Getaway

Face expressive and filled with alarm, “I just, oh my god, like, this is insane,” exclaimed Cady, attention divided between the spectacle happening in her car and the road.

“Kind of caught me a little off guard too darling,” Stan murmured, reaching into his pocket and pulling out first Deacon then Oliver and setting the boys down on the floor mat near the seat.

“Holy balls!” Cady shouted, eyes huge and round.

Deacon grinned and waved.

Looking at the immense girl behind the wheel, “Who is she?” Oliver questioned.

“Oh, Cady, she’s like, sort of my girlfriend,” he said, voice trailing off as if asking a question rather than making a declarative statement.

Pushing himself forward in the foot compartment, Stan flopped over onto his back, holding his hands up and watching them get smaller and smaller right before his eyes. “Well I’ll be a sumbitch,” he murmured, letting out a breath and chuckling softly.

Bracing himself, “Maybe you should gear down there Cady, I’m sure we don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention from law enforcement,” Deacon advised.

“Where should I go?’ Cady asked, eyes now wild, panic in her voice.

“Your place?” Deacon suggested, looking over at Stan.

“No,” Stan countered, pulling himself free of his clothing, “if Sersei took Cady’s plate number, they’ll know where she lives,” he advised, now less than 12 inches tall.

Brow furled, “Are you okay?” Oliver questioned. “How did she get you?”

Stan grinned, “She didn’t get me, I got you son, so goddamn if I don’t chock this one up in the win column, despite, this uh, little setback which I think has something to do with the glowing rock in my pocket,” he replied.

Oliver could not find the words to convey the relief he felt, though watching his stepdad shrink filled him with an ominous sense of foreboding.

“It was the white haired chick that got me,” Deacon said.

“What?” Stan asked.

“Sabina, out in the yard, she just grabbed me and I woke up at the gates of…,” he trailed off not wanting to offend Cady.

“I think the grey haired woman tried the same shit with me at the Omega house,” Stan said.

“If it’s who I think it is, her name is Edith Frost,” Oliver identified. “Mom’s mother.”

Tone rife with urgency, “I don’t want to be a bother, but am I supposed to go?” Cady asked again, slowing the car and stopping at a red light.

“We need to get Kent, I left him at Walmart so we should probably go there first and get him,” Stan advised, looking back to his heap of clothes around the interior of the vehicle from his newfound and diminished perspective. “My phone is in there somewhere,” he pointed.

Letting out a long breath, “Okay, okay, Walmart, got it,” Cady said, lifting her foot from the brake and moving it to the accelerator.

Eyes lingering on Cady, Deacon turned slowly toward Stan, wide grin on his face, “Here, we’ll give you a hand,” he volunteered.

Together, the trio successfully retrieved Stan’s cell phone out of his pocket, Stan issuing cautions about the glowing stone in his other pocket.

Calling up Kent’s contact, Stan chuckled as he typed, ‘Name the quarry of the guy we spoke about.’

“What’s so funny?” Deacon questioned.

“I feel like a mini Vanna White,” Stan answered, eyes on the screen.

Frowning, Deacon shrugged.

Stepping in, “Who did you speak about?” Oliver asked.

“Wile E. Coyote,” Stan replied.

“Is it Bugs Bunny?” Oliver queried.

Making a face, “No, it’s the roadrunner,” Stan retorted.

“Could be Bugs Bunny though, I remember seeing some of those cartoons where Bugs and the coyote were at odds,” vouched Deacon.

Screwing up his face further, “It’s not Bugs,” he declared.

“But what if Kent answers Bugs, I mean, would you accept that?” Deacon questioned.

“Why not just ask him to identify the coyote,” Oliver inquired, the ghost of a grin appearing on his face.

About to answer, Stan’s face split into a smile, “You two are fucking with me,” he accused, tone jocular.

There was no response from the phone.

“We’re here,” Cady announced, leaning forward in her seat.

“What is it?” Stan asked from below.

“There’s a police car in front, lights flashing,” Cady whispered through her teeth.

Frowning, Stan glanced back to the phone then to Cady, “See if you can’t park somewhere and see what’s going on,” he instructed, eyes darting back to the darkened phone.

Following Stan’s directive, Cady parked in an empty part of the lot. Shutting the vehicle off, she looked down at the trio of tiny men on the floor in the passenger compartment, “I’ll just go and eavesdrop or something,” she explained.

Spreading his hands slightly, “Be careful out there,” Stan cautioned.

Unfastening the seatbelt, Cady got out of the car, closing the door as gently as she could. Strolling across the parking lot, she could see most of the crowd near the police vehicle dispersing. Whatever it was that had happened, apparently, it was over as the lights on the police vehicle stopped flashing and the cruiser began to pull away.

Spying a small gathering of lingering spectators, she ambled in their direction, “Did somebody get robbed?” she inquired.

A fortyish looking woman with glasses and an uptight expression turned to Cady, “Simply deplorable, and in broad daylight no less,” she commented with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

“It was frigging awesome,” chimed in an adolescent male with a laugh, earning him a glower from the woman.

Folded her arms across her chest, “Some young degenerate, probably hopped up on the marijuana accosted two young women in McDonald’s and needed to being restrained by the police,” supplied the woman in an acrimonious tone.

“Two smoking hot lady cops,” sniggered another young male.

“The blonde one could tase me anytime, shit, break out the handcuffs,” replied the first youth, mimicking a crackling electricity sound.

Face puckering, the woman of middle years made a noise of disdain and removed herself from the crowd.

“Did anybody catch a name or anything?” Cady asked.

The second youth shrugged his shoulders, “Sorry lady,” he said, shaking his head.

“What about the women who were assaulted?” she asked.

The first youth grinned and pulled out his cell phone, bringing up a picture of two college aged women from behind, one dark haired, the other light. Showing it to Cady, “Dimes,” he chortled.

Looking at the snapshot, Cady frowned. The darker haired women in the photo had her head turned slightly to the side. Cady recognized her. Maeve, one of the Omega Pi girls who frequented Cup of Joe’s.