(In the words of the great Jim Carrey, "I... CAN'T... LIE!")
16
"God damn!" Uzi's fist nearly smashed through the console as he pounded at that infernal button. "SHIA! Why the fuck didn't you tell me the megaphone was on!? Those cheeky little assholes are probably halfway down the fucking building by now!"
"Well, excuse me, SIR!" the pilot exclaimed from the safety of his rear seat, perched above his own seat. "You never asked me about it! I'd thought you make another one of your own little, flyby speeches that you just--*have*--to make!"
"NOT ON A STAKEOUT," his shards bounced awkwardly against the headrest of his seat, "YOU DUMB SHIT! Now hurry up and acquire the target before we lose them!"
"Yes, sir...!" the button man let out a sigh of exasperation--and his stomach felt all the more heavier as the 'copter shifted severely to the right, all under the cocky curly top's control.
"*Uh... *" that drunken dance of the world around began to play for him, spinning and tumbling about right before his very eye. "*Oh--! * AND TAKE IT EASY ON THE YAW, MAN!"
"But sir!"
"DON'T CALL ME SIR, BOY!" he yelled to the top of his lungs. "DO IT!"
"Ugh!" the cocky pilot grunted behind him, and Uzi didn't even try to quell his disgust, but it lost the little importance it had in his mind. He couldn't be side tracked, not even distracted--not now. He snatched at the microphone, nearly tearing it from its holder on the bruised console as he thumbed at the button.
"All units!" he exclaimed, the microphone point blank from his sneering jaws. "Be on alert! Our targets are on the run, possibly dressed in our own colors! Search all vehicles leaving the area; face check all personnel encountered! Repeat: targets are on the run!"
"Rodger that!" A faceless voice crackled back at him through the static. "Alpha Unit out!"
"Bravo unit out!" a second interjected.
"Charlie unit out!" a third interjected.
"Delta unit, out and about!" that smart-assed vehicle program poked at him carelessly, safely out of his grasp.
"Shia," he took in a deep breath, as he gently set the microphone back down upon the console, "remind me to have that smart ass reprogrammed, would you?"
"Yes sir."
***
"*OH! * Knew I should have worn my other pair!" Tara grunted through the pain, as it burned its way up her legs from her sore ankles. The heels of her pumps clopped down on the cement awkwardly, her ankles straining to keep her up and running as Yune latterly dragged her through the parking garage by the hand.
"Come on, T!" her driven man didn't bother to look behind him, over the shoulder of his oddly outstretched arm. "We're almost there!"
"I think I see Sadie!" Kim exclaimed, as she huffed like a trained grunt with that large rifle in her thin arms, panting her way toward the red, boxy SUV that rolled their way. "Come on!"
At those very words, the Asian picked up the paced, her angled feet barely keeping up with the tempo of his long, hurried strides--
--*Crack! *
The heel of her right seemed to drop about an inch too far, the sole of her foot flat against the ground with the exception of her angled toes, curled up at a strange angle. She stole a glance behind her as she hobbled for their red-and-yellow ticket out, and her eyes caught a thick chunk of dark matter, rolling gently to a stop on the dirty cement.
"DAMN IT!" She pressed her left arch against the heel of her right, her right foot forced out of the shoe as Yune dragged her on. "THOSE WERE ITALIAN!"
"I'll get you another pair sometime!" Yune said distractedly. She kicked left one off, barely hearing clatter beside the right one through the sharp screech of the vehicle's tires, the purr of the large engine nearly swallowing his voice. "Now come on!"
The sheer cold tore their way through her soles, stabbing at the meat of her legs but she carried on somehow. Yune made sure of it.
"Sadie!" Kimberly called through the still air. "Over here!"
"Kim?" the vehicle said quizzically. "What's going on around here?"
"No time!" the auburn yanked the driver's door at the sound of its click. The rifle went airborne for a second, arcing in the air with the barrel aimed at the ceiling--and it bounced, the barrel swinging for the ground as it disappeared behind the back of the passenger seat. The red body leaned to the right as the girl hopped behind the wheel. "We've got to go!"
"You're telling me!" the vehicle countered with that legendary sass she heard so often about. "I'm coming down the road, minding my own business, and then these Hummers zip past me like they mean something! Thank whatever for that chip the Doc installed, or they'd all be scrap metal by now!"
"Bad move on Freeman's part!" Yune noted, flipping the back of the front passenger seat forward. The death vice around her wrist waned into a gentle grasp around her palm. "Easy up, Tara."
She chuckled softly as she stepped onto the running bar, her feet thankful to be off of that ice block of pavement the second her soles touched the matted carpet.
"Now you're telling me." She smiled weakly. Her butt was barely planted in the seat before the back of the front seat was locked back upright. The couple's bags flew in the air like the big cannon next to her, landing squarely atop the rifle's frame with a crinkle of fabric.
Yune hopped in, the car rocking gently as his door slammed back into the doorframe.
"Uh, could someone explain to me what the heck's going on?" the dark green bars on the console's thick LCD screen fluctuated at the sound of that whinny, sassy voice. She could just barely see it over the crest of the knobby gearshift.
"No time, Sadie." Kim said sternly, her voice thick with grimace. "Whatever you have to do to disable that chip, do it. We're going to need your weapons systems primed and ready."
"Just hit the green switch just above my readout, and consider it done." The vehicle said. Kim fingered the forest green button beside the cigarette lighter with a gloved index, the button letting out a little click like a push pen. The auburn's right leg sank gently in the seat just as Sadie began to lurch ahead.
"Tara!" her heart jumped, its beats quickened at the sound of her name. "I want that rifle locked and loaded now!"
She nodded quickly, her left hand seizing it by the barrel as she cumbersomely maneuvered the squared muzzle to the left side of the open cabin. The gun made a heavy clack as she slammed the bolt with a grunt, a heavy slug chambered in its last cocoon, ready to blossom in some poor thug's chest--
She shook her head furiously at the thought, her brain rattled the terrible idea to pieces and her guts moved in her belly as Kim negotiated the SUV into a three-point-turn.
"Been practicing, I see?" Sadie said.
"You could say that." Flat was Kim's reply as she hanged a gentle right, her right leg shifting a bit to the left as the SUV eased its lurch before the wide orifice that led outside, stopping at the brim where the darker pavement turned a lighter gray. "All right, Tara, give me that gun."
Her heart crept its way up her throat, but a heavy swallow pushed it back down her chest as she apprehensively turned the lengthy beast over to the auburn by the odd stock.
"Safety's on." She said aloud. "Like Yune showed me."
"Good girl." Kim said as she stood up awkwardly, setting down the heavy barrel upon the top of the windshield's frame about halfway with the rest hanging out. The patch of dark cloth upon the auburn's shoulder tightened just a bit, as did the back of her right glove on the pistol grip.
