Error

by Ásgrímur Hartmannsson

Chapter 20

'Error' synopsis

One day, Jonas, who has recently migrated to the city, discovers that all his records — including his assets — have been erased somehow. No longer able to get work, buy anything on credit or sell his now legally non-existent car, his life becomes a unique adventure.

“Great,” said Eddy in an annoyed tone. “First we almost burn to death, then the cops show up,”

Frank looked out a window at the scene on the lot. “It’s not the SWAT, just ordinary cops.”

“Good, I think. I’m starving,” said Jonas.

“What do you mean?” asked Eddy.

“If it was SWAT,” Jonas explained, “they would surround the building and keep us inside until we got bored and came out. It’s their tactic.”

“Aha?” said Eddy.

“Let’s beat ’em up,” said Rick, and continued down the stairs.

The police had surrounded the building and were guarding every exit while a small team prepared to move in through the front door.

Rick hid behind a corner and waited for them to come in, so he might take a swing at them with his sledge.

They came running in, six of them at once, and spread around the hall. Two came Rick’s way, and as they rounded the corner, he took a swing at them, surprising them completely, felling one of them to the floor. The other got a hold on Rick’s sledge, but Rick gave him a couple of good kicks, and the cop let go.

The other four officers saw it, and came running his way, Mace ready. They yelled at him to drop the sledge, but he did not and approached them in a menacing manner.

Frank and Eddy came after Rick and took time to beat up the two cops he had left behind. Leaving them unconscious, they went around Rick and flanked the group of cops. Some spraying happened, but it only served to irritate their skin and make them cough.

Eddy was first to take a swing, but was evaded by his target. Frank took a swing, but the officer grabbed his bat, held it tight and tried to twist it out of Frank’s arms. Eddy saw it, and beat the cop in the back.

Rick started swinging, holding two officers at bay.

Jonas walked in after them and looked out the door. More cops were coming. He hid by the door, and swung his crowbar at the first one to pass. He hit him right in the face, knocking the man out cold.

Eddy was grabbed from behind after helping Frank, and Frank was busy helping Rick, who was suddenly holding more people at bay.

Eddy struggled, but could not release himself. The cop was much stronger, and trained to deal with punks like him.

Jonas went to help Frank and Rick, and managed to injure one man enough to make him a non-combatant. Rick grabbed the opportunity to help Eddy, who was yelling for help.

One blow with the sledge in the shoulder sent them both to the ground, and the cop stayed there, whimpering.

Half the attacking force now crawled on the floor or lay there still. The others were retreating and calling for backup: the SWAT. They would be equipped to deal with armed madmen.

They sprayed some more Mace at the guys, but to no avail. Jonas ran away and hid in the shadows.

Just as they were about to retreat out the front door, the cops who had been waiting at the back of the building came in and attacked from behind. Surrounded, the guys panicked and started swinging again. Frank and Eddy each held back two officers, but Rick only had to deal with one.

She was the only female in the group, and she stood her ground fearlessly as Rick walked toward her. And she addressed him as he prepared to swing: “You wouldn’t hit a woman, would you?”

Rick did not like her tone much, but he had an answer to her question. He swung his sledge, and the woman’s skull burst open with the force of the blow. Brains flew all over the place. Rick never was an eloquent orator. Nobody seemed to notice, but with the guys surrounded, a brutal melee ensued just the same.

Jonas skipped out unseen and went to his car. There was nobody left outside, just police cars with blinking blue lights. Nobody noticed it when he turned on the engine and drove away. The fight was still going on inside. He breathed deep a few times to calm down. He felt light as air. The adrenaline was still rushing, and he did not feel much else.

The cold air helped. Jonas looked back. Smoke was beginning to rise from some of the windows on the third floor and from the ventilation outlet on the top. And was that fire? Jonas saw a flickering light in some of the windows. It might be. If so, the operation was a success. What were the casualties like? He was about to change channels to check out the news, but then he remembered that the events were still going on, and would hardly be in the news yet.

