Getting Away From It All (2)

Getting Away From It All (2) [part 2 of 2]
By: Just Plain Bob (rdavis9607@msn.com)

Franks and Mason walked me out to their car and put me in the back. Franks got in on the driver's side and Mason took the shotgun seat and then turned to me and said:

"What the fuck did you come back for? We gave up looking for you a year ago."

"Just stupid I guess" I said and then I turned my head and looked out the window. "Just stupid" pretty much summed it up. I had loved the bitch and the entire time I ran around the country she was never very far from my mind. I let that love beat down my common sense when Sheila came down to Georgia to see me. I believed what she told me because I wanted to believe it. I wanted what she was telling me to be true. She had played me for a sucker again. What was the old saying? "Fuck me once and shame on you. Fuck me twice and shame on me?" There would be no third time. The smile on her face as she and Ron stood there and watched me be handcuffed had driven any vestiges of love that I'd had for her to hell in a hand basket. I meant what I had said to them. Run far, far away, because sooner or later I would find them and only God would be able to help them when I did.

We drove to the end of the block, turned right and hadn't gone two blocks when the police radio squawked and said there was a robbery in progress at 1763 Clairmont and there was an officer down.

"Shit" Franks exclaimed, "That's just two blocks away" and he hit a switch to turn on his light bar.

"We can't answer the call" Mason said, "We are transporting a prisoner."

"Fuck department policy" Franks snarled, "There is cop down and as far as I'm concerned that takes priority."

He cut the wheel hard to make a fast left turn onto Taylor and ran head on into the front end of a truck that was double parked while it was being unloaded. I was tossed forward, but I got my forearms up in time for them to take the hit from the mesh screen that separated the front of the car from the back, but Franks and Mason weren't as lucky. Both of them had gone forward and their heads had hit the windshield.

I shook my head to clear it and then noticed that the crash had sprung the rear door on the passenger side. I kicked it open, staggered out onto the street and turned to run. This was my old neighborhood and if I could get quickly out of sight I could get away. I'd worry about the cuffs later. I hadn't gone five steps when I heard a "whomp!' and I turned back to see the car on fire. "Fuck me!" I cried out. I didn't have a choice. I ran back to the car, pulled Franks out and got him clear and then ran around to the other side and got Mason out.

I quickly searched Mason's pockets until I found the cuff keys and then I turned and ran. As soon as I was out of sight I ducked into an alley and got the cuffs off and was about to toss them on the ground when I had a thought. I put them in my pocket and took off running for my old home. On the way I prayed that they had not had my truck towed. I was going to need the money in my lock box.

When I got to the house I saw that the truck was still out front and I ran around to the back and looked in my old ?hidey-hole' for my spare house keys and found that they were still there. I unlocked the side door of the detached three car garage and went inside. Sheila's car was there, but the other two bays were empty. A quick look around showed that it didn't look like Sheila had done anything with my tools and other things. All she ever did garage-wise before I split was park her car in it and it looked like she hadn't changed.

I quietly opened the bay door and hurried out to my truck. Franks and Mason hadn't made me empty out my pockets so I still had my keys. I started the truck, pulled it into the garage and closed the door. I gambled that they would never look for me there. I was hoping they would show up, see the truck gone and figure that I was running for the state line and parts unknown.

I got the flashlight out of the glove box and shielding the light I looked through the garage. It looked as if I had been right in my assumption that Sheila hadn't done a thing in the garage since I'd left. There was a heavy layer of dust on everything. The tool box hadn't been moved. I opened the bottom drawer of the bottom box and took out a 16" pinch bar. The flammables cabinet was my next stop and I grabbed the quart can of muriatic acid that I had used for cleaning the bricks of the fireplace and then I headed for the house. I was betting that Sheila and Ron were celebrating their "victory" over me in the bedroom. I used the house key from the ?hidey-hole' to let myself into the house.

I moved as quietly as I could up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom. Ron was pounding Sheila and she had her legs hooked behind him and was moaning "Fuck me, fuck me" when I entered the room. Neither one noticed me as I approached the bed. I swung the pinch bar and hit Ron on the left side of his head and Sheila cried out "What?" as Ron fell and laid limply on her. She didn't see me until I grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him off of her. As soon as she saw me she screamed and tried to get off the bed, but I fell on her with both knees and drove the wind out of her. Before she could recover I had her handcuffed to the bedpost. I found her panties were she had dropped them on the floor and I wadded them up and stuffed them in her mouth.

