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#Post#: 3025--------------------------------------------------
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 29 - Storm Front
By: RampageSports Date: April 7, 2016, 10:12 am
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Author's Note: The Spenser, Hawk, Susan Silverman, Vinnie Morris
and Ives characters belong to mystery novelist Robert B. Parker.
Mr. Parker is one of my favorite authors, and his work is a
major influence on the the way I write. Whether I even come
close to mimicking his style is open to considerable debate, but
I have chosen to use his characters in this story as something
of an homage. My goal is to handle them as lightly as possible
and to maintain them as Mr. Parker created them. Any failure on
that front is completely my own.
[hr]
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 29 - Storm Front
After an equally relaxing Sunday, we were feeling pretty loose
as we headed for RSI Monday morning. Meghan had the escort
duties, and she was already waiting when we emerged from the
house.
I had the wheel today, and set out along our now-usual route.
With Danni living so close to the RSI facility, we had a number
of options available that all cost about the same amount of
time. We usually chose the coastline approach, which provided
views we both agreed were more picturesque when nature glazed
the scenes with ice than they were in the summertime.
I turned the radio on, pleased to hear the soothing tones of
Phil Collins' You'll Be In My Heart playing.
Danni — who was apparently not as pleased — reached up and
changed the station, finding We're Not Gonna Take It, by Twisted
Sister.
"Don't touch my radio," I said, my voice reflecting my disbelief
that she had even dared to so.
The song she found was fine, but only under certain
circumstances. Those circumstances cannot exist at seven
o'clock in the morning, so I changed the station again. This
time, I came up with Storm Front.
"There," I said. "You can't argue with Billy Joel."
"Hmmm... I don't think so," she said, changing the station
again.
Next thing I knew, Panama by Van Halen was playing.
I've noticed Danni and I share a similarly eclectic taste in
music, and I think we could both put Collins, Twisted Sister,
Billy and Van Halen in a single playlist and not think twice
about it. On top of that, Panama was an eighties classic. But
this wasn't about music anymore. This was about not messing
with my radio.
I flipped the station again, and up came I'm Shipping Up To
Boston, by the Dropkick Murphys. I was not particularly partial
to this song, with the exception of the segment that serves as
the theme song for Rizzoli & Isles. At this hour of the
morning, I truly didn't want to hear it, at all. But I
stubbornly stayed with it just because it was the station I'd
picked.
I kept my eye on my passenger as I slowed to make the turn at
Rumson Road. She was still, and appeared disinterested, but as
soon as I was distracted by driving again she made her move.
I slapped at her hand as she tuned the radio once more. A
country station this time, playing Miranda Lambert's rocking
duet with Carrie Underwood.
I narrowed my eyes at her, but held my tongue. She waited, and
eventually I nodded my grudging acceptance.
Truth is, once I heard the song, I knew I was going to let it
play. This is not a song you turn off.
As the chorus rolled around, Danni sang, "Stand on the bar,
stomp your feet, start clappin'..."
"... got a real good feeling somethin' bad about to happen," I
finished.
We sang along together, laughing and moving to the beat as we
approached the Shrewsbury River Bridge. But I missed the last
line as time slowed to a snail's pace, my eyes locking on the
driver of a beat up Ford sedan coming in the other direction. A
man whose vicious smile and enormous bald head were
unmistakable.
As he passed me, Mr. Clean cut the wheel sharply to the left,
knifing the Ford behind the Subaru and into Taylor's car behind
— a sickening crunch accompanying the impact. The angle caused
the Ford to spin with the blow, while Meghan's car stopped dead,
having taking the full force of the collision head-on.
I was so focused on the mirror and Meghan's condition, I almost
drove straight into the Lincoln Continental that was suddenly
blocking the lane in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and
cut the wheel left, sending us sliding sideways. We skidded to
a stop just short of the Lincoln, and no sooner had we come to
rest when the heavily bandaged face of Rat Boy appeared from
across the hood of the luxury sedan.
