Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

touch it. It was an old model 1911 with walnut grips. The safety was on, and the hammer down, so there was no chance of it accidently firing, even if it went flying off the seat. Still, I couldn’t just leave it there, so I picked it up, opened the glove compartment, and stowed it there.
    Augie had returned his hand to the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his left foot hovering over the clutch, his right holding the gas pedal to the floor. All I could do was hang on to the frayed door strap with my right hand and grip the dashboard with my left.
    Augie kept the nose of his truck right there on the tail of the Caddy for several miles, till Noyac Road veered away from the bay and followed a wavering line through the woods. We passed through middle-class neighborhoods, during which I kept an eye out for cars pulling out of driveways and late-night joggers. Then the neighborhoods gave way and we entered a long stretch of barren wood. Here the streets were unlit, and sharp corners came up unannounced. The driver of the Caddy was having as difficult a time as Augie keeping his vehicle on the road. At one point it fish-tailed and looked about to spin out of control. Augie hit the brakes and backed off so his truck wouldn’t get clipped by the swerving Caddy. But once the Caddy regained control and continued on, Augie pushed the accelerator down to the floorboard again and we surged forward till we were right back on the Caddy’s tail.
    The speed limit was thirty-five, and we were easily doing eighty, sometimes more than that in the brief stretches of straight road. Several times Augie tried to get around the Caddy, but the driver always cut him off. We were only a few miles from the village of North Sea now. Beyond that was the town of Southampton. All we needed was to drive the Caddy into either village, where our chase would not go unnoticed by the local cops who sat in patrol cars on North Sea Road waiting for speeders and drunk drivers.
    But Augie didn’t seem content to just push the Caddy toward the authorities. He was determined to run it off the road or get around it and cut it off. I could see that his knuckles were white from the force with which he gripped the steering wheel. I knew this was foolishness—I knew obsession when I saw it—but there wasn’t time to get into that.
    About a mile from North Sea we hit a good straight patch of back road, and that was when Augie made his move. He dropped down a gear and pulled into the other lane to cut around the Caddy. His nose was even with the rear door when the driver veered toward the truck to scare Augie away. But it didn’t work that way. Augie veered into the Caddy instead, his front bumper denting the rear driver’s side door. But the Caddy wouldn’t give. It and Augie’s truck held their lanes, parting only briefly. Whenever they did, they simply veered back right away and smashed into each other harder, as if magnetized.
    We rode nearly side by side, metal smashing metal. Each jolt rocked the cab of the truck, and Augie and me with it. But he hung onto the wheel and wouldn’t budge. He began to move the Caddy toward the shoulder of the road. Then he dropped down another gear and gunned the gas. I saw the tachometer arc to the red line. The engine screamed and the truck lurched forward, till my window was almost even with the driver’s door. I could see the back left side of the driver’s head but nothing more. His window was streaked with rain. The inside of the Caddy was dimly lit by the dashboard lights. Augie jerked the wheel hard, hitting the Caddy with the full length of his pickup. The Caddy swerved away, then swerved back again. Its right-hand tires were off the road and onto the shoulder now, kicking up clumps of grass and mud. This slowed it enough to allow Augie to pull up and then slightly ahead of the Caddy. He was about to cut the wheel one last time and drive the Caddy off the road, but before he could something rammed us hard from behind. It rammed us again before I could turn to look back. But by then it was too late. The distraction had allowed the Caddy to cut back onto the road. It hit the pickup broadside. Augie did what he could to keep control of the wheel, but we took another hit from behind and the truck turned into a fishtail and began a sideways slide. I felt myself pulled down into the seat, and I knew by this that my side of the truck was lifting off the road. The nose of the truck hit the Caddy