Chapter 25: All Fired Up

Author: Stephen Keaton
Date: 28th October 1997

Uncle Len, Trudee, Mikka, Patrick, Van Slooten, the two ugly dudes . . . the characters spinning around and not finding a suitable landing space in the confused airport of Erica's brain.

Suddenly that particular brain was compressed into the front of her skull as the tour bus screeched to a halt. Erica was in an aisle seat, so she could see what had happened. The downside to the bus trip so far had been the reality of sitting next to a fifty year old gentleman who suffered from chronic halitosis and mild flatulence.

Leaning out into the aisle Erica looked to see what the disturbance was. One of the evil-looking men from the evil-looking car had boarded the bus and was waiving a rather large caliber pistol in the bus driver's face. The other evil looking man was scanning the passengers as he strode purposefully up the aisle.

"Holy shit fuck shit," Erica cursed repeatedly under her breath.

"How the hell did they find me?" she wondered. She didn't have to wonder too long as she saw her chance for escape. The evil looking guy turned around momentarily and Erica propelled herself out of her seat and launched down the aisle. She had planned to scream really loudly and then escape in the distraction, but fate played a hand. As the surprised Evil Guy #1 turned around, he slipped on a recently discarded bottle of Reef Oil and fell over, cracking his head on the open Free Willy 2 videocasette.

Sustaining an enormous rush of adrenaline, Erica used the now dead evil guy as a human shield. This was very appropriate as the remaining bad dude brought up his arm and started pumping hot lead into anything that moved. Loud screams started to perforate Erica's eardrums. Warm and sticky blood started appearing in large quantities as some of the bullets found their mark among the passengers.

Now the involvement of the innocent was bad enough, but this guy was really pushing the shit wheelbarrow by killing innocents in such as disrespectful manner. This pissed Erica off. Roaring like a wounded boar and still holding the now bullet-ridden ex bad dude, she grabbed his gun arm and swung it up in an arc. Pumping for all she was worth, Erica fired the dead man's gun repeatedly until she had emptied the cartridge.

After the smoke had cleared and the screaming had died down, Erica could see that her aim had been true and the other bad man now resembled a particularly violent surrealist painting on the windscreen of the bus.

Looking around, Erica saw carnage and smelled hurriedly executed bowel movements all around her. She dumped the body she had been using as a shield and ran down the aisle and out of the bus.

"Thank you Erica." A oddly familiar voice exhaled.

Erica spun on her heel to turn in the direction of the voice. She spun too hard and lost her footing. The end result of this complicated manoeuvre was Erica found herself lying on the road just in front of the bus with a twisted ankle looking directly at a pair of cheap cowboy boots.

"I'm glad that we have finally met Erica. Oh and thank you for disposing of my two associates. Now I don't have to pay them."

Erica looked up into the face of a gnarled old man who spoke in a creepy Finnish accent.

The old man extended his hand.

"My name is Anttilanien."