Bubba flipped his headlights on and blinded the three drol’ka that stood outside the cars that were blocking the intersection. The spacing of their vehicles was sloppy and they left a large gap on the left side of the highway. Bubba swerved to the left and nosed the car around the furthest vehicle. Just as the front end cleared the stationary car, he yanked the handbrake and turned the car hard to the right. The rear wheels locked up and the back of the Civic slid around. Bubba punched the accelerator and shoved the shifter into second gear. He disengaged the handbrake and popped the clutch. The front wheels squealed as the tires grabbed the asphalt.

  Two of the drol’ka rushed to get into their cars, the third ran toward Bubba as he pulled a pump shotgun from his shoulder. The first shot thumped through the bottom of the Civic’s passenger door and settled into the seat cushion. Bubba quickly straightened the wheel and sped onto the Highway 70 bypass. Two more booms sounded. The first shot shattered the rear window and the second exploded the rear passenger headrest before it tore through the passenger seat and bounced off the gloved box. Bubba winced as the hot slug slapped against his right bicep and tumbled toward the back seats.

  He glanced at the rearview mirror and saw the first two drol’ka had finished reversing and were already turning toward the bypass. The drol’ka with the shotgun was already closing his car door.

  “WOOWEE! COME ON, LIL DOGGIES. CHASE THE RABBIT!”

  The road changed to a long sweeping curve that aimed the traffic due east. Bubba knew that he had to keep them close enough to feel like they could catch him. He also knew they had guns and he needed to stay far enough ahead to make himself a difficult target. He lifted his foot off the gas and let the car coast. The moment he saw his pursuers come around the curve, he pressed the gas and accelerated. He realized 100 mph was too fast. His exit was a mile away and he needed them to chase him for as long as possible. The shifter slid into fourth gear and the car slowed as the lower gear engaged. The three sets of headlights grew larger as they gained on him.

  “Come on. Come get me.”

  Bubba had to slow down to make his exit. The leading car crept within a few hundred feet of him as he exited the road and approached the Highway 78 intersection. The Civic slowed to 40 mph and the nearest car sped closer. His car made it onto Highway 78 and Bubba shoved the pedal to the floor and the engine growled as he sped off. He heard a burst of rounds behind him and bullets chipped into the road ahead of him.

  “Yer over-aiming, SHIT HEAD!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  His plan was to take them to Highway 70 East and lose them on the rural roads. That turn-off was about two miles away. He didn’t like the thought of bullets slinging around him, but he knew he needed to let them gain on him. He downshifted and the car groaned as it slowed. Bubba let them come a little closer before he climbed back to a comfortable distance. His headlights illuminated the gas station that marked his turn. This intersection was a right-angle turn onto a shoulderless lane that straddled a deep culvert. They were going to get very close as he slowed to make the turn.

  He kept glancing in the rearview as he decelerated. They were gaining on him fast. Looking up, he looked at the approaching gas station and an idea sparked into his head. Bubba slammed the brake and the nearest car ran up on him before it swerved to the left and sped by him. He turned into the station parking lot and his car fish-tailed as it went from hard asphalt to loose gravel. The second closest car managed to follow him into the parking lot, but it left the road further along. The final vehicle pulled off the highway and chased him into the lot.

  Bubba yanked the wheel to the right and shot straight toward the station. The Civic cleared the fuel pumps and Bubba yanked the wheel in the other direction. The rear wheels skittered around and the car drifted through the narrow gap between the station and the pumps. The driver of the final car tried Bubba’s maneuver, but reacted too late and slammed into the steel bollard that protected the pumps. The car flipped over the bollard and slammed against the gas pump. Bubba drifted across the tiny parking lot and the front tires grabbed ahold of the asphalt highway and the car straightened out.

  His trajectory brought him out of the lot facing the road he was supposed to turn onto. Headlights blinded him as the second car aimed to t-bone the Civic. The driver was trying to close the distance, but the loose gravel was causing the car to spin out. Bubba drove clear of the second car and spotted the first car reversing to block the intersection. He aimed his car for the far left side of the intersection and sped forward. The first car’s driver realized he wouldn’t beat Bubba to the intersection and decided to throw the car into drive. Bubba cleared the intersection just in time to look in the mirror and see driver number two pull out of the parking lot and driver number one speeding in his direction.

  KABOOOOOOMMMMPH

  Bubba’s ears rang and the windows rattled as a gigantic fireball rose into the night sky. The second car was too close to the exploding fuel pumps and the force flipped the car onto its side. Its headlights looked eerie in a vertical orientation.

