'OZNOG' Excerpt 2

The following is a working piece from my upcoming book, 'oZnog: Occupy Wall Street and the Odyssey of an Outlaw Pen,' so let me know what you think!

“That plane took off from behind us, didn’t it?” I asked, checking the time again.

 

“Yep,” Eric casually mentioned. “This is the f*****g Bermuda Triangle of highways. Hold on…”

 

Bonney checked his mirror and clutched the steering wheel. He slammed the brake pedal to the floor, cut the wheel and cackled like the Wicked Witch as the three thousand pound machine catapulted across the grass divider on Interstate 10. We sailed into two lanes of smoke and nearly empty highway. As we landed, he smashed the accelerator, screeching the tires on impact. Eric cut the wheel the other way, forcing the car to list dangerously to the right. We nearly skidded right off the road.

 

“Is that your plane?” he asked, easy as a New Orleans sunrise.

 

“Could be,” I stammered. “It says US Airlines on it, right? They all look the same to me.” Everything looked the same to me �" black �" until the blood started flowing back to my eyes. “Looks like that one’s leaving the gate.”

 

“I could bust the fence, cross the runway. Probably have you meet it before takeoff. You got your passport ready? Shoes off?”

 

Eric’s devilish smile dared me to test his conviction.

 

“Jesus dude, what do you think this is, the Seventies? Just pull me up to the front door, nice and slow. And watch out for the convoy of State Troopers sure to be following you after that.”

“You said you had a plane to catch! It’s called efficiency,” he countered. We continued down Airport Road in a moment of disappointed silence.

 

“It’s not efficient if we’re dead,” I felt the need to point out. “Then I’ll never get them to exchange this ticket. I’m sure there is another plane flying to New York. Besides, this’ll give me time to clear my mind.”

 

“Whatever happened to this country?” Bonney broke the seal on another bottle of Tussin and chugged it, shaking his head violently. Barely enough was left in the bottle to wash down those mysterious yellow pills. “Whoa! Alright, front door it is.”

 

We rolled up without any official trouble. With any luck at all, the police were fully unaware as to the subject of our actions these past four days. Truthfully, we still might not have been a blip on their radar. The Big Easy draws thousands of Eric’s type; in a way it exists for them, those who carry that rare genetic disorder which only allows their engines to run on pure freedom.

 

He struggled to breathe in our shrinking world. I imagine a prison sentence of any real length would cause a quick and ugly asphyxiation. Barring that or some horrible, drug-induced accident, know one really knows this breed’s lifespan in the wild; no one has ever seen it before. Even under the fragile captivity of society, they’re one hell of a thing to behold.

 

I waved goodbye to Bonney as he sped off, looking back out the driver’s-side window -- smiling. He stuck out his middle finger in return, turning just in time to swerve past an oncoming taxi. The finger stayed up as far as I could see him, fishtailing onto the freeway and heading off to no-where in particular.