Here's another chapter. I'm trying to wrap up the story but as it turns out it may be longer than I intended.

Thanks for staying faithful even through the long waits.

Chapter 14

Santana drove with the wind. The old truck with a sub-machine gun on top was out of place and quite a sight in deed. If that wasn't enough, a trail of wailing police cars followed, lights zipping in a haze of red and blue.

"We need a plan Britt, we're low on gas." Santana shouted above the whirring of the engine. Brittany ducked back into the car. "I'm contacting Quinn."

"Well, hurry! I can only go around the city once."

Brittany side eyed Santana, always impatient. "Quinn, we have a situation."

By we and situation I'm guessing you and Santana have fucked and fucked up.

"That's the easy way to put it."

"Tell Quinn to stop being nosey and hang up if she isn't going to help us escape these bastards." Santana shouted, taking a sharp turn into an alley. It was narrow and if any other car were coming from the other direction, it'd be destroyed by the sheer bulk and speed of the Chevy.

"Here, take this," Brittany threw the phone at Santana. She barely caught it and smashed it to her ear.

"Where are you going? Shut up for a second Quinn! Everything is so loud just...hold on."

Santana looked up at her windshield, a police car stopped and two policemen got out.

"Britt! A little help ahead."

The Chevy was strong but in no way was it bullet proof, unless Brittany had that taken care of too. In that case, this car was fucking ready to go to war.

On top Brittany had taken out three police cars. She faintly heard Santana telling her to look ahead. In a split second she saw the policemen, guns ready and fingers steadying on their triggers.

Brittany swung the heavy machine gun around and let loose a hailstorm of bullets. The first two policemen slumped immediately. Ahead, she saw three more reinforcements.

Her hand remained strong, as Santana ran through the blocking police car and left a wreckage of metal.

It was a narrow escape but they had made it.

"You okay Britt?"

A loud wailing that sounded sort of like her name came through the speaker. Santana remembered that Quinn was still on the line.

"You're what? I can't fucking hear you!"

The phone is squished between her shoulder and right ear as Santana swerves between the cars on the highway. There aren't any police hot on their tails but it won't be long till they're spotted and a legion of motorcycles come after them.

She has to get them as far away as possible.

Brittany ducks back into the car, sub – machine gun cradled against her chest.

"Give me the phone, both of you shouting isn't going to do much good." Santana hands it over gladly.

Ahead, Santana can see the traffic slow and cars begin to crawl. She looks for an alternative route, eyes landing on an exit. From what she can remember, it leads to a tunnel. It would do them good to hide until they know exactly where they should go.

"Hows the plan coming Britt?" Santana cuts sharply in front of a Mercedes Benz in the right lane. The driver honks loudly, opening the window to cuss at her.

"Quinn's going to fly around Brooklyn and see where is best for her to pick us up."

"Flying huh? I see you've got friends in high places."

"She's you're friend too Santana. And she won't be in high places for long if she's discovered helping us. The boss doesn't have any mercy. One day I'm working for them and the next I'm on their list."

"I suppose that's my fault?"

Brittany gives Santana a pointed look. That was fight they didn't need to pick.

"I was joking baby,"

As Santana guessed, they soon approached a tunnel . She slowed down the vehicle, letting the other cars overtake them.

"So what now?"

The words were hardly out of Santana's mouth when the phone in Brittany's hand began to buzz.

"Let's see where Quinn is."

"Put it on speaker," Santana said.

"Hey Quinn, whatcha got for me?"

"You're in a pretty tight spot."

"Thanks for the memo, smartass as if I didn't know." Santana cut in.

"If Brittany wasn't dragged into this I think I would just leave you to work your own shit out right about now."

Brittany rolled her eyes. There was never a day that her wife and bestfriend didn't have some type of argument. "San, you're not helping."

Santana held back a retort. The light at the end of the tunnel was getting brighter and they did need to know which direction to go.

"Fine I'll shut up, but just know we don't have all day."

