“This charade has gone
on long enough!” Lloyd stamped his foot atop the armored truck, and thrust his
finger at Rosco once more, momentarily wishing he could turn it into a flaming
arrow. “Rosco! Unshackle my father, for he has committed no
crime! Certainly he deserves fairer
treatment than being ensnared by cold steel, and put on display like the town
buffoon!” He raised an eyebrow and
stroked his chin. “I know I’m one for
theatrics, but STILL! This crosses a
line that the common citizen was never meant to cross!”
But Rosco just shrugged
and smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re gonna let your dad go…AFTER he gets
shipped off to…” He reached into the
pocket of his overalls and tugged out a crumpled sheet of paper. “Prison?
Aw, is that it? Wouldn’t mind
puttin’ him in a loony bin or in an ocean -- least, as long as I’m gettin’
paid.”
“You’re more wretched
than when last we met -- and that’s quite an achievement!” Lloyd thrust a finger (again) at the
Neanderthal. “For shame, Rosco! FOR!
SHAAAAAAAAAAAME!”
“I’ve no reason to
adhere to the whims of an unscrupulous sellsword such as you!”
Trixie tugged on Lloyd’s
pants once more, her forearms resting almost lazily atop the armored truck’s
edge. “I don’t think makin’ a ruckus
like this is a good idea, pal.”
“But if I don’t take a
stand now, the townsfolk would be more likely to tread down his villainous path!”
Lloyd whispered to her -- though he essentially spoke at normal volume, thanks
to the crowd firing up once more.
“I’m just sayin’
there’s a time and a place. As in, is
this really the time to start pickin’
a fight?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re
right.”
Trixie nodded in
approval.
“If there was ever a
time to pick a fight, now would be that moment!”
Trixie slapped a hand
over her face.
“Rosco!” Lloyd roared,
thrusting his finger at him once more (now wishing it was Poseidon’s
trident). “You, who would disgrace my
family and act solely to indulge in indecorous desires! Prepare yourself for a sound verbal lashing,
as I explain in unabridged detail the error of your mercantile wa-”
Ka-SHOT PUT!
A sack of flour
barreled into Lloyd’s torso, knocking the wind -- and maybe his small intestine
-- out of him and sending him crashing to the asphalt. “Lloyd!” Trixie yelled, rushing to his
aid. “Ya all right?”
Lloyd managed to roll
the sack off of him (with great difficulty) and rose to a wheezy seat. “A sack of flour…really? Who on earth throws sacks of flour?!”
“That’d be me,” said
Rosco, dusting off his hands. “Special
thanks go to the baker for giving me some much-needed ammo.” The
baker did a jig to celebrate being mentioned positively for once. “Ya had it coming, kid. I don’t like gettin’ pointed at.”
“You…you…you should never end your sentences with ‘at’, you
miscreant!”
Rosco ignored him, of
course. He just oversaw the transport of
Patton; his cronies unhooked him from the podium and loaded his pinned body
onto a large dolly. As the eldest
Hoigleheimer was wheeled to the truck, the crowd let loose cheers of joy and
relief -- and like a president in a parade, Rosco waved a meaty hand through
the air.
“This is some kind of
joke! It has to be a farce!” Lloyd said,
even though no one but Trixie heard him; the two of them could only move out of
the way as the goons began loading Patton into the back of the truck. “Carting my father off to prison just because
he’s unpopular and caused some minor…”
He looked to his left; a Patton-shaped hole had been left in the
shop. “Moderate damage for a noble cause?”
Rosco nodded. “Yep.”
“Absurd! Utterly absurd!” But suddenly, Lloyd had a thought. “Wait a minute. If you’re a construction worker, why does
your line of work entail transporting would-be criminals?”
“’Cause I’m gettin’
paid.”
“But to take someone to
prison without a trial? Or a
hearing?” He glanced at the armored
truck -- a deep shade of blue, but without any significant markings. “Do you even have a warrant for arrest? Do you even have badges? Are you even officers?”
Rosco shrugged. “Who cares?
All I know is that if I get this guy outta town, I’m eatin’ lobster pizza
for the next month.”
Lloyd stared at Rosco
for a moment -- and then, he shoved his way past and leapt into the driver’s
seat. “Miss Walters! Grab onto something!” he yelled…just before
flooring the pedal.
Ka-FRICTION!
The tires smoked and
squealed as they spun -- and with a burst of force, the truck started hauling
its way across the square. The crowd
scrambled as it rocked forward, and the goons flew out the open doors; the only
reason Patton stayed in place was because he’d practically been bolted to the
truck. And Trixie? All Trixie could do was hold onto the door
handles and pray her grip didn’t fail her.
