Early Riser

    It was late, much later than I’d been out in a long while. I was a night owl in my college days, but that is no longer my life. I rose early to get to the office first, because success didn’t happen without effort, for some never at all. Failure wasn’t going to happen to me, I always told myself. Some people call me driven, but others said I had no life. I disagreed; my life was my work, which was all I really needed.

    People didn’t understand, but why should I care. I kept to myself. There was no need to get involved with the problems of others. It never turned out well. 

    My life was routine, but it worked for me. I usually picked up dinner on the way home from work, takeout, but that night I ate quietly in the diner at the back booth. A couple of young thugs with gang tattoos walked in. They made some rude sexual comments to the waitress then grabbed her and pawed at her blouse. Her name was Julie. I knew her but not intimately. She was pretty, but she had a kid, and that was a problem for me.

    I watched in silence from the booth, trying to be invisible. I'd seen this before, but Julie was adept at handling creeps. These guys were different, more persistent and obnoxious. She was flustered, and the place was almost empty, except for an older couple and me, but they left quickly once the thugs started trouble. 

    Now it was just Julie, the creeps with gang tattoos and me left in the diner. I no longer went unnoticed by the gang members. They wanted me out so they could stalk their prey. I should have gotten my order to go, but now my conscience wouldn't let me leave. Dammit. This could get ugly. I left my phone at the office so calling for help wasn’t an option.

     Julie tried to dial 911 from her phone, but they slapped it out of her hand onto the floor, then pointed at me and motioned to the door. I got up not sure what to do, but I couldn't leave her alone. She’d be a statistic on tomorrow’s newscast. 

    I strolled toward the door. Time was not my friend. Seconds were ticking away as I approached the exit. I had to do something, but what?

    Without giving it much thought, I grabbed a chair and swung it at the guy who appeared to be the top thug, striking him in the side of the head. He clutched his bleeding scalp. Julie immediately reached down and picked up the phone and dialed 911. The other guy came at me with a knife; thank God he didn’t have a gun. I fended him off like a lion tamer, holding the chair in front of me. I advised him to leave with his buddy and pointed to Julie.

    She waved the phone at him. “I called 911, the cops are coming.” She pointed out the window at the flashing lights. 

    They ran out and yelled, “We’ll be back.”

    Julie screamed back. “I’ll be ready.”

    “That was close,” I said. “Lucky you were able to get the phone and call the police.”

    "I was bluffing, the phone's broken." She held it up to show the broken screen. "In this neighborhood, you always hear sirens, so I was gambling."

    “Holy shit! That’s gutsy.” I remarked. “I’m not playing poker with you,”

    She smiled, “I better lock the door.” She turned the deadbolt and started to lower the shades. “That was brave of you, to stick your neck out for a stranger. What’s your name?”

    “Thanks. It’s Timothy . . . just call me Tim. I’ve been here before, so you’re not a stranger. I don’t normally get involved, but this is different.” I started to lower another shade. “They threatened to come back. What are you going to do?”

    "I'm not sure what to do. I need this job." She looked into his eyes. “I recognized you, but you’re quiet . . . you rarely say a word.” 

    “Yeah, I fly under the radar, most of the time. We should get out of here before your admirers realize they’ve been duped.”

    “Admirