Chapter Eight: Taxi!

Tom’s jeans rubbed heavily against the rough leather seats of the yellow taxicab. He shut the door and held his nose as pungent odors wafted up from the old leather seats and the carpeted interior. It smelt of stale french-fries mixed with sanitation spray. The carpet under their feet had been recently vacuumed, but several frightening stains were scattered across it. Tom thought for a moment, that one of them looked like it might be blood. A little pine-shaped air freshener was hung up on the rearview mirror, like some sort of cruel joke; it would take at least a hundred of those things to drown out the odor of fast food hovering over their heads.

“These seats are absolutely appalling,” said Runt with disgust as he began to buckle his seatbelt. “They’re sticky and worn out, for heaven’s sake. What kind of cab company doesn’t look after their taxis? This is bad business. I shall have to write these people a letter later describing the third world nature of their taxicabs.” He looked over to Tom whose eyes were watering. “Sorry about this. It shouldn’t take long.”

Tom took his hand off his nose and rested it on the door, he breathed slowly.

“It’s okay, Runt. It’s not like we have to live in this filthy thing.” He looked at the thick Plexiglas paneling in front of him that was separating them from the driver. Tom leaned forward and looked at the identification picture and name written on the dashboard of the cab. It read in a sloppy scrawl ‘Bob Morgan’. He looked over at the driver and observed his queer appearance. He was wearing a dark sports jacket with a white button up shirt. He’s hair was brown and his eyes were covered with a set of thick, black rimmed sunglasses. He smelled of government cheese and cleaning alcohol.

 “Where to, strangers?” asked the cab driver. His voice was cheery.

Runt leaned over.

“To Brown’s Insurance Agency on Fifth Street, Mr. Morgan. You know, the one by the fountain.”

“Yes sir, I know the place,” said Bob. He put the car in drive and stepped on the gas pedal. “I’ll have you there in no time.” The vehicle started forward. Runt sat back in his seat and looked out the window as his legs started to bounce up and down with anxiety. There was much to be done today. He needed to get to the Insurance Company on time and file his claim. He needed to call Marten and Lee and ask them if they had a chance to talk to Mr. Fantas. He just wanted everything to go smoothly. After a moment of thinking he looked over to Tom and studied him. The young school teacher looked nervous and tired. He was playing with the door handle.

“What’s the problem, Tom?” asked Runt. “You look pale.”

Tom’s brown eyes were wider than Runt had ever seen them.

“The doors locked, Runt. I can’t get it open. It won’t budge.”

Runt looked over to the door and studied it for a second then looked back at his companion.

“Why on earth were you trying to open the door whilst the car is in motion, Tom?” Runt asked as if Tom was crazy.

“I noticed they locked once we close them and thought it was a little suspicious with everything that has been going on.” Tom replied in a whisper. 

“Maybe it’s just a safety precaution built into the car so that the company doesn’t get sued. City cabs have been known to pop open now and again and expel the passenger,” he said reasonably. “Or maybe it’s just a glitch with the door.”

Tom shook his head. He looked over to the driver then back to Runt, he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s a little strange that this taxi was just waiting for us at the end of the boardwalk… that it was just there even after the explosion? Any normal man would have headed to the city or called the police.”

“I am sure it was just coincidence, Tom, nothing to get all worried about. Maybe he wanted to stay back and help us. He seems friendly enough.” Runt looked over to the driver. “Nothing unusual.”

“I didn’t think so either, at first, but why was he here?”

Runt was about to respond when the cab driver spoke up, his voice sounded concerned.

“Are you two okay back there? Is there a problem?” Tom and Runt could both see the man grip the steering wheel more tightly.

“Oh, no we’re just fine,” said Runt. “I was just talking to my friend here about how lucky we were to have found you at the dock.” Runt paused and thought carefully about his next words as he shifted in his seat. “What brought you to the docks today, by the way?”

Bob looked into his rearview mirror, sweat began to form on his forehead, his heart began to race.

“I was waiting for a rich client to show up. He said he would be waiting by the entrance, and he never came. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem,” said Runt. “We were just curious.”

Tom leaned over to Runt and nudged him with his elbow.

“What kind of rich person would order a street cab this dirty and forlorn? Something’s still not adding up, I don’t like being in this taxi.”

“Stop complaining, Tom. I am not going to walk twenty miles to get to the city. We just don’t have the time for that sort of thing right now. There was no other way for us to get to where we need to be.”

“Yes, there was,” Tom put a hand to his mouth and said quietly. “Marten would have given us a ride. He offered. We could have gone with him.”

Runt shook his head. He hated disagreements. Tom had to understand that this was more efficient than going in one car. This would get things done faster. He was about to answer when the taxi shifted directions and threw him up against the window. The cab driver had taken a sharp left into a wooded area. They were now barreling in an unknown direction, dust flying everywhere.