"Get out! Get out!" I yelled at Danni, and we scrambled out of
our respective doors and instinctively ran behind the station
wagon.
"You can run b*tch, but you can't hide," Rat Boy said in
sing-song.
B*tch. Singular.
Gee, I wonder which one of us he was talking to.
"We can't stay here," I said to Danni.
"Where, then?" she asked.
I looked around frantically, peripherally aware of the sound of
gunfire to my right.
Meghan, I thought, though there was nothing I could do. I was
too preoccupied with my own problems.
The Subaru had ended up facing the center of the roadway. From
where we hid behind it, we could see the sidewalk and the stone
railing meant to keep cars from careening into the river.
Jutting up from one of the railing supports was a light pole
with a sign attached reminding people that fishing and crabbing
from the bridge was prohibited.
"Over the railing," I said.
"You want to jump in the river?"
I nodded to the left.
"There's a tree, which means there has to be some land."
Of course, I had no idea how far the drop was until we found
that land.
"Just stay to the right of the tree," I finished.
"I don't like this..."
Rat Boy's footsteps echoed from the concrete bridge surface as
he crept ever closer.
"No choice," I said. "Go!"
She was up and over the railing without another moment's
hesitation, and I went over right behind her. A gunshot rang
out behind me, and shattered concrete exploded from the railing
at the spot where I'd cleared it.
The drop wasn't bad at all, and we both came to our feet
immediately. The open field in front of us offered little
cover, so I pushed Danni left and we ran along the side of the
bridge toward the river. I was hoping there would be a strip of
river bank that would let us pass underneath, but it was not to
be. A thick concrete support ran right up to the water's edge,
leaving us no room to walk.
We hesitated for only a second before another bullet landed in
the marshy area behind me. I looked left to see our assailant
coming down toward the river bank.
"Gotta go!" I yelled.
I shoved us both along, and we slipped and skidded down the
steep embankment and into the frigid waters — the thin sheets of
ice along the river's edge cracking and splintering into jagged
pieces as we tore through it. As soon as we touched the water,
I knew we were in desperate trouble. It was painfully cold.
Cold like I had never felt before. My body immediately started
to shut down, but I screamed against it — forcing my limbs to
go. Danni battled through it too, and we thrashed our way
beneath the bridge. I could still hear gunfire echoing from
above.
Meghan was alive, and she was fighting. We had to fight, too.
But we had to do it fast, because we didn't have much time in
this water.
We kept swimming, distance the only thing that could save us.
Another shot... Rat Boy firing from the point where we'd gone
down the river bank. But the bridge support was blocking him,
making it impossible to get an angle.
Then he disappeared, and now there were two clocks ticking.
If he got back on top of the bridge before we found a place to
hide, we would be sitting ducks.
If we didn't get out of this water within about the next minute,
we were going to freeze to death.
Nice to have options.
Another twenty yards upstream, a private dock extended from
behind one of the muti-million dollar riverside homes.
"D-D-Dock," I stammered, my body beginning to succumb to the
deadly cold.
If Danni heard me, she gave no sign of it. She just kept
fighting through the water as best she could.
Every stroke — every movement — became torture. It's not an
exaggeration to say I'm a strong swimmer. In fact, I was once a
certified lifeguard. But those skills were useless to me now.
Forget saving other people. I could barely save myself. My
limbs felt as heavy and agile as tree trunks, and every fiber of
my being just wanted to quit.
As we floundered along, the world went silent. No more gunfire.
No traffic noise. No sounds other than the two of us thrashing
in the water until we floated beneath the wooden anchorage.
For a moment, I wondered if maybe something had happened. If
maybe our attackers had fled, for some reason.
Now, if we could just keep from dying in this god-damn river.
We each caught hold of a piling supporting the dock, and I
immediately searched for a way out of the water.
A metal handrail extended along the side of the pier, and I used
it as a ladder to haul myself up. Then I reached back and
helped Danni out, as well. It was the first chance I'd had to
get a good look at her since this had started, and what I saw
made me want to cry. She was, literally, frozen stiff. She
seemed barely capable of moving. Her hair was matted and even
frozen in spots. Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and
her lips were visibly blue.
