Page 76 of Dick

“Fuck yes,” I said.

“It’s gonna get hairy.”

As far as I was concerned, 700 horsepower in the rain with no traction control wasn’t hairy, it was exciting. I grinned and nodded my drunken head. “Just go!”

I no more than spoke, and Dick’s door flew open. Startled, I screamed. Dick tried to drive away, but someone grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him halfway out of the car.

Scared, confused, and not ready for anything of the sort, my eyes frantically darted around the interior of the car for anything I could grab to help. The dull thud of fists hitting flesh was more prominent than anything else. I felt sick.

The umbrella.

I grabbed the umbrella and waved it across the interior of the car toward Dick’s right hand – the only portion of him still in the car.

“Dick, here!” I yelled.

The umbrella tapped against his hand a few times. Finally, he gripped it firm.

I glanced toward the cop car. The passenger door opened. The cop with the mustache got out. The sound of an agonizing groan caused me to shift my focus toward Dick. He threw one last punch, knocking the man into the street.

He jumped in the car, got situated, and tossed the umbrella in my lap.

My head spun to the rear. Mustache got back in the cop car. The leopard growled. Everything was happening so fast that it seemed my mind’s attempt to process it was making me sick. I grabbed the umbrella and tossed it aside.

The unmistakable smell of blood filled the car. I glanced down at my hand. “I’m bleeding!”

“It’s the umbrella,” Dick said. “I stabbed that guy with it.”

Without warning, Dick hit the gas. The car shot forward, spinning the tires the entire time. The engine revved, the sound of the exhaust screamed out the back, and in an instant we were on our way to an easy escape.

At the upcoming intersection, two horses began to slowly walk past in front of us. The district we were in had carriage rides through downtown, and, as fate would have it, one was directly in front of us.

“Horse!” I shouted.

Dick screamed and hit the brakes. I glanced to the rear. The cops were only a few feet behind us. Mustache got out.

The sound of gunfire rang out, and the back window of the car shattered.

“Those motherfuckers,” Dick shouted as he swerved the car to the left, almost into the oncoming lane.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

“Open your door. Time for you to get out.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to escape. The plan came together and we were one horse drawn carriage ride away from escaping the perfect crime.

The sound of another gunshot shot made me flinch.

Dick pulled out his gun. “If those motherfuckers hit you or my cat…”

The carriage was almost past.

“Open your door!” he demanded.

Reluctantly, I did as he asked.

“Ready?” he asked.

I wasn’t.

I inhaled a deep breath and nodded.

And he pushed me out of the car and into the wet street.