“This is the wrong way, Mr. Morgan!” yelled Runt over the accelerating engine. He gripped the seat in front of his firmly. “I believe the city is back that way.” He pointed to the back window with his thumb. The cab driver ignored him and continued to cruise through the underbrush, hitting everything in sight. Tom lunged forward a bit and looked out the front window. Through the thick trees he could see a bright sunny horizon and a blue ocean. This taxi was heading straight for a cliff face.

“You have got to be kidding me,” yelled Tom. He reached for the door handle and pulled up on it with enough force that it popped off and flew under the seat in front of him. Tom cursed and started fiddling with the locking mechanism. Nothing was working; the whole door was busted. He started pounding his elbow on the window.

“Stop the car this instant!” demanded Runt frantically. “I’ll have you fired Mr. Morgan if you don’t stop this car!” He smacked his palm against the Plexiglas divider. He was going to yell again when Tom reached over and grabbed his shoulder. Runt looked over to him.

“I don’t think this is a real cab driver, Runt!” He looked at the identification on the dashboard and it registered that the man in the picture and the man driving the car were not the same person. They suddenly hit a bump and jolted forward. “We need to get down! This thing is going over the cliff whether we like it or not!”

Both men squatted on the ground and covered their heads. Their hearts were pounding loudly in their ears and sweat started streaming from their foreheads. Time felt like it had shattered and they were in slow-motion. Every second felt like days in which they would never get to live.

“Brace yourself for the impact,” Tom cried over the noise. The two men lay in little balls on the floor as the taxi continued to roar forward. They must have been only moments away from the plunge off of the rocky cliff face when something happened that the two men were not expecting. The car came to a screeching halt. Dirt and dust went flying everywhere and what had felt like the end of the world a moment before, with the acceleration of the engine and the pounding of their own hearts, was now calm; an anticlimax that had never been more welcomed. The sound of the powerful surf could be heard hitting hard against the rocks far below. Tom’s arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably.

Runt looked over at him. They both stared with amazement at each other. They couldn’t believe what had just happened. The car door on the driver side opened and then closed. A moment later there was heard a knock on the back window. They both looked up to see Bob Morgan peering in at them. He looked happy.

“Did you enjoy the ride, Mr. Hoffman?” Bob asked sarcastically. He placed his hand on the trunk of the taxi and laughed. Tom looked past his black rimmed glasses into the eyes of the insane man.

“What are you talking about?”

“Let us out of here!” yelled Runt. He crawled up onto the leather seat and banged a fist against the back window.

“Calm down, Mr. Presto. There’s no need for violence here. If I were to let you guys go, my superiors would be upset. I would get fired… maybe worse!”

Runt felt furious at this. He was going to punch the window when Tom came up from behind and grabbed his arm.

“Who are your superiors?”

“There’s no need to have this conversation, Mr. Hoffman. You’re just going to die anyway,” chuckled Bob. He was having too much fun with them. The taxi ride had been his idea from the get go. He was savoring this moment.

“Who are you working for?” demanded Runt.

Bob smiled at him mockingly. The President of Scar Co. looked so helpless right now. He looked like a frightened mouse.

“For Ruler Tootles, who else would I be working for? He’s the only man I know that would go to these lengths to succeed.” Bob looked out over the ocean and studied the seagulls as they circled gracefully in the air. He breathed in a deep breath and then let it all out. “It’s a shame what happened to your boat, Mr. Presto.”

Runt’s face went red.

“It was you!” He started punching the window. “You’re the one that blew up my ship! If I ever get out of here I’ll flog you!”

“Yep, I am sure you will,” said Bob. “I was the one that blew up you’re little boat, but that’s okay.” He started to push the car forward toward the cliffs drop off point. “You’re about to join your little boat forever.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Tom.

Bob stopped pushing the car.

“That’s a good question.” He stood up straight. He felt around his jacket pockets and pulling out a piece of paper he looked down a list that was scribbled there. His eyes slowly got bigger as he reached the bottom of the paper. He had forgotten one last thing. I don’t have the map. He looked over to the car it was now five feet from the cliff. Bob’s heart sank into his stomach. He ran over to the vehicle as it slowly trundled forward and started pulling on the trunk. The thing seemed unaffected.

“Get us out of here!” yelled Runt. “It’s still moving towards the cliff!”

Tom was pounding his fist on the window. The thing seemed unbreakable.

“Stop!” Bob yelled frantically to the taxi as it dragged him along. “I am not done with the list yet!” He lost his footing and fell flat on his back. The cab lurched forward. The front wheels dropped off of the cliffs surface suddenly. Sparks started flying everywhere as the frame started grinding against the hard sandstone.  Bob sat up in time to see the whole car topple over the cliff and vanish from sight.

His jaw dropped and his hands went limp at his sides. His mind filled with horror and unspeakable imagery of what his boss would do to him. His senses went numb and tingly as if all the blood had drained from his body. He was in big trouble. The star map was still on Tom, and Tom was now resting at the bottom of the ocean.

“What am I going to tell Ruler…” He paused and though bitterly. “I am dead…I am dead….”    

Authors Note: This is one of the shorter chapters and since Christmas is coming up, we want to get through as many as we can before next week so we decided to post early. Merry Christmas!