"T," she could barely make out the tip of his nose as it touched the back of his seat, "when the bullets start flying, I want you to keep your head down at all times, okay?"
"Okay!" She nodded wholeheartedly--and when the auburn unleashed a mammoth blast from her rifle, Yune didn't need to tell her twice as her cheek hit against the seat, hands capping tensely over the back of her head. Her body slid against the back of the large bench seat quickly when the roar of the engine swallowed up the blast in a crescendo.
***
Ben saw a pop of small fireball from the dim garage opening--before something exploded out of the grill of a Hummer, one from the furthest group down the line. Bits and pieces of olive-green metal flew every which way like fragmentations of an M65--and a blur of red and yellow tore out of the garage exit, wheels barreling for the furthest group relentlessly.
*K-K-KRASHH!! *
The furthest group of vehicles took off, spinning wildly away from each other as the car barreled through--olive drab men went yelling, screaming, and diving out of their transports' aimless routes. The sound of the targets' engine dissipated in the cool breeze dramatically, to a near silence through the men's scramble for their Hummers.
"Enjoying the show, Ben?" Matt asked rhetorically. "Better have, because it's about to get really bumpy real soon!"
He strangled the life out of the grips of his UZI, and his heart felt as though it would burst suddenly from his chest.
"Hang on to your butt, Kid!" Matt said eagerly. "'Cause this rust bucket's got a date with his girl! Just man the turret, and I'll do the rest!"
--He nearly fell out of the passenger seat, tumbled out of the vehicle as Matt made a swift u-turn, accelerating out of the last curve with great speed.
"Whoa...!" his fingers tore at the handle of the door--the "oh--shit" handle, he coined it.
"Oh yeah!" the vehicle chuckled sheepishly. "You might want to buckle up for this!"
***
Something exploded down below him; one of the Hummer vehicles at one an extreme side to the north has something smash into it. Pieces of olive painted grill scattered like fragments from a glass pane thrown onto the cement, a wisp of gray trailed down from a little bit above it, circling around its front as it entered the new cavity. It was done for--
Something tore out of the garage, streaking its colors of red and yellow behind it like a bat straight out of Hell itself! The dead vehicle and the one nearby seemed to fishtail out of the way own their own as the red and yellow devil barreled straight through it.
The wounded vehicle quickly recovered, overcorrecting itself a bit as it circled back around, leaving two black skid marks behind on the pavement as it tore down the road in pursuit. Matt and the other vehicle swiftly tore ass down a parallel route.
"And--they--are--off!" Uzi perked his strange brow. "Come on, Shia. Let's get the lead out!"
"Sir!" the pilot acknowledged emotionlessly--and his guts felt like they were swimming behind his abdomen muscles, gaining a little bit in weight as his button man pitched the nose of the 'copter down, pressing against his spine as the costal buildings of Tel Aviv drew right underneath him.
He scooped up the microphone just after his innards got acquainted with his backbone.
"*Oh... *" he batted his eyes ferociously, "*uh...! * All units! You have authorization for lethal force! Fire at will, and engage targets as they appear!"
A voice crackled at him through the custom CB, right as his thumb lifted off of the button.
"Alpha unit's out of action, sir!" it exclaimed.
His eyes rolled. "I can see that perfectly, Avi! Drive the target through the nearest checkpoint! I want little collateral damage until they're through!"
"Sir!" the static crackle of the radio engulfed the man's voice, before he placed the microphone back upon its cradle.
"Shia," vertebrae cracked a bit as he rolled his head around, "Maintain visual contact at all times, but do not engage the target until you're authorized."
"Or until we both get bored?" the pilot said.
"Hmm... yeah." He shrugged. "One of the two. I don't really care."
"Consider it done, Major."
"Don't worry," he smirked through his nauseous, pursed lips, "I... *uh-- * do!"
The buildings below were like the sands of the nearby beach, blending into one tanned smear as the Apache flew through the sky on its warpath, like the great savage that bared the name. Regardless when Yune's escape burst into flames or it ran out of gas, it would only be a matter of time when it finally did, and he'd be there to help coax it along. He had to be! And even if he weren't--by some crazy fluke of the heavens or of the earth--Avi would be glad to substitute.
"Maybe he should break in that newcomer too," he said, "get him all nice and dirty."
"What was that, Mr. U?" his pilot behind him replied. "I didn't quite catch that."
"Oh--!" he shook a little sense back into his brain. "Nothing. Carry on, solider!"
***
David was bored; a pain throbbed in the forefront of his head, up and to his right where the hairline touched the tip of his crown. He let out a yawn, the very last sound coming out his mouth like a humming groan, barely caught by his ears over the chopper's rotors.
"*Hmm... *" his eyes winced as they closed, the throbbing intensifying in his brow, "...This--*oh*--is David Schlitz with TV Channel 2... *uh*--coming to you live from above beautiful Tel Aviv, mere minutes away from the grand Mediterranean Sea."
--His hand smashed against his head, the heel of his palm pressing relentlessly against the throbbing. Something felt like it wanted to burst straight out of his skull when the anchor assaulted his ears from the other side of the line, flooding the words of triviality into his head in one giant exclamation.
"So how's the weather there, Dave?" the anchor asked simply.
His face contorted and twisted into the straightest position they could become.
"--Ease up with the voice there." His teeth pressed against each other, the enamel grinding gently together. "I've got myself a hell of a headache."
"Sorry to hear that, Dave." The anchor replied with dubious empathy-- like the twit had actually been in the news 'copter for more than a measly hour. He never did like that prick to begin with.
"Thank you." He smiled in fakery. "It's a nice day here in Tel Aviv. The sun's shining, birds are singing, and traffic over here is great. Hardly anyone's on the road."
"It is *Shabbat*, of course." The prick noted without solicitation. "Like you didn't know that already, right Dave?"
An eye began to spasm and twitch just as the lids parted. "Well duh!" a piece of his upper lip followed suit. "A time for rest and relaxation! Just kick off your shoes, prop up your feet, and have a nice long rest, cause Lord knows you'll need it come tomorrow. I see that most have taken up that advice as I glance at the road below. I see a few motorists taking it easy with their commutes, and I also see--"
Zooming far down below was a single vehicle, nothing more than the size of a red pill bug from his perch, barreling down the streets like dragster when it didn't make these crazy, suicidal turns at breakneck speed. From its far right side on its top half, small explosions of white flashed like... he didn't know what to call it. Gunshots maybe, but there were no real ways for his eyes to judge from the current altitude.
Trailing a few yards away from it were two greenish vehicles, flashes of white erupting out its side just like with the red one--both sides-- flashing in an intermittent pace.
"Well, aren't you going to tell us, Dave?" the prick leaned.
