Cat and Rat Chase

His scarred, second hand, boot slammed on the brake. His once very controlled mind slipped into a dream like state while driving on the busy road ways of Tyler Texas, and he did not realize that the car in front of him was slowing to a stop for a red light.

The twenty something year old man win arms covered in different tattoos, sighed and rubbed his close shaved head; his hand rolled down from the top of his head to the back of his tattooed neck. He swivled his head to give his stressed neck a small pop. As the crack of his neck was heard, he had yet another thought of the horrible day he had. 'Another day without finding a job. It's bad enough to have bills, but to have prison dues ... How could I let this happen?'

He knew very well the answer to that question, but the answer did not stop his wishing to reverse time and stop what he had done. All the trouble he had caused was finally crushing his life and there was no way out. In some way, life on the outside was more trouble than life inside an iron cage.

He had to distract his mind. He had to forget all the wishing and focus on the next goal. The calous hand turned on the radio. He hoped to find some comfortable rock music, but instead received a news report. He gave another sigh to disappointment as he listened to the radio report while rolling his eyes.

"News is circling around this supposed child murder. I think it is horrible, Jerry, that some sadistic nut out there is collecting children and doing the most horrible things to them."

"I know, Vic. You know that I have three daughters of my own and hearing this news about that Miller girl who was raped and mutelated, and she was only thirteen! I just can't bare the thought of getting a call from the police ... I just can't think about it."

The traffic light turned green, but the white van in front of the young man still sat in the exact same spot. He rolled his eyes and grunted. "Come on." He murmered to himself. His hand gently laid on the horn. "Come on!"

There was nothing surprising about the van; it was just a normal looking white service van with two back doors with light tinted back windows. The van bounced slightly as though the driver was moving around.

He sighed and waved his hand outside his already opened window while laying on the horn even harder. "Come on, man! We don't have all day!"

It was then that he caught some movement in the back of the van. A small, child-like, hand covered in blood slammed its palm on the window! Quickly, the face of a young girl appeared and leaned into the glass wall of the window! Her face was covered in blood and her blonde hair was soaked with either paint or motor oil!

He sat back into his seat with wide eyes; the sight caught him off guard. He stared at the girl as though she was a phantom vapor that appeared right in front of him.

She was crying and her dried lips mouthed out the words, "Help." She seemed weak, but was willing to fight to send out the message.

The man closed his eyes once and then opened them only a half second. Once he opened his eyes, the van was speeding along as though nothing happened. The face was gone, but the little girl's bloody hand print was still statined on the window.

The young man swallowed hard and shook his head. Cars honked loudly behind him and curse words flew through the air towards his open window. He threw his boot back down on the gas pedal and sped forward.

His mind searched for the right answer to all the questions that entered his mind. Was he crazy? If there was someone in the back of that van, what should he do? What is the first thing to do in a situation like this one?

The radio started to blare heavy rock music as struggled to pull his cheap cell phone from his pocket. While holding the cell phone, he placed his hand on the top of the steering wheel as he dialed the legendary numbers he thought, out of all people, would not dial. His thumb hit send and he quickly held the phone to his ear. A high pitched voice was heard on the other end of the line: "Hello, 911, what is your emergency?"

The young man kept his blue eyes on the back end of the van, which was only an inch away from his fender. "Yeah, there is this white van .... I think I just saw a kid in the back of it ... she is covered in blood and ... and ... I think she was abducted or something!" He stammered over his words, but he knew which ones to get out.

The high pitched voice on the other end started to whine in. "Sir, you need to calm down. What is your name?"

His first rule was going to be broken, don't tell your real name to the cops. "Ethan Blake. I'm on highway ..." He quickly turned his eyes to the street sign speeding past him. "... 64." His eyes darted to the lisences plate on the back end of the van. "The plate number is I V 5 0 8 Y ... I as in Ivan, V as in ... Van, 5 0 8, Y as in Yield!" He may have not have been the police officer that his parents always wanted him to be, but he knew what the police looked for and knew how to avoid all their tatics.

After reading off the plate numbers, his eyes darted to the stained window. The hand print sat there begging him to help.

The high pitched voice cut into his eardrum through his phone. "We are sending out some law enforcement. Please stay away from the vehicle." The line was then ended.

He pulled the phone away and looked at the screen. "Are you serious? You just hang up like that? Who the hell does that?"

