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“The second cop just got in his car,” Tracy said with alarm.

“Meredith, grab the binoculars and see if there are other people in those cars,” BT told her, clutching the microphone. Any harder and he was going to have a handful of plasticized dust.

It was a stand-off at the moment, Tracy and Meredith’s cars versus the two cop cars.

“Twice in one day, to what do I owe this honor,” a slightly out of breath Ron asked.

“Got some issues Ron. We’re about an hour and a half away from the homestead and we’ve come up on a roadblock.” “Military?” Ron asked.

“I wish, cops or at least guys pretending to be cops. They have the cars and they have the uniforms but it doesn’t feel right.” “Dad,” Meredith said loudly. We just got off of 95 at Augusta and we’re on Route 3.” “I know where you’re at honey. Listen BT, that’s a great place for an ambush, there’s nowhere to turn off. Have they seen you?” “That would be an affirmative,” BT said.

“Okay, how far away are you from them?” “Quarter mile tops, and they’ve both entered their cars, so by the time we whip a U-turn and get out of here, they’ll be right on us. And to make it even funner, they look like they’re driving the old school 442 Interceptors, we can’t outrun them,” “Why would we want to outrun the cops?” Angel asked BT.

“Ryan, get your sister’s seatbelt back on, please,” Tracy requested quietly.

“Come on sis. Sit back down.” Angel fidgeted and squirmed but finally acquiesced to her older brother.

“This is so cool, we’re going to run from the cops,” Sty said with a glint in his eye.

“Shut up you idiot,” Ryan said as he punched his friend in the arm.

“You’re on a straightaway BT, they did it on purpose,” Ron said. “My suggestion is to go straight at them. I’ll get in my truck now and head your way. With the speeds we’re going to be going you only need to hold them off for forty minutes before some help gets there.” “That might be thirty-nine minutes too late. They’re rolling, Ron.” BT said softly.

“I’m leaving now,” Ron said. “I have a radio in the truck, stay in touch, tell Meredith to stay on Route 3 even when she gets to the Route 1 turn off. Let’s see if we can give these assholes something to think about. Out.” “You hear that, right?” BT asked Meredith. She nodded. “Glad you came now?”

“Not so much,” Meredith told him honestly.

BT turned to Tracy. Her knuckles were glowing stark white on the steering wheel. “ Tracy ,” BT said. She turned towards him. “When they get within a hundred feet or so, I’m going to give you the signal to go. Once we get past them, I’m going to have you stay in the lead and Maria Andretti here,” he said tapping Meredith on the shoulder, “is going to stay between you and the cruisers. You got that?” Tracy nodded imperceptibly. “Just stay on Route 3, don’t slow down for anything. If anything happens to us you keep going, you understand? You keep those kids safe.” Tracy ’s face nearly matched her knuckles. “This might be nothing,” “Do you believe that?” Tracy asked BT.

“Not at all,” he answered.

The two cop cars rolled to a halt within a hundred or so yards from Meredith and Tracy. “Citizens. this is Officer Gibson of the Portland Police Department, I am going to need to have all of the occupants of those two cars exit and lay flat down on the pavement,” the authoritative voice issued forth from the megaphone mounted under the hood.

“I can see the barrels of a couple of rifles in the first car,” Meredith whispered. “It’s like they’re hiding or something.” “I’m pretty sure they can’t hear you,” BT said. “But on a worse note, only people that are doing something wrong need to hide.” “Citizens,” Officer Gibson’s voice said again. “Flash your headlights if you heard and understand my instructions.” Meredith looked over to BT. He nodded. Anything that bought them a few extra moments was fine. She flipped her headlights on, as did Tracy .

The first car crept up another hundred yards. ‘Officer Gibson’ stepped out, the car microphone still in hand. “Red Subaru, I want you and your occupants to exit first. Slowly,” he added.

Tracy looked over to BT. He nodded in the negative.

“NOW!” Officer Gibson shouted through the megaphone.

BT got out of Meredith’s car, puffing himself as large as possible trying to impose fear. It worked. Officer Gibson took an involuntary step back and placed his hand on the hilt of his holstered weapon.

“I said the Subaru first,” the officer said sharply.

“Yeah, they aren’t much in a complying mood!” BT shouted.

“This isn’t a request!” the officer shouted, putting his microphone down. “We are the law!” BT laughed. “Where have you been, man! There IS no law!”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” the cop shouted in warning.

“And then what? You gonna take the law into your own hands?” BT mocked him.

“This is a checkpoint and we are authorized to search every car that comes this way.”

“Then I can solve all of our problems, we’ll just turn around and you can search the next citizen that comes along!” “I’m not going to tell you again, NIGGER, get your ass on the pavement.” “Go fuck yourself pig wannabe,” BT answered, remarkably calm. “I think that went well,” BT told Meredith as he reentered the car.

Meredith’s eyes were huge. BT was under the impression she didn’t think it went quite as spectacularly.

“You ready Tracy?” BT turned and asked her.

“Kids, you keep your heads down,” she said, staring at each one of them until they gave her a sign that they would do what she asked.

“Meredith when I tell you, I want you to head right for the illustrious Officer Gibson and hopefully we’ll get lucky.” "You… you want me to hit him?"

"Oh no hon, I want you to run his cracker ass over," BT told her with a smile on his face.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"First things first. GO!" He shouted at Meredith and Tracy simultaneously.

The rear tires on the truck momentarily spun in place before leaving black skids. Tracy 's Subaru struggled to meet the initial thrust of Meredith's truck. Meredith started to creep over to the right to avoid the cop car. "Hit him Meredith," BT said calmly.

Officer Gibson was a doughnut away from becoming road kill. As it was, he was fairly certain his ankle had been shattered as the giant’s girlfriend's car slammed into his door and slammed it into his leg as he dove in a futile attempt to get out of the way.

“FUCK!” Officer Gibson shouted.

“You all right Aaron?” the lone male occupant in the back of the car asked, sitting up.

Gun shots rang out as the two cars sped past the idling cruisers.

“I think my damn ankle is broken,” Officer Gibson gritted out through his teeth as he plowed through the contents of his middle console. He found the prescription bottle he was searching for and immediately downed three Oxycontins, courtesy of the last car they had pulled over. The occupants of that ill-fated voyage now found themselves lying face down in the grass not a mile from this exact location. The bitch had wailed when Officer Gibson had taken her pills, something about chronic back pain. ‘Yeah, well, now you’ve got chronic face pain,’ he’d said as he drilled her hard in the face with a right hook. The four men he was with had all laughed as Mrs. Pinchant fell to the ground, blood flowing profusely from her split lip and the gap where her tooth used to reside. Her husband cried equally as hard after the third member of the rogue police force lined up and punted his balls up into his sternum. After Mr. Pinchant died from the blunt force trauma, the men proceeded to piss on his body.