"It looks like we've got a few vehicles, reenacting 'Grand Theft Auto'--or even 'Mafia' down there!" he exclaimed--and his troublesome headache simply quelled after the last spoken word. "A red vehicle's tearing ass down the streets, making crazy turns erratically. In pursuit, we have two green vehicles--I think they might be the VSA!"
"You mean the vigilantes, Dave." his heart hammered quickly in his chest. The organ burning in a singeing anger at the anchor's pompousness, how he always held himself in a sanctimonious aura of his own right. An aura where he may judge others irresponsibly, striving for that elusive impunity as with most wannabe moguls of the news. "Judge, jury, and executioner! Wake up and smell the Matzo, Dave! And will someone, call the Knesset--or even the police!? Those nutcases and their crazed general should be stopped!"
*At least someone's trying to solve our problems with our 'neighbors', * the thought was a burning crack in his brain, *while you sit pretty and pretentious when you're not cowering behind your news desk! *
"I believe their pragmatic leader's a Major." He noted. "But it doesn't change the fact that we've got two vehicles in hot pursuit of their target. ...And I believe I see a third straggling quite a distance behind! And let me note that the nearest checkpoint into the West Bank is mere miles away from our current location--"
To his left, through his window just beyond his peripheral view of sight, a sliver of olive sliced through the blue sky. He twisted his neck, moving his face square at the glass, a few inches away from the tip of his nose--
His lids parted further, taking muscles around the sockets with it.
"What is it, Dave?" the anchor asked.
"Well, speak of the Devil himself!"
***
Abu pressed his lips into a grim, thin line as he watched the Zionist news channel. Not that he minded the Palestinian controlled television, yet there was only so much inspiration a man could take, courtesy of their fearless, jabber-jawed leader. The violence, the madness, the call to arms for the liberation of Palestine; he wasn't sure how much he could take of it, and it was about to come to a messy, bloody head as the bloodthirsty, rabid dogs of Zion edged closer to his neighborhood.
Handguns and rifles clacked and clattered all around him in his tiny apartment dwelling, each bullet, every magazine, and every available weapon crafted and loaded for the single most important work of its time, the utter destruction of the Zionist entity! But this time seemed... he couldn't describe it. Something about this time didn't sit right with his stomach.
"What is wrong, Father?" he glanced at his son, the black haired man with whom he is proud to have conceived. For if it were not for him, he would have had a bullet between his eyes, courtesy of those disgusting barbarians, sniping away from their wall which they so proudly constructed.
"Nothing, my son." He shook his head. "It is nothing."
"You mustn't worry, Father, or even get distracted!" his son wiped his hand briskly on his denim pants. It left a greasy smear of black on the blue cloth, but he continued with his work on his Soviet rifle. "The Jews near us even as we speak! We must be ready to strike them!"
"I don't know about this, son." He combed his fingers through his hair, thick and greasy to the aged touch. "Something does not feel right about this assault."
"Maybe you ate something that didn't agree with your stomach." The Soviet rifle made a loud clack as his son pulled a handle back. "I hope that you'll feel better soon, Father. And again, you shouldn't worry about me. If I can kill one Jew, then Allah will gladly lift me up and pass me through the gates of paradise! You should be happy for me."
"I pray for that day when you do enter his gates, Muhammad." He smiled warmly. "But please, I urge you to pick your battles wisely. You mustn't die by the Jews bloody hands--"
"When they're not eating that bloody matzo they eat every spring time." Muhammad laughed, mocking the occupants' gruesome traditions as though they were savages, which, by all means, they practically were. "Come now, Father. It's not like we're facing down the Bloody Reds. Most likely it'll be the Zionist police!"
Ah... the Bloody Reds, what an appropriate name for them, with many a Muslim's blood on them like the color of their insignia openly emblazons. They were even worse than the typical Zionist solider, playing Allah on who should live and who should die just like the third one of the heathens' "Popes" named Innocent. How ironic....
"There isn't time for debate, Father." Muhammad threaded his head and shoulder through the sling, having the Soviet rifle come to rest at his side. "I can hear the Jews approaching! Do you hear?"
The clacking abruptly ceased in his home, just as he put the Jew on his TV on mute. His ears distinctly caught the thrum of the Zionist motorcars in the quiet air of the Palestinian homeland, and they were closing in on the neighborhood from what it sounded like. The others stampeded out of his home while his son stood by his side, like the good boy he was.
"Stay close to me, Muhammad." His voice was a quiet whisper. "I have no bodyguard."
"Allow me then, Father." The boy took a knee by his chair, and he gave the Jew on the television back his voice at the click of a button.
*Allah, may you give us protection, * he closed his eyes in silent prayer, *and help those out there punish the Jews for their treachery! *
***
"TARA!" Yune shouted through the hollow roar of the wind in his face, his hand bucking as he made another web in the pursuers' windshield. "KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!"
The blonde laid flat against the springy bench seat, her small body curled into a fetal position with her fingers dug deeply into her hair. Quickly, gladly he thanked the Lord for the sidings of the SUV, how every bullet simply ricocheted off the smooth body at the incidence angle as if it were light. But bitterly, he cursed the loveable Freeman for the frail soft-top, the happy-go-lucky doctor's cloth aesthetic now mere shreds and ribbons as it simply flung off Sadie a couple blocks back.
Yet it did slap against the windshield of their previous tail like a piece of newspaper in the summer wind, causing it to veer and fishtail out of action as their current pursuer took up the chase. He gladly thanked the Lord quietly for it too.
*BLAM! * Another round unleashed at the pursuers--another circle of spider-web cracks radiating from its impact square in the middle. He couldn't keep it up for long. Two of his three magazines were dry; both useless scrap as it fell from the Sadie's body, and creased under the chaser's wheels. Numbers lost all meaning in his mind as he miraculously slapped the last clip in, the slide chambering another 9mm when it was free from its lock.
"Yune!" Kimberly exclaimed; her sunken head between her hunched shoulders never turning away from the wide, dark stripe that was the road. "Don't bother wasting your rounds! They're bullet-resistant!"
He grunted inwardly. "I can see that!" he exclaimed his noting.
"Okay, okay!" Sadie said loudly through the wind. "When the chips are down, Sadie saves the day. Sit back, sweetie, cause Momma's got you covered!"
Though the wind, his ears caught a loud, droning hum from the empty space at the very rear of the vehicle as something silver and shiny began to rise. The crest of gleamed a bright white in his eyes from the midday sun upon its decent. The little white patch that was the sun trailed down its lateral surface, morphing from ovals to circles as it ran over the undulated chrome.
His dry eyes were as wide as they could get while the metallic beast mooned him as it turned its narrow, flat nose toward the tail. He couldn't be sure, but thought he saw the passenger's eyes in the olive Hummer grew as wide as his, if not wider. Regardless, he gladly took his seat properly, the back of his head squarely against the headrest.
The vehicle made a soft chuckle, its digitized voice fluctuating strangely--and his hand capped against his ear while the other pressed against the shoulder. The vehicle let out a piercing, screeching *ZAP* as something pink brightly flashed behind him. Something behind made a rackety clatter, the discord of creasing and crunching of glass and metal a fading decrescendo in the wind.
"Did I tell you or what, Yune?" Sadie said proudly.
His grip eased on the Daewoo gently. "Excuse me," he said dryly, "if I don't find killing a vehicle a monumental achievement."
"Well sorry...!" the vehicle huffed. "At least you can say, 'Thank you, Sadie, for saving my sorry ass'!"
"Yeah," he grunted, "what you just said."
"We're not out of the woods yet, guys!" Kim exclaimed; her deep green iris aimed at the rear-view mirror. "Look!"
***
Matt swerved around the scarred man's swerving, fishtailing car with ease a few blocks back, but that wasn't the least of Ben's problems as the next Hummer ahead rolled at them. The Hummer became a rolling boulder of scrap and useless parts, crinkled and warped, the frame began to curl into itself barely as it leaped over them like a hurdle at its closet hop.
"Shit!" The vehicle exclaimed. Ben's head poked through the cap that his laced fingers made as he unrolled his back into the seat. "Did you hear that!?"
"YOUR LOVER-LUMP CHUCKED A FUCKING CAR AT US!!" Ben clenched his fists tightly around the grips of the console as his arms came down. "HOW AM I NOT SEEING THAT!?"
"Shit, dude!" Matt cringed. "Say it, don't spray it!"
"That turret of hers is going to be a problem!" He noted loudly.
"Destroy it then!" Matt countered. "Don't talk to me like I'm fucking Shia! Just shoot the damn thing already! I'm going to see if I can calm sweetie down a bit."
***
"Oh Sadie!" something called out behind her, loudly and coarsely through the wind, calling for the very vehicle she guided. "It is I, your soul mate!"
"Who the hell...?" the vehicle thought aloud. "Kim, who the hell's back there?"
"Another Hummer with some serious heat on it!" Yune had twisted his trunk around to his door, his head trained on something behind. Quickly her eye stole a glimpse from the side mirror--
--And her foot never felt so heavier as that monster of a piece lifted out of the pursuing vehicle's hardtop, its large, barreled nose trained right on Sadie's lethal tail.
"Can't you go any faster?" Yune called.
"I'm at full throttle already!" Sadie exclaimed. "My stabilizers at the limit, and my valve covers are working overtime! Unless you want to have a face full of asphalt, I can't go any faster!"
"Not quite!" Her left arm locked at the elbow while her right inched for the knobby gearshift.
"Don't even think about the NOS!" Sadie growled loudly--
--But her ears caught a loud and distinguishable *POOMPH* from behind. And the vehicle rocked violently, terribly, tires cried out in piercing screeches as her rump left the seat for only a moment. Something buckled and clattered behind her seat, the metal of Sadie moaning in terrible pain before it was quashed by a terrible head splitting *CRASH*!
"I'm sorry, Honey!" that strange vehicle exclaimed. "But if you didn't put the gun down, some one else had to."
"QUIT CALLING ME HONEY!!" the speakers crackled out in furiously as the program took the wheel. Kim nearly fell out of her seat, out of the vehicle if she hadn't had her seat belt fastened, as Sadie completed a 180- degree turn with programmed ease, at the screech of protest from the very tires she rolled on. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"
"Don't you recognize me, dearest?" the strange vehicle asked simply. "I guess you could call me your brother, or even your son. But what fun would that be for me?"
The engine revved loudly a few times; Kim could feel the pedal tap against the sole of her boot.
"You're that knockoff I kept hearing about!" the vehicle's flat, Jersey voice growled.
"Oh, that's such a bad way of putting it." The olive Hummer with the monster monkey on its back said. "I'm Matt by the way; the Mobile Automated Turret, but everyone calls me Matthew. Or Matt, a name doesn't mean much to this hunk of burning love and gasoline, as long as it isn't derogatory."
"Kim!" Yune's voice was a harsh whisper as he pulled her away from the face off, all with a little pinch of the skin of her forearm. "What the hell are we going to do? Can't you floor it?"
"Sadie's taken control." She hunched quickly behind the dash, her waist arcing a bit as she leaned over the thick console. "There's nothing I can do! But I have an idea."
"Shoot." Yune was all ears as she lifted her head a little, so that her eyes could safely survey all that was around her. They shifted to the right, to the adjacent street where a tollbooth of some kind flanked the walls of the fence, beyond where the Hebrew ended and where the squiggly, messy lines of Arabic began.
"We bust through the checkpoint." She whispered. "Draw them into a crossfire."
Yune's lips were as thin as they could get, curtsey of the muscles that pressed them together. Out from between the seats, the wavy blonde girl poked her head through the space, her eyes wide and glistening with hysteria.
"You're crazy!" the girl said in silent exclamation, her girly, bubbly voice absent from her words. "You're absolutely crazy!"
"We don't have much choice, T." the Asian shook his head. "And we're not in a position to nitpick, are we? So I say, what have we got to loose."
"Me, you idiot!" Tara furrowed her brow in disgust. "What about me!?"
"Forget the bench seat, T." Yune said quietly. "Your taking cover on the floor. Do *NOT* poke your head up for any reason till I say, got it?"
Tara looked hurt, mildly put-off at best.
"Do you got it, T?" the man pressed in a guttural drone.
"Right." The girl's eyes disappeared behind a their fleshy veils as she nodded sincerely. "But you heard what Ron said about that place! It's a death trap!"
Tara's words were the exclamation mark for everything that Ronald had shared with them up to this very moment. She felt the sweat bead on her furrowed brow, a drop of it trailing down her cheek as her gloves wringed the wheel.
*Then let us hope that Ron's wrong again, Tara... * she thought.
"I hope you were listening, Sadie." She trained her eyes upon the green, fluctuating readout screen. "Because we don't have the time to explain it again."
"Got every word of it, Kim." The vehicle replied. "Nice talking to you, Matthew, but my program's got a strict function against rolling with psychos!"
"Aw, don't be harsh, baby!" the vehicle named Matt replied. "I'm built for you! Come on, can't we talk about this over an oil change or something?"
"Sorry there, *baby*." Sadie replied smugly. "But we've got to jet!"
Kim felt the pedal hit against the firewall, and her foot made sure it stayed snug against the carpet as the SUV took off for the corner. The panel on Yune's side nearly clipped the wall, and there was a small bump as something in the back fell to the floor in a heap.
"Oh--that wasn't smart!" Her ears barely caught Tara's groan as Sadie smashed through the tollbooth's bar as if it were made from simple toothpicks.
