Road Trip Chapter 2
"Run Like Hell"
Tommy had a speed of 75, flying down Interstate 95 in his Gang Burrito. It was already 3 Hours after he left Vice City, leaving the rain, palm trees, and his residences behind. Rosenberg was sitting in the back with the bevy of suitcases and his cassette player in hand, and Phil was riding shotgun.literally. He had a Colt Python in his hand, looking out for any contestants or cops. "Radar Love" by Golden Earring was playing on the radio, and the GPS was displaying the present location of the van. They were currently near Vero Beach, Florida, but they still had a lot of ground to cover. "Slow down, Tommy, speed trap ahead." Phil warned with his one hand clutching a pair of binoculars. Two Florida Highway Patrol cruisers were parked in the median, one facing north and one facing south. Tommy hit the breaks on the van and went down to 65, and uneasily passed the cruisers. One cop looked up at Tommy's van, and figured it was nothing, so he went back talking to the other cop. "There are speed traps all over here, be careful." Phil said. Tommy nodded and pressed on the accelerator, making the van speed up more.
A mile and a half back behind Tommy, BJ Smith was speeding in a black Blista Compact, taking on his cellular phone with his coach. "I know, sir, I got to play against San Andreas tomorrow, but I'm telling you, I got a really important engagement in Liberty...Oh, you don't CARE, huh..screw you then!" BJ screamed and hung up his phone, and gassed up his import to 80. He blasted through the speed trap unaware the cops were there, and just kept on going. One Florida Highway Patrol cruiser caught BJ speeding, and exploded out of the median. BJ looked back and saw the cruiser with his lights flashing and sirens wailing, and said "Shit.I'm not going down right now, no way." And he slammed the accelerator, getting up to 90.
The policeman behind the driver seat of the FHP Cruiser saw BJ wasn't going to slow down, so he grabbed his CB Radio receiver and talked into the microphone. "Vero Beach HQ, this is Unit 12, in pursuit of a black Blista Compact, current speed 92 miles per hour, suspect is not pulling over, request assistance anywhere near Mile Marker 210 on Interstate 95." The dispatcher answered "Unit 12, we copy, backup is on its way." "All units, high speed pursuit on Interstate 95, Unit 12 needs assistance." "This is Unit 23; I have contact with the suspect heading northbound on Interstate 95." The policeman saw another FHP cruiser crossing the median, and heading northbound towards BJ's import. "This is the Florida Highway Patrol, stop immediately!" the policeman yelled into his loudspeaker. BJ stuck his hand out the window and stuck the middle finger at them. "Alright, you bastard, you asked for it." The policeman said quietly and sped up to BJ's black Blista Compact.
Tommy was driving a steady 70 miles per hour, listening to Autograph on the radio when it was interrupted "This is a WVBR News Alert. Several Vero Beach, Indian River County, and Florida Highway Patrol officers are pursuing a bandit Blista Compact heading Northbound on Interstate 95. The suspect is currently passing over the Route 60 bridge, so if you're near there, pull off immediately. We will come back on the air when any new developments happen. Now, back to Jim and Terry's Saturday Rock-A-Thon." And Autograph was back on playing. "Wow that sounds big." Rosenberg said. Tommy scoffed then paused to listen. Sirens were faintly sounding behind them. Tommy looked in the rear-view mirror, and saw the black import and several police officers chasing after it. "Damn. We gotta lose the heat; they may get suspicious with us." Tommy said uneasy. "Phil, go in the back, get a gun, and take the cops out!" Tommy ordered. "With pleasure. Hang on to the luggage, boy." Phil said to Rosenberg. He got out an Colt M4, opened the two back doors, and sat there, waiting for the police cruisers to get closer. The Blista Compact got closer, and then came up to Tommy's window. "HEY, MAN! CAN YOU GET ME SOME COVER FIRE?" BJ shouted. Tommy nodded and screamed out, "TAKE THEM OUT, PHIL! NOW!" Phil grabbed the assault rifle and started aiming at the cruisers. He aimed at an FHP cruiser and fired a barrage of bullets into the chassis and hood, causing the cruiser to stall out and roll into the median. "HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!" Phil laughed insanely.
The policeman saw Unit 23's car get disabled by the bullets, and quickly grabbed his CB receiver and screamed "Vero Beach HQ, this is Unit 12! Unit 23's cruiser has just been disabled by a man in the back of a Burrito carrying an assault rifle! He's shooting at other cruisers! Request air assistance and SWAT Teams! Spike Strips, Road Blocks, please, help us out here!" "All units, all cars, this is an emergency call. Hostile fire and high speed chase on Interstate 95 northbound near the Route 512 exit in Sebastian. Requesting SWAT and air units." "This is Air Unit 1; I'm way ahead of you." "SWAT Units 1, 3, and 7 responding." "Road Block set up at Route 512 exit. All units fall back." The policeman laughed and said "Try to get away from us now, losers." Before the policeman knew it, a barrage of bullets was hitting his cruiser. A bullet struck his shoulder, and the policeman screamed in pain. He grabbed this CB receiver, and screamed into it "Officer down! Officer down! I'm hit! Requesting ambulance!" He lost control of the cruiser and it started spinning. The car started going up in the air, and the policeman mumbled "Oh dear God, please, no." His car rolled over 2 times, landing in the southbound lanes with his car right- side up. A semi truck just noticed the mangled police cruiser in the lane ahead, and the semi tried to stop. The policeman, half conscious with blood spewing from his shoulder, saw the semi truck trying to stop. He knew this was the end. The semi truck slammed into the cruiser, dragging it down the road with a splash of sparks.