"Go on Quinn." Brittany took the phone off speaker so she could hear more clearly over the wind.

"Coney Island I think we can make it." She spared a glance at Santana and knew her mind was already ticking, thinking of the best and fastest way to their destination.

"How long do we have?" Santana asked. This was not a good day to be going to amusement park central. Saturday's were just the worst.

"She'll be there in fifteen," Brittany spoke to Santana as they cleared the tunnel, "she'll stay as long as she can but if we take too long we'll have to think of plan B."

"Great," Santana muttered under her breath, it would take a miracle to get there in time.

To get there, Santana had to get back on the road she'd exited. No doubt it would be jam packed.

"We can't…"

"I know," Brittany typed quickly on her phone.

"GPS isn't going to help Britt!" Santana said as they reached an intersection.

"I'm not on GPS, I'm on wikipedia and I have an idea."

"Really Britt? Wikipedia is going to help us?"

"Ummm, yeah." Brittany widened her eyes. "We're going to Coney Island Stillwell Avenue."

"That is genuis Britt but what about the truck and our guns?" Santana took a left turn.

"Carry them."

"Are you serious?" With Brittany, her ideas were either hit or miss, and this one was just crazy.

"Do I sound like I'm joking? We need protection and people in New York carry guns everywhere."

"Yeah, but not machine guns and sniper guns."

"Then tell me a better idea."

Santana couldn't think of one and they were nearing the station.

"Fine, but if anyone asks, you're doing the explaining."

"Gees, instead of thanking me you make it sound like I came up with a shit plan."

Santana had a slew of words on the tip of her tongue when the sound of powerful motorcycles alerted her. She looked into her side mirrors and sure enough a whole legion of police was following them.

"Shit Brittany, what do we do?"

"Keep going, I'll try and delay them."

Brittany popped her head back through the roof. The motorbikes were getting closer and with her binoculars, she could see that they were all armed. If they got close enough they could shoot. Good thing they didn't have any heavy artillary.

"San, we're going to have to speed up, I'll only be able to hold them off for a little bit. I can tell there's reinforcements coming soon."

"How many are there?" Santana cut into the right lane and back into the left, dodging the cars as if she were playing Need for Speed.

"Fifteen,"

Santana did her best to weave her way forward until she saw a barracade ahead, looming like a giant firey sword blocking them from entering the Garden of Eden.

"Shit Brittany, phone!"

It was too late, there was no way Mike could get there in time to help them.

"Left ass," Brittany shouted, getting back to her job. She'd already shot down five police but if the way they were headed, they'd be trapped.

Santana dug into Brittany's back pocket anyways, there was nothing she could do to get around the check point. To make matters worse, some people began to roll their windows down and complain about her driving. What sealed their fate was the driver of the car currently passing the check point wagging his finger in their direction.

"Time to ditch Britt," Santana said while still dialing Puck. She grabbed Brittany's sniper rifle and jumped out of the car.

Brittany had seen their situation coming and fired a few more shots before hoisting the machine gun over her shoulder and jumping off the roof of the truck.

Everybody was on red alert, helping the police keep track of their whereabouts as they ran inbetween the cars. No one dared get in their way for fear of being shot.

"We got to get off this bridge!" Santana shouted. Somehow through all the vehicles, their hands linked and they held each other tightly, hoping to avoid getting separated in the crowd of cars, people, and policemen.

They reached the concrete side of the bridge and looked down. It was a good 250meter drop.

Brittany caught a policeman nearing them, their guns raised and ready to shoot.

"Now, we gotta jump San." Brittany began to climb on top of the concrete. Her arms ached from the constant vibration and kick of the machine gun which was heavy and now straining her shoulder. Beside her, Santana was struggling to lift her small frame up with the added weight of Brittany's sniper rifle.

Brittany dropped her hand down and Santana grabbed it. With great effort, Brittany helped pull Santana on top.

There was no time to catch their breaths, the policemen were closing in and taking aim. Brittany looked Santana in the eye and silently counted to three. It would be a terrible fall to the road below and if they survived that, they risked being run over by a car. But they had no choice.