"Hang on, kids!" Sadie yelled.
16
"God damn!" Uzi's fist nearly smashed through the console as he pounded at that infernal button. "SHIA! Why the fuck didn't you tell me the megaphone was on!? Those cheeky little assholes are probably halfway down the fucking building by now!"
"Well, excuse me, SIR!" the pilot exclaimed from the safety of his rear seat, perched above his own seat. "You never asked me about it! I'd thought you make another one of your own little, flyby speeches that you just--*have*--to make!"
"NOT ON A STAKEOUT," his shards bounced awkwardly against the headrest of his seat, "YOU DUMB SHIT! Now hurry up and acquire the target before we lose them!"
"Yes, sir...!" the button man let out a sigh of exasperation--and his stomach felt all the more heavier as the 'copter shifted severely to the right, all under the cocky curly top's control.
"*Uh... *" that drunken dance of the world around began to play for him, spinning and tumbling about right before his very eye. "*Oh--! * AND TAKE IT EASY ON THE YAW, MAN!"
"But sir!"
"DON'T CALL ME SIR, BOY!" he yelled to the top of his lungs. "DO IT!"
"Ugh!" the cocky pilot grunted behind him, and Uzi didn't even try to quell his disgust, but it lost the little importance it had in his mind. He couldn't be side tracked, not even distracted--not now. He snatched at the microphone, nearly tearing it from its holder on the bruised console as he thumbed at the button.
"All units!" he exclaimed, the microphone point blank from his sneering jaws. "Be on alert! Our targets are on the run, possibly dressed in our own colors! Search all vehicles leaving the area; face check all personnel encountered! Repeat: targets are on the run!"
"Rodger that!" A faceless voice crackled back at him through the static. "Alpha Unit out!"
"Bravo unit out!" a second interjected.
"Charlie unit out!" a third interjected.
"Delta unit, out and about!" that smart-assed vehicle program poked at him carelessly, safely out of his grasp.
"Shia," he took in a deep breath, as he gently set the microphone back down upon the console, "remind me to have that smart ass reprogrammed, would you?"
"Yes sir."
***
"*OH! * Knew I should have worn my other pair!" Tara grunted through the pain, as it burned its way up her legs from her sore ankles. The heels of her pumps clopped down on the cement awkwardly, her ankles straining to keep her up and running as Yune latterly dragged her through the parking garage by the hand.
"Come on, T!" her driven man didn't bother to look behind him, over the shoulder of his oddly outstretched arm. "We're almost there!"
"I think I see Sadie!" Kim exclaimed, as she huffed like a trained grunt with that large rifle in her thin arms, panting her way toward the red, boxy SUV that rolled their way. "Come on!"
At those very words, the Asian picked up the paced, her angled feet barely keeping up with the tempo of his long, hurried strides--
--*Crack! *
The heel of her right seemed to drop about an inch too far, the sole of her foot flat against the ground with the exception of her angled toes, curled up at a strange angle. She stole a glance behind her as she hobbled for their red-and-yellow ticket out, and her eyes caught a thick chunk of dark matter, rolling gently to a stop on the dirty cement.
"DAMN IT!" She pressed her left arch against the heel of her right, her right foot forced out of the shoe as Yune dragged her on. "THOSE WERE ITALIAN!"
"I'll get you another pair sometime!" Yune said distractedly. She kicked left one off, barely hearing clatter beside the right one through the sharp screech of the vehicle's tires, the purr of the large engine nearly swallowing his voice. "Now come on!"
The sheer cold tore their way through her soles, stabbing at the meat of her legs but she carried on somehow. Yune made sure of it.
"Sadie!" Kimberly called through the still air. "Over here!"
"Kim?" the vehicle said quizzically. "What's going on around here?"
"No time!" the auburn yanked the driver's door at the sound of its click. The rifle went airborne for a second, arcing in the air with the barrel aimed at the ceiling--and it bounced, the barrel swinging for the ground as it disappeared behind the back of the passenger seat. The red body leaned to the right as the girl hopped behind the wheel. "We've got to go!"
"You're telling me!" the vehicle countered with that legendary sass she heard so often about. "I'm coming down the road, minding my own business, and then these Hummers zip past me like they mean something! Thank whatever for that chip the Doc installed, or they'd all be scrap metal by now!"
"Bad move on Freeman's part!" Yune noted, flipping the back of the front passenger seat forward. The death vice around her wrist waned into a gentle grasp around her palm. "Easy up, Tara."
She chuckled softly as she stepped onto the running bar, her feet thankful to be off of that ice block of pavement the second her soles touched the matted carpet.
"Now you're telling me." She smiled weakly. Her butt was barely planted in the seat before the back of the front seat was locked back upright. The couple's bags flew in the air like the big cannon next to her, landing squarely atop the rifle's frame with a crinkle of fabric.
Yune hopped in, the car rocking gently as his door slammed back into the doorframe.
"Uh, could someone explain to me what the heck's going on?" the dark green bars on the console's thick LCD screen fluctuated at the sound of that whinny, sassy voice. She could just barely see it over the crest of the knobby gearshift.
"No time, Sadie." Kim said sternly, her voice thick with grimace. "Whatever you have to do to disable that chip, do it. We're going to need your weapons systems primed and ready."
"Just hit the green switch just above my readout, and consider it done." The vehicle said. Kim fingered the forest green button beside the cigarette lighter with a gloved index, the button letting out a little click like a push pen. The auburn's right leg sank gently in the seat just as Sadie began to lurch ahead.
"Tara!" her heart jumped, its beats quickened at the sound of her name. "I want that rifle locked and loaded now!"
She nodded quickly, her left hand seizing it by the barrel as she cumbersomely maneuvered the squared muzzle to the left side of the open cabin. The gun made a heavy clack as she slammed the bolt with a grunt, a heavy slug chambered in its last cocoon, ready to blossom in some poor thug's chest--
She shook her head furiously at the thought, her brain rattled the terrible idea to pieces and her guts moved in her belly as Kim negotiated the SUV into a three-point-turn.
"Been practicing, I see?" Sadie said.
"You could say that." Flat was Kim's reply as she hanged a gentle right, her right leg shifting a bit to the left as the SUV eased its lurch before the wide orifice that led outside, stopping at the brim where the darker pavement turned a lighter gray. "All right, Tara, give me that gun."
Her heart crept its way up her throat, but a heavy swallow pushed it back down her chest as she apprehensively turned the lengthy beast over to the auburn by the odd stock.
"Safety's on." She said aloud. "Like Yune showed me."
"Good girl." Kim said as she stood up awkwardly, setting down the heavy barrel upon the top of the windshield's frame about halfway with the rest hanging out. The patch of dark cloth upon the auburn's shoulder tightened just a bit, as did the back of her right glove on the pistol grip.
