Molly shook the officer’s hands. They politely touched the brim of the hats and nodded. Half way to the truck she waved once more. Molly climbed back inside beside Doug with the strangest expression, somewhere between relief and nervousness. Doug gave up trying to decipher it. One of the State cruisers pulled around in front of them. The first remained behind them, lights blazing.
“Gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
“Apparently one of the contractors spilled his guts last night. Word’s getting around that we’re on a mission…” Doug cut her off, as he started the truck.
“Mission from God?”
“You might say that.”
“It’s a hundred and six miles to Chicago,” he quoted a line from an old movie, “we’ve got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, its dark and we’re wearing sunglasses.”
The State cops escorted Doug and Molly as far as the Illinois state line. They pulled to the side of the road. The cop that had first pulled them over told how he had a son that had just enlisted in the Army, and that he had no interest in seeing his only son go off to war. They couldn’t guarantee anything past the Wisconsin line, but Doug and Molly were grateful for having seen them this far. As they crossed into Illinois they had no way of knowing that Waverly and his teams were already tracking them from the moment they were pulled over outside of Milwaukee. Waverly and his men were waiting for them, and they didn’t have to wait long.
Doug and Molly failed to notice the two white Yukon Denalis parked at an onramp. Doug was lost in the rightwing drumbeat to war on the radio. In between the hysterical outrage and knee-jerk foolishness, the news was filled with anecdotes of war preparations and protests around the world. Wars are a product of building tension in the minds and souls of each individual. The tension that is built is not easily dissipated, and is most easily dissipated in the violent predisposition of the human animal. It was a lesson those who have been to war understand, and a lesson Doug had seen again and again.
It was Molly who noticed the Yukons coming up quickly behind them, running side by side. She knew in an instant and had a sinking feeling things were about to take a very bad turn. She drew her pistol and pulled the slide back to chamber a round. Doug looked over sharply.
“We’re being followed,” she said.
Doug checked the mirror and shook his head. “These guys don’t give up, huh?”
“Still think we can pull this off.”
“Do we have a choice any longer?” he replied.
She checked the mirror again. The Yukons were looming, almost upon them now. There could be no doubt about their intention.“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
“For history.”
“And if no one ever hears?”
Doug pushed the gas pedal down hard, briefly putting space between them and the Yukons. “For my girls, and for my soul.”
“Worth dying over?” she asked.
“Can’t think of a better purpose.”
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