The Curious Case of the Two Dirk Gentlys

47: The Chapter Where Traffic Laws Don't Matter

Ken's convoy sped down the highways and main roads as fast as the black vans would allow. They'd already broken several traffic laws and the speed limit had been all but obliterated, yet still their journey was plagued with constant stops. It seemed their travels were cursed with bad traffic. Every few miles came another jam. It came in phases. They could go miles in minutes and then find themselves frozen to the spot. It was infuriating. Still they were making much more progress than they would be if they were following the rules normally and as night neared they were mere minutes away.

"I think we might actually get the jump on them." Said Ken as the convoy sat in yet another queue. His van was lucky enough to be at the front of their little party, allowing him to get annoyed at complete strangers rather than his own drivers, and Ken suspected he'd have a lovely view if the other cars weren't blocking his field of vision. He leaned over the back of the driver's seat and tried to assess the situation. He wasn't allowed to drive himself, his injury was too much of a hindrance.

"Really? You think we're going to get a jump on the people who had a several hour head start on us? You really are naive aren't you, Sir?" Mr Priest snarled from the back. He wasn't allowed to drive either. Firstly because it went against procedure. Secondly because he had a terrible road rage problem which had not only lost him his licence but also the confidence of every single one of his drivers. That left him sat on a loosely secured box, unamused and uncharacteristically tired.

"We're already here hours earlier than we should be." Ken justified. Why did he always feel the need to justify himself to a lower ranking official?

"I know. Who knew whiplash could be so useful?" He smirked.

"You know for once in your life could you just-"

"Um, Sir." Interrupted the driver.

"What is it, Greystone?" Ken sighed.

"We've got someone trying to contact us on channel two."

"Well don't just sit there. Do your job and put it on." Demamded Priest. The man obeyed and flicked the radio on. For a few seconds there came nothing, just static and silence, and then came a panicked voice. In the background the distressing and all too familiar blare of alarms rang true.

"Supervisor Adams? Are you there?" A male voice shook.

"I'm here, Enderson, what's your status?" Asked Ken.

"I think we've been compromised, Sir."

"So much for getting the jump on them." Commented Priest.

"Quiet." Ken snapped. "What are the trespassers doing, Enderson?" He asked calmly, trying to pretend the tension between him and his subordinate didn't exist.

"Heading to the main office, Sir. I think they're looking for you." Looking for him? Why? Blackwing's security had been compromised many times in its long and troubled history but they were mostly breakouts rather than break ins. Escaped projects had been returned for their imprisoned friends, documents and equipment had been stolen and likely destroyed, but the supervisors had always remained relatively safe. While Friedkin's stupidity had led to accidental injuries and Riggins had been in plenty of scraps with the unruly children and adolescents he had 'cared' for but they had been far from anyone's mind during code red situations. Nobody before had ever truly cared for the acting supervisor, everyone had their own goals.

"Are you in a safe position?" Asked Ken.

"I think so. They're only fighting against guards who are actively trying to stop them. Everyone else is pretty much being ignored. They caught me before I ducked into this side office but they let me go. They said I'm not important. Not really sure how to take that." Enderson explained.

"You aren't important, Enderson. Now get out there and fight like a man." Ordered Priest.

"But sir-"

"I swear, Enderson, if you don't get out there I will kill you myself." He growled.

"Yes, Sir." Enderson mumbled. He left the radio as ordered, leaving Ken without any further answers.

"We need to get out of here and back to base." Ken mumbled nervously.

"I'm not sure if that's wise, Sir. If Enderson is right and they are after you then procedure dictates-" started the driver.

"We don't care about procedure. Just get us back there." Priest snapped.

"For once in my life I actually agree with Mr Priest. It's the only way to possibly shut down the situation." Ken justified.

"But there's no where we can go. There's traffic everywhere." The driver protested.

"Oh really?" Mr Priest smirked. Without the merest indication or warning he grabbed the wheel and spun to the left wildly, denting the front of the van behind him but doing no significant damage to his own vehicle. He crashed through a wooden fence next to the road and into a field.  "Don't worry, I'll steer. Just keep your foot on the accelerator and don't take it off unless I say."

"What are you doing?" Ken shouted. His fingers dug deep into the fabric of the chair as stalks of wheat slammed into the window screen.

"Getting us home my friend." Priest grinned. "Now hold on tight."