Chapter 4: The Monster Returns
The occasional bump jolts me up on the back seat. I am not buckled down by anything. I am just free roaming back here all tied up. Tim hasn't said a word to me since my silence after seeing the image. He doesn't believe I have amnesia. At this point, I'm not sure I wanted to know much either. The memories of the robbery started coming back to me in small bits since I saw the photo. I still don't know why I was robbing the place, or who I was with. The memories are coming back in foggy little dreams. It seems like they are a part of someone else's life. Not mine. Either way, I'm starting to wish that none of my memories would come back.
I was done trying to convince Tim at this point, he didn't trust me. My main concern now is whether or not mob mentality was going to be the death of me when I arrive at the camp. Because fuck being burned at the stake. I look at both back doors, I slide my body to the right side using the bumps as a mask for my movement. I use my cuffed hands to slightly pull on the handle. It pulls out... nothing. Safety locks, figures. I couldn't get into the one cop car in the city that had a broken safety lock could I? That would just be way too convenient. I slide to the other side to try the same thing... Maybe I'll get lucky on this side. Pull. Nothing. Damn...
I didn't think the previous day could get any worse but this day is shaping up to be worse than the last. And yesterday I woke up without a clue of who I was to a nuclear cloud over a destroyed city. How's that for a shitty first day of the week. I lay back and look at the ceiling of the car. I take a deep breath. These deep breaths are about the only thing I can get anymore. Some parts of me want to jump out of this car head first and just end it all. It would be easier and it's not like I'd be missing much. Shit, I'm probably going to be hung from some bullshit gallows in some bullshit post-apocalyptic court, judge, jury, and executioner. Hey, your honor, I don't suppose the right to a fair trial, civil liberties or equal right mean a thing here? With my luck, it'd be one of those dudes from the market that is in charge of my 'trial'. Fuck, I want to kill those guys. I then find my mind drifting off to the one remnant of my identity I have left.
I pull the charging handle back and chamber a round into my AK-47. I look to my left, one of my partners has a cloth ski mask on with two eye holes. Same with the driver and passenger. I, sitting in the rear passenger side seat, nod to them signaling I'm ready to go. I know we planned well for this. It's pretty straightforward and if we do it right we can get in and out. It's the crack of dawn, I remember because we had a bunch of those breakfast English muffins with the sausage, cheese, and egg. We need our energy after all.
The van doors slide open and we go in concealing our weapons until we get through the front doors. BRATATATATAT! "Everybody on the fucking ground! NOW!" yells one of my colleagues. We called him Bravo. Alpha, the man who was heading the operation stepped up onto the bank teller counter and started ordering them to empty the cash into the bags. It was mine, Charlie, and Delta's job to go into the back and get the items from the safety deposit boxes. Delta had the drill. "Get up and get against the wall!" I yell at one of the tellers. She is against the wall, crying and drooling a bit. I put the barrel of the AK-47 next to her eyes so she can see I mean business. "Safety deposits. Now."
Without any hesitation, we are back there. We already know which deposit boxes we want. Delta drills them out and dumps diamonds into the bag. I look to him and tell him "We got 1-minute man." How did we know what boxes? Who were we robbing? Shawn. The name comes to me again... Shawn. Who is that?
I look at Tim after reminiscing about my criminal days and think of the sick irony that I'm thinking about the crimes I committed in the back of the police car. Why would I do such a horrible act? What kind of person was I? It's a good thing that I don't remember everything, maybe whatever blow to my head I took away that piece of me. The piece of shit, piece. Oh, fuck, no use in dwelling in the past. I see Tim looking back at me in the mirror. I can tell he still cares, but he has his duty. His devotion to his job and duty keep him moving forward. Probably fueled by the hope that his wife and kids are at the camp.
"I can't believe we were thinking about walking this." I said jokingly. Tim chuckled a little, "Yeah, when you're so used to driving around you can forget how spread out this city is." he replied. "So where's this leave us?" I say while pulling the cuffs in front me from under my feet and hold them up for him to see. He sighs a little, "When we get to the camp we'll find out what they got. For now, I want to keep you detained. Just until we can figure things out. I won't let anyone do anything crazy don't worry.". I believe him. His badge means too much to him he wouldn't let anyone dole out some vigilante mob justice, it just isn't like him. His clean-cut hair, squared jaw. He was built like a tank too.
"I don't even remember any of that stuff." I insisted. "That's what you say." Tim replied. "Look I know you probably heard that all the time, but I'm serious I think the blast or something knocked me cold". Tim looks at me in the mirror again. I can tell he still doesn't believe a word. I'm wasting my time anyway. He wouldn't change his mind on something like this.
A deer jumps out in the middle of the road and Tim slams on the breaks, I fly forward into the glass and CRASH into the glass divider, separating the back seat... Tim stopped the car in time. "FUCK!" I yell. Tim looks back "You okay?" Then I hear a very familiar diesel engine. I look up over the divider and Tim's eyes follow. A truck comes careening out of the woods from where the deer came gunshots firing off. OH FUCK. It's Ricky and the gang. "Those are the guys that shot up the market..." I say nervously to Tim. "Let's get the fuck outta here man..." Tim looks at them. The truck is stopped in the middle of the road. It revs its engine.
