Predator and Prey in the City Jungle
Predator and Prey in the City Jungle
Lindsey worked late most every night. She just couldn’t pull herself away when she “got into the groove” on a task. The building where she worked, once in the good section of town, was in a declining section of town. The crime rate began to rise in the area a few years ago. Now, it seemed there were robberies and a carjacking nearly every night. She began to sense the danger a few years ago and obtained a handgun carry permit.
Tonight, Lindsey worked until just past dark, finishing up on a supply contract. Finally, feeling exhausted, she pushed the work to the side. Getting ready to leave, she opened a filing cabinet, reaching in; she pulled a clip on holster containing a Smith and Wesson compact 9mm. She clipped the weapon on her side, sliding the metal clip of the holster behind the waistband of her skirt. She reached into the file drawer and retrieved two spare magazines that held twenty rounds each of 9mm hollow points. These she pocketed in her left front skirt pocket. Her employers strictly forbid the guns in the building. If a supervisor discovered she had it in the office, they would fire her on the spot. Lindsey felt it was worth the risk. After all, her bosses didn’t have to walk the parking lot after dark. Lindsey put on her casual jacket to cover the weapon just in case someone was still working in the building.
Lindsey swung the glass door at the front of the building open and walked out into the warm air of the parking lot. She scanned up and down the parking lot looking to see how many other cars remained on the lot before stepping off the sidewalk onto the smooth pavement. She noticed that there were a few cars left scattered across the lot. One car in particular seemed to stand out. It was not a normal car for the lot. Most cars here were executive type cars; this car was an older model Chevrolet Caprice that set low on its suspension, its windows tinted. She could see this as the street lamps reflected on the windows. Lindsey knew that where the car sat, there was no coverage from the surveillance cameras. Halfway to her car, Lindsey heard the driver of the Caprice start the cars motor. The sound carried over the distance easily as the Caprice mufflers were of the loud rally car type. Lindsey shifted her brief case to her left hand and used her right to brush back the jacket away from the pistol and then to fish the car keys from her right pocket. She punched the button on the fob to unlock the cars doors as she neared her Altima. She felt the fear welling in her stomach, a cold feeling that she fought to contain.
She flung the door open in haste and hurriedly tossed the brief case into the passenger side floorboard. She scrambled into the seat slamming the door closed quickly then slapping the door lock button, sealing herself in the car. She glanced out the side window toward where the Caprice sat, as she jammed the key into the ignition and twisted, bringing the Altima’s engine to life. The Caprice was now rolling along the parking lot slowly approaching from the left. Lindsey knew that if she allowed the Caprice to reach her that the driver could block her car in and trap her in her parking place.
Thinking fast she dropped the shifter into reverse and pressed the accelerator. As the Altima lurched backward from the space, she turned the wheel to place the rear of the car toward the Caprice and the front toward the exit. Shifting to “Drive,” she sped toward the exit of the parking lot. A glance into the rearview confirmed her fears, the Caprice increased its sped, it was now darted toward her at a determined pace. She flipped on her lights and began to search her purse for her cell phone. The Caprice’s lights also came on, switching to high beam. She could not look back into the bright lights. Forward, the glare made vision difficult. She held the phone while she maneuvered the car to the edge of the street. At the curb, she stopped instinctively to check for traffic and suddenly felt a soft bump from the rear. She recognized this as a tactic criminals used to get unsuspecting people to stop to check for damage. Once stopped, the criminals could attack. Lindsey wasn’t falling for it. She gunned the motor and took off quickly, turning to the right.
The streets were nearly vacant as she roared down the street, The Altima’s engine screaming loudly as the transmission changed into passing gear. She dialed 911 on the cell phone and waited for the operator to pick up. Lindsey didn’t have to look in the rearview mirror to know that the Caprice was following her, from the intensity of the lights she knew the Caprice was on her bumper. The 911 operator picked up on the other end of the line, only long enough to advise calmly, “911 please hold.”
Suddenly the lights disappeared causing Lindsey to look back and to the side where she found the Caprice coming up on her left side. Ahead she saw a red light coming up fast, she gritted her teeth and pressed the accelerator, praying there would be no cross traffic. The Caprice’s larger engine powered up along side of the Altima. The passenger window down, a young slender white man with tattoo’s and baggie clothing leaned out of the window screaming obscenities at her calling her “Baby” and describing vial acts he planned to perpetrate on her. “911 What is your emergency?” the operator came back on the line.