He continued to drive behind the van, disobeying the high pitched voice. It could have been his past with the law, or it could have been his inner rebel, but Blake had little trust for police officers. "By the time they get out of a donut shop, this guy will be long gone." He knew what his next goal was: follow the van until he found a moment to stop it."

As he continued to follow the van, Blake decided to dial another number on his cell phone. He searched through the contacts to find a name, Bat. He selected the name and held the phone to his ear.

The phone rang a few times before the scratchy voice of deep voiced man was heard. "Rat? Is that you? When did you get out?"

"No time for that, Bat, I need your help. I'm trailing this guy and ..."

"Oh god, not another job. Dude, what did I tell you? I nearly got time for that last one."

"This isn't a job, you idiot, I think this guy in front of me kidnapped a kid ... she is covered in blood man!"

"Are you serious? Because you sound serious."

"I am very serious, Bat! I need your help!"

"If you are serious, then why don't you call the cops?"

"I did, and we all know how fast they work! I am currently right behind this guy and I know that I can stop him." He looked around the busy street with worried eyes. "I'm just waiting for a chance to do so."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Look up his plate number and tell me something about this van."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Blake sighed. "Look man, you owe me one! I took the fall for the entire team, so the least you can do is look up one little plate number."

"Alright! Alright, I'll do it." The sound of a key board filled the phone's speaker. "What is the number."

Blake repeated the number to the man named Bat.

The key board sounded again, like plastic chimes of aide. "Okay, the van is issued to a nursing home, New Hope Nursing to be exact. I am looking up the car insurance on the vehicle."

Blake widened his eyes on the window. "Hold on." He whispered to the little girl to give some sort of hope to either himself or her.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Did you find anything?"

"The van's insurance only has three drivers issued to it. Grant Harris. Edward Lewis and Mathew Willard."

"Any OnStar accounts or anything on it that we could track?"

"None that I can see on the charts. This is serious isn't it?"

"Thanks Bat, I'll call you later." With ease, he hit the end call button and narrowed his vision on the van. The back of his head read out maps of the highways of the city and he knew very well that they soon were going to be out of town and into the country. He needed to do something and something quick.

His eyes lit up with an idea. His thumbs scrolled through the names on his cell phone to find another contact: Detective Robert Sharp.

He held the phone to his ear, now realizing that he must be crazy to call the very same detective that arrested him.

"Detective Sharp." Answered a very gruff voice.

"Sharp, this is Blake, I am in a sticky situation ..."

"Blake? Ethan Blake? Why are you calling my phone?"

"Listen you idiot! I am following a van that has a kid covered in blood in the back seat."

"Oh ... let me guess, you want me to track it down?" Sharp said in a sarcastic voice.

"Yeah!"

"While you take care of another job?"

"What?" He felt his heart beat harder in his chest with anger. "No!"

"Kinda like when you sent me and my team on a goose chase to find a mysterious black van while you were holding up the National Bank?"

"No! Sharp this is ..."

"Or the time you made a fake notion of a bomb threat in a school to buy time in that jewlery store?"

"Robert! I know I did those things, but I need you to listen to me now! This is serious!" His face twisted with rage.

"So, I take it that you were that caller earlier?"

"Yeah ... I was." He said, fearing what Sharp was about to say.

"Good to know. Thanks for calling." The line ended.

Even though the phone was silent, Blake held the phone to his ear with rage on his face. All of his crimes ... All of his lies were going to kill a little girl. Her only hope resided in the people that he once ran from and now they were not going to help her only because of his mis-leading past.

His mind began to drift, trying to search for a new answer. He was too busy searching for the right answers that he did not notice the van's stop lights light up. He did not sense the van slowing harshly to a stop! Without any chance to react, Blake's car slammed right into the rear end of the van! Blake flew forward, his cell phone flew out of his hands, his head smacked against the steering wheel! In the sudden rush, Blake's air bag deployed and slammed against his face! Dust flew from the deployed safety bag! He felt his collar bone shatter against the seat belt! The car spun out of control and slid into the parking lot of a bank!

After a moment of his daze and haze, Blake lifted his crashed head out of the safety bag and rolled around. He moaned as he tasted the blood running out of his broken nose. He was seeing double. Blake slowly turned to see the van's tires squeel. Smoke flew into the air behind the van as it spun away. As Blake saw the blurry van fly away, he saw one last glimps of the little girl's face in the back window. Just a white face covered in blood and filled with fear.

