3:12 p.m., August 9th, 2002, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, Earth
“Josh?”
“Ya?”
“I’m out of here. I just got a strange call telling me to run…”
“Ya, I just go the same call.”
“Where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“Listen, I’m packing some stuff and getting our of here. They’re coming to arrest me for the murder of the two theatre employees…”
“What?”
“Ya, I just spoke to my lawyer and that’s what he said.”
“I’ll come and get you. Where will you be?”
“I’ll be headed east on Second Ave. I’ll be on my mountain bike.”
James wastes no time and packs a small backpack. Grabbing his pistol and a hat he sets off on his bike.
A short time later Josh pulls up behind James in his gray Nissan 4x4 hard body pickup. James notices the camping gear in the bed as he loads his bike.
“You came prepared.” James offers with a glance to the back of the truck.
“We need to pick up Jen and get out of town.” Josh returns.
They head down South Temple to 700 east and turn South to 500 south and the Trolley Corners Theatre. Leaving Josh in the car, James goes in and grabs Jen.
“I can’t just leave work. I’ll loose my job.”
“Jen, we’re in trouble, all of us.”
“Let me go!” Jen yells as James takes her by the arm and escorts her out of the building. “Let me at least tell somebody I’m leaving.”
“No time.”
They head south to the Sugarhouse area. Josh is taking residential streets and back streets to avoid the law and to buy some time to think.
James’ cell phone rings. Tentatively, he answers, “Hello?”
“Go to the junction of US highway 189 and 191, Wyoming…”
“Who was it?” Jen asks.
“The same guy.”
“What did he say!” Jen demands loosing patience with the whole thing.
“He wants us to go the junction of US highway 189 and 191 in Wyoming.” James answers.
“What? Where? Why?” Jen asks in short succession.
“It’s not like we had a long conversation. That’s all he said.” James answers staring at Jen. “What should we do?”
“Got a map?” Jen pokes Josh.
“Is the Pope catholic?” Josh throws back, “In the glove box.”
Within few minutes, our heroes have a bearing on where it is they were told to go. Josh has been alertly watching his mirrors for any sign of trouble.
“They found us.” Josh says in a monotone.
“Who?” Jen and James say in unison and take a quick look over their shoulders.
About a block away a large black suburban is closing on their position. Over the next 5 minutes Josh does his best to loose the tail but to no avail. Josh’s plan is to get to the freeway and head toward Wyoming. Going south on 17th east toward the “T” intersection with 27th south Josh gets stuck behind a bus waiting for traffic at the intersection.
“They're right behind us!” Josh yells. “Drive!” He pulls Jen into the drivers seat as he climbs out the driver side window and into the bed. James readies his pistol and Jen whimpers and she grinds the gear shifter into first. There is a reason why Jen doesn’t own a car, she doesn’t like driving, especially a manual transmission. With the bus blocking their way and the suburban right behind them, Jen freezes, seeing in her minds eye the horrible crash she is going to cause.
“GO!” Josh screams from the back of the truck. Jen can see him leveling his pistol at the suburban. The suburban drivers side widow is lowering and Jen can see the driver’s silhouette moving a weapon from his lap to the open window. James is opening his door, climbing out the window isn’t as easy when your 6 feet 7 inches tall, not quite sure what to do.
She shuts her eyes rolls the steering wheel to the right and slams her foot on the accelerator. Lurching forward, the pickup bounces up and over the curb, smashes the fence surrounding the yard of the home on the corner, dodges the telephone pole and screeches out in front of traffic west bound on 27th south. Pealing her hands off the steering wheel, Jen wipes her forehead with a shaking palm.
“Wow.” James says with a relieved look on his face.
“Good job!” Josh yells from the bed of the pickup.
“Thank God he didn’t fall out.” Jen whisper under her breath.
Rocketing north on 13th east, Jen takes the east bound on ramp to I-215 and then takes I-80 east bound up Parleys Canyon.
Jen, a conservative driver, soon brings the pickup to a “safe” and “reasonable” speed. She feels confident that she has put that black suburban behind them. Her confidence is soon shaken, however, as there is a rapid tapping on the rear glass and Josh is yelling “They’re coming and gaining on us!”
“Let me drive!”
“What. Now?” her tone giving away only a portion of how stupid she thinks the idea is.
“Trade me. NOW!”
With only a minor course correction and the angry stares of an older couple in a passing Buick, James takes control of the Nissan. Giving no mind to what he may be doing to the engine, James downshifts and floors the gas pedal.
Near the top of the canyon where the roadway is steepest, “They’re right on us!” Jen declares staring out the rear window. She sees that Josh has taken out a hunting rifle and has barricaded himself behind his camping gear giving him decent cover. He is lying prone and steadying the rifle on the tailgate.
The suburban accelerates and rams the back of the truck.
“What the hell?” James enunciates through gritted teeth desperately keeping control of the pickup.
“That’s it” Josh says to himself as he squeezes off a shot at point blank range. The windshield spider webs right above where the drives head should be, no visible effect. “Damn it!” Josh grumbles as he pulls back on the bolt and chambers another round. His rifle sings out again this time at the same moment James makes a small course correction, the shot missing the suburban entirely. The passenger side rear window of the suburban slides down and a compact automatic pistol precedes the man Josh fought with out into the gusting air. Josh ducks his head down and into cover as a hail of bullets pincushions the tailgate and shatters the rear window of the pickup. Jen and James duck as glass showers all around them. Josh pops up, levels the rifle and fires off another round, striking the grill of the dark suburban. Another hail of bullets sparks off the pickup and the small truck is rammed again from behind.
“We can’t take much more or this.” James says over the wind. “Jen?”
Looking into the back of the truck, Jen’s face is pale and full of shock. “I think he’s dead.”