Footsteps on the wood pulled my defeated expression down the
walkway to find Rat Boy marching toward us, ending any notion
that we had been left to our own fate.
That was it. It was over. There was nothing more to do. There
was no sign of Meghan, and I sadly told myself she was likely
dead or dying. Danni and I lay side-by-side, sprawled out
face-down on the dock — both too exhausted and too cold to
function. Not that it mattered. Our only route of escape was
back into the river, where we would surely die anyway.
All of that struggle, and the only thing that had changed was
that we were now going to die cold and wet.
"Have a nice swim?" Rat Boy taunted, pointing his gun at me.
I ignored him and looked again at Danni.
"I'm sorry," I mouthed.
Then I turned to the man who was going to end my life, and
waited for it to be over.
The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed along the frosted river.
It took me a moment to realize that I wasn't dead. Rat Boy, on
the other hand, appeared stricken... a look of absolute shock
frozen on his face. Within seconds, a dark spot appeared in the
middle of his heavy, winter jacket. The spot spread rapidly —
like a paper towel soaking up a stain. Then he collapsed...
falling straight down as his legs failed beneath him.
With what little strength I had left, I rolled my head to look
toward the bridge.
There, standing along the railing nearly fifty yards away, was
Detective Meghan Taylor, award-winning markswoman. Her right
arm was extended in my direction, and, in her hand, was her NJSP
issued semi-automatic — the one with which she'd won all those
awards.
Then I watched as she slowly sank to the bridge deck.
The sound of squealing tires registered somewhere on the
periphery of my fading consciousness, but I was in no shape to
figure out what it meant.
Meghan was hurt. She needed help.
I put my hands beneath me, but no amount of effort got my body
off the wood. I looked again at Danni. I couldn't even tell if
she was breathing.
We were hurt and needed help, too.
That was the last thought I had before the blackness pushed in
from the edges of my vision and overwhelmed me.
[hr]
Character Reference
HTML http://s19.postimg.org/x7gm9w22n/Richelle_100x120.jpg
Name: Richelle Winterfeld
Nickname(s):
Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
HTML http://s19.postimg.org/9av3z511b/Danni_100x120.jpg
Name: Danneel Harris
Nickname(s): Danni
Background: RSI stable leader, reigning DEF welterweight
champion
HTML http://s19.postimg.org/bwegrvukf/Meghan_Taylor_100x120.jpg
Name: Meghan Taylor
Nickname(s):
Background: New Jersey State Police Detective, works for Major
O'Rourke
#Post#: 3026--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 29 - Storm Front
By: BadAssBunnies Date: April 8, 2016, 10:54 am
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WOW! That was intense. Having fallen in frigid water, your
description is perfect. That's exactly what it feels like. Of
course I wasn't dodging bullets but you are spot on. I can't
wait for the next chapter.
#Post#: 3027--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 29 - Storm Front
By: RampageSports Date: April 8, 2016, 11:58 am
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Woah... are you saying you fell in accidentally?!! That's not
good. Being able to add detail to a story via life experience
is great, but that's an experience that isn't worth it.
My cold water education came with much less drama. I've done a
couple of those 'polar bear swim' things. Which means I did it
to myself voluntarily, so take that for whatever it's worth.
First time I did it, I remember thinking that I was going to die
as soon as I hit the water. Brutal. Then I had to get out into
the winter air, which was colder than being in the lake. So,
I've never tested what long-term exposure to ice-cold water does
to you, but I can approximate pretty well.
I'm glad you liked the chapter. I always wonder if the way I
write these action scenes is sometimes confusing. There's a lot
of detail to keep track of, and I sometimes catch myself
assuming things in my head that I never actually wrote out for
people to read. So, it's always easy for me to know what I was
trying to do, but that's not really the goal, is it? :P
Thanks again for the comments. :D
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