  “OH YEAH, BOY! IT’S JUST YOU AND ME, NOW. YOU AND ME!”

  Bubba wasn’t as worried about the distance of the remaining car. He recognized it as the vehicle of the drol’ka with the shotgun. Shooting a pump 12 gauge with one hand while driving would be difficult. He let the car get within a few car lengths of him. This stretch of road was straight and flat for the next seven miles. He straddled the center line and maintained his distance. The driver attempted a single shot, but it flew into the darkness. Bubba led the drol’ka through a series of long straights that turned into long curves that wound through the countryside. The road ended at a tee intersection and Bubba made sure to gain some distance on the last straight of way. He didn’t want to get rear-ended when he slowed for the tight left-hand turn. He miscalculated the cushion he needed and the drol’ka nearly clipped him on the turn.

  Bubba realized it had been enough time for the others to clear the barricade and be on the open highway.

  “Okie dokie, you filthy eater. Playtime is over.”

  Bubba punched the gas and let the engine wind into the redline. He shifted into fifth gear and sped away from his pursuer. This section of 78E ran straight for seven miles and it wasn’t long until he was rocketing down the road at over 150 mph. By the time he started slowing down, the headlights behind him were just a couple of dim specks. The road wound to the left and ran along the side of a train track. He looked out his window and gave a final glance toward the headlights in the distance. The drol’ka would gain a bit, as he slowed more to make the right-hand curve that took him over the track. Bubba didn’t worry about that. After he crossed the track, he would turn onto Highway 70 and be turning onto Chief Pushmataha Road before the drol’ka was halfway to Boswell.

  The car lurched and there was a loud pop as something slammed into Bubba’s face. His head was thrown backward and searing pain shot through his right forearm. A jarring bounce sent his head slamming into the roof. Fireworks erupted in his head and he floated for a split second before he slammed back into his seat and was flung against the door. He felt his left arm dislocate from the impact, then he was weightless again. He flew into the passenger seat and the air was punched from his lungs. He flipped over the seat and slid into the back floorboard. He was violently tossed around the car as it continued to roll. He lost consciousness before the car finally settled.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

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  Bubba opened his eyes and was assaulted by the agonizing pain of countless broken bones and abrasions. He looked up and realized the seats were above him. He tried to move, but the agony was too much. Looking around, he slowly realized that he had been in a crash. He didn’t know what happened. The last thing he remembered was watching the drol’ka’s distant headlights.

  Aww shit. The drol’ka! I gotta get out of here.

  Bubba tried to roll over. His left arm was free, but it was useless. He couldn’t get it to move. The other arm was half-pinned under him. Whenever he tried to pull it free, it felt like something was tearing into his ribs.

  You can’t panic, Bubba Ray. Forget the drol’ka. Assess the situation.

  He focused on his feet, first. His right foot was sore, but he could wiggle his toes and roll his ankle. The other foot felt fine, but his right thigh felt like somebody beat it with a baseball bat. He was able to lift both legs, but when he moved the right leg, it caused the same tearing pain in his ribs. He assumed he landed on a piece of something sharp. He raised his right foot to the driver’s headrest and used it to roll himself onto his left side. Pain throbbed from his left shoulder as his weight rolled onto that arm. He felt whatever was digging into his ribs slide out and he pulled his right arm free. Something was sticking out of his right arm and he felt warm blood pooling under him.

  “What the hell are you?” he wondered at the six-inch-long protrusion. For a brief moment, he was afraid it was a compound fracture and the bone was sticking out. He gently poked at it and felt no pain. When he lifted the arm for a closer look, he noticed the object was sticking out the other side of the arm, too. Whatever it was, it was hard as bone and he could feel small ridges running the length of it.

  He heard a car door shut and looked through the shattered window near his feet. He realized the grass outside was illuminated and saw a shadow stretching toward the car.

  Crud! I’m done for. Think. Where’s my gun? What can I use? I gotta defend myself. Look around. Look around.

  He saw a pair of boots step up to the car. They started kicking what was left of the window out of the door. Bubba tried using his feet to push him away from the door, but his head and shoulders were already against the far door. Two hands reached in and grabbed his ankles. The drol’ka started pulling him toward the empty window frame. Bubba tried to kick free, but the drol’ka's grip was too powerful. He felt himself sliding across the roof on a pool of his own blood.

  “LET ME GO!”