"T," she could barely make out the tip of his nose as it touched the back of his seat, "when the bullets start flying, I want you to keep your head down at all times, okay?"
"Okay!" She nodded wholeheartedly--and when the auburn unleashed a mammoth blast from her rifle, Yune didn't need to tell her twice as her cheek hit against the seat, hands capping tensely over the back of her head. Her body slid against the back of the large bench seat quickly when the roar of the engine swallowed up the blast in a crescendo.
***
Ben saw a pop of small fireball from the dim garage opening--before something exploded out of the grill of a Hummer, one from the furthest group down the line. Bits and pieces of olive-green metal flew every which way like fragmentations of an M65--and a blur of red and yellow tore out of the garage exit, wheels barreling for the furthest group relentlessly.
*K-K-KRASHH!! *
The furthest group of vehicles took off, spinning wildly away from each other as the car barreled through--olive drab men went yelling, screaming, and diving out of their transports' aimless routes. The sound of the targets' engine dissipated in the cool breeze dramatically, to a near silence through the men's scramble for their Hummers.
"Enjoying the show, Ben?" Matt asked rhetorically. "Better have, because it's about to get really bumpy real soon!"
He strangled the life out of the grips of his UZI, and his heart felt as though it would burst suddenly from his chest.
"Hang on to your butt, Kid!" Matt said eagerly. "'Cause this rust bucket's got a date with his girl! Just man the turret, and I'll do the rest!"
--He nearly fell out of the passenger seat, tumbled out of the vehicle as Matt made a swift u-turn, accelerating out of the last curve with great speed.
"Whoa...!" his fingers tore at the handle of the door--the "oh--shit" handle, he coined it.
"Oh yeah!" the vehicle chuckled sheepishly. "You might want to buckle up for this!"
***
Something exploded down below him; one of the Hummer vehicles at one an extreme side to the north has something smash into it. Pieces of olive painted grill scattered like fragments from a glass pane thrown onto the cement, a wisp of gray trailed down from a little bit above it, circling around its front as it entered the new cavity. It was done for--
Something tore out of the garage, streaking its colors of red and yellow behind it like a bat straight out of Hell itself! The dead vehicle and the one nearby seemed to fishtail out of the way own their own as the red and yellow devil barreled straight through it.
The wounded vehicle quickly recovered, overcorrecting itself a bit as it circled back around, leaving two black skid marks behind on the pavement as it tore down the road in pursuit. Matt and the other vehicle swiftly tore ass down a parallel route.
"And--they--are--off!" Uzi perked his strange brow. "Come on, Shia. Let's get the lead out!"
"Sir!" the pilot acknowledged emotionlessly--and his guts felt like they were swimming behind his abdomen muscles, gaining a little bit in weight as his button man pitched the nose of the 'copter down, pressing against his spine as the costal buildings of Tel Aviv drew right underneath him.
He scooped up the microphone just after his innards got acquainted with his backbone.
"*Oh... *" he batted his eyes ferociously, "*uh...! * All units! You have authorization for lethal force! Fire at will, and engage targets as they appear!"
A voice crackled at him through the custom CB, right as his thumb lifted off of the button.
"Alpha unit's out of action, sir!" it exclaimed.
His eyes rolled. "I can see that perfectly, Avi! Drive the target through the nearest checkpoint! I want little collateral damage until they're through!"
"Sir!" the static crackle of the radio engulfed the man's voice, before he placed the microphone back upon its cradle.
"Shia," vertebrae cracked a bit as he rolled his head around, "Maintain visual contact at all times, but do not engage the target until you're authorized."
"Or until we both get bored?" the pilot said.
"Hmm... yeah." He shrugged. "One of the two. I don't really care."
"Consider it done, Major."
"Don't worry," he smirked through his nauseous, pursed lips, "I... *uh-- * do!"
The buildings below were like the sands of the nearby beach, blending into one tanned smear as the Apache flew through the sky on its warpath, like the great savage that bared the name. Regardless when Yune's escape burst into flames or it ran out of gas, it would only be a matter of time when it finally did, and he'd be there to help coax it along. He had to be! And even if he weren't--by some crazy fluke of the heavens or of the earth--Avi would be glad to substitute.
"Maybe he should break in that newcomer too," he said, "get him all nice and dirty."
"What was that, Mr. U?" his pilot behind him replied. "I didn't quite catch that."
"Oh--!" he shook a little sense back into his brain. "Nothing. Carry on, solider!"
***
David was bored; a pain throbbed in the forefront of his head, up and to his right where the hairline touched the tip of his crown. He let out a yawn, the very last sound coming out his mouth like a humming groan, barely caught by his ears over the chopper's rotors.
"*Hmm... *" his eyes winced as they closed, the throbbing intensifying in his brow, "...This--*oh*--is David Schlitz with TV Channel 2... *uh*--coming to you live from above beautiful Tel Aviv, mere minutes away from the grand Mediterranean Sea."
--His hand smashed against his head, the heel of his palm pressing relentlessly against the throbbing. Something felt like it wanted to burst straight out of his skull when the anchor assaulted his ears from the other side of the line, flooding the words of triviality into his head in one giant exclamation.
"So how's the weather there, Dave?" the anchor asked simply.
His face contorted and twisted into the straightest position they could become.
"--Ease up with the voice there." His teeth pressed against each other, the enamel grinding gently together. "I've got myself a hell of a headache."
"Sorry to hear that, Dave." The anchor replied with dubious empathy-- like the twit had actually been in the news 'copter for more than a measly hour. He never did like that prick to begin with.
"Thank you." He smiled in fakery. "It's a nice day here in Tel Aviv. The sun's shining, birds are singing, and traffic over here is great. Hardly anyone's on the road."
"It is *Shabbat*, of course." The prick noted without solicitation. "Like you didn't know that already, right Dave?"
An eye began to spasm and twitch just as the lids parted. "Well duh!" a piece of his upper lip followed suit. "A time for rest and relaxation! Just kick off your shoes, prop up your feet, and have a nice long rest, cause Lord knows you'll need it come tomorrow. I see that most have taken up that advice as I glance at the road below. I see a few motorists taking it easy with their commutes, and I also see--"
Zooming far down below was a single vehicle, nothing more than the size of a red pill bug from his perch, barreling down the streets like dragster when it didn't make these crazy, suicidal turns at breakneck speed. From its far right side on its top half, small explosions of white flashed like... he didn't know what to call it. Gunshots maybe, but there were no real ways for his eyes to judge from the current altitude.
Trailing a few yards away from it were two greenish vehicles, flashes of white erupting out its side just like with the red one--both sides-- flashing in an intermittent pace.
"Well, aren't you going to tell us, Dave?" the prick leaned.
