Apparition
(October 25-31, 2014)
9 Chase
The band was playing "Ain't She Sweet," and most of the high-schoolers were dancing. Dipper, standing against the wall, found it hard to keep Angelique in view. She was dancing with a tall guy on the far side of the gym floor, while Mabel and Chazz took a turn closer to him. Mabel had picked up the steps and was doing at least as well as the average girl on the floor.
Dipper got another cup of punch. The chunk of ice was melting rapidly in it, and it was watery, but at least it was something cool. He was sweating.
One thing that the 2000s had that the 1920s lacked was air conditioning. With the crowd of active teens and the last heat of an Indian Summer evening, the gym had become uncomfortably warm and humid.
True, the wide double front doors stood wide open, and high in the opposite wall a big circular fan whirled, but the sluggish breeze coming in from outside did little to reduce the temperature. Finishing the punch and tossing the cup, Dipper went to the boys' room to splash cold water on his face.
Some guys were hanging out there, and he could smell tobacco smoke. He fleetingly wondered how anybody survived the twenties—he'd noticed that almost every adult he'd seen on the street had a cigarette or cigar between their lips.
When he came out of the restroom, he looked again for Angelique—but couldn't see her anywhere. The dance was just ending, and he caught up with Mabel as, flushed and gleaming with perspiration, she came off the floor. "Where is she?" he asked.
"Huh? Angelique?" Mabel glanced frantically all around. "Weren't you watching her?"
"I was, but—"
From outside came a piercing shriek.
"Come on!" Dipper yelled, running toward the door. "Get Chazz!"
He sprinted out of the gym, down the concrete steps, and turned toward the parking lot. He saw Angelique in her red dress then—in the light of a streetlamp, two guys were forcing her into a car, and a big heavy driver was urging them: "Shove her in!"
The smallest of the three boys got her in the front seat of the car, then climbed in beside her and slammed the door as the third jumped up into an odd little back seat behind the car roof. Mabel came running up with Chazz in tow.
"Let me out!" Angelique screamed, and Chazz took the lead as they rushed toward the car.
But the driver started it, backed, then with a yelp of rubber on asphalt, he wrenched the car into the street and made a hard left.
"The T-Model!" Dipper yelled, pointing. He dug the key from his pocket. "Here, you drive it!"
Chazz didn't question, but grabbed the key. Dipper jumped into the front passenger seat, and Mabel climbed into the back. "Hurry! They're getting away!"
Chazz turned the key and stamped on the starter. The engine chugged to life. "Hang on!"
Because of the way the car had been parked, he didn't need to back out. He made the turn onto the street and followed the receding tail lights of the other car. "It's a Stutz," he said. "Only guy I know who drives one is Butch Elgrin. He's a bad egg."
"He's turning right!" Mabel yelled.
"I see him!"
Dipper, nervous without a seatbelt, was hanging on to the door. The Ford wasn't going all that fast—maybe fifty—but it was open, the wind was blasting in, and to him, it seemed as fragile as a kiddy car.
"Whoa!" Chazz swerved wildly to avoid a little knot of three kids in costumes, still out trick-or-treating after dark and not careful about where they crossed the street. One of them yelled an insult as the Ford, with two wheels on the opposite sidewalk, narrowly missed them. The tires thudded back to the pavement.
An oncoming car blared its horn, and they passed it with uncomfortably little room to spare. "I see them!" Dipper said, pointing. "They just made a left turn!"
"Heading out of town," Chazz said. "Probably taking either Route 20 or 42!"
They skidded around in the tight turn. Dipper saw they had gained on the Stutz—not by much, but they were closer. The car ahead made another screeching left turn.
"Route 42, south!" Chazz said, following them. "Heading toward Chicago."
The car ahead suddenly sped up.
"They saw us," Dipper said. "They know we're chasing them."
"Hang on. I know where I can take a shortcut if they don't turn off the highway."
A quarter of a mile along, Chazz veered to the left. "Forty-two curves," he said. "This is straighter. If I can keep up speed on the side road, I may be able to cut them off!"
The road was badly paved and bumped and jostled the Ford, rattling Dipper's teeth. They didn't quite cut off the Stutz, but when Chazz pulled back onto Route 42 again, they were just behind it. It passed a slower car, and Chazz followed on his tail. The car they passed honked angrily.
"He's crazy!" Mabel yelled from the back.
"You're right," Chazz called back. "He got dumped from school for failing grades and fighting!"
"I see Angelique," Dipper said as the car ahead passed under the light from a billboard. "She's struggling with the guy next to her!"
"Yeah, I saw him. That's Mike somebody," Chazz said. "One of Butch's crowd. He's the weak sister of the three. What's he doing!"
Butch had skidded off on an unpaved side road, the Stutz lurching alarmingly. Chazz had to slow a little to make the turn and lost some ground.
Now they were on a narrow, rutted dirt road, the Stutz ahead of them raising a blinding cloud of brown dust that bleared the Ford's headlights. A farm truck ahead ran out of the road as the Stutz thundered toward it, and Chazz swerved to avoid it.
"Railroad tracks!" Mabel yelled.
The rail line ran right beside the dirt road. Far ahead, just to the right of the dirt road, Dipper saw a brilliant round headlamp fast approaching. "Train!"
"I see it," Chazz said. "I think he's trying to beat it to the crossing!"
"Cut him off, cut him off!" Mabel yelled.
"I'm trying!"
Chazz floored the accelerator. The Ford surged and he pulled alongside the Stutz. Dipper saw the big guy at the wheel glaring at him. He heard the wail of an old-fashioned siren and the screech of a train whistle. Butch spat a curse.
"Hold it steady!" Dipper yelled, opening the passenger door.
Mabel yelled, "Dipper, don't you—"
Too late. From the running board of the Ford, Dipper launched himself sideways—
Hooked an arm through the window of the Stutz, nearly falling from the other car's running board—
Butch had started to turn the wheel right, aiming to cross the train tracks, insanely close to the oncoming train—
Dipper got a hand on the steering wheel. With his left hand, Butch grabbed Dipper's wrist and nearly jerked it away.
Yelling, Dipper felt a surge of electricity rip through him. Blue lightning forked through the car, making Butch scream and let go of both Dipper's hand and the steering wheel.
Thank you, Mr. Electrician!
Immediately, Dipper wrenched it to the left as hard as he could—
The train was there! But the car responded. The tires growled and shrieked as the turning Stutz narrowly avoided the hurtling locomotive—
At least one of the tires blew, and the crippled car spun in a crazy circle.
Dipper lost his footing and tumbled, rolling on the ground, feeling the whoosh of gritty air as the train cars rushed and roared only a foot or two away—
Someone was screaming.