True Grit -- A Serialized Novel: Chapter Two: Strange Medicine on the Desert

           

             Punto glanced at the fuel gauge as the Firebird continued its prowl down the desert highway.  He glanced over his shoulder at the body-shaped figure, concealed by a blanket, in the back seat. "Still no movement," Nick thought, "I'm no doctor, but that ain't good.  Oh well, fuck it."  Nick propped his knees up against the wheel to keep the car straight as he began to roll a blunt.

            "Hey, Bartlett," he asked, licking the rolling paper, "you got a light?"

            "Sure." Bartlett tossed Punto his bic.  Punto finished rolling the joint, ignited the end and took a long hit.  He accelerated gradually as he slumped back in his seat.  Everything really was going relatively well, he realized. As long as they just kept going steady through into Vegas, with no more setbacks or stops for infield practice, no one who was chasing them would be able to catch up in time.

            Suddenly Punto's eyes twitched.  The road ahead convulsed, and Punto leaned forward as the car hugged the curvature of the earth.  Fuck.  When that shifty Venezuelan behind the 7-Eleven in San Bernadino said this chronic would blow his brains out, he didn't think... oh shit...

            Suddenly a gruesome black mass rose up in the rearview mirror, and there was a terrible roar.  Punto knew that they were back. He looked back into the mirror, the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car.

True Grit -- A Serialized Novel: Chapter One: Fear and Loathing and Piranhas

Explanatory Note:

Nick Punto was released by the A’s on December 19^th, 2014.  No new news surfaced, until, on January 7^th, 2015 it was reported he had signed a minor league contract with the Diamondbacks.  Yet on the fateful day of February 20^th, 2015, it was announced that he would not be attending spring training, and would be sitting out the rest of the season, “to spend time with his family”.  Some believe that this was simply Punto waiting to retire in order to collect the 2.75 million dollars the A’s still owed him.  But that’s what he wants you to think.  The truth is, Nick Punto has some old scores, and he’s been fixin’ to settle them for a while.  Nick Punto is not “spending time with his family”, he, along with one or more accomplices, are out there, right now, and they’re hungry for revenge.  In the process, they might just save baseball. This is that story.

They were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. Punto had smoked a J to try and calm his nerves, but it wasn’t helping.  The 77’ Firebird screamed across the California desert. The thirsty V8 roared under the hood as the car accelerated to over 90 mph.  Nick Punto’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.  The air screamed in through the opened window, and Punto was reminded of the time Elvis Andrus dared him to touch Adrian Beltre’s head.  The speedometer needle edged passed 100 mph, but Punto kept his eyes fastened to the road, and his foot to the floor.  Jason Bartlett suddenly snapped into consciousness in the passenger seat.