Scorpio's Lot by Ray Smithies

happens to
me go straight to the car. It’s unlocked and there’s a spare key in the glove
box.’
     
    I cautiously opened the front
door. Helen and Brigit kept close behind. There appeared to be no immediate
threat. We proceeded through the opening, still hearing the commotion from the
rear of the house. Stepping from the verandah onto a bricked footpath, the
sudden appearance of a second intruder came as a shock. He was dressed in a
long coat and wearing a rimmed hat. It was impossible to identify him. His
manner was aggressive and intimidating.
     
    Yelling obscenities, he came
toward me with what appeared to be a dagger. I yelled at the women to continue
toward the car. I raised the baseball bat, my pose similar to that of a striker
about to hit a home run. The man approached, waving his weapon and taunting me.
He then lunged with his knife and missed. My swing was equally ineffective. The
man turned to attempt a second assault. I was ready for his attack. The
southpaw commenced a series of short jabbing lunges, sneering as his knife cut
into the night air. I waited patiently for his actual strike. He then charged,
yelling as he rushed forward. I swung the bat, hitting him on the arm that held
his weapon. He let out a painful scream, dropped the knife and clutched his
injured limb.
     
    Not waiting for the assailant to
regain his composure I made a dash for the car. Upon reaching the driver’s seat
I could see the other man had arrived in the front yard, obviously attracted by
his accomplice’s screams. Helen and Brigit sat nervously in the back seat.
     
    I fumbled with my bunch of keys
and finally, with the correct insertion, prayed like hell the cold motor would
start on the first try. Nothing. I turned the key a second time but again no
sound. Looking back, I could see one of the men running across the front lawn
and actually reaching the car as the motor ignited on my third attempt.
Fortunately Helen and Brigit had had the good sense to lock their doors, but my
situation was about to take a turn for the worse. The assailant wrenched open
my door before I could take off. Now exposed to his mercy I took my foot off
the accelerator and let fly with my right leg, causing him to lose his balance
and fall backwards onto the asphalt road.
     
    Five minutes had transpired since
the emergency phone call and still no sign of the police or the sound of an
approaching siren. ‘What’s taking them so long,’ I muttered to myself. To make
matters worse the second man had now arrived, and with the rear door proving
impossible to open he let loose a frenzy of repeated kicks against the door
panel, screaming obscenities as he continued his assault. The women had become
hysterical. I repositioned my leg upon the accelerator and floored the pedal as
the assailant’s knife flew through the door opening, weaving its path between
my shoulder and the steering wheel. Thrown with such force the blade became
embedded on the dashboard above the glove box, causing a rapid vibration as it
sat jammed in the synthetic dash.
     
    We had become mobile as I leaned
across to close my door, and in seeing the first attacker climb to his feet, I
let fly with the sound of screeching tyres and enough fumes to kill a flock of
passing pigeons. We were finally on our way.
     
    In the rear vision mirror I could
see the assailants climb aboard their 4WD.
     
    ‘Are you both okay in the back?’
I said.
     
    ‘As well as can be. Bloody hell,
Tom, just get us out of here!’ yelled Brigit.
     
    ‘We have a twenty-second lead,’ I
said. ‘It’s not enough time to drive directly to the caravan park. The police
station’s in the opposite direction and I have no intention of turning around.
Somehow I need to create a diversion.’
     
    For a while I drove aimlessly
through the streets with no real purpose as to route or direction. I had to
shake off these guys, but how? Providing we kept to bitumen our chances of
maintaining or increasing the distance