A bullet shattered my rear-view mirror, missing the back of my head by a very special distance which makes me sick to think about. My back window had fallen apart a mile back, leaving my car open to the sound of rushing wind and vengeful screaming.
I had been so close! I was parked, I was getting out of the car, I was looking at my watch!
“Just five minutes late,” I said 5 minutes ago, “I’m gonna be fine.”
At that very moment I started at the squeal of rubber against pavement. A Bike Cop had skidded to a stop just next to my car, examining the license plate.
“Is this your car?” he asked.
“Yes, it is.”
5 minutes later, I was swerving around each turn like a madman, feeling my car tilt up on two wheels more than once. Behind me, the Bike Cop was getting closer but there was nothing I could do! Columbus streets were simply not made for driving!
“This vehicle was spotted driving through an active construction site a little while back. Were you driving it at that point?” he asked professionally.
Disappointed that I had not gotten off scot-free, I deflated a bit but replied honestly, “Yes, that was me. I’m sorry.”
“I see. And do you realize how many lives you put in danger by disobeying the laws of traffic?”
“I’m so sorry, Officer, I was just really late, and I was super careful. But you’re right, I shouldn’t have done that and I’ll definitely never do it again. Go ahead and give me the ticket.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you off that easy,” he had replied.
The Bike Cop gained rapidly. The streets were useless to me now, which only left one choice: it was time to go off road.
I yanked my car over the curb and began cutting a diagonal path across The Oval. Ironically, this was the most danger I had put people in all day. I honked my horn and pedestrians scattered at the sight of my oncoming vehicle.
“Yeah, I just think we box ourselves in too much, you know?” said a very shirtless dude while balancing on a slack-line between two trees.
“I totally know what you mean.” said the cute freshman who had met him at a chill party and TOTALLY knew what he meant.
“It’s just like, my parents wanted me to be a claims adjustor, but what if I don’t want to do that, right? That’s why I’m trying out for the National Slack-Line Team.”
“Renner, there’s like – no way you don’t make it. You’re so incredible,” said the cute girl, wearing a sheet tied around her waist with a white tank-top.
“Hey, thanks,” said Renner, smiling sheepishly in a way that would melt any woman’s heart.`
“HONK HONK!!!” said my car horn, shocking Renner off his perch as I flew past.
“….” said the ground as it broke Renner’s leg.
“You will never escape me!” said the Bike Cop, still in hot pursuit.
“No,” The Bike Cop had murmured quietly, almost to himself, only a short while ago, “I’m afraid I’ll have to collect your payment immediately.”
“Oh you mean like a fine?” I asked. “That’s actually super convenient, because I’ve got to go to class! What do I owe?”
At that, he let out an almost bark-like laugh – a noise of equal parts humor and darkness. “What do you owe?” he asked menacingly.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I said, taking out my checkbook.
“You owe this world a life. One beautiful, irreplaceable, perfect life that was far from finished.”
“….so do i make that out to the University or….like The City of Columbus…..?”
“Ha. Funny, kid. Real funny.”
The Officer began pacing away, rubbing his temple with one hand.
Suddenly, he drew his weapon and turned towards me, pointing the handgun just between my eyes.
“You’ve got ten seconds to run, kid. It’ll look better that way.”
In response, I gasped then sputtered inquisitively.
“Ten…nine….” he began.
As quick as I could, I scrambled back into my car and fumbled with my keys. Turning the ignition, I sped away and sideswiped a couple cars as I tried to make it out of the parking lot. Their alarms began going off, only making me drive faster.
“How many seconds do I have left?” I wondered as a bullet shattered my back window.
I dropped into the number garden from the sidewalk above, nearly smashing the giant golden 6. While my car was not an off-roader by any means, it was exhausting pedaling through grass after already chasing me through the streets, and I had put a little space between the myself and the assailant.
It was only a matter of time, however, before I made a turn the car couldn’t escape or worse…we went downhill. I could hear threats of dismemberment coupled with the ominous ring of a bicycle bell growing louder behind me.
A muscular dude in a neon tank top caught my eye. Thinking quickly, I turned in his direction and pulled up along the side of the road.
“Hey, man, could you help me?” I asked, rolling down my window.
“What’s up?” he returned, stepping towards my car.
“I’m being chased by a Bike Cop -”
“Yo, man, FUCK da police!”
“Yeah, well, they’re chasing me-”
“He catch you partyin’?”
“What? No, I’m not sure what’s going on -”
“Fuckin’ neighbors, bro. It’s Thursday night for Christ’s sake!”
“Uh, yeah. Listen, I’m going to hide in that dark alleyway over there,” I pointed towards the alleyway (which was dark), “when he comes around the corner and asks where I’ve gone, tell him I went somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere! It doesn’t matter! If he asks where I’ve gone, can you make sure he doesn’t find me?”
“Oh for sure, dude. No worries, I’ll take care of it!”
“Thanks, man!”