Taking a gulp Brittany steadied herself mentally and looked below.

"Now," Santana shouted before Brittany was ready. She jumped, her hand attached to Brittany's caused Brittany to stumble off the bridge with her.

Brittany hadn't seen it but Santana had. A Ten wheeler was just passing below and their fall was shortened by the metal container absorbing the weight of their bodies.

They landed, trying their best to hold on.

Brittany wasn't prepared for the fall. Her shoulder made impact with the metal and she groaned.

Santana scrambled towards her and half dragged her to the end of the container. There was a ladder at the end where they both descended.

On the streets again, Santana thought fast of how they were getting to their destination. Brittany's hand was in hers as she backtracked through the crawling traffic.

"Hold on," Brittany panted. Every muscle ached and she really needed to rest.

"We can't…"

"Phones ringing."

Santana lead Brittany under the bridge to sit down on the side. Brittany was thankful for the small reprieve; she leaned her head against the cement and breathed deeply.

"Hello? Puck!" This was really what she needed, another option.

"Hey, I've been tracking your progress or shall I say lack of it. Mike is close by; he's driving a red sports car."

Santana rested the phone against her shoulder. "Do you see a red sports car Britt?"

They both looked left and right, straining to spot anything red amongst the million cars.

"There!" Brittany shouted and leapt up with joy. She waved enthusiastically hoping to get the drivers attention.

"We gotta make a dash for it. No doubt the policemen on top are watching for us."

Brittany nodded. "I think we should stick to the sides and stay low. You take right, I'll take left. It'll be less conspicuous that way.

"Okay, ready if you're ready." Santana said, shifting the gun on her shoulder to a more comfortable position.

"Go!"

Slowly Brittany and Santana crept through the traffic, keeping their heads down.

Many people were shocked to see two sweaty women with torn clothes and carrying weapons, crouched and waddling past their windows.

Whenever someone through the window made eye contact with Santana, they received a scowl and an inaudible 'mind your own business.' Brittany was all smiles and waving at kids through the glass.

They had made it half way when Helicopters began to circle above. Santana looked up quickly to count a dozen men being let down.

She knew she had to move faster if they she was going to escape being caught or shot. She hoped Brittany knew about the recent turn of events.

Leaving all safety to the wind, Santana ran as fast as she could towards the red sports car. She wasn't looking where she was going, only eying her destination.

Something hit her hard. Instantly, she grabbed a pocket knife and rolled over on top of the other body. A hand grabbed her wrist before she could bring the blade down to the person's throat.

"Britt?" Santana's breath was labored. She tried hard not to choke on her own saliva.

"Where'd you come from San?"

Santana rolled off of Brittany but stayed on the ground.

"I was running to the car and you came out of nowhere."

"I'm pretty sure you were the one who ran into me because I had a clear path to the car."

Santana covered her eyes, shielding the sunlight. It wasn't the only thing bothering her. Why she and Brittany always fought over stupid things was something she didn't understand even now.

Now, when they were two seconds from getting shot or arrested – this whole teamwork thing needed improvement and fast if they were going to make it anywhere alive.

"Okay, okay my fault. We gotta get to the car. You go first and I'll cover your back."

Brittany nodded and got up on her knees, dusting her arms of dirt and dust. She crawled to the gun that had fallen away from her during the small misfortune with Santana. It would be fine, she shouldered it again. It was built for combat and a little busting up wouldn't hurt its abilities.

She turned to Santana, checking in if she was ready but was met with a frown.

"What?"

"The car is gone."

The simple statement made Brittany whip her head up. As Santana had said, there was not a red car in sight.

"Where'd it go?"

"Whatever, it's gone. Gotta think of something else."

Hiding behind dark tinted windows, Santana and Brittany peered through to check the location of their enemies. Several men were headed their way and behind them many more were following. It'd only be a short time before they were upon them.

