Tattoo Parlor of the Mind

Escape

I was close to hyperventilating and my hands were shaking as I slumped in the backseat of the car. I turned to Frank.

"Yurgo is dead! Bannister killed him, he's working for Miles. Thank God you came and got me when you did."

Frank put his hand on my shoulder and smiled, "I would've come for you, but I didn't. Bogey did that all on his own. He just took up and crashed through the door. It's the damnedest thing I ever saw."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know Sean, but now I really am jealous."

"Don't be jealous, Frank. I would've come for you too,"  Bogey said calmly, "I heard the shots and calculated that Sean was in trouble. There was no time to consult you."

"Well thank you, Bogey. You damaged your front end pretty severely from what I saw after you crashed through the door, are you all right?" I asked.

"Those are primarily cosmetic damages. I'm a rear engine vehicle. The engine is functioning fine, however my frame is scraping against the tires and they will fail unless that issue is addressed."

"I'm glad you're OK Bogey. So you're basically all right, no trauma?"

Again, I swear I heard Bogey chuckle, "I am a car, Sean. I do not have nerve endings, there's no pain if that is what you were asking."

I laughed.
"Of course not, I'm still a little freaked out. We should really get you repaired, get the dents taken out and such. Miles will be looking for us. I'm not really sure what to do next. I do have my memory crystal, though. There's just no place we can go for me to upload it back into my head. We can't go to any place Preston or Bannister know about, so Jackie's is out."

Frank appeared to be deep in thought. Finally he turned to me, "I don't know about any labs, but if we wanna get Bogey fixed, I know a guy named Dale who runs an off the books garage. He's not the most honest individual, most of his business is altering the appearance of stolen cars, so we could probably disguise Bogie. It would make it a lot easier to move around."

"Well," I said clapping Frank on the back, "the criminal garage it is. Do you know where this place is, Bogey?"

"I believe Frank is referring to an establishment owned by one Mr. Cliffton Dale, not entirely reputable, but efficient. It is located just outside of Los Angeles proper, fifty-eight miles from here. Estimated travel time, one hour and fifteen minutes."

"Let's get going then, Bogey!" Frank said cheerfully, "you're going to get a facelift!"

I found myself deep in thought for the majority of the drive, frustrated and angry. The course of events over the past day and a half had me on my heels. I was doing nothing but reacting, being chased from one place to another without any kind of a plan. I now had my memories but no place to install them. I had whatever it was it a Yurgo gave me, but not the slightest clue what it was. Worst of all, I realized that there was no way that Miles was going to let me live. Not only had I betrayed him, but I had witnessed a murder on his behalf. Things did not look good. I've always been a master of understatement.