Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (25 page)

“Sure. I’ll try
not to be an asshole when talking about your relationships in the
future.”

Cathy’s dimples
showed in her smile, though her eyes were definitely sad now. “You
weren’t an asshole, I promise. Just maybe a bit too honest.”

“Yeah. I suck
at that.”

“It’s not a bad
fault to have, Joe.”
“I’ll remember that during my next job interview. That questions’
always a stumper.”

She broke into
a genuine laugh.

It made me feel
better.

Moments later
she was safely in her car, giving me a small wave and driving away.
Leaving behind a trail through the wet and slightly slushy streets.
I turned to walk to where my van was parked all the while hoping I
hadn’t screwed things up with her.

Naturally after
hauling my fat ass into clean clothes I had been behind schedule.
So all of the good parking spots immediately surrounding Portage
and Main were taken. Not wanting to circle the block endlessly I
chugged my rusty old beast over to a side street along Waterfront
Drive, just past the warehouse theatre district. It was a bit of a
hike, but I knew for certain I’d find parking there.

A short walk
for an easy parking spot? No problem.

Which of course
meant it had to rain.

Good thing I
didn’t have a cell phone or it would get ruined.

Small
mercies.

It didn’t pour
or anything, but it was definitely rain. And since it was cold the
water stung as it hit my skin and slid down my neck and back.
Basically slush falling right out of the sky.

Suited my mood.
Cold and gray.

I swear I am my
own worst enemy sometimes.

My boots
squished as I plodded along the sodden sidewalk, reminding me that
it was time for a new pair. No traffic drove by so I was thankful
for that. Didn’t need to get sprayed by street water while getting
soaked from the sky.

Why do I have
to push everyone away? Cathy was trying to be nice, to reconnect.
And there I was practically slapping her in the face for sharing
the stresses her relationship and her job put on her. That’s what
friends do, moron. They share.

Ahead in the
distance I could see the outline of my van, tucked away off
Waterfront Drive. There were several abandoned warehouses along
here from back when this had been a central shipping port. Many of
them were in the process of being refurbished into office buildings
and the like as part of a downtown renewal project. But at this
time of night there wasn’t much going on, which made it an ideal
place to find parking. Especially for my huge old van.

Everyone in the
world has problems, Joe. Just because you can’t see your way clear
of your own issues doesn’t mean that other people have it easy. You
used to be a sensitive guy who gave a shit about other people. What
happened to that guy?

The back of my
neck started to tingle, I rubbed at it absently as I walked. Trying
to wipe away some of the water trickling down there was a futile
gesture, more was just going to come slopping down. My teeth ground
together as I walked and continued my self-flagellation. Berating
myself for how I’d treated Cathy and for how miserable I perceived
my own life to be.

Then I noticed
that the back door to my van was wide open.

I blinked and
stopped in my tracks, mentally coming out of my reverie. My senses
heightened and the familiar rush of adrenaline made its first
appearance in two weeks.

There were
people around my van. Slight. Male. Looking closely it was hard to
be certain anything more than that from fifty yards away.

The only thing
I knew for sure was that they’d broken into my ride.

“Son of a
bitch,” I muttered.

I started
forward at a jog, my blood rushing as my heart rate began to surge.
“Hey!” I shouted deeply. The Neanderthal in my belly stoked his
campfire and roared to the heavens in possessive rage.

Three sets of
eyes turned to me.

One guy stood
up from where he was working on the driver’s side wheel, my tire
iron held in his fist. His buddy swore loudly in a high-pitched
voice and started backing away with a skateboard tucked under one
arm. A third guy came out from behind the van, took one look at me
and started to run up the street past his friends. Skateboard
joined him. Tire Iron stood firm, looking for a fight.

I was happy to
oblige.

I had started
off at a jog but was at full stride in three steps. The ground
seemed to speed under me and I lurched forward, my lips peeled back
in a snarl.

How
dare
these punks
touch my van.

Tire
Iron’s face went from one of anger to surprise as I barreled down
on him. He reared back with his weapon, preparing to defend
himself. But near three hundred pounds of man lowering a shoulder
and delivering a
Blue Bomber
style tackle will knock almost anyone off his
feet.

Or in this
case, blast him hard enough to drive him down to the concrete and
bounce fifteen feet away. My tire iron clanged noisily as it joined
him on the ground.

I paused in my
motion, checking on the status of my other two carjackers. The back
of my neck tingled like fury, my hair all standing on edge despite
the rain.

Both of them
were hot footing it like crazy, yelling at each other and trying to
make the intersection ahead. If they rounded that corner they’d be
out of sight and I’d likely never find them.

On any other
night, I would’ve been satisfied with my efforts and let them go.
Let the lesson learned by my tackling dummy be enough to hopefully
scare these fools away from future criminal actions.

But not this
night.

This night I
was angry at myself and angry at the world. And these young fools
had picked the wrong van on the wrong night.

Once again,
I’ve never been a runner. I’m big and clumsy and traditionally best
suited for heavy lifting and not much else. Plus, my van was right
there. You’d think I would’ve just hopped in, fired it up and given
pursuit. Though now that I think about it, there’s no way my baby
would ever have been able to keep up with sprinting thugs on tight
city streets.

Anyways, that’s
not the point.

The point is,
these guys had a half block head start on me. They were leaner,
likely fitter and faster than I had ever been. And yet my first
instinct was to chase after them on foot like I was T.J. Hooker or
something.

So no one was
more surprised than I was when I beat them to the intersection.

