Grey. You saved me, you fucking genius .
The sound of sirens echoed from outside. I saw officers scrambling up the bank steps.
“Oh shit!” I yelled and began sprinting towards the exit on the side where I parked my bike. I had to get to my bike before they did. The police ran into the automatic doors and tried to pry them open. They appeared to be locked.
I heard gunshots and saw the glass door to my right shatter, I ran through the glass in an attempt to get out faster. I might have cut myself, but I couldn’t tell.
With a backpack full of money, I hopped onto my bike as more cop cars whipped around the intersection. I heard bullets fly past.
I popped a wheelie, maneuvering myself around the cars. When I turned on the next street, I went back on two wheels and accelerated as quickly as I could. In my rearview I could still see the police. I-95 would be coming up any moment. I saw the sign and looped onto the on-ramp. My knee scraped the asphalt as I leaned into the curve. Without a destination, I sped up over 150 miles per hour on I-95 South.
“How in the fuck did we lose him?” I shouted and slammed my hands against the metallic counter. I felt my left eyelid twitching and I had my teeth clenched.
The fifty-something people in the room stared at me. I couldn’t wait to see which one of these mindless shits had the nerve to speak up first.
“Ma’am, those were the Richmond Police. The FBI and Homeland Security were shortly behind them. Something went wrong. Apparently someone had access to the bank’s main server and assisted Owen in his robbery.”
I pursed my lips and exhaled through my nose. I was furious . A tiny bead of sweat began to drip down the forehead of the man who had answered my question.
“You are the Central Intelligence Agency for Christ’s sake! How in the hell are you going to let him slip by so easily? Everyone in this room is going to need to take their position more seriously, unless you want to end up decommissioned with a reputation so terrible you won’t be able to land a job as a mall cop.”
No one said a word.
“We just got word Owen is heading south on I-95,” someone said in the crowd.
The security camera video populated the many screens in the room. It showed Owen tucked into his bike, zipping by like a little black blip.
“Get a chopper in the air,” I demanded. “Call all the police stations along 95, give them his info. We are not going to let him get away again…”
I was headed west towards the city. Around thirty minutes ago I saw a helicopter flying behind me in the distance. Given the fact that I had already lost the police, if the helicopter were to stay with me I would have never been able to escape. I maintained a higher speed and took the exit to merge onto the less traveled Highway 64. Now, the highway had become I-495, and I knew within a few miles I would hit more congested roads from entering the city. It was time to hide .
I saw an exit sign.
I smiled when I saw the name of the road, and took it as a message to get off the highway. When I came to the stoplight I turned left and went south. The road was windy and had very few cars on it. It was relieving to see that. I came to an intersection. The street sign read Poole Road . I recalled going over a bridge just moments ago on the highway and a river ran beneath it. Contemplating my orientation, I took another left.
Poole Road was just as barren as New Hope. The road curved gently, and it was enjoyable after the hour-long blur of racing down I-95. After a mile, in the distance I saw what looked to be a small bridge; murky water slipped beneath it.
As I approached, I saw a small wooden sign for Poole Road Park . There was a tiny dirt parking lot on my left and I was beaming as I pulled in. There were only two other cars parked. This was exactly what I needed. A park—no security cameras and minimal traffic.
I idled as I drove around the lot. When I saw the river, I followed
The sound of sirens echoed from outside. I saw officers scrambling up the bank steps.
“Oh shit!” I yelled and began sprinting towards the exit on the side where I parked my bike. I had to get to my bike before they did. The police ran into the automatic doors and tried to pry them open. They appeared to be locked.
I heard gunshots and saw the glass door to my right shatter, I ran through the glass in an attempt to get out faster. I might have cut myself, but I couldn’t tell.
With a backpack full of money, I hopped onto my bike as more cop cars whipped around the intersection. I heard bullets fly past.
I popped a wheelie, maneuvering myself around the cars. When I turned on the next street, I went back on two wheels and accelerated as quickly as I could. In my rearview I could still see the police. I-95 would be coming up any moment. I saw the sign and looped onto the on-ramp. My knee scraped the asphalt as I leaned into the curve. Without a destination, I sped up over 150 miles per hour on I-95 South.
“How in the fuck did we lose him?” I shouted and slammed my hands against the metallic counter. I felt my left eyelid twitching and I had my teeth clenched.
The fifty-something people in the room stared at me. I couldn’t wait to see which one of these mindless shits had the nerve to speak up first.
“Ma’am, those were the Richmond Police. The FBI and Homeland Security were shortly behind them. Something went wrong. Apparently someone had access to the bank’s main server and assisted Owen in his robbery.”
I pursed my lips and exhaled through my nose. I was furious . A tiny bead of sweat began to drip down the forehead of the man who had answered my question.
“You are the Central Intelligence Agency for Christ’s sake! How in the hell are you going to let him slip by so easily? Everyone in this room is going to need to take their position more seriously, unless you want to end up decommissioned with a reputation so terrible you won’t be able to land a job as a mall cop.”
No one said a word.
“We just got word Owen is heading south on I-95,” someone said in the crowd.
The security camera video populated the many screens in the room. It showed Owen tucked into his bike, zipping by like a little black blip.
“Get a chopper in the air,” I demanded. “Call all the police stations along 95, give them his info. We are not going to let him get away again…”
I was headed west towards the city. Around thirty minutes ago I saw a helicopter flying behind me in the distance. Given the fact that I had already lost the police, if the helicopter were to stay with me I would have never been able to escape. I maintained a higher speed and took the exit to merge onto the less traveled Highway 64. Now, the highway had become I-495, and I knew within a few miles I would hit more congested roads from entering the city. It was time to hide .
I saw an exit sign.
I smiled when I saw the name of the road, and took it as a message to get off the highway. When I came to the stoplight I turned left and went south. The road was windy and had very few cars on it. It was relieving to see that. I came to an intersection. The street sign read Poole Road . I recalled going over a bridge just moments ago on the highway and a river ran beneath it. Contemplating my orientation, I took another left.
Poole Road was just as barren as New Hope. The road curved gently, and it was enjoyable after the hour-long blur of racing down I-95. After a mile, in the distance I saw what looked to be a small bridge; murky water slipped beneath it.
As I approached, I saw a small wooden sign for Poole Road Park . There was a tiny dirt parking lot on my left and I was beaming as I pulled in. There were only two other cars parked. This was exactly what I needed. A park—no security cameras and minimal traffic.
I idled as I drove around the lot. When I saw the river, I followed
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