I start kicking the door to get out. Tim grabs the hand radio and turns on the loudspeaker. "IMPD, this is Officer Daniels, turn off the engine." He kicks on the lights, I'm still trying to kick out the window. Chuck stands up in the bed of the truck "FUCK YOU PIG!!" he shouts in the distance the truck starts flying towards us. "Oh, shit..." Tim says under his breath, he kicks the car into reverse and we start rolling. He whips the car around and I slide from my kicking into the other side of the vehicle. BOOM! The glass in the back of our vehicle shatters from a shotgun blast as they fly by us. Tim sticks his handgun out the driver side window and takes 4 shots at them as they do a 180. They position themselves to make another run at us.
Their tires peel out, Tim continues firing rounds at them. Chuck stands up in the bed of the truck and cocks his shotgun. BAM. BOOM! I hear several gunshots and blood spatters on the windows as they drive by. I start kicking the rear window out more to make a big enough room for me to crawl out. I position my self up on the back. I can see Tim is still moving and aimed at them, he opens the driver side door to continue firing. I crawl on the back feeling the little glass particles dig into my knees and forearms. They tear in and turn as my weight shifts through the crawl.
I fall on the side of my neck and glass comes tumbling out onto my face. I sit up and lean against the back of the vehicle. I peek out at Tim. Chuck is on the ground, he has a shot through his neck and bleeding profusely. The truck reaches the end of the street and does another U-turn. Tim kicks away Chuck's shotgun. He loads another mag into his handgun for the truck that is making another pass. I look over to Tim, he looks back at me. "The trunk!" Tim yells at me, I look at the truck and begin trying to kick it open. Tim aims at the truck and fires two or three rounds as they drive by. "I only got this mag left man! Hurry up!". I continue kicking the trunk, "It ain't FUCKING OPEN!" I yell back. "Shit. Tim runs back across the street to the car. Chuck grabs his foot, still bleeding from his neck. He continues to try and talk shit with the whistling of the blood and air coming in and out of his neck hole.
The truck positions itself again to make another run at Tim. Tim is stuck in the middle of the road being held by Chuck. Tim begins kicking chuck in his bloody neck, who begins to scream but doesn't let go. The truck takes off towards him. "Tim! The fucking truck! The truck!!" I yell at him as he continues to try and kick Chuck's hands off of his feet. The truck gets closer and closer, the smell of its diesel fumes creep faster and faster towards us. Tim looks at the oncoming truck, the tire is moving to crush Tim's head perpendicular to the truck and the road. Tim looks back down at Chuck and aims at his head, Tim pauses and looks right at Chuck. His eyes get big and he smiles with his blood filled teeth. BAM! A round tears through Chuck's eye socket and shoot his brains all over the pavement behind him. The back of his skull flies back but stays attached to his head by on piece with his hair still attached. Tim looks to his left quickly and rotates to roll under the Truck. The truck whisps by and I hear a scream.
I look at Tim and he is screaming holding his arm, it looks broken. He is still laying in the street. I get up to take the chance to pop the trunk before they do another 180 to come back around. The trunk pops and I check the back. My Ak-47 is there... Tim must have found it at my house. I grab and check the magazine. it's got one full mag. I step out into the street and they come driving back at us. I stand above Tim. Safety off. The truck careens toward me, I see smoke, and heat waves coming off the pavement. My hands are on the pistol grip and behind the magazine because my handcuffs won't let me spread my hands anymore. CHUME. CHUME. CHUME. Rounds fly out of my AK and it jumps in my arms. One round after another. I continue pulling the trigger as the windshield on their truck becomes more and more filled with shatter glass and blood, the truck takes a sharp turn and then flips onto the median. It rolls a few times. It stops rolling with no movement. Still.
I look down at Tim and prop him up. "You okay?" Tim groans at the question and pulls his arm up. "Yeah, I don't think it's broken to be honest but it hurts like hell." He grimaces and then half-ass points over to the truck. "Go get them", he gives me the keys to my handcuffs, I take them off. "Cuff them." he hands me another pair of handcuffs. I look up at the truck and start heading over there. My weapon is raised. As I close in on it I see more and more smoke, the passenger side door is open. In the driver seat is Teddy. Chuck, the hyper one was dead in the street, no sign of the big racist, Ricky. he must have taken off out of the passenger side door. I open the driver door and pull Teddy out. He is missing three fingers and has a gunshot to his shoulder. I point the gun at him, "Where did Ricky go?!", Teddy looks confused as to why I know their names. He is not very coherent. Tim yells at me "Cuff him!". I get closer to Teddy and put my knees on his chest and wounds. Blood squirts out of his fingers and he screams.
I place the barrel of the AK on his face, "Talk. Or die." He looks at me with hate in his eyes, "Fuck you-", before he could finish what I knew was coming next, I started smashing his racist fucking face in with the wooden stock of my AK. First, his nose cavity caves in and blood begins pooling up into his eyes. Tim gets up and starts running towards me "Noo! Stop!", I continue crushing his face in he is aware and alive as his face is being crushed within itself, his eye sockets lose their integrity and his first eyeball on the right side falls into the pool of blood now collection in the bowl his skull has now made. Blood spurts up as he tries to breath and reach up to stop my assault on him. Tim comes from my right and pulls me off of him, Teddy continues to gargle blood, surely by now he is blind, his eyes barely attach floating around in the area where his nose once was, his arms start getting weaker. His jaw is broken, moving floppily as he tries to speak. No words come out. Just the gargles of his slow death. Tim looks at him disgusted, he raises his pistol and puts a bullet into his head.
Tim looks at me, I have blood covering my hands and weapon. He is nervous with my holding the weapon. "I'm not giving up my gun. But I'll come with you." Tim looks at me and then the blood on my hands and the gun. He nods. Why did I do that? It's like as my memories come back I am changing... changing back into the monster I used to be.