Ring Toss
The Conductor
It might not be as sexy as the Batmobile or as technologically advanced as David Hasselhoff’s KITT from that old Knight Rider TV show, but the Conductor felt like king of the world driving this stolen bus. No one was bossing him around now, telling him what he could or couldn’t do. As he felt his dignity begin to return, his back instinctively straightened and his chin lifted. He owned this damned road.
As he rounded a corner, a cell phone slid out from under his seat and across the floor of the vehicle.
Uh-oh. Who the hell does that belong to?
“Grab that phone!” he hollered. Damn! Could the police track them through the phone? If so, he’d lose more than his recently regained dignity. He’d lose his freedom, too. Bank robbery and grand theft auto were probably good for eight to ten in the state pen.
The Switchman snatched the device from the floor. Without slowing, the Conductor pulled back on the lever to open the bus’s door. Whoosh. A gust of wind blew in as he grabbed the phone from the Switchman’s hand and hurled it out of the bus and into the bushes flanking the road.
Another uh-oh played in his mind. He stiffened and eyed the others in the mirror. “You hear that?”
Not only had the open door let fresh spring air into the bus, it had also let in the distant sound of a helicopter, a soft whup-whup-whup growing louder by the second.
The other robbers grew rigid, too.
Whup-whup-whup.
“The bus number is painted on the roof!” The Conductor’s heart pumped a hundred miles an hour as he glanced furtively around, looking for somewhere he could pull in. He’d hoped to put a little more distance between themselves and the bank before leaving the bus, but he hadn’t anticipated a helicopter. “We’ve got to ditch this thing! Now!”