Something
happened. I don’t know how to explain it. But the moment I started
running the tingle at the back of my neck flared into a rage. Like
a molten fire it flowed down my spine until it reached my
fingertips. My toes.

I felt lighter
than air.

My feet raced.
My stride lengthened. My heart pounded.

Whatever
happened I blew past the fleeing thugs and nearly plowed headlong
into a bus passing through the intersection at that very moment. I
literally had to lean back and dig in the heels of my worn out
boots, kicking up slush and water as I skidded to a halt right in
front of the bright red STOP sign.

I blinked in
astonishment. My heart pounding. My whole body tingling.

“What the
fuck?” I mumbled under my shuddering breath.

“What the
fuck?” someone shouted from behind me.

The two punks
were slowing down, suddenly realizing the scenario had changed
dramatically. The expression on their faces were identical mixtures
of fear and surprise.

I just stared
at them.

They never
stopped moving, already committed in their desire to flee.

Skateboard took
action first, his board in both hands as he took a home run sized
cut at my head.

With my whole
body buzzing it was as if I had all the time in the world to see
the steel wheels swinging towards my unprotected face. I can’t even
call what I did “ducking” as I tucked my chin and crouched slightly
with plenty of time to watch the board whiff by harmlessly over my
head. Skateboard’s momentum lurched him so far off balance that I
was able to shove him tumbling away with only one arm on his
shoulder. Heaving him across the side street to the base of another
abandoned building.

No Nickname was
right behind him. Maybe he fancied himself a UFC guy. He had the
buzzed head and knuckle tattoos for it. He rushed in with his hands
up high and attempted a jumping knee strike.

Seriously. A
jumping knee strike.

I had to
outweigh him by a hundred pounds.

This guy
watched too many action movies.

Without even
bothering to dodge I let No Nickname leap at me, his kneecap aiming
for my sternum. I absorbed his momentum with ease and caught his
body with both arms, holding his entire center of gravity even with
my shoulders. The look of crazed fear in No Nickname’s eyes seemed
to fuel my rage, the buzzing at my neck flaring and racing through
my entire nervous system.

It was like he
weighed nothing in my arms.

His body
slammed into the rolling warehouse door to my left with a
tremendous hollow booming sound after I threw him. At the moment of
his body’s impact the entire block of streetlights flared up. Half
of them burning out at once, others sputtering like candles in the
darkness. No Nickname slid to the ground with a loud groan, barely
conscious.

My entire body
buzzed anew, like a haze skimming over my entire epidermis as I
stared at his crumpled body. A thrum in the air, just like at the
TV studio. Only more intense. Localized. The streetlights still
flickered on and off along the block.

I turned to
Skateboard, he was back on his feet and charging. His board reared
back like a sword as he bellowed wordlessly, lurching towards
me.

My brain
watched everything detachedly. Emotionless. It was someone else’s
world. Someone else’s body.

I watched my
left arm swing up to block the skateboard. I felt more than saw the
blast of light as the streetlamps flared all around me on impact,
lighting the rain-darkened street impossibly bright. Like a dozen
high intensity flash bulbs.

I watched the
board shatter against my forearm, the impact barely registering on
my body as shards and pieces scattered wildly.

I watched
Skateboard’s eyes widen incredulously. I felt the buzzing and
energy swelling down from the back of my neck. Surging and pulsing
in sync with the frantic beat of my heart. I watched my right fist
burst forward from where it was cocked at my side, punching heavily
in the center of Skateboard’s chest.

Streetlamps
flared again, brighter than before. Three of them exploded in a
loud shower of glass. A power junction box at the top of the hydro
pole forty feet away thrummed wildly, sparks blasting out in long
streaming arcs. Power cables burst away from their moorings and
thrashed down to the street, illuminating the dark
spasmodically.

Skateboard was
hurled from his feet, his body smashing into the wall of the
warehouse ten feet behind him before collapsing to the sidewalk.
His breathing labored and pained.

I came back to
myself. Stunned.

The air still
thrummed with electricity. My hair all on edge. The tingling
receded from my fingertips and began to fade away, replaced by the
more familiar sensation of being on pins and needles.

My hands
started to shake. Steam rose from them in the cool night air as if
I had just run a mile.

I looked at
both of my attackers quickly. Confirmed that they were both moving
and breathing. Then I spun in a frantic circle, checking for
witnesses.

I couldn’t see
anyone. Though it was impossible to be sure given the lack of
proper lighting.

Broken power
cables whipped and jumped randomly as they dangled just above the
pavement. The dampness in the air creating imperfect circuits and
keeping them from being properly grounded.

My heart was
still racing, but the strange buzzing energy was quickly being
replaced by bone weary fatigue.

My footsteps
were loud in my ears, echoing between the empty buildings as I ran
back to my van. It took the normal amount of time and I was winded
when I got there. I scooped up my tire iron along the way and
confirmed that the third guy was still breathing as well.

I gave the van
a quick once over, checking the one tire was secure and ignoring
the broken rear window as I tossed in my tool and slammed the door.
I fumbled my keys out and leaped into the driver’s seat. My whole
body trembled with post traumatic shock.

Sirens were in
the air as I drove away up Waterfront Drive. My eyes on the rear
view mirror the whole way home.

I took a quick
stock of myself as I drove. The tingling had stopped. My heart rate
had returned to normal. I was soaked to the skin and my forearm was
starting to ache from the impact with the skateboard. My too tight
shirt was suitable for dishrag status now that I had completed my
Lou Ferrigno prophecy.