Jonas passed two more police cars and an ambulance on the way to the freeway. They were coming from the neighbouring town. He could hear more on the way, coming from both directions.

Jonas was careful to drive slow, but not too slow. Drunks drive too slowly. On a weekend you do not want to be mistaken for a drunk especially if the cops are looking for you, or worse if you actually are drunk. Being caught drunk would guarantee a stay in jail, with or without an identity.

The missing license plate on front did not even attract attention. Maybe the missing bumper was all the explanation the oncoming police needed. Maybe they just assumed he had the plate in the front window, like so many people whose plates had fallen off or lacked attachments.

But most likely, the melee in the Bureau of Personal Information Protection building was just more important than some guy with one missing plate. That was probably it, he thought as he tried to remain calm.

He was beginning to see he was going in the wrong direction. He was heading away from Smoky Bay. He wondered if he should turn around. He thought better of it. Where would he go? Home, was the obvious answer. But punks might be waiting for him nearby. Punks with rope, ready to hang him high, as high as the ceiling in his apartment allowed.

Jonas did not like the idea of being hanged. He did not like the idea of being Maced or beaten with a club any better. Nor did he like freezing to death in his car. The weather had not been getting any warmer as the days passed. Not that he had seen much of the days over the week, or over winters in general.

Jonas drove on. He still had the crowbar. What could he do with a crowbar? He could use it to rob a convenience store. That was sometimes popular. Robbing banks had been all the rage a while back. That was easy. The only thing one needed was some weapon; no matter what sort of weapon. A crowbar would do. Some guy once robbed a bank using a vacuum cleaner tube to intimidate the cashier. He never pretended it was anything else; he just hit some stuff with it, and demanded money, which he got. Total success.

The banks were not open tonight. And it was technically Sunday morning. It seemed to be very dark. The party would be slowing down in the city. Hangover would be taking over.

This is why Sundays were traditionally quiet, boring days. So many people were always hung over. Hung-over people prefer not being active in any way, physical or mental. The TV programming suffers.

Mondays are just extensions of Sundays.

Jonas decided he would visit a shop, if any was open, and buy himself a Coke and Prince Polo. He was not hungry, but he felt he needed to eat something just the same. He had not eaten anything in a great while. There would be a bunch of shops in the next town, if he was not horribly mistaken.

The town of Mossy Mountain was not far from Smoky Bay, and was generally regarded as a kind of suburb, a quiet place, where people who worked in Smoky Bay made their home because it was one-third or more cheaper and the fees were lower, but they stayed there only in the evening and during the night. In such places, small video shops thrived.

Jonas drove into this town and looked around for an open shop. He quickly spotted one. It had a drive by window. Jonas drove up to it and waited for whoever was inside to respond.

When the engine started to idle he heard something he had not heard before; another engine sound: Diesel. It was just ticking along not far from him. He turned around. A modified Land Cruiser was approaching him, inch by inch, its lights turned off.

A cold stream went down Jonas’ back. He knew that car. It was one of the mountain cars that had been chasing him before: one of the vehicles owned by the thugs that were after him for reasons unknown to him. He had been chased! But since when? Damned rear-view mirror!

The drive by window slid open, and a teenage girl with a tired look on her face asked Jonas what he wanted. Jonas did not listen. He redlined the car before he let go of the clutch. The little Hyundai actually burned rubber.

The Land Cruiser quickly came after him, but it was not nearly as quick about it.

Jonas went in a circle around a gas station before he found an exit from the lot he was in. The Cruiser chasing him was slowed down considerably circumnavigating the gas station shed, but the driver had full belief that he was driving the most powerful car in the world, and he followed after Jonas with full throttle, spewing black smoke in vast quantities as he followed.

The wheels on Jonas’ car squealed when he turned 90° at great speed, heading toward a roundabout connecting the town’s streets with the freeway. They squealed again at the roundabout, and Jonas began accelerating. He only had five gears, and that bothered him. The vehicle maxed out at about 140-150. He felt he needed to go faster.

To be continued...

To Challenge 432...