our asses,” Tommy shot back. “Roll down your window and sing!”
“What!?”
Tommy grabbed the volume knob and cranked it. Rock music surged from the van’s speakers, and desperately, Tommy began to sing along. He glanced over at Leo, who still had his foot on the gas.
“Slow down, asshole!” Tommy yelled. “If we look like we’re just out for a ride, and watch them pass all innocent-like, they’ll keep going and we’ll have a shot at getting out of this!”
“All right, all right!” Leo let his foot off the accelerator, and the van slowed down to an agonizingly slow speed limit.
“Now sing!”
“Okay, okay! Miiiister Joooones and meee...”
No sooner had the van slowed down then two patrol cars appeared around the curve up ahead, their lights flashing and sirens wailing. Tommy hit Leo hard on the leg, and Leo pulled over. The patrol cars didn’t even slow down – they zipped on past the van and headed straight on up the hill. Leo looked at Tommy, incredulous.
“Now,” Tommy said, as calmly as he could. “Get on the freeway. We’re going to Seattle.”