“No worries. And hey…” He shouted as I began pulling away, “FUCK da police!”
“Oh yes! Very much!”
“Nah, you didn’t hear me! I said FUCK DA POLICE!”
“No no, I heard you, I just don’t want to repeat it!”
“FUCK’M!”
“Alright, I’m going to roll up my window now!”
“I WISH I COULD FUCK THEM RIGHT HERE!”
“Goodbye!”
He angrily mumbled something about the police as I rolled up my window, though exactly what it was remains a mystery to this day.
Sergeant Augustus Hoover, covered in sweat from head to foot but still pedaling like a madman, flew around a bend, realizing he had lost his perp. The road split, with cars moving in each direction and a single well-built citizen in tank-top loitering on the sidewalk.
Sergeant Augustus Hoover had no time to question the citizen, however. Those first moments after the sight-line was broken were the most crucial in any chase. If he moved quickly and methodically, he could track down his perp’s route in a matter of minutes. The officer began turning to the right when, from across the street, the aforementioned pedestrian (also wearing baseball cap) shouted out:
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re looking for!”
“Hmmm…” Thought Sergeant Augustus Hoover. His claim made sense. It was highly improbable that a random third-party upon observing his person would draw a correct conclusion as to his motives. However, drawing attention to this fact was what Hoover’s old partner used to call “Suspicious”.
“You see, Corporal Augustus Hoover,” Old Sergeant Murphy used to say as they patrolled their beat, “it’s highly improbable that a random third party, upon observing us, will draw a correct conclusion as to our motives. However, drawing attention to that fact is what I would call ‘Suspicious’.”
Sergeant Augustus Hoover missed his partner quite a bit. Things hadn’t been the same since he was gunned down at that construction site shoot-out EXACTLY ONE YEAR AGO TODAY.
He dismounted his vehicle next to the civilian and took off his sunglasses.
“Can I ask you a few questions, son?”
“Yeah sure, Officer,” the boy replied nervously.
“What’s your name?”
“He went down that alleyway, Officer sir! He told me not to tell you! Oh man, I’m so sorry, please don’t document me!”
Sergeant Augustus Hoover laid his hand down on the boy’s shoulder.
“You’ve done well, son.”
As the Cop hopped back on his vehicle and disengaged the kick stand, the boy chimed in once more:
“Hey…didn’t you break up one of my parties when I was a sophomore?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“But you had a partner then. What happened to him?”
“Ahh, well. I’m afraid he was shot down in the line of duty.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. When did it happen?”
“Oh, well, let me see….it’s August now…..it was late summer then too….in fact, I think the date was the same…..OH GOD……HE DIED EXACTLY ONE YEAR AGO TODAY!”
A new fury in his eyes, Sergeant Augustus Hoover neglected to tighten his helmet strap, giving him an unhinged look normally reserved for regular bikers.
“I WILL HAVE MY VENGEANCE!” he screamed before ringing his bicycle bell and gliding gently into the alleyway.
I watched all this happen from the third floor of the cement parking garage, my body tense with fear. If my plan didn’t work, I was caught like a fox in a trap, with no avenue of escape and no hope of survival.
I let out a long sigh when the stranger cracked under pressure, and a longer one still when I saw the Bike Cop slide into the alley; which, in turn, led onto a street where he would presumably assume I had resumed my route.
Never before had I put so much faith in a complete stranger, but the gamble had paid off. Sinking into a sitting position against the concrete wall, I let my chin fall to my chest and made a personal note to distrust people more in the future. I was safe for the first time in what felt like days.
It was at that moment a bag fell over my head and I was kicked in the ribs.
The light temporarily blinded me as the sack was ripped off. Strong arms threw me to the ground. My hands were now tied behind my back and I could tell, from slamming them against the pavement, that I had abrasions covering my body from head to foot.
“Here’s the stranger, Governor,” said a voice in the haze. Squinting my eyes, I could just begin to see the silhouettes of 3 large men standing around me. They were all looking towards a figure sitting cross-legged on the hood of a car.
“So, the University has sent yet another envoy to discover our location. How charming.” The leader began, her words slow and powerful, a calculated drawl meant to be simultaneously comforting and threatening. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing any of you around here after what happened to the last one.”
“Please,” I stammered, still squinting against the light, “I’m not from the University, I’m just trying to get to class.”
“It’s Thursday evening and classes are over,” said The Governor. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“No, I’m serious!” I went on, my voice tired and pleading. “I’m just trying to get to class! This is the last credit I need to graduate, but all this stuff happened and I….and I….” I trailed off, realizing my story was too insane to be believed.
“Well then,” said The Governor, leaving her throne and standing in front of me, “we’ll just have to find a way to see whether you’re telling the truth.”
“You want me to read him the riddle, Governor?” one of my captors asked menacingly.
“Oh for God’s sake, guys, what is it with you and riddles? We can just check an ID. Did somebody get a wallet?”
