The Getaway

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Story about a rescue!

Submitted: May 23, 2013

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Submitted: May 23, 2013

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Shots rang out in quick succession.  An explosion engulfed my senses.  Am I prepared for this?  Yes, I have the training.  But, the ambush was so unexpected.  I had completed my mission and was on my way out with the package.  I was done... All wrapped up.  Had I really missed the convoy of Porsche 911s tailing my Fisker Kharma? I am new at this, but not that new.  These people were better than my intel had suggested.  But, no matter what went wrong, I had to fix it. 

Turn left? No, dead end. Right? Uphill. With any other car that would be suicide, but the Kharma is fully electric.  It has the 911 beat in torque and acceleration.  Right.  A screech and a crunch affirms my suspicion that one of the pursuers wouldn't make the turn.  Luckily the car is fitted with a few toys.  I hit the green button followed by a whirl of the hidden container in the rear bumper.  It opens quickly coating the road with a seemingly impassible blanket of razor sharp tacks.  The cars following behind me don't even flinch.  "Crap," I mutter. Run-flat tires.  It is going to take a little more than that to get rid of them.  As I near the edge of the city, things get a bit more spaced out.  And that means I have more room to maneuver.  The car slows a bit as I arrange it parallel to the river to carryout my next move.  This action is met with a barrage of bullets in my direction.  Some find their target as the back glass of the car fans out in a lattice of spider cracks.  "I need to do this fast," I thought. I notice a ship mooring post and head straight for it with the Porsche's close behind.  At the last moment, I jerk the wheel and the Kharma's superior handling allows the machine to just miss the post.  If only the lead car was so lucky.  The post is a foot thick and almost thirty feet of it is sunk deep into the bedrock.  So when the 911 slams head on into it, it hardly moves, causing the car to curl and twist around into an almost unrecognizable ball of fire taking the driver's life instantly.  The last car over corrects in the wrong direction and sails into the black deep of the river.  I speed away not waiting to witness its fate.

After about thirty minutes of driving, I was nearing the outskirts of the city.  I was fairly certain that I was no longer being followed.  They were pretty good, but I was better.  Needless to say, I had to get somewhere safe.  I drove about thirty more minutes and pulled onto a heavily wooded drive where the large oaked seemed to engulf the vehicle as it entered the dark chasm of foliage.  Suddenly, the car burst into a clearing just large enough to hold the abandoned shack that occupied the space.  At least it seemed abandoned. 

I walked the surprisingly obedient girl into the house and set her down in the bedroom.  “Can you at least tell me if I’m safe?” see suddenly whimpered.  I’ve never been one for conversation, so a simple, “Yes,” will have to do for her.

I walked into the dilapidated kitchen and opened the cabinet above the stove and closed it again.  I then opened the refrigerator and touched my foot to a strategically loose board on the floor.  I shuffled into the living room and admired a crooked painting of a landscape of some grassy knoll on the French countryside.  I leveled it.  All of a sudden the picture slid back into the wall revealing an eye scanner.  A computerized women’s voice buzzed the familiar phrase “scanning, stand still,” and was followed by a blue beam that temporarily filled my vision with a sea of light.  The lack of explosions or sirens verified that the system had confirmed my identity and that I was cleared.  The couch glided sideways to reveal a staircase down into what seemed like a bottomless abyss. 

At that moment the room down below was suddenly flooded with a harsh fluorescent light.  This light exposed a room filled with some of the most high tech equipment money can buy.  One wall was filled top to bottom with computer monitors displaying various vantage points around the perimeter of the safe house for security.  The next is occupied by every flavor of surveillance equipment or reconnaissance gadget any agent would ever need.  The third wall was covered with devices of the more destructive type.  From pistols to grenades, it was all there. 

I woke up at about three A.M. to some rustling outside.  Without any further notice, an object came bursting through the window and rolled across the floor.  My fears were confirmed when the canister sprang open releasing a cloud of noxious gas that would knock a person out in a matter of seconds.  I had only enough stored breath to grab the girl and get down into the secret room below the couch. 

After the entrance was safely closed I estimated that I only had a matter of minutes before the gas dissipated and our pursuers came in searching for us.  I looked at the monitors and gathered that the shack was completely surrounded.  How could I have been so stupid as to sleep in a time like this?  This was going to be tough one to get out of.

The safe house was equipped with a back entrance.  That entrance led to a storage room that housed a Suzuki motorcycle that was one of the best.  It was going to be an extremely difficult escape, but it was possible.


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