The Retreat by Dijorn Moss Read Free Book Online Page A

of Coltrane, spiked. A blur of jagged thoughts crisscrossed his mind before he pulled things into focus: he had to shake the police. The three behind him would be matched by the flying “Squirrel,” the Eurocopter AS350 training its infrared on him. Once the Squirrel had him in its sights, Will’s fate would be sealed.
    Will approached another red light and hooked a right. If not for the aftermarket sway bar that held the ’Stang to the ground, the chase would have been over. Instead, it created a small window of opportunity.
    A black SUV, lurching to avoid him, collided with a rust bucket Honda. The damage was enough to stop the police cars dead in their tracks. Will did not have time to worry about the mess fading in his rearview. Instead, he gained a mile of distance and then darted into a residential neighborhood. Turning off the lights, he slid into the curb, a not-so-anonymous car at rest in a very anonymous suburban neighborhood. The sounds of the sirens grew faint, but then seemed to be picking up. No time for reflection. Will turned the car off, got out, and chucked the keys across the street. Time to move.
    His baggy pants hung low and made him feel like he was entered into a sack race. But Will pushed on, running until he could not run anymore. No matter. Will was not that much taller than a bar stool, so it was easy for him to hide. Wait! What was that? Will heard the helicopter in the distance. No time to hunker down. He needed another set of wheels. Running alongside the edge of the neighborhood, he reached the back end of a commercial building. He saw a late model minivan idling in the empty side lot.
    As Will drew closer, he could make out the words “Celebration Christian Center” stenciled along the side of the van. About fifty paces out, Will slowed down and started to advance on the van, crouching as he moved toward the driver’s side door. The door was suddenly thrown open. Will pressed hard against the side of the van. The guy who got out was head and shoulders taller than Will, so Will had to act before the guy turned around. The guy moved to close the door, and with his profile exposed, Will tackled the guy against the door. While the guy was stunned, Will delivered several swift hooks to the guy’s chin. While the punches staggered him, they did not render the man helpless.
    The guy braced himself against the van and used his free hand to grab the nape of Will’s sweatshirt, swinging him to the ground in a heap. Now Will was at a disadvantage as his much bigger opponent towered over him.
    â€œAre you out of your mind?” the man asked, his voice a loud but nervously cracked baritone.
    Will managed to right himself, and kicked the man in the groin. He howled like a wolf. Back on his feet, Will followed his kick to the groin with a knee to the face. Now the guy was on the ground, and Will stomped on his stomach until the man yelled out in pain. Will then gave the man a punt to the head.
    There was no more resistance. Will patted the man’s pockets. He grabbed the keys from the front pocket and drove off in the van. He exited the parking lot and merged onto South Street. Will tried to shake off the events that had just unfolded, but that was foolish on his part. He embraced a smooth ride until he flipped on the radio. He heard a lot of rambling and hollering.
    â€œWhat’s this he listens to? Lil’ Jon?” Will turned up the stereo. It became clear that the speaker was not a rapper, but a preacher with a thick Southern accent.
    â€œOne sin! One sin is enough to get you tossed into the fires of hell. So you have to ask yourself before you commit that sin, is it worth it? Is it worth it to burn in hell for all of eternity?”
    Somebody should have told the preacher that we’re in hell already, Will thought. Preachers who spent all their time talking about a better life after this life were basically admitting that this life was a mess. Will