"It looks like we've got a few vehicles, reenacting 'Grand Theft Auto'--or even 'Mafia' down there!" he exclaimed--and his troublesome headache simply quelled after the last spoken word. "A red vehicle's tearing ass down the streets, making crazy turns erratically. In pursuit, we have two green vehicles--I think they might be the VSA!"
"You mean the vigilantes, Dave." his heart hammered quickly in his chest. The organ burning in a singeing anger at the anchor's pompousness, how he always held himself in a sanctimonious aura of his own right. An aura where he may judge others irresponsibly, striving for that elusive impunity as with most wannabe moguls of the news. "Judge, jury, and executioner! Wake up and smell the Matzo, Dave! And will someone, call the Knesset--or even the police!? Those nutcases and their crazed general should be stopped!"
*At least someone's trying to solve our problems with our 'neighbors', * the thought was a burning crack in his brain, *while you sit pretty and pretentious when you're not cowering behind your news desk! *
"I believe their pragmatic leader's a Major." He noted. "But it doesn't change the fact that we've got two vehicles in hot pursuit of their target. ...And I believe I see a third straggling quite a distance behind! And let me note that the nearest checkpoint into the West Bank is mere miles away from our current location--"
To his left, through his window just beyond his peripheral view of sight, a sliver of olive sliced through the blue sky. He twisted his neck, moving his face square at the glass, a few inches away from the tip of his nose--
His lids parted further, taking muscles around the sockets with it.
"What is it, Dave?" the anchor asked.
"Well, speak of the Devil himself!"
***
Abu pressed his lips into a grim, thin line as he watched the Zionist news channel. Not that he minded the Palestinian controlled television, yet there was only so much inspiration a man could take, courtesy of their fearless, jabber-jawed leader. The violence, the madness, the call to arms for the liberation of Palestine; he wasn't sure how much he could take of it, and it was about to come to a messy, bloody head as the bloodthirsty, rabid dogs of Zion edged closer to his neighborhood.
Handguns and rifles clacked and clattered all around him in his tiny apartment dwelling, each bullet, every magazine, and every available weapon crafted and loaded for the single most important work of its time, the utter destruction of the Zionist entity! But this time seemed... he couldn't describe it. Something about this time didn't sit right with his stomach.
"What is wrong, Father?" he glanced at his son, the black haired man with whom he is proud to have conceived. For if it were not for him, he would have had a bullet between his eyes, courtesy of those disgusting barbarians, sniping away from their wall which they so proudly constructed.
"Nothing, my son." He shook his head. "It is nothing."
"You mustn't worry, Father, or even get distracted!" his son wiped his hand briskly on his denim pants. It left a greasy smear of black on the blue cloth, but he continued with his work on his Soviet rifle. "The Jews near us even as we speak! We must be ready to strike them!"
"I don't know about this, son." He combed his fingers through his hair, thick and greasy to the aged touch. "Something does not feel right about this assault."
"Maybe you ate something that didn't agree with your stomach." The Soviet rifle made a loud clack as his son pulled a handle back. "I hope that you'll feel better soon, Father. And again, you shouldn't worry about me. If I can kill one Jew, then Allah will gladly lift me up and pass me through the gates of paradise! You should be happy for me."
"I pray for that day when you do enter his gates, Muhammad." He smiled warmly. "But please, I urge you to pick your battles wisely. You mustn't die by the Jews bloody hands--"
"When they're not eating that bloody matzo they eat every spring time." Muhammad laughed, mocking the occupants' gruesome traditions as though they were savages, which, by all means, they practically were. "Come now, Father. It's not like we're facing down the Bloody Reds. Most likely it'll be the Zionist police!"
Ah... the Bloody Reds, what an appropriate name for them, with many a Muslim's blood on them like the color of their insignia openly emblazons. They were even worse than the typical Zionist solider, playing Allah on who should live and who should die just like the third one of the heathens' "Popes" named Innocent. How ironic....
"There isn't time for debate, Father." Muhammad threaded his head and shoulder through the sling, having the Soviet rifle come to rest at his side. "I can hear the Jews approaching! Do you hear?"
The clacking abruptly ceased in his home, just as he put the Jew on his TV on mute. His ears distinctly caught the thrum of the Zionist motorcars in the quiet air of the Palestinian homeland, and they were closing in on the neighborhood from what it sounded like. The others stampeded out of his home while his son stood by his side, like the good boy he was.
"Stay close to me, Muhammad." His voice was a quiet whisper. "I have no bodyguard."
"Allow me then, Father." The boy took a knee by his chair, and he gave the Jew on the television back his voice at the click of a button.
*Allah, may you give us protection, * he closed his eyes in silent prayer, *and help those out there punish the Jews for their treachery! *
***
"TARA!" Yune shouted through the hollow roar of the wind in his face, his hand bucking as he made another web in the pursuers' windshield. "KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!"
The blonde laid flat against the springy bench seat, her small body curled into a fetal position with her fingers dug deeply into her hair. Quickly, gladly he thanked the Lord for the sidings of the SUV, how every bullet simply ricocheted off the smooth body at the incidence angle as if it were light. But bitterly, he cursed the loveable Freeman for the frail soft-top, the happy-go-lucky doctor's cloth aesthetic now mere shreds and ribbons as it simply flung off Sadie a couple blocks back.
Yet it did slap against the windshield of their previous tail like a piece of newspaper in the summer wind, causing it to veer and fishtail out of action as their current pursuer took up the chase. He gladly thanked the Lord quietly for it too.
*BLAM! * Another round unleashed at the pursuers--another circle of spider-web cracks radiating from its impact square in the middle. He couldn't keep it up for long. Two of his three magazines were dry; both useless scrap as it fell from the Sadie's body, and creased under the chaser's wheels. Numbers lost all meaning in his mind as he miraculously slapped the last clip in, the slide chambering another 9mm when it was free from its lock.
"Yune!" Kimberly exclaimed; her sunken head between her hunched shoulders never turning away from the wide, dark stripe that was the road. "Don't bother wasting your rounds! They're bullet-resistant!"
He grunted inwardly. "I can see that!" he exclaimed his noting.
"Okay, okay!" Sadie said loudly through the wind. "When the chips are down, Sadie saves the day. Sit back, sweetie, cause Momma's got you covered!"
Though the wind, his ears caught a loud, droning hum from the empty space at the very rear of the vehicle as something silver and shiny began to rise. The crest of gleamed a bright white in his eyes from the midday sun upon its decent. The little white patch that was the sun trailed down its lateral surface, morphing from ovals to circles as it ran over the undulated chrome.
His dry eyes were as wide as they could get while the metallic beast mooned him as it turned its narrow, flat nose toward the tail. He couldn't be sure, but thought he saw the passenger's eyes in the olive Hummer grew as wide as his, if not wider. Regardless, he gladly took his seat properly, the back of his head squarely against the headrest.