Tommy looked back and saw all the cruisers were disabled, and the wreck with the one cruiser and the semi truck. "Damn, Phil, you got good aim." Tommy said. "Yeah, I learnt in the army." Phil said and smiled. The Blista Compact went up to Tommy's Gang Burrito and screamed "FOLLOW ME!" The Blista Compact got off at the Route 512 exit and headed west towards nowhere, and Tommy followed. He followed the car into a remote lot off the interstate, surrounded by trees. He discovered a Pay N' Spray was in this lot. Tommy was very much relieved.
"This is Air 1; I have lost sight of the suspects." "Shit." the FHP Captain said. He kicked his desk and pulled his hair. "These pricks cause mayhem on Interstate 95, they kill an officer, and cause a media frenzy, and I'm going down for it!" the captain said. He grabbed a pillow from his desk, and screamed into it, then passed out.
"BJ Smith! I can't believe it!" Rosenberg said. Tommy was standing by the now what looks like to be a regular Burrito, instead of a Gang Burrito. The paint job, and aerodynamics of the car were changed into what looked like a regular van, instead it had the letters "VCSO", or the Vice City Shipping Organization, sprawled around the sides. "What are you doing out here, BJ?" Tommy asked. "Ahh, I'm heading up to Liberty City. Some kind of contestant for a prize." BJ choked out. Tommy grew very pale, Phil and Rosenberg walked back to the van. Phil cleared his throat and Tommy said "Really, that's cool. I'm gonna go now." Tommy stammered and walked back to the van. "Alright Tommy, I'll see you around!" BJ yelled, and walked to his Blista Compact, which wasn't ready to go yet. Tommy sped out of the lot, cut off a United Parcel Service truck, and drove back onto the interstate. This was going to be harder then he thought it was. "I'm hungry." Rosenberg said.
Tommy had a speed of 75, flying down Interstate 95 in his Gang Burrito. It was already 3 Hours after he left Vice City, leaving the rain, palm trees, and his residences behind. Rosenberg was sitting in the back with the bevy of suitcases and his cassette player in hand, and Phil was riding shotgun.literally. He had a Colt Python in his hand, looking out for any contestants or cops. "Radar Love" by Golden Earring was playing on the radio, and the GPS was displaying the present location of the van. They were currently near Vero Beach, Florida, but they still had a lot of ground to cover. "Slow down, Tommy, speed trap ahead." Phil warned with his one hand clutching a pair of binoculars. Two Florida Highway Patrol cruisers were parked in the median, one facing north and one facing south. Tommy hit the breaks on the van and went down to 65, and uneasily passed the cruisers. One cop looked up at Tommy's van, and figured it was nothing, so he went back talking to the other cop. "There are speed traps all over here, be careful." Phil said. Tommy nodded and pressed on the accelerator, making the van speed up more.
A mile and a half back behind Tommy, BJ Smith was speeding in a black Blista Compact, taking on his cellular phone with his coach. "I know, sir, I got to play against San Andreas tomorrow, but I'm telling you, I got a really important engagement in Liberty...Oh, you don't CARE, huh..screw you then!" BJ screamed and hung up his phone, and gassed up his import to 80. He blasted through the speed trap unaware the cops were there, and just kept on going. One Florida Highway Patrol cruiser caught BJ speeding, and exploded out of the median. BJ looked back and saw the cruiser with his lights flashing and sirens wailing, and said "Shit.I'm not going down right now, no way." And he slammed the accelerator, getting up to 90.
The policeman behind the driver seat of the FHP Cruiser saw BJ wasn't going to slow down, so he grabbed his CB Radio receiver and talked into the microphone. "Vero Beach HQ, this is Unit 12, in pursuit of a black Blista Compact, current speed 92 miles per hour, suspect is not pulling over, request assistance anywhere near Mile Marker 210 on Interstate 95." The dispatcher answered "Unit 12, we copy, backup is on its way." "All units, high speed pursuit on Interstate 95, Unit 12 needs assistance." "This is Unit 23; I have contact with the suspect heading northbound on Interstate 95." The policeman saw another FHP cruiser crossing the median, and heading northbound towards BJ's import. "This is the Florida Highway Patrol, stop immediately!" the policeman yelled into his loudspeaker. BJ stuck his hand out the window and stuck the middle finger at them. "Alright, you bastard, you asked for it." The policeman said quietly and sped up to BJ's black Blista Compact.