“Ya gotta be KIDDIN’
ME!” Trixie screamed as the truck neared its top speed -- a remarkable speed,
given its weight. She didn’t want to
think about how fast they moved -- ludicrous speed, given that she looked like
a low-flying Supergirl -- or how long she could hold on with Lloyd swerving
like a drunken cheetah. Somehow, she
managed to find the strength to throw herself into the truck and clutch
Patton’s restraints. “Mr. Hoigleheimer,
are ya --”
“Just call me
Patton. You’re like family now.”
“Yer WAY too calm about
this, Mr. Hoi- P-Patton!”
Patton glanced up at
the ceiling. “No, I’m plenty
excited. My son kidnapped me to save my
other son from a kidnapping…” He
sniffled a bit. “It’s moments like these
that make me proud to be a father.”
“Please stop bein’ so
calm! Please!” For a moment Trixie thought about bursting
into tears -- but before she could open the valves, she spotted a window
peeking between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. Clutching Patton’s beefy arms like a life
preserver, she made her way toward the window and banged a shoulder against
it. “Lloyd! Lloyd!
What the hell’re ya up to, pal!”
“Ah, Miss Walters! I was afraid I’d left you behind -- or worse,
run over you!” Lloyd called out. “Oh,
what a disaster that would have been!”
Ka-SUDDEN SCREECHING
SWERVE!
“Ha HA! Another pedestrian evaded!”
“Lloyd! Ya wanna try slowin’ down?” Trixie
yelled. “Or, ya know, stoppin’?”
“Yes, well, about
that…I don’t know how.” A gentle laugh
made its way through the barred window.
“It was largely decided that allowing me behind the wheel of a vehicle
is…not a good idea. So I’m afraid I
don’t have a very good grasp of the nuances of driving. I’ve seen enough movies to know the basics,
though! Just turn the wheel and --!”
Ka-ADDITIONAL
SCREECHING SWERVE!
“You see? Simple!
By the way, what purpose does this device on my right serve? Some sort of armaments, perhaps?”
“What the hell gave ya
that idea?”
“Speed Racer. Is that…is that
not how cars work?”
If Trixie wasn’t
currently holding onto a beefy forearm for dear life, she would have started
smacking her head against the truck walls.
“All right, here’s a little driver’s ed for ya. Ya got yer foot on the accelerator, right? Ease off it.
Ya don’t have to keep it pressed against the floor.”
“Eh? Really?
But will the truck move if I don’t?”
“Yes, Lloyd. Ya just gotta tap the accelerator every now
and then to give it some gas. And ya see
the other pedal on the left? That’s the
brake. Ya use that the same way.”
“So I should push it
against the floor?”
“NO!”
“But I’m pushing the
other pedal against the floor! Surely I
should apply the same amount of pressure…?”
“DON’T SLAM ON THE
BRAKES! Don’t slam on anything! I know this ain’t exactly an easy thing for
ya to understand, but ya gotta be gentle.
Be subtle. Take it easy for once, or ya gonna crash
up!” She looked out the back of the
truck; incidentally, they’d long since driven off the road and started plowing
through a grocery store. “Oh my God…we
are gonna get a whole lotta jail time for this…”
“No need to worry! I have the much-lauded ‘accident forgiveness’
to my name!” He swerved out of the store
with a thunderous crash. “I have that as
long as I’m in high school, right?”
“A whole lotta jail time…” Trixie muttered. She shook her head despondently. “All right, so where’re we headed?”
“Isn’t it rather
obvious? We need to head to L. Bernstein
High School -- my haunting ground up until a few hours ago. I believe it’s there that our adversary
waits…and where I intend to finish this battle with one ferocious strike.”
“Ya wanna go to school
now? In an armored truck? With yer dad all chained up like this?”
“I’m in the mood for
steak tonight,” Patton said to himself.
“Still way too damn
calm, Mr. Hoigle- Patton!” Trixie turned
back toward the window. “Okay, so why
exactly do we need to go to yer school?
And why would Gaston be there?”
“Simply put, I believe
that I may have unraveled a fair portion of this mystery. There’s still a dangerous amount of room for
error, but if my deductions are indeed true, then Gaston Leroux will be nothing
more than a memory before sunset. All I
require is the assistance of my closest comrades -- and of course, your
unerring trust in one as lowly and slipshod as I.”
Trixie grimaced and
turned aside. “Well, I guess I trusted
ya so far. And I ain’t got much reason
to stop trustin’ ya, so…” She looked out
the truck, and for a moment felt like swallowing her words and her tongue. A half dozen police cars trailed behind them,
sirens blaring and guns slowly being held at the ready.
Guns that could very
well shoot into the truck.
Guns that could very
well tear through Trixie’s body.
“Oh, I just
remembered!” Lloyd said with an absurd amount of cheer. “Vehicles tend to have radios, yes? How would one go about activating it? I’ve been looking to become a dedicated fan
of Queen, you see.”
TO BE HEARTINUED…
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