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Tyler threw his car into reverse and backed up out of the drive, taking a spot in the brush on the side of the main road. Trying to hide his presence. When the police car hit the top it was too dark and too far away for him to see who was driving. Which meant two things. One - if he couldn’t see them then they probably couldn’t see him. And two - it meant that the cops had left the party. There’d be no better time to head on down.
Tyler pulled out, re-entered the drive and began his final descent. Creeping down towards the soiree at just a couple of miles per hour.
Another rowboat passed them, heading out even farther into the lake. On it was Mr and Mrs Thickwicket, owners of the Chat ’n Chew. Patrick gave them the required acknowledgement - a respectful head nod with a touch of chit chat. “Beautiful night…” he said.
“It is. It is,” replied Thickwicket as he rowed on.
“Hi girls,” said the Mrs. “Did you hear about all the excitement?”
“What excitement?” asked Nikki.
“About the shooting.”
“Shooting?! What shooting?”
They were getting farther apart now. Heading in opposite directions. The conversation becoming more difficult to sustain.
“The shooting,” Mrs Thickwicket said again, speaking up. “At the cheesesteak stand. One of the boys…” Her voice was trailing off now.
Ant perked up, suddenly very interested. “Which boy?!”
“The one…”
That’s all she heard. They were too far away.
“Which boy?!” Ant yelled after them. But it was no use.
Ant stood up in the rowboat and peered toward shore. It was dark and hard to make out what was going on. She stepped forward, instinctively trying to get closer. The boat teetered and rocked unsteadily .
“Sit down,” ordered Patrick.
“Shut up,” shot Nikki. “What can you see?”
“Nothing. I can’t see anything.”
“Take us back now!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Really?” mocked Ant. “You heard her. Someone at the party got shot. You don’t think the Mayor is going to be looking for you?”
He didn’t want to admit it. Messing with them was almost as much fun as trying to sleep with them. But she was right. If something had happened at the party the Mayor would definitely be looking for him. Grudgingly he complied.
Patrick looked back over his shoulder and adjusted his stroke. He aimed the boat for the dock. They were sixty yards out.
Ant sat back down. “Hurry,” she said.
“This is gonna be great,” Tyler said to himself as the car continued forward. “They’re all so gonna pay…”
Then the bats attacked. Dozens of them. It was brutal. Two and three at a time they dove and crashed into his car. Some hitting the backseat, some hitting the cage and still others hitting him in the face. In the neck. In the chest. He freaked.
The sounds they made were so loud, so close. Their clicks and screeches. He could hear the flapping of their wings, the scratching of their claws, their furry bat bodies slamming into him and the car and the cricket crate. They were in his face, in his hair, in his nose. He furiously swiped his hand and knocked one out of the sky. It fell into his lap and then rolled down onto his foot.
“Faster!” yelled Ant.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” Patrick yelled back.
Fifty yards out .