His hand felt for the car door handle and pulled on it. The door hestitantly opened. He unbuckled his seat belt and rolled out onto the concrete ground of the parking lot. He felt the sheering pain of his shattered collar bone. He groaned in pain as he laid on the ground. "Come on Rat! Come ... on." He encouraged himself. With great motivation, Blake pushed himself up to his staggering feet and leaned against his ruined car.

He looked around at the front doors of the bank. People stood in a daze, staring at him as though he were an alien. He tried to ask for their help, but all that came out of his mouth was murmmering. He turned and pointed to the van, which was now turning into just a white blimish on the road. It was that sudden moment that Blake realized that time was running out. His hazy mind searched for an answer. It could have been the blow he recieved to his head, or it could have been the pressure of the ticking clock, but Blake's mind ran to the only thing he knew how to do ... the only thing he was good at.

He turned to the inside of his car and saw his cell phone laying on the floor board. His shaking hand grabbed the phone and he charged towards the front of the parking lot. His eyes spotted a red brand new Dodge Charger sitting in the reserved parking spot for the president of the bank. He ran over to the driver's side of the car. His hands quickly removed his belt. Using his belt like a whip, the experienced car thief slammed the belt buckle into the glass window of the car, causing the wall of glass to shatter. The car alarm buzzed loudly. He reached inside and unlocked the car doors while he threw the belt to the side.

Once inside the car, he looked up to the rear view mirror. There, sitting on the side, was the blue OnStar button that he once longed to never see. He immediatly jumped into the glass covered seat and went to work on the wires under the steering wheel. True, he had never stolen a Charger before, but to his mind, every car was the same.

He rubbed the two wires together; with a spark the car engine roared alive. He closed the car door and slammed the gear into reverse. He was slightly amazed that the same people that saw him crash were still watching him as he stole a car right in front of them.

He pushed the gear into drive and slammed his work boot onto the gas pedal. He zoomed in and out of traffic wildly trying to find the trail of the van. Finally, he saw the van turn off the highway loop and onto another highway leading out of town. Without signaling, Blake turned onto the road and sped up to meet the back end of the dented van. The hand print waved to him to return.

He pulled up his cell phone with a slight grin. His fingers searched the contacts to find the sarcastic detective's number. He hit send as he sped up to ninety miles. He held the phone to his ear.

"Detective Sharp."

"Hey Sharp."

"Blake? Is that you again? What do you want this time?"

"I just stole a Dodge Charger with OnStar plugged in. It is the National Bank president's car. Maybe I am lying, and maybe ... just maybe I am telling the truth for once in my life. Either way, I can garuntee that if you trace this OnStar account, you will find that the car is indeed stolen and you can find it."

"Jesus, Blake. What the hell are you talking about?"

Blake drove into the second lane beside the van and sped faster, pushing the car to full speed. "I know you and I have been playing this cat and mouse game for years and I have pulled some major shit in my day, but out of all I have done ... Out of all things I stole, there is one rule I do not take for granted ..."

He sped past the van, giving himself and the van five miles apart. Once he saw this space, Blake quickly turned the car to face the van. He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

The van's driver swerved to miss him, but Blake swerved to get back in front of him. Back and forth the two vehicles danced.

"... The one thing I would never do is harm an innocent life. You and I both know that. Track the car. We are on highway 110. You might want to get here as soon as possible and bring some medical aid ..." His conversation was cut off as the two vehicles collided into a whirlwind of glass, metal and smoke! Blake slammed his head against the steering wheel as the car's rear lifted into the air! All went black.

The smell of medical drugs and alcohol made Blake open his blury eyes. He could not move his head or neck due to a neck brace. He looked up to the ceiling of an ambulance van. He licked his blood covered lips and looked out of the corner of his eye to see an ambulance medic sitting beside him, checking on the I.V drip that was hooking into his right tattooed arm.

He slowly turned his attention to the other side of him. There, laying on another gurney like his was a thirteen year old girl. Her mouth and nose was covered by a plastic breathing mask and her arms were wrapped in gause. Her blonde hair was still covered in some sort of black liquid. She was looking at him with weak blue eyes. Even though there was fog covering the mask from her breath, Blake could see a faint smile on her face.

He gave a weak corner grin. "What ... What is you name?"

She said something, but Blake could not hear.

"What?" He asked.

She slowly lifted her left wrapped arm and removed the mask. She was truly a beautiful girl. Her skin was fair and even though her lips were white and dry, Blake could see that they were full. "Catylin. My name is Catylin." She said in a sweet weak voice.