The only other option was to keep scaling back and hope the men kept their pace. They were trying to be thorough. The helicopters had reported their general area so the men were opening car doors and trunks to make sure nobody was hiding the fugitives.

Two hundred meters away, an ensemble of policemen dismounted their bikes. It was clear Santana and Brittany were trapped, with men coming from both sides, they were sure to be caught.

That wasn't the thing running through Santana's mind though. Her eyes landed on something much more interesting.

Her plan was brilliant; they were going to beat these policemen. She now only had to tell Brittany.

"Britt," Santana shook her shoulder. Blue eyes attached to hers they were filled with mischief as if Brittany was thinking the very same thing as she was.

"I see a sweet ride." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Mama sees what she likes."

"Mama my ass, you're a skinny twig," Santana scoffed.

"Well, say that when you're eating my dust. Wait, you won't be able to cus your mouth will be full. BURN"

"Shut up, I've stolen you're bike more times than I can count."

"No wonder where all the scratches came from. It doesn't matter; I paid most things from your account."

"…Oh my god. And I thought Puck was the one milking my card." Santana gaped. "And the horse ranch thing, that was you…that was, tell me it wasn't you."

Brittany pursed her lips, "I think if you don't stop murmuring, you'll have a lot of time in jail to think of other things you'd like to blame me for."

"Britt, please I have to know," Santana whispered," because if that was you I'm getting a divorce." She threatened. "I mean that."

"Do you?" Brittany challenged. "What if you can't catch me?"

With that, Brittany began running again to the side of the road.

By now people were becoming annoyed with the constant patrolling and checking. It played well into Santana and Brittany's hands. The people were less willing to cooperate and some were even shouting at the policemen.

The chaos was doing wonders. While the police were distracted with calming the people down and threatening the ones who stood up to them, Santana and Brittany reached the line of park motorcycles.

So far things had been smooth sailing. Brittany only had three more cars to clear and she would be home free. As she went around the second car out of nowhere, a policeman stood right in her path, holding a sandwich and stuffing it in his mouth.

He tried to get words out but with bread and ham trapping the words, no sound was emitted. Once she recovered from the small shock, Brittany ran straight for the man who was going through the trouble of pulling the gun from its holster, the round of his belly obstructing his view. His hands trembled as Brittany came within two feet of him and in that instant he swallowed. Brittany stood there and watched his face turn red then green then blue. Would he really choke on his lunch? The wait felt like a million years and in that moment she saw behind the policeman that Santana had mounted a bike and was motioning for her to hurry. Then she took off.

The hoarse voice of the policeman broke her thoughts. He didn't choke and die, he survived his lunch.

"Over here!"

Every single policeman flipped his head in her direction. Brittany wished the lunch had finished him off because that man didn't need a megaphone; now twenty men were coming for her.

For the trouble, Brittany kicked the man at his knee and as he fell to the ground she let him roll off the hood of a car like a giant pumpkin. The owner of said car beeped his horn and came out to look at the damage.

He was pretty heavy Brittany thought as she reached a motorbike. She turned the key still stuck in the ignition and rode off. In the background, there was shouting about payment, insurance and dents.

Pushing the bike at full speed, Brittany decided she would take a few shortcuts to the land filling that attached Coney Island to Brooklyn. She didn't know where Santana was but that had been there plan so she knew wherever Santana decided to go, she'd end up at the same place.

Going in and out between the small streets was not difficult for Brittany. She'd been riding motorbikes for years and this one could not be compared to her own in power or speed. She made her way through back alleys, turning the sirens on to wail sending the cats scampering up the dumpsters.

The phone in her back pocket buzzed, she steered with one hand and answered with the other.

"Hey Quinn,"

"Britt, I'm waiting for you guys. I can't stay for long, there are government choppers everywhere. I can't be spotted."

"Shit, yeah I know. Fifteen minutes. If I don't call you then just go. Thanks."

Brittany made a sharp turn, digging her heel into the pavement to maneuver the bike. She righted it and twisted it through a narrow gap between a taxi and fancy, black, Buick.

