TEARS OF RAGE

Chapter 10

In the cat and mouse chase for capture, the concept of a cop is to counteract the actions of a criminal.

The theory being, to help prevent crime and corruption from corroding a civilized society.

But in the battle for survival, the laws of leverage tend to favor the criminal when guns begin blazing.

When the trio disappeared into the woodland, Swaylo went into action.

He scrambled from the van and fired a flare gun into its interior.

The gasoline fumes ignited, creating a ball of flames to whoosh from its opening.

Standing only three feet from the open doorway, Swaylo was hit by the blowback of the fire.

He threw himself to the ground, to prevent the fire from spreading across the fabric of his jumpsuit.

With his heart pounding, his hands shaking, and his features etched in a mask of frantic desperation, Swaylo scrambled to his feet and peered over the front fender of the van.

A countless number of cops were moving about the interstate, searching for better vantage points.

Highway traffic along I-20 East was stalled behind the buffer of police cruisers, spread out across the interstate.

It was now or never, Swaylo decided.

With a burst of gunshots, to dissuade any potential police pursuit, Swaylo made a break into the thicket of brush.

A volley of gunshots followed in his wake.

He bullied his way through the umbrage, as his body was accosted by the woodland's welcoming committee...

Greenbriar vines, Burr weeds, Chokeberry shrubs, and Honeysuckle vines each grabbed the fabric of his jumpsuit.

He could feel their touch, tearing at his clothes like a cluster of fanatical fans.

He ran heedlessly into the brush, searching for signs of his cohorts.

Hoping to catch sight of someone, Swaylo followed the route in which he had been given, until he heard the bark of a gunshot.

He emerged from the woodland at an area, where the train tracks split into a lush valley of vegetation.

Driven by the intuition of betrayal Swaylo searched the area with caution.

Twenty yards to his right, he saw Pluto sprawled out across the tracks, with Kirkwood Kenny moving in on him.

Before they could bring their guns into play, Swaylo spun on his heels and lunged into the thicket of brush.

He dove behind a large pine tree and fired off a series of shots from his pistol.

D-Money gave an audible grunt of pain, as he buckled at the waist and limped into the opposite patch of trees.

Kirkwood Kenny dropped to one knee, in a shooter's position and began to rake the area in which Swaylo was hiding in, with heavy gunfire.

After a brief pause, Swaylo tried to return fire, but his gun clicked on an empty chamber.

Kirkwood Kenny rose to pursue him.

Any hope of survival was dwindling.

"Kenny comes on man, I'm hit!"

D-Money cried, holding a hand to his inner thigh.

"The cops are coming," he added, knowing that his words would resonate into his friend's realm of reason.

They were on a close timeline.

To linger any longer would elevate the odds against them.

With a half of a million in cash in his possession, the urge to risk capture to eliminate an enemy immediately became inconsequential.

Worthless.

A hard pivot right, and a readjustment of the duffle bag on his back, signaled Kenny's departure.

The wail of emergency sirens could still be heard clearly through the distance.

The furtive feeling of being hunted was upon them like flypaper...

There was no room for mistakes.

After about a thirty-second pause, Swaylo looped wide through the brush and came out ten yards away from where Pluto lay.

"Damn it!" Swaylo roared with rage.

Pluto had a sightless gaze frozen on his face.

A look of pain mingled with sadness.

The sight of his friend, laid out like a bundle of discarded trash broke his heart, but the clock on his window of escape was closing.

With a deep sigh of regret, Swaylo grabbed the book bag of cash, that Pluto had been carrying, closed his friend's eyes, and took off running.

After a brief hundred-yard dash, he emerged at the rear of Alexander Court apartments.

There was no immediate sign of either D-Money or Kirkwood Kenny, but Swaylo could see a few residents lingering about the parking lot; gossiping.

Once he made a quick survey of the area, and surrounding buildings, Swaylo disrobed from his jumpsuit; and hustled out of the complex, until he made it to the corner of Clara Avenue, and Memorial Drive.

As he crossed the street and boarded a Marta bus, Swaylo saw a procession of police vehicles, speeding down Memorial.

"Morning..." Swaylo greeted upon boarding the bus, his Tasty Chicken outfit gave him the appearance of a day laborer.

The bustle of midmorning traffic and the cluster of pedestrians gave Swaylo something as priceless as an ostrich-size purple diamond.

Anonymity.

He was a nameless face in a crowd of people.

A man, that if questioned to remember, would stand out as a kid on his way to work.

"That's yet to be seen," the bus driver replied with a smile.

"Looks like somebody is having a bad morning..." she added giving a nod to the police cars.

Swaylo smiled and adjusted the book bag on his back.

"If I'm late for work again my boss will have an APB (all points bulletin) put out on me."

Once the driver continued to engage in the conversation, Swaylo knew that he had just found his alibi.

If need be, the driver's testimony would affirm that he was just in the area, during the time in which the cops began establishing roadblocks along Memorial Drive.

As far as anyone being able to place him at the bank, Swaylo had to consider that with Pluto dead, no one else really knew his identity.

For the time being, he was home-free...