Tommy was driving a steady 70 miles per hour, listening to Autograph on the radio when it was interrupted "This is a WVBR News Alert. Several Vero Beach, Indian River County, and Florida Highway Patrol officers are pursuing a bandit Blista Compact heading Northbound on Interstate 95. The suspect is currently passing over the Route 60 bridge, so if you're near there, pull off immediately. We will come back on the air when any new developments happen. Now, back to Jim and Terry's Saturday Rock-A-Thon." And Autograph was back on playing. "Wow that sounds big." Rosenberg said. Tommy scoffed then paused to listen. Sirens were faintly sounding behind them. Tommy looked in the rear-view mirror, and saw the black import and several police officers chasing after it. "Damn. We gotta lose the heat; they may get suspicious with us." Tommy said uneasy. "Phil, go in the back, get a gun, and take the cops out!" Tommy ordered. "With pleasure. Hang on to the luggage, boy." Phil said to Rosenberg. He got out an Colt M4, opened the two back doors, and sat there, waiting for the police cruisers to get closer. The Blista Compact got closer, and then came up to Tommy's window. "HEY, MAN! CAN YOU GET ME SOME COVER FIRE?" BJ shouted. Tommy nodded and screamed out, "TAKE THEM OUT, PHIL! NOW!" Phil grabbed the assault rifle and started aiming at the cruisers. He aimed at an FHP cruiser and fired a barrage of bullets into the chassis and hood, causing the cruiser to stall out and roll into the median. "HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!" Phil laughed insanely.
The policeman saw Unit 23's car get disabled by the bullets, and quickly grabbed his CB receiver and screamed "Vero Beach HQ, this is Unit 12! Unit 23's cruiser has just been disabled by a man in the back of a Burrito carrying an assault rifle! He's shooting at other cruisers! Request air assistance and SWAT Teams! Spike Strips, Road Blocks, please, help us out here!" "All units, all cars, this is an emergency call. Hostile fire and high speed chase on Interstate 95 northbound near the Route 512 exit in Sebastian. Requesting SWAT and air units." "This is Air Unit 1; I'm way ahead of you." "SWAT Units 1, 3, and 7 responding." "Road Block set up at Route 512 exit. All units fall back." The policeman laughed and said "Try to get away from us now, losers." Before the policeman knew it, a barrage of bullets was hitting his cruiser. A bullet struck his shoulder, and the policeman screamed in pain. He grabbed this CB receiver, and screamed into it "Officer down! Officer down! I'm hit! Requesting ambulance!" He lost control of the cruiser and it started spinning. The car started going up in the air, and the policeman mumbled "Oh dear God, please, no." His car rolled over 2 times, landing in the southbound lanes with his car right- side up. A semi truck just noticed the mangled police cruiser in the lane ahead, and the semi tried to stop. The policeman, half conscious with blood spewing from his shoulder, saw the semi truck trying to stop. He knew this was the end. The semi truck slammed into the cruiser, dragging it down the road with a splash of sparks.
Tommy looked back and saw all the cruisers were disabled, and the wreck with the one cruiser and the semi truck. "Damn, Phil, you got good aim." Tommy said. "Yeah, I learnt in the army." Phil said and smiled. The Blista Compact went up to Tommy's Gang Burrito and screamed "FOLLOW ME!" The Blista Compact got off at the Route 512 exit and headed west towards nowhere, and Tommy followed. He followed the car into a remote lot off the interstate, surrounded by trees. He discovered a Pay N' Spray was in this lot. Tommy was very much relieved.
"This is Air 1; I have lost sight of the suspects." "Shit." the FHP Captain said. He kicked his desk and pulled his hair. "These pricks cause mayhem on Interstate 95, they kill an officer, and cause a media frenzy, and I'm going down for it!" the captain said. He grabbed a pillow from his desk, and screamed into it, then passed out.
"BJ Smith! I can't believe it!" Rosenberg said. Tommy was standing by the now what looks like to be a regular Burrito, instead of a Gang Burrito. The paint job, and aerodynamics of the car were changed into what looked like a regular van, instead it had the letters "VCSO", or the Vice City Shipping Organization, sprawled around the sides. "What are you doing out here, BJ?" Tommy asked. "Ahh, I'm heading up to Liberty City. Some kind of contestant for a prize." BJ choked out. Tommy grew very pale, Phil and Rosenberg walked back to the van. Phil cleared his throat and Tommy said "Really, that's cool. I'm gonna go now." Tommy stammered and walked back to the van. "Alright Tommy, I'll see you around!" BJ yelled, and walked to his Blista Compact, which wasn't ready to go yet. Tommy sped out of the lot, cut off a United Parcel Service truck, and drove back onto the interstate. This was going to be harder then he thought it was. "I'm hungry." Rosenberg said.
