Lieutenant O'Reilly's gut wrenched with fear as he saw the white car
veering towards the closed exit ramp. "Oh shit!" he said to himself. Then
he called into the radio, "All units! We have to cut them off now!"
"Jim, are you sure?" answered one of the other pursuing units. "What about the gunman?"
"If they're headed in that direction, it's obvious that escape isn't his plan. All units move to intercept!"
With that order, the four pursuing police cruisers roared to life as they raced to overtake the mysterious white car that wouldn't stop.
***
"They're gaining!" yelled Mick frantically. "Hurry up, or I'll do it myself!"
Simon half turned towards the back seat. "You leave me no choice," Simon murmered. Suddenly, Simon lunged forward with both hands and grabbed Mick's gunhand, forcing it up to the ceiling. Simon toppled into the backseat and continued slamming the gun against the ceiling, trying to knock it out of Mick's grasp. The two young men flailed and kicked, jamming their knees into each other's stomachs. The twins and Ruthie jumped out of their seats to avoid being crushed by the two older boys. The gun whipped around and slammed against the doors and windows as Simon continued to try to disarm him. Mick held on fiercely with a two-handed grip, growling.
The car swerved as it continued forward, driverless. Ruthie leaned over the driver's seat and stretched forward, just reaching the steering wheel. She pulled herself over the top and fell face first into the driver's seat. Ruthie straightened up and saw a pair of police cruisers parked dead ahead, blocking the way to the incomplete overpass just beyond them. She squealed, then scrunched underneath the dashboard and jammed down the brake pedal with both feet. The car violently screeched to a stop just in front of the blockade.
Simon and Mick tumbled to the floor. The gun went off with a loud pop and then escaped Mick's hands, sliding under Grandpa's seat. The noise awoke Grandpa and he looked around, bewildered.
"What the hell are you doing back there, Simon? Why is Ruthie driving?"
"Grandpa, get the gun!" Simon gasped. "It's right under you!"
"Nooo!" Mick howled, flailing maniacally as he tried to get out from under Simon.
Grandpa saw the revolver at his feet. He casually picked it up and studied it for a moment. Then he gave a little chuckle, turned around and fired it into Mick's astonished face. But the only injury caused by the gunshot was a small, sooty burn on his forehead. "Son, I've been in the military for half of my life, and if there's one thing I know it's firearms. This pistol isn't real, it's a blank-firing replica. Now get up, stranger. Real slow, or I'll hit you with this thing."
Mick did as he was told. Simon sat up and smiled gratefully at Grandpa, then turned to Mick. " You held us up with a fake gun?"
"After I got out of jail my parents locked up all of their guns. This is all I could get my hands on," Mick said sullenly.
"So the only way you could kill me and my family was to order me to drive off of a ledge?" Simon demanded. Mick said nothing, staring down dejectedly. "You make me sick!"
"There's no need for that," said Grandpa, "He won't be able to hurt us anymore." Grandpa leaned out of the passenger window and shouted to the surrounding police cars, "We're okay!"
***
And so it was that when Reverend Camden pulled up, he saw his son spread-eagled on the ground alongside Grandpa (merely as a precaution), Ruthie, Sam and David standing nearby with their hands in the air unnecessarily, and a vaguely familiar boy being led into a police cruiser in handcuffs. Simon looked up and grinned sheepishly. "Hi Dad. Does this mean I'm grounded?"
The End
That was my first Fanfic and also the first short story that I've written in a few years. I hope you enjoyed it!
"Jim, are you sure?" answered one of the other pursuing units. "What about the gunman?"
"If they're headed in that direction, it's obvious that escape isn't his plan. All units move to intercept!"
With that order, the four pursuing police cruisers roared to life as they raced to overtake the mysterious white car that wouldn't stop.
***
"They're gaining!" yelled Mick frantically. "Hurry up, or I'll do it myself!"
Simon half turned towards the back seat. "You leave me no choice," Simon murmered. Suddenly, Simon lunged forward with both hands and grabbed Mick's gunhand, forcing it up to the ceiling. Simon toppled into the backseat and continued slamming the gun against the ceiling, trying to knock it out of Mick's grasp. The two young men flailed and kicked, jamming their knees into each other's stomachs. The twins and Ruthie jumped out of their seats to avoid being crushed by the two older boys. The gun whipped around and slammed against the doors and windows as Simon continued to try to disarm him. Mick held on fiercely with a two-handed grip, growling.
The car swerved as it continued forward, driverless. Ruthie leaned over the driver's seat and stretched forward, just reaching the steering wheel. She pulled herself over the top and fell face first into the driver's seat. Ruthie straightened up and saw a pair of police cruisers parked dead ahead, blocking the way to the incomplete overpass just beyond them. She squealed, then scrunched underneath the dashboard and jammed down the brake pedal with both feet. The car violently screeched to a stop just in front of the blockade.
Simon and Mick tumbled to the floor. The gun went off with a loud pop and then escaped Mick's hands, sliding under Grandpa's seat. The noise awoke Grandpa and he looked around, bewildered.
"What the hell are you doing back there, Simon? Why is Ruthie driving?"
"Grandpa, get the gun!" Simon gasped. "It's right under you!"
"Nooo!" Mick howled, flailing maniacally as he tried to get out from under Simon.
Grandpa saw the revolver at his feet. He casually picked it up and studied it for a moment. Then he gave a little chuckle, turned around and fired it into Mick's astonished face. But the only injury caused by the gunshot was a small, sooty burn on his forehead. "Son, I've been in the military for half of my life, and if there's one thing I know it's firearms. This pistol isn't real, it's a blank-firing replica. Now get up, stranger. Real slow, or I'll hit you with this thing."
Mick did as he was told. Simon sat up and smiled gratefully at Grandpa, then turned to Mick. " You held us up with a fake gun?"
"After I got out of jail my parents locked up all of their guns. This is all I could get my hands on," Mick said sullenly.
"So the only way you could kill me and my family was to order me to drive off of a ledge?" Simon demanded. Mick said nothing, staring down dejectedly. "You make me sick!"
"There's no need for that," said Grandpa, "He won't be able to hurt us anymore." Grandpa leaned out of the passenger window and shouted to the surrounding police cars, "We're okay!"
***
And so it was that when Reverend Camden pulled up, he saw his son spread-eagled on the ground alongside Grandpa (merely as a precaution), Ruthie, Sam and David standing nearby with their hands in the air unnecessarily, and a vaguely familiar boy being led into a police cruiser in handcuffs. Simon looked up and grinned sheepishly. "Hi Dad. Does this mean I'm grounded?"
The End
That was my first Fanfic and also the first short story that I've written in a few years. I hope you enjoyed it!