Lindsey knew she had to do something to prevent the Caprice from cutting her off. She slung the phone into the passenger seat, as she needed both hands for the wheel. She screamed in the direction of the phone praying the operator could hear her, “I need help! Some men in a white caprice are chasing me!” Then she screamed the address as she slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel to the right, the Altima skidding sideways as she floored the accelerator to regain forward motion. She looked in the rear view mirror, seeing the Caprice skid as the driver tried desperately to recover and follow the Altima. Lindsey knew she turned too tightly, allowing the Caprice to also make the turn at the 5 lane wide intersection. “A two lane street or alley and they would skate on by,” she thought and began to look for an opportunity. She could hear the operator on the cell phone but couldn’t understand what she said. “I’m at the 500 block of North Franklin going north! Black Altima!” She screamed at the phone, and then repeated the statement hoping the operator understood.
The bright lights appeared again in the rearview mirror, her cars interior lighting up inside. As her vision began to fade, she spotted a narrow two-lane access road to the right. Again, the Caprice began creeping up on her left, giving her eyes a break from the bright lights. As the access road approached, she slammed down on the brakes, watching the Caprice careen on by. She again spun the wheel and carefully guided the car on to the access road. She immediately knew she had lost too much speed in the turn, being too careful. She could hear the Caprice skidding to a stop on the main street. She punched the accelerator, gaining speed she looked back to see the Caprice in full reverse smoke billowing from its rear tires as it gained speed. Quickly, she ran through the limited files of the area in her brain, she gave up. She had no idea where the road went. She only knew she had to get away from the Caprice. The she realized she could not tell the dispatcher her exact location. She felt stupid for making the move; she felt the coldness of the fear of a possibly fatal mistake in her stomach. She resolved that she would just have to deal with it and keep going. “I’m on some kind of access road to the east of the 700 block of North Franklin,” she screamed at the phone rocking in the passenger seat. She could hear the operator speaking and hoped she was saying that she understood.
In the rearview she could see the flash of lights as the Caprice turned onto the access road, she knew the driver would strain the Caprice’s motor to catch up. She pressed the panic down and began to look for another opportunity or solution. The road curved sharply to the right, she hoped for an outlet or a guard shack around the bend. Instead, she found a darkened office building, three stories high but not very large with a small parking that lot held only one car. It suddenly became harder to squelch the panic. She quickly scanned the area like a rat looking for a hole with the cat on its tail. She saw that there was no other outlet for cars. In fact, the chain link fence wrapped parking lot and joined the sides of the building.
“Crap!” she hissed as she realized she was trapped. Looking in the rearview, she saw the trees at the curve glowing with the lights of the approaching Caprice. She steered the car toward the glass entrance doors, she realized that her only hope was that this company employed a security guard. She slid to a stop just short of the concrete planters to the side of the doors. She could see a lighted lobby and a desk just inside the doors. Pulling the emergency brake, she jumped from the car and ran for the doors, forgetting the cell phone on the seat. She pounded hard at the glass door. Then, suddenly bathed in lights from behind, she wheeled around to see the Caprice come into the parking lot fast and with a mixture of thumping music and joyful yells of the men inside. She frantically turned back to the door, pounding to attract attention of some unseen savior.
The sound of the Caprice’s tires screeching to a stop behind her caused her to spin around in time to see the four teenagers fling open the doors and scramble to their feet. They were grinning and laughing as they walked toward her. The boys spread out to cover any escape route. She could not see any weapons, but she knew she could not fight off all four. She looked for any way of escape and decided that to be behind one of the planters could help her to defend herself. She dove behind the nearest planter as if attempting to hide herself. The teens laughed loudly and one yelled, “You can’t hide from us baby!”
“Go away!” she screamed as she scrambled on her hands and knees to the next planter, further away from the teens. “I have a gun!” She warned.
The teens continued to advance, not believing her. From this distance away from the thumping music in the Caprice, she could faintly here the sirens on North Franklin. She hoped that a police car would intervene at any time. Then she realized the sirens were fading, meaning they were going away from her. Realizing that no help was coming, she drew the Smith and Wesson from its holster and pointed it across the planter. She hoped the teens would run at the sight of the weapon. Instead, the boys laughed. Their drug soaked brains not allowing them to contemplate fear.
Suddenly two of the boys lunged toward Lindsey. Her trembling finger moved to the trigger as she pulled off the first shot, sending the first teen spinning, a blood splotch appearing on the right side of his chest. Flicking the barrel to the right as she touched off another shot single action, the second lunging teen hurdled backward, a square hit to the center of his chest.
The vision of their buddies being shot before their eyes crashed through the drug barrier and penetrated the brains of the remaining two teens. The smirking grins were replaced with looks of shear horror. They began to tremble. Looking at one another the pair seemed to communicate telepathically as together the broke and ran for the Caprice.
The tires squalling, the two teens made their escape in the Caprice. Watching the taillights Lindsey thumbed the hammer down on the semi auto Smith, returning it to its holster. When the taillights disappeared around the curve, she calmly walked back to the Altima, to the cell phone. The danger over, she became aware of the teens on the pavement moaning from their wounds. She almost felt pity, but she reminded herself what the teens had planned for her.