The vehicle made a soft chuckle, its digitized voice fluctuating strangely--and his hand capped against his ear while the other pressed against the shoulder. The vehicle let out a piercing, screeching *ZAP* as something pink brightly flashed behind him. Something behind made a rackety clatter, the discord of creasing and crunching of glass and metal a fading decrescendo in the wind.
"Did I tell you or what, Yune?" Sadie said proudly.
His grip eased on the Daewoo gently. "Excuse me," he said dryly, "if I don't find killing a vehicle a monumental achievement."
"Well sorry...!" the vehicle huffed. "At least you can say, 'Thank you, Sadie, for saving my sorry ass'!"
"Yeah," he grunted, "what you just said."
"We're not out of the woods yet, guys!" Kim exclaimed; her deep green iris aimed at the rear-view mirror. "Look!"
***
Matt swerved around the scarred man's swerving, fishtailing car with ease a few blocks back, but that wasn't the least of Ben's problems as the next Hummer ahead rolled at them. The Hummer became a rolling boulder of scrap and useless parts, crinkled and warped, the frame began to curl into itself barely as it leaped over them like a hurdle at its closet hop.
"Shit!" The vehicle exclaimed. Ben's head poked through the cap that his laced fingers made as he unrolled his back into the seat. "Did you hear that!?"
"YOUR LOVER-LUMP CHUCKED A FUCKING CAR AT US!!" Ben clenched his fists tightly around the grips of the console as his arms came down. "HOW AM I NOT SEEING THAT!?"
"Shit, dude!" Matt cringed. "Say it, don't spray it!"
"That turret of hers is going to be a problem!" He noted loudly.
"Destroy it then!" Matt countered. "Don't talk to me like I'm fucking Shia! Just shoot the damn thing already! I'm going to see if I can calm sweetie down a bit."
***
"Oh Sadie!" something called out behind her, loudly and coarsely through the wind, calling for the very vehicle she guided. "It is I, your soul mate!"
"Who the hell...?" the vehicle thought aloud. "Kim, who the hell's back there?"
"Another Hummer with some serious heat on it!" Yune had twisted his trunk around to his door, his head trained on something behind. Quickly her eye stole a glimpse from the side mirror--
--And her foot never felt so heavier as that monster of a piece lifted out of the pursuing vehicle's hardtop, its large, barreled nose trained right on Sadie's lethal tail.
"Can't you go any faster?" Yune called.
"I'm at full throttle already!" Sadie exclaimed. "My stabilizers at the limit, and my valve covers are working overtime! Unless you want to have a face full of asphalt, I can't go any faster!"
"Not quite!" Her left arm locked at the elbow while her right inched for the knobby gearshift.
"Don't even think about the NOS!" Sadie growled loudly--
--But her ears caught a loud and distinguishable *POOMPH* from behind. And the vehicle rocked violently, terribly, tires cried out in piercing screeches as her rump left the seat for only a moment. Something buckled and clattered behind her seat, the metal of Sadie moaning in terrible pain before it was quashed by a terrible head splitting *CRASH*!
"I'm sorry, Honey!" that strange vehicle exclaimed. "But if you didn't put the gun down, some one else had to."
"QUIT CALLING ME HONEY!!" the speakers crackled out in furiously as the program took the wheel. Kim nearly fell out of her seat, out of the vehicle if she hadn't had her seat belt fastened, as Sadie completed a 180- degree turn with programmed ease, at the screech of protest from the very tires she rolled on. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"
"Don't you recognize me, dearest?" the strange vehicle asked simply. "I guess you could call me your brother, or even your son. But what fun would that be for me?"
The engine revved loudly a few times; Kim could feel the pedal tap against the sole of her boot.
"You're that knockoff I kept hearing about!" the vehicle's flat, Jersey voice growled.
"Oh, that's such a bad way of putting it." The olive Hummer with the monster monkey on its back said. "I'm Matt by the way; the Mobile Automated Turret, but everyone calls me Matthew. Or Matt, a name doesn't mean much to this hunk of burning love and gasoline, as long as it isn't derogatory."
"Kim!" Yune's voice was a harsh whisper as he pulled her away from the face off, all with a little pinch of the skin of her forearm. "What the hell are we going to do? Can't you floor it?"
"Sadie's taken control." She hunched quickly behind the dash, her waist arcing a bit as she leaned over the thick console. "There's nothing I can do! But I have an idea."
"Shoot." Yune was all ears as she lifted her head a little, so that her eyes could safely survey all that was around her. They shifted to the right, to the adjacent street where a tollbooth of some kind flanked the walls of the fence, beyond where the Hebrew ended and where the squiggly, messy lines of Arabic began.
"We bust through the checkpoint." She whispered. "Draw them into a crossfire."
Yune's lips were as thin as they could get, curtsey of the muscles that pressed them together. Out from between the seats, the wavy blonde girl poked her head through the space, her eyes wide and glistening with hysteria.
"You're crazy!" the girl said in silent exclamation, her girly, bubbly voice absent from her words. "You're absolutely crazy!"
"We don't have much choice, T." the Asian shook his head. "And we're not in a position to nitpick, are we? So I say, what have we got to loose."
"Me, you idiot!" Tara furrowed her brow in disgust. "What about me!?"
"Forget the bench seat, T." Yune said quietly. "Your taking cover on the floor. Do *NOT* poke your head up for any reason till I say, got it?"
Tara looked hurt, mildly put-off at best.
"Do you got it, T?" the man pressed in a guttural drone.
"Right." The girl's eyes disappeared behind a their fleshy veils as she nodded sincerely. "But you heard what Ron said about that place! It's a death trap!"
Tara's words were the exclamation mark for everything that Ronald had shared with them up to this very moment. She felt the sweat bead on her furrowed brow, a drop of it trailing down her cheek as her gloves wringed the wheel.
*Then let us hope that Ron's wrong again, Tara... * she thought.
"I hope you were listening, Sadie." She trained her eyes upon the green, fluctuating readout screen. "Because we don't have the time to explain it again."
"Got every word of it, Kim." The vehicle replied. "Nice talking to you, Matthew, but my program's got a strict function against rolling with psychos!"
"Aw, don't be harsh, baby!" the vehicle named Matt replied. "I'm built for you! Come on, can't we talk about this over an oil change or something?"
"Sorry there, *baby*." Sadie replied smugly. "But we've got to jet!"
Kim felt the pedal hit against the firewall, and her foot made sure it stayed snug against the carpet as the SUV took off for the corner. The panel on Yune's side nearly clipped the wall, and there was a small bump as something in the back fell to the floor in a heap.
"Oh--that wasn't smart!" Her ears barely caught Tara's groan as Sadie smashed through the tollbooth's bar as if it were made from simple toothpicks.
"Hang on, kids!" Sadie yelled.