I walked over to Ron who was lying on the floor moaning and I went to work on his right knee with the pinch bar. He screamed as I turned his knee into mush and then I went to work on his crotch. I gave him twelve hard shots to his stones while Sheila screamed into her panties. When I finished I tossed the pinch bar aside, looked at Sheila and said:

"You should have listened to me. I told you to start running. If you had listened to me you would have been gone when I got here and none of this would have happened, at least not tonight."

She was sobbing as I walked over to her. "You couldn't let it be, could you? You and Ron fucked over me and I got back at you, but you couldn't just say, "Okay, he got back at us and I guess we are even" and let it go. Oh no, not you. You just had to fuck with me some more. Now you are going to have to pay for it. All it cost you last time was some money. This time it will cost you some pain."

Her eyes were begging me to not do anything and if it had not been for that smile as I was being cuffed I might have backed off, but because of that smile there was no mercy in my heart.

"I don't think old Ron there is going to be much use to you any more after what I just did to the family jewels, but a good looking babe like you shouldn't have any trouble getting a cock to play with, right? But what if you weren't a good looking babe? What if a quart of acid ate that beautiful face away?"

I walked over to where I'd set down the can of acid when I'd walked into the room. I walked back over to Sheila, pulled the panties out of her mouth, took the cap off the can and passed it under her nose.

"Even smells evil doesn't it?"

She sobbed out "No, oh God no. Please don't do that to me, please don't."

"Keep talking Sheila. You do have the gift of gab. You did get me to come back up here when I swore to myself that I would never trust you again. Let us read the label on this can together shall we?"

I held the can up in front of her. "See where it says that it contains 31.45% hydrochloric acid? That's some bad shit. Look at the warning. DANGER! POISON! Causes severe burns. Vapor is harmful. May be fatal if swallowed. May cause blindness if splashed in eyes. It sounds like it is going to hurt you."

"No no no Rob, please God no. I'm sorry. I didn't want to do it, but Ron made me. I love you Rob, honest to God I do. Ron made me do it. I swear to God that Ron made me do it.""

"Did he also make you stand there and smile as they cuffed me? You wanted me back Sheila. You came all the way down to Georgia to beg me to come back. Well here I am Sheila. Aren't you glad now that you talked me into coming home to you?"

I grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her head back and poured the acid all over her face as she screamed and screamed and screamed.

I tossed the empty can aside and went downstairs. I picked up the phone and called 911. When the phone was answered I said,

"I just came home unexpectedly and caught my wife and her lover in my bed. I fucked them up pretty bad."

I gave the address and told them they should hurry. She gave me the song and dance about not leaving the scene and they would get someone there as soon as possible.

"Sorry" I said, "But as soon as I hang up I'm getting the hell out of town."

I watched from the garage as an ambulance and two cop cars pulled up and I watched as the paramedics hauled Sheila and Ron away. The cops walked around, but luckily they didn't come to the garage. The cops were there for another half hour or so and then they left. I waited an hour to make sure everyone was gone and that no one came back and then I got to work. I took the camper shell off the truck and then I took the plates off the truck and put them under the front seat. I took the plates off of Sheila's car and put them on the truck. It wasn't much in the way of a disguise, but I was winging it.

I doubted that Franks and Mason had spent any time checking out my truck. They wanted me and I was inside. At best they might have made a note for their report that it was a 2002 blue Chevy Silverado with a white camper shell and they may have jotted down the plate number. With any kind of luck they were in a hospital emergency room somewhere being checked out. Even if they weren't and they described the truck and gave out the plate number the plate number had been changed and the camper shell was gone and there were a hundred thousand blue Silverado's on the road.

I went out the garage side door and checked the street and it was clear in both directions. I pulled the truck out of the garage, closed and locked all the doors and returned the keys to their hiding place. Never know, they might come in handy again some time. As I turned on the street I wondered where to head. It was apple picking time in Washington and Oregon and the melons would be ready to pick in Colorado. Decisions, decisions. I pointed the truck west and crossed my fingers and hoped my luck would hold. I would decide where to go when I had some miles behind me.