The World's Last Bengal Tiger

A bullet ripped inches past my face and buried itself in the seat cushion next to me. I swerved to the left, the tires of my truck squealing as I rounded a tight corner. Sirens blared behind me. Red and blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror. Darn. They were really taking this seriously.

Another squad car joined the two that were in hot pursuit. No more bullets flew, though that was only because the street I’d entered was filled to the brim with traffic. Cars swerved aside as I maneuvered my trusty ‘92 Ford Ranger across three lanes and onto the ramp headed northbound on the I-5.

I checked my mirror. The cops were still engaged and closing. I looked back on the road just in time to swerve around a red hatchback I had quickly crept up behind. The driver leaned down on his horn, which was quickly silenced by a loud crunch. I turned around to see the cop cars piled up behind the hatchback. I slammed my foot down on the clutch, shifted the gear up, and charged ahead into open highway.

With no more cops in sight, I allowed myself a moment to breathe as I adjusted the mirror to check the status of my cargo. Yup, he was still back there, tied down by ratchet straps and sleeping like a newborn kitten. A giant, striped, 500-pound kitten. I was surprised that the car chase hadn’t woken him up. The tranquilizers were working better than I thought.

The world’s last bengal tiger. It made me sick to my stomach to know we’d driven such a creature nearly to extinction. If I wasn’t careful, by the end of the night they would be extinct, but that was a risk I was willing to take. I had to stick it to the man any way I could.

The sound of rotors overhead reminded me that I wasn’t in the clear. I ducked down in my seat and pulled off at the nearest off-ramp, hoping to gain some cover in the concrete jungle that is South LA. The helicopter whizzed by overhead, then swept around to do a second pass. I hopped my truck over the curb as I took a hasty right, people diving out of my way. I skidded through an alley, popping out the other side. The sounds of helicopter rotors faded as the pilot swung around and I made another risky turn back towards the I-5. Police sirens informed me that the streets would soon be contested.

I was trapped. The helicopter hovered closer, its spotlight focusing on me for the first time. The sirens grew closer. I elected to run. Getting caught now would only result in the failure of my mission.

There. I spotted a narrow alleyway and ducked inside, then backed out as the helicopter overshot. That gave me a break from the air cover and a little bit more room to maneuver. I dropped the gear then backtracked away from the highway, finding cover underneath a large overpass. I’d been driving for four hours. I needed to catch my breath and find some gas; the fuel gauge was practically kissing the ‘empty’ line.

My stomach growled. Fuel for the truck and fuel for myself, that’s what I needed, but I could get neither until I knew I was in the clear. Sirens still echoed in the distance, but they were growing more distant. They were beginning to look in the wrong direction. Good.

Soon they’d realize their mistake. I’d been playing games with them for far too long and I was beginning to worry they would catch on. You can only fool someone so many times before they start to learn, and I’d been playing games with the police since all the way back in San Diego.

San Diego… Thinking back, the job didn’t go the way I thought it would. I had it all planned out, you see. I’d planned it for months. It was going to be the perfect heist, but the zookeepers managed to get the camera system working faster than I’d intended and I had to scram. Now, it was looking like that small mistake was going to land me in prison for the rest of my life.

“Not yet.” I told myself as I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, “It’s not over ‘till it’s over, and you’ve got some miles left to go.”

When I was sure there were no cops nearby, I pulled into a nearby gas station to fill up my truck. I paid in cash. The store owner didn’t seem to mind until he glanced out the window and saw the truck I was driving. No doubt he’d heard the news on the radio. As I got back into my truck afterward, I saw him picking up the phone. Calling the police, no doubt.

Not that there was anything I could have done. I needed the gas to continue my northward charge. My evac ship harbored in the San Francisco Bay.

Sirens. Lights. More cops than all of California could put together. The chase was on. I flicked on the radio. Every station was filled with police bulletins. Some sources even claimed they’d called out the National Guard to close down the highways.

Well, that meant the I-5 was out. The I-10 too. I decided to try for the coast and started spinning my wheels over to the west. A police car popped out of an alley right behind me, narrowly missing a t-bone collision as I floored it towards State Route 101.

Funny thing about police cruisers, they’re faster than my truck. I found that out as a cruiser ran straight up behind me and rammed my rear fender. I jolted forward in my seat and swerved aside, ducking down an alley so narrow that it took off the left rearview mirror. Something hissed. I glanced back into the truck bed. The impact had woken up the tiger.

A cop car pulled in front of the far end of the alley, blocking it off. I jammed the truck into reverse and began backing out when another cruiser cut off the alley from behind. I groaned. I was bottled in.

“Come out with your hands up!” Shouted an officer. He began to advance from the front, weapon held at the ready. Two more were approaching from the rear. There was no way I was going with them. Not when I’d come this far. I slowly slipped the transmission into first gear. The officers raised their weapons.

I put my hands up in the air.

“Okay, okay.” I said, “You got me.”

“Step outside the vehicle and put your hands on the hood.” He demanded.

I kept my hands raised, took a deep breath, then floored it. The cop shouted and dove to the side. The truck, without my hands keeping it steady, slammed into the wall and slid along it. My seatbelt snapped me back into place.

The police car loomed closer. I threw up my hands in preparation for the impact, but it never came. Instead, a massive wormhole materialized before me, a shifting, swirling portal of chaotic brown energy that sparked with lightning. I slammed on the brakes but it was too late and I plunged into the portal.