Crossing the street she ditched the bike, throwing it in some Brooklyn concrete backyard with wilting plants and broken flower pots. With a quick hop, she scaled the wall and nimbly landed on the other side.

She'd made it to the station.

Looking left and right, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"How much for a ticket?" Brittany slapped a few crinkled bills onto the counter.

"I don't sell tickets darling," The black woman on the other side of the glass said.

"I'm trading them for coins, so how much?"

The woman took in an eyeful before shaking her head and counting out a few coins.

"What is it with the guns? Did Independence Day come early or sum'in?"

It all clicked. Santana surely passed through earlier.

"Was someone else carrying a gun?"

"It's not the gun darling, I've got one in ma purse but a hot tamale just ran past not two seconds ago with a gun I hope ain't real."

"Two seconds?" Brittany scraped the coins into her palm.

"Das what I said girl." The woman had no idea why Brittany was so interested.

"Thanks," Brittany ran towards the ticket machine and jammed the coins in as fast as she could. The ticket popped and Brittany was already in motion.

The door of the train was closing. Brittany pushed herself faster.

"Move, move, move!" She shouted, wondering why so many people were blocking the way in. There was no time for politeness. Brittany threw her body in the train smashing into a wall of people and knocking at least ten bodies over. She lost her balance, her fall was cushioned.

Murmuring came from under her along with some swear words.

"Sorry, sorry." Brittany said as she picked herself up and watched the doors click shut. She had made it and that's all that mattered.

Scouting the car she was in, she saw the reason why everybody was huddled together against the sides of the train.

"Santana, Santana!" Brittany stepped over a few people who hadn't gotten off the floor.

In the center of the train stood Santana, gun lazily resting on her hip, mouth popping gum.

"You know her?" An Indian man whispered behind her. "Ask her what she wants besides, gum, Starbucks coffee and my masala potato chips."

"Hey, who's talking? I said silence." Santana turned half-heartedly in Brittany's general direction.

"San, what are you doing?" Brittany shouldered her way to the front.

"Oh, it's just you." Santana waved off, "She's with me so she can talk, all the rest of you keep your pie holes shut."

"Is it true you stole that mans messiah chips?" Brittany crossed her arms and cocked her eyebrow, demanding an answer.

"You mean this?" Santana held up a blue chip bag. "Best thing I've tasted today."

"San, he's really sad you took his chips."

"Don't bother talking to the hostages Britt, you won't know the truth from the lies. It's rule number one from the how to take captives book."

Brittany lowered her shoulders and walked over to Santana, plopping down on one of the many vacant chairs.

"So, best thing you've ever tasted?"

"Yup," Santana held the bag of chips out to her, "I left some crumbs to feed the hostage that begs but you can have them."

Brittany dipped her index finger in and wiped out some crumbs. She put it in her mouth and sucked.

"Tastes like spice. I like it."

"See, I told you. We should ship Rachel to India and only let her come back when she brings us all the messiah chips from India."

"It is not messiah chips," the Indian man dared to step forward and speak, "it is masala! And you have no right to keep us here."

"No one is keeping you. This is a moving train, where are you gonna go?" Santana snapped back.

"I…"

He looked to an office lady standing next to him.

"He means what you're doing is not constitutional." She said. A murmur of agreements arose.

"Shut up," a loud voice said. Everyone stopped their grumblings; even Santana swallowed her words and looked towards Brittany, the source of said voice.

The office woman shrieked as Brittany pointed her gun at her. "The screaming too, shut it. I don't understand why people scream. They always die anyway."

The woman shrieked even louder, "Please don't kill us. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She hid her face in the Indian man's chest.

"Well, tough times do bring the strangest people together," Santana chuckled and relaxed.

She shared a knowing look with Brittany and they both laughed. No one dared laugh with them.

"I rather like this," Brittany stood behind Santana and whispered in her ear. "We could totally do a role play. Guns on a train beats snakes on a plane."

The end of the year is a really busy time for me but I'll try to keep writing as much as possible. Until next time