“Governor, with all due respect,” said another henchman, “you can fake an ID. But you can’t fake the answer to the riddle. Only cunning and wisdom can save you from the riddle’s snare.”
“I really don’t think we have time for this. Will you please just check the wallet?”
The large men fidgeted uncomfortably.
“Well?!” demanded the Governor.
“Governor,” said my final man-handler with the forced calm of a man near tears, “we worked really hard on this riddle and it would really mean a lot to us if we could challenge the prisoner with its soul-searching nature. I think we’d all really appreciate it.”
The other men mumbled their affirmation, still fidgeting slightly from foot to foot.
After spending a moment in angry disbelief, the Governor conceded:
“Fine. Let’s hear the riddle.”
My eyes were now adjusted to the light of the garage so I could see the unrestrained glee on the faces of the three burly men. The Governor sighed and put her face in her hands as her associates excitedly whispered amongst themselves and, finally, sat down in front of where I had propped myself up. The centermost man held a sheet of paper. Waiting until he had my complete attention, he began:
“When I’m at my highest, I’m closest and when I’m at my lowest, I’m farthest away. What am I?”
I simply stared.
“Do you know the answer?”
I, once again, had nothing to say. The answer eluded me.
“Well, well,” said the reader, “looks like we’ve got a University official on our hands, Governor. Can’t answer the riddle.”
The Governor sat motionless, her head still in her hands.
“Did you hear us, Governor? This one can’t answer the riddle. Should we get the murder stuff?”
“Just….” The Governor said with the infinite weariness of a mother at her wit’s end, “…just check the wallet.”
“But Governor-” all three began
“JUST….check the wallet. Check the ID.”
And so, while I lay, propped up on the ground, the three men went through my pockets (grumbling about the primal intrigue of a good riddle and how it wasn’t appreciated anymore), found my wallet, and handed my driver’s license to The Governor. She glanced at it for only a moment before saying:
“This is no forgery. The stranger doesn’t work for The University.”
“And you wanted to get the murder stuff,” one henchmen mumbled accusingly to his counterpart.
“It’s all right, everyone!” The Governor now shouted into the shadows of the garage. “All is well! You can come out!”
Like baby giraffes at the beginning of an Elton John song, dozens of people, blinking, stepped into the sun from their various hiding places. A passerby never would have seen a single one of them, they had hidden themselves so cunningly underneath cars, behind columns, and even, in one cringeworthy case, inside a trashcan. Leaving their hidy-holes, they began to gather around our little party.
“Everyone, this stranger is safe! You are to act in the most accepting manner possible, for tonight is a great night of much rejoicing!”
Nobody moved. The Governor sighed sadly.
“And there will be many riddles.”
The crowd went wild, screaming and pounding their fists against the cars, setting off their alarms and inciting further frenzy.
“Governor, what about MY car?” I asked over the din.
“Oh, it’s right over there,” The Governor said, pointing to where I had parked, roughly fifteen feet away.
“Then why with the bag over my head?” I prodded, my brow furrowed.
“We wanted you to think you didn’t know where you were,” she replied.
“So as to better open your mind for the riddles.” shot in one henchman.
“No, not for that,” The Governor groaned.
“Riddles!! Riddles!!” Shouted the crowd in unison.
As it turns out, I had happened upon a small colony of people living inside the parking garage.
“We have everything we need to live,” said The Governor. “We sleep in our cars and pay roughly the same for a garage permit as we would for an apartment off-campus. Plus, you can’t beat the location.”
I was scared to leave for fear the Bike-Cop had pulled my records and was waiting for me at my home. The Governor, apologizing for all that “beating me senseless” nonsense, said I could stay with the colony for as long as I liked.
When night fell, we built a fire and danced the sweet dance of riddles under the light-polluted sky. There were riddles of all sorts – short and long – innocent and naughty – dramatic and comic – all riddles were welcome as long as they captured the inherent mystery and infinite suspense natural to the medium. Around 2 in the morning, though we were still hooping and hollering in the excitement of a well-told riddle, The Governor emerged from her car and announced it was time to sleep.
Everyone groaned audibly (we were JUST about to hear Derrick’s riddle concerning two lovers who could only touch when they were far apart), but respected The Governor’s wisdom and began wandering towards our respective cars. The riddle-reading henchman from the beginning of the evening (whose name turned out to be Bill) drew me aside at this time.
“Here’s a riddle for you:” he said, “Who will always be welcome in our ranks?”
I smiled and he smiled back. The question need not be answered. Somewhere in the darkness, a member of the colony sang an Irish lullaby; it echoed beautifully through the cavern as each car’s interior lights flickered off one by one.
I fell asleep in the back seat, feeling safe and secure, about 50 feet from where Derrick told me they had hidden the murdered University workers.
-Collin Gossel, Editor-in-Chief
Things are getting crazy. What might happen next?!? To find out, come back tomorrow (Sat. Oct 25) and read to your hearts desire! OR wait until Sunday, when you can read the whole thing at once, or even download a PDF! Hope to see you back!