Season THREE – Episode 05 – “Burning Bridges”
As soon as the exit hatch on the plane popped… Sally was on the sprint down the jet bridge with bent arms rapidly pumping and swift strides being taken on the balls of her feet. It didn’t take long to reach the end of the tunnel and soon she found herself bursting through Delta section B28 sidestepping an anticipatory crowd of soon-to-be-boarders and hurtling their hard sided Briggs and Riley luggage bags with the grace of Renaldo “Skeets” Nehemiah.
Meanwhile, the two would-be trackers that Sally avoided on the plane had pushed and prodded their way to the exit of the plane in continuation of their pursuit. She had just made the escalator when they burst from the tunnel and caught sight of her escape route.
No time for the luggage carousel… She was staring ahead at “burning bridges” and would have to bolt for the scheduled pick up outside the terminal and hope to flag “Eagle Two” her cabby, while on the run. When in doubt go fast, and now her lungs were flaming as she made it to street level descending three-stories on the escalator, five steps at a time.
Tall… Dark tanned… Muscular build… Blond… Sally now stood curbside looking for both the woman and the sign reading “EAGLE ONE”.
She was twelve cars deep and a hard left from the revolving door. With a low vibe she leaned against the front driver’s fender and rested the sign ineligibly on her shoulder. It was only when she saw the human form blazing a trail directly at her screaming, “get in! get in!” that she stood to attention.
Then, before her next breath, she was spun in a half-circle… Had a hand on her back… And was pushed past the driver’s wheel of the Toyota Corolla into the passenger seat.
Sally immediately found the first gear and parted a seam that launched them into the flow of traffic. “Who are you!” screamed the passenger… Now jerking on the door handle, attempting escape.
“I’m EAGLE ONE. And a NICE job holding up the sign.” (Or Not) Sally thought to herself, after speaking rather tersely.
Looking into the rearview mirror as she sped away… The two men standing in Sally’s previously occupied space outside the terminal appeared to be of Eastern European descent. The larger of the two ambushers was clearly unhappy as he stooped to the pavement, picked up the sign, and proceeded to crush it in-half over his knee.
“How do we get to Woodanilling?” asked Sally. “I’m assuming those boys we just left behind, are going to try and get one step ahead.
“Right here… State Route 30… Take the exit…” instructed Eagle Two.
Sally punched the accelerator and blew past the offramp without so much as a glance. Adrenaline still had a tight grip on the steering wheel and at this point she was trusting no one.
The speed limit on the highway was 110 kph. The arm on the dashboard gauge shot past 120, kept climbing at 130, wound tight at 140, and started asking for forgiveness at 150 kph.
“Are you trying to kill us?” pleaded Eagle Two.
“No… I’m trying to stay alive. And you can call me Sally.”
“Well Sally… Welcome to Australia. Now can we please slow the frig down!”
“Sure… As soon as you show me your ID.”
“Here… It’s Hazel Brown… And I know, not very original, I have my parents to thank.”
“Matches your eyes and your tan,” Sally responded as she began to let off the gas. “I’m gonna go the long way and take 41 at the next exit. I already had a gameplan before I got off the plane.”
For starters… She wanted to travel to the Stirling Range as it would provide cover if needed. Secondly, it was only three hours between the airport and the town of Woodanilling. This town had a population of 207 people, there would be sufficient time to circle the safehouse for reconnaissance, and if she was lucky her plus-one would be waiting.
Not quite 24-hours since her departure from Minnesota… Sally was doing her best not to think of Rusty, Link, and Prof Scale on their way to Lac du Bois. She was the one who’d chosen this dangerous path less traveled. But then again, so had Rusty, in his own way.
The town of Jackfish, Ontario was more of a bleep on the map than it was a town. The dead-end blacktop turned to gravel… The gravel turned to hard pack dirt… And the dirt that led into town became two tracks of sand. Very much what Rusty assumed the sand on the shoreline of the lake would resemble.
Heavily wooded… Houses nestled quite close to the main thoroughfare… The lake lies just beyond the outskirts of town. There were 200 people around on a good day. A few more lived on the lake. But most of the traffic would hopefully be coming to the gates of Rakers Marine where arriving guests were picked up and then deposited at various fishing camps throughout the region.
This was Rusty’s first visit to the north end of the lake… And traveling a short distance through town he imagined most things haven’t changed in the past 50 years.
The sign on Tremblay’s General Store hung crooked and stated “Bait-Gas-Beer”. There were three dogs of mixed breed resting on the elevated walkway near the entrance. The passing vehicle was not enough for them to heed notice. Rusty felt the sign appropriate—all men really need to live.
Next was the Jackfish Community Center. A four-walled tin building that was half pale yellow and half rusty brown. There was a sun-bleached, red and white frayed banner near the front door that read “Welcome Pancake Eaters”. Potentially a bygone salute to an area fundraiser.
A sign on the north end of town signified the stopping point of city limits. And that was it. A line of homes… A general store… A community center… Rusty didn’t feel as though he was at the end of the world, but potentially he could see it.
If there were “burning bridges” to cross it would be tough escaping this remote location. Not a lot of ways in and out. Link didn’t seem to mind. He was still hanging on the edge of the passenger window, in Prof Scale’s arms, looking for the three lazy dogs they’d passed earlier.
– To Be Continued –