I'll Be Home For Christmas
Chapter 3
"Joe?" Vanessa's voice was shaking badly and Joe used the sound of it to keep himself from slipping into the darkness that was beckoning to him.
"Right…here…" he replied, his voice tight with pain. A dim light suddenly illuminated the inside of the truck and Joe realized Vanessa had pulled out her cell phone. He heard her breathing heavily and then soft, muttered curses. "Won't work…" Joe said, knowing she had tried to call for help. "Can't get...a signal…"
Using the light from her phone, Vanessa crawled across the cold, hard floor to Joe's side. "Oh my God!" she cried out. "Your arm!"
Joe looked down and grimaced. He could tell the bleeding had increased, probably as a result of his arm being grabbed, yanked on and slammed into the wall. The beautiful snow white scarf Vanessa had wrapped around his shoulder was now stained a dark red.
"Hit it on the wall…when they threw me in," Joe said, trying to hide his distress from her. The truck suddenly veered hard to the left, throwing them across the small, enclosed space with Joe landing hard on top of Vanessa. He pushed himself up slightly, just enough to let Vanessa crawl out from under him. Hissing in pain, he clutched his arm to his chest.
"Let me see," Vanessa said softly. Putting her cell phone on the floor next to them, she used the meager light to reposition and tighten the scarf around his arm. "It's getting worse, Joe. I have to put pressure on it to slow the bleeding," she said apologetically.
Joe nodded and braced himself as Vanessa pushed down on the gunshot wound. She was tentative at first, allowing Joe to keep the pain somewhat hidden. However, realizing her attempts weren't yielding the results she wanted, he felt Vanessa push down harder. Joe squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep from crying out as the pain sent him to the edge of darkness.
"Joe? JOE! Do NOT pass out on me!" Vanessa's voice commanded, jolting him back from the edge.
Joe nodded again, focusing on the sounds of the sirens from the police cars chasing the truck, trying to force himself to stay conscious. He tried counting the echoing sirens to keep his mind off the relentless waves of pain shooting through his arm, and estimated there were at least four cars in pursuit of them now.
Suddenly the truck turned sharply to the right. Joe was thrown against the wire mesh wall containing row upon row of money bags and saw a kaleidoscope of colors behind closed eyelids. The truck veered right again, followed by two lefts, every turn of the truck sending the two teens tumbling.
When the truck seemed to be on a straight course once more, Vanessa scrambled back to Joe's side, crouching down beside him. Each turn had slammed Joe's injured arm against a wall or the floor of the truck, taking a little more out of him with each agonizing hit. Hearing his labored breathing and what sounded like a heartbreaking whimper, Vanessa braced herself against the back wall of the truck. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled a semi-conscious Joe half onto her lap and held him tightly, keeping one hand pressed down on the still bleeding gunshot wound.
"Hang in there, Baby," she said soothingly. "We're gonna get out of this just fine. You'll see…" She continued murmuring words of encouragement, while silently praying for a Christmas miracle.
oooOOOooo
In the cab of the armored vehicle, two men tried desperately to shake the numerous police cars now pursuing them. The driver cursed out loud, taking one hair-raising turn after another, unable to lose the cars on his bumper.
"We'll never shake them!" he cried out angrily. Their plans had been perfect! Why was everything going so wrong now?
"We don't have to shake them," his partner said calmly.
"Huh?"
"We can bargain with them…" the man in the passenger seat smiled dangerously, "…with those two bargaining chips we have in the back." He sat back in the seat, his grin widening. "Head for the airport," he ordered. "We're taking a little trip to Canada, and bringing our guests along for the ride."