Note: Tags are for the book, not individual chapters.
Guardian Program Ch. 37
A novel by R.C.PeterGabriel, all rights reserved.
"Look," suggested Constable Connelly. "He's backing down. He must have realized that neither of us could drive the corners up ahead at this speed. I'm driving three times the safe speed and my hand is slick with blood. Let me slow down."
Bettany was hesitant until he saw the pursuing Mounty turn around and head back the way he came. "Okay, but if you try to stop or even go too far below the speed limit I'll shoot you. Get us to the airport at Fort Nelson. I have a plane there and we're going for a little ride. If you're smart and cooperate I'll let you go after I get to my first refueling station."
She knew he was lying. The moment they were alone in his plane, he'd kill her. Even if he didn't, she wasn't going to survive more than a few more hours without a hospital. She also knew Fort Nelson General was almost directly on the way to the airport and hoped that she could somehow get through this and see her family again. She eased her foot from the gas pedal and tried to think.
"Listen to me, please," Constable Connelly began in the calmest tone she could muster. "I need to get a better grip on the wheel. There are towels under your seat that I use to clean up messes in the back. Could you get a few of them? ... Please."
After almost a minute of staring at her without even blinking, suspicion obvious on his face, Bettany seemed to calm himself and asked, "Why?"
"First of all, my hand is slipping on the wheel, I need to wipe off the blood. But more importantly, I'm assuming the lack of radio traffic means that everyone was ordered to a TAC channel so they can coordinate without us hearing them. The most logical place to try to stop us would be just before we get to the junction of Highway 77. That means, that if I'm going to get us to the airport, I'll need full control of the car." She paused to let her words sink in a few moments before continuing.
"What that also means is that unless they simply disable the car with spike chains, I'm going to have to swerve around or smash through whatever blockage they place in our way. I don't want to spin out or flip the car, but I probably won't be able to prevent it with only one hand. I need a steering knob to compensate. That means I need you to make one for me."
Keeping his weapon trained on his hostage, Bettany slowly reached under his seat and came up with several large hand towels. He looked at the towels for several moments and then with an incredulous expression asked, "Just exactly how am I supposed to do that?"
"Rip one of them lengthwise into a strip about four inches wide. Then tie it onto the wheel here where the spoke connects with the grip. Make sure you leave enough of the ends to hold onto, but not so much that the extra gets in the way."
"Before I do, you'll tell me the real reason you pulled me over. I'm not stupid and don't make the mistake of lying to me. If you try, I'll kill you and dump your body in the middle of the highway. Then I'll kill the owner of the next farmhouse I pass, and take their car along with any children I find. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly clear ..." stated Constable Connelly, before pausing long enough for Bettany to start counting down from three. "Okay! Okay! There was a BOLO out on your van. It was to be sought in connection with a kidnapping of two American women."
The gunman was quiet for so long that she took her eyes off the road and looked over at him. He was white as a ghost.
After several minutes, he lowered the gun. He still had it pointed at her, but it was no longer digging into her chin. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded miles away. "What else was included?"
"Your name. Which, until you told me, I didn't know was your name. I only knew you as 'Chaucer'. And two other names. A William and Debra Clemons."
He sat perfectly still for almost five minutes before he became animated again. He tried to rip one of the towels, but it was hemmed and he couldn't manage. His anxiety level was rising visibly, and fearing he would just kill her outright, she told him about the knife that she kept in her glove box.
Using the knife, he easily cut the towel to the suggested size. "Grip the sissy bar," he demanded. Confused, Constable Connelly asked what a 'sissy bar' was, and was told the grip above the door that sissies use when they're scared. If you let go before I tell you to, I will kill you."
"You don't have to keep threatening me, Chaucer ..."
The comment went ignored, as he wove the towel around the left side of the steering wheel, and tied it off with about six inches of the ends left over. It had been awkward, and eventually, he ordered the constable to stop for a moment while he completed the task. Before they started again, he fastened both of their seat belts.
When she gave him a surprised look, he simply shrugged and said, "The best odds of my survival, are if you have full control. The belt will help with that, and I'm not letting you have yours fastened without mine being on too. You could purposely crash in hopes of killing me before I shoot you.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, before Bettany spoke up again. "What would they do if you charge the roadblock at over a hundred miles per hour?"
Constable Connelly thought for several moments, then glanced at her captor. She could see that he meant it as a legitimate question, so she thought for several more before answering.
"Well, honestly we'd probably die in a giant ball of twisted metal and broken glass, but it depends on who's manning the roadblock, and what they're using to block the road with.
"If they use spike chains or cars I would hope they'd realize that you have a hostage and that neither of us would survive a crash at that speed, and therefore remove the blockage. That of course depends on whether or not they think fast enough. If they use heavy equipment then I doubt they could move it in time even if they do think of it."
They drove on in silence as Constable Connelly navigated the area of the highway with the steepest grades and sharpest turns, the towel doing its job nicely. Once the road began to straighten, she accelerated to ten miles an hour over the speed limit. She wanted to get as close to the hospital as she could, as soon as she could. Her body was starting to feel heavy, and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to concentrate, let alone drive. After a few minutes, she said, "We should make the junction of Highway 77 in about twenty minutes."
"We both know the road ahead has very few sharp corners, make it in ten."
********************
Jessie continued to listen as Bill and Debra, discussed her's and Toni's fate. She had been feigning sleep for the last half hour, even as Bill repeatedly fondled her breasts. A self-evaluation had told her that she was physically alright, although she noticed mild pain on the inside of her right elbow and the left side of her neck. She remembered having been shot with a dart of some kind and had managed to pull it out before everything went black.
Several quick mental exorcises reassured her that her mind was working, even though she couldn't place why her arm hurt except to guess that she had been hooked up to an IV. She knew she was suspended from the ceiling by ropes around her wrists, that she was more or less standing, and that her ankles were tied together and to something.