  His legs were tugged outside the car and he reached up and took ahold of the headrest. The drol’ka yanked and Bubba lifted off the roof. Another yank and the headrest pulled loose from the seat and Bubba fell back to the roof. The third yank only left Bubba's arms and head still inside the car. His left arm was still useless, but he jammed his right hand against the door frame and straightened his arm. He wedged his right shoulder against the roof as the drol’ka continued to pull on his legs.

  “I SAID TO LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU BLOOD SUCKING ABOMINATION!” he screamed.

  The drol’ka released his ankles and let his feet fall to the ground.

  “So, you’re listening to me know?”

  Bubba shrieked as the drol’ka’s face appeared in the window and it reached in and grabbed ahold of Bubba’s shoulders. With a violent yank, Bubba was pulled outside of the car. His left shoulder offered a brief resistance by snagging on the window frame as he was pulled through. There was a loud pop and Bubba swooned from the abrupt explosion of pain in the shoulder. It was intense but immediately dissipated as the feeling of pins and needles spread through his arm and hand.

  He looked up at the drol’ka and felt a slight relief at what he saw. The man above him looked like any other man. Bubba smiled up at the looming figure.

  “Alright, son. What are ya…who’n was it…was it yer great great grand Mimi that spread ‘er legs for some filthy quarter-blood Drol’ka Choth? Ya look like the latest bastard from a long line of bastards.”

  The drol’ka swung his shotgun over his shoulder and pointed it at Bubba’s face.

  “Dang, son…yer ‘bout as dumb as you are ugly. How many humans you come across that know what you are?” Bubba asked the drol’ka. “Still not get’n’it, are ya? How would I know what you are?” Bubba repeated.

  The drol’ka didn’t respond.

  “Gyat dang, boy. Let me paint the picture fer ya. I’m Hol’den. Does’n yer dense ass understand what that means?”

  Bubba saw the realization on the drol’ka’s face.

  “Yes! Now the lights ‘er on! Now, riddle me this, Batman…how is that boss bitch of yer’s gonna feel when’n she finds out you had a bonafide Hold’den…one that's all broken up like he’s done went through the blender…and you blow’d his head off? I’d rec’n she’d rec’n I might have valuable information in this head a mine. Well, before you went’n scrambled my noggin.”

  The drol’ka started to lower the shotgun, but then leaned low over Bubba. He flipped the gun around and cocked it back. The stock came down toward Barry’s face and Barry swung his not-so-useless-anymore left arm up and clamped onto the drol’ka’s right wrist. Bubba yanked the leaning figure toward him and clubbed him in the neck with his right forearm. The force of the blow sent the off-balance drol’ka sprawling onto the ground. Bubba wasted no time as he rolled the man onto his back and climbed on top of him.

  The drol’ka’s left hand was pressed against his neck as he tried to stem the flow of blood that spurted out. The other hand was tugging at the shoulder strap of the shotgun, but the gun was under the drol’ka.

  “Don’t take it personal fella. Yer not the first of yer kin to be goaded inta not pulling the trigger. You should’a pulled the trigger.”

  Bubba grabbed the object that stuck out of his arm and yanked it out.

  “GOD BLESS! Tell ya what. That hurt a tad more’n I thought it would.” Barry tucked his right arm tight against his ribs to slow the bleeding. He twisted to the side to let the illumination of the headlights shine on the object. It was still covered with blood. He quickly wiped it off on the drol’ka’s shirt and lifted it back to the light.

  “Well..I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Would ya look at that? It’s a dang deer antler!”

  Bubba looked down at the drol’ka. He had begun coughing up blood and his breaths were gurgling as he choked.

  “Lot’s a deer round these parts. A fella’s gotta keep an eye out drivin’ on these roads.” Bubba informed the dying drol’ka. “Here, have a look at it."

  Bubba jabbed the broken antler into the drol’ka’s right eye. He began to kick and convulse. Bubba put the heel of his hand against the protruding antler and drove it deeper. The drol’ka stopped moving.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Bubba killed the engine of the drol’ka’s Nissan Pathfinder and stumbled to the back door. He reached inside a flipped the lever that let the middle seat fold forward. He shut the door and leaned against the car as he made his way to the rear hatch. He popped the hatch open and folded the third-row seats flat and crawled inside. He knew he was in no shape to drive. He needed to let his wounds heal a bit. He pulled the hatch closed and collapsed onto his back.

  Bubba fished the antler out of his pocket and stared at it.

  “Gawdang deer!” Bubba chuckled, shoved the antler back into his pocket, and closed his eyes.

  A deer!