He threw a glass jar that smashed about ten feet in front of us. Close enough that I could see fleas flying out everywhere. Thousands of them.
“Dirtbag,” Grandma said, and she fired off four rounds at Pooka.
All four rounds missed Pooka, but Lula had her gun out, too, and she was blasting away at him.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Did I hit anything?” she asked. “I forgot to bring my glasses when I changed my purse.”
Pooka jumped into the van and took off.
I hobbled to my Macan and got behind the wheel. Grandma and Lula scrambled into the backseat.
“Don’t let him out of your sights,” Lula said. “You can catch him.”
I didn’t want to catch him. I wanted to keep my eyes on him, so the police could catch him.
“Call police dispatch,” I said to Lula. “Tell them what’s happening. And then call Rangeman. They can track us by my key fob.”
Pooka drove out of the neighborhood and turned onto Olden Avenue. There were six cars between us, but I was sticking with him. He turned off Olden onto a newly paved road that led into a light industrial park. I knew the area, and I knew the industrial park was bordered at one end by woods. If he got to the woods it would take a lot of manpower to find him. There were no cars between us now. I floored the Macan and caught up to him. I was looking in my rearview mirror, hoping to see police lights, but it was just the two of us on the road.
I could feel everyone leaning forward, eyes glued to the van. No one was saying anything. We were all in the moment. Focused. We were all aware that this wasn’t trivial. This man in front of us could be spreading bubonic plague, and he had to be stopped. It was up to us.
The van sped ahead, and I followed. I was two car lengths behind. Lula was on the phone with the police. The road in front of me was straight, and we were almost at the entrance to the industrial park. Taillights flashed in front of me as the van came to a screeching stop. I stomped on my brakes, but I smashed into the van. Everyone in the Porsche was thrown against their seatbelts, and the air bags went off. I fought my way free of the airbag and saw that the front of the Macan looked like an accordion. Totally smushed, steam coming out of the radiator.
“What the hell was that about?” Lula yelled.
“He stopped short,” I said, breathing heavy after getting hit with the air bag. “I think he did it to wreck our car so we couldn’t follow, and he did a good job of it.”
“He can’t get away with that,” Lula said.
She leaned out the back window and fired off six shots into the back of the van. I heard Pop! Pop! Pop! and Zing! Wannng! Bang!
“Omigod,” I said. “He was carrying fireworks back there. And blasting powder!”
I tried to back up, but the Porsche was stuck to the van, hung up on its back bumper.
“Everyone out of the car!” I said. “Now!”
We all scrambled out of the car and saw that Pooka was also out of the van and running for the industrial park entrance.
“Get him!” Grandma yelled. “Get the bastard.”
I thought this wasn’t a bad idea because we didn’t want to be near the van if it still held blasting powder.
We took off after Pooka, and we were about fifty feet down the road in front of the van when it exploded. VAROOOM! A black mushroom cloud erupted from a huge fireball that consumed both vehicles. Tires and chunks of fiberglass sailed through the air.
Everyone stopped, including Pooka. We all paused, utterly gobsmacked for a moment, and then Pooka took off down the road at a run.
I hobbled after him, Lula was huffing and puffing beside me, and Grandma was a couple paces behind us. My mother was off like a shot.
I was shouting “Stop! Stop!” and Grandma was shouting “Go, Ellen, GO!” My God, I thought, what’s my mother thinking? What will she do if she catches him?
“She’s gaining on him,” Lula said. “Who would have thought she could run like that?”
“She ran track in high school,” Grandma said. “She was pretty good.”
My mother was about three feet from Pooka. She threw herself forward, grabbed hold of his shirt, and they both went down to the ground. They rolled around a little and by the time I reached them, my mother was on top, punching Pooka in the face.