Forever? (Chapter 1)

You know how it happens? You're standing there, just minding your own business, and suddenly, wham, you're there...like THERE? Y'know, where you can't ever lose...it's like the final kick of the World Cup, it always goes in. Ya know what I mean? Ya think it's real? Well, listen to me and make your own mind up then...

It all started ten years ago, I was working part-time at a drive in down in Paris, in Texas. A bit outside the city, the seedy part of town, all the guys with their girls would come down, if ya get my drift? So anyway, yeah. I was workin' down there, fell in with a bunch of friends, we planned to give the boss a 'we quit' letter and hit the road. We'd known each other since grade school, we were best friends. None of us had any convictions, we were all model workers and people. Not a single ticket between five of us. So we sat down one night in the bar across town, drafted the letter...it took till 3am, and after eight or nine pints, every letter looks the same. We came to sign it, all five of us.

There's me, Jimmy, the James Dean lookalike, y'know, the sunglasses, jacket, jeans, shoes...and the car. A '65 convertible Mustang. Black, tuned to go 185 tops. I never take it that far, not even on track days. Yeah. I go to track days when I have time off from the drive in. My uncle works as a flagman at one of the big speedways out East, don't ask me which one.

Then there's Mick, the guy who, despite looking like a boxer, never hit anyone. Everyone was always saying 'Ey Mickey, get in da ring', but he just carries right on working. Never missed a day in 15 years till we all quit. Y'know, it's funny, but here we are down in Texas, everyone wearing cowboy hats and shooting stuff, and he was advocating we go around unarmed and wearing whatever we want.

Then there's Vinny. Now with a name like that, ya'd think trouble, right? Wrong. Vinny and I are the closest out of teh whole bunch, we're like brothers. I remember this one time we both had our eye on this girl, and we agreed that whoever beat the other at cards could win...Well, cut a long story short, the cards weren't needed, the girl went with Al. They were happy together till she got a job out of town, haven't heard from her since

Ah, Al...what to say about him, the brains of the 5 of us. He knows how to get what we need. He's the intelligent one, dark-skinned, almost Native in his looks. He's got a quick hand and a quicker mind. Al isn't short for Alphonse, it's just Al. And he won't be called anything else.

Then there's Davey, the guy who came into grade school late, he bonded with us pretty damn quick. He's a great joker and can laugh about anything and everything.

So, we'd signed it, and took it to the boss, he sighed, looked us over and said, and I qoute, (And imagine this in a deep Texas accent) 'Are you sure you wanna go boys, I mean, you've done us a shedload of service the past 10 years?' I smiled, said to the boss that we wanted to leave, and we walked out of there.

So there we were, heading out of state towards Nebraska, it was gonna be a long and boring drive. That's when I noticed the black car following us. I didn't think much of it at first, after all, it's a long highway and you regularly get people following you, yeah? Anyway, we pulled off into the next town to get a bite to eat and a room, and while we were there, we read about this chance of a lifetime offer, a chance for five people to take the trip of a lifetime. I'm not saying what it was, as it's too painful to recall. But anyway, we signed up for it there and then. After all, we'd got over a thousand dollars in the bank, $600 in severance funds there and then, with a further $1500 in the bank by the next morning. We got a room, the night was uneventful, apart from a couple next door testing the bedsprings. So Vinny went and knocked on the door and asked 'em to keep it down. Give 'em credit, they did. So we paid up and left, got back on the road again. Nothing much happened till we reached Omaha, Nebraska. As we drove in, Vinny remarked that this was the place where SAC was stationed, so if anyone decided to attack, we were, quite frankly, screwed. Same routine as last time, we got a room, decided to check out the nightlife. So we ended up in this bar, these tough guys playing pool. Mick was playing this drunk guy who kept trash-talking him. Anyway, it came down to the 8-ball, and Mick got, by all accounts, a fluke shot. Now the drunk guy wasn't happy. The bartender stepped in and told the guy that Mick won. We paid up and left, not wanting a fight, as we were walking back to our rooms, we heard a single shot, and a stream of curses, something along the lines of '*("!£&(*!&*( pool game!' We kept walking thinking nothing of it, then Mick collapsed, just went down like a sack of potatoes. We called 911, the EMTs arrived, but they couldn't do anything. The cops quickly got the guy, tried him, he is in jail now for murder. But that didn't ease our pain. We stayed around for the funeral, then hightailed it out of town.

We didn't know where to go, the four of us now, just hitting the road and going anywhere. So we ended up in Idaho, near Boise. We decided to go to a diner for dinner. Not the fake, cheap diners, the real deal. You know, the old smoky ones where the food tates of cigars as much as the cooking, the waitresses flirt shamelessly with the customers (That must be an Idaho thing....no offense anyone from Idaho). So we decided to take it easy and relax for a bit. We ordered, and ate quietly, still upset about Mick's death. We got back and were in high spirits, nothing bad had happened. We all agreed to rent cars for the day. Nothing too flashy. Anyway, we were driving up in the hills when I saw one car go off the road. We were all good drivers. I thought nothing of it till I saw the smoke above the treetops. We all stopped and raced over to a burned out 69 Charger. I knew instantly Vinny was dead. That left three of us.

We regrouped again and hit the road to Sacramento, CA. The Sunshine state. But our mood was anything but sunny. There were 3 of us left. Me, Davey and Al. We debated what to do before booking into a hotel on the respectable side of town. That's when it all started to unravel...

First Al wound up dead after going to get some food, embroiled in a shootout between gangs. Then Davey was the victim of a hit-and-run accident. Well, less accident, more murder. These two know-it-alls were street racing their riced up Japanese shoeboxes on wheels, and they were drag racing. The cops got them soon afterwards. That left just me.

For weeks I prayed that I'd be reunited with them in heaven. I tried everything bar guns to join them. Then in a strange way, I was. It was two weeks after the funeral, when I got a letter from the boss of the company down in Texas, it said, and I quote 'I asked you if you wanted to quit...don't you see it now?' I was angry and hurt. I wanted so badly to harm the boss for robbing me of my friends, of my surrogate family. I snapped. I bought a gun, filed the serial number off carefully, bought, stole, borrowed all the ammo I could get my hands on and got a cab to the office where I'd walked out years ago.

Nothing had changed, except me. I walked in, without so much as a glance. I knew the boss had a security system that would result in me being arrested before I got the gun out of my jacket.

The boss walked to his car, and then I saw my chance. I got in the passenger seat, and put the gun to his head. I'm not proud of what I did next. I yelled at him to drive out to the woods. Which he did. I then put the gun against his head and pulled the trigger until the 15 round clip was empty. "You bastard," I spat, "Three slugs for each of us" I hissed. I took his wallet and ID, and threw them in the river, then pushed the car down there. I put the gun in his hand to make it look like a suicide, then hightailed it out of there.

How did I escape? Well....it was simple. I hid in Canada until the heat had died down. Stupid really. Stupid, but effective. Why am I not in jail? I cut a deal. I turned sleuth and found out that the boss routinely ordered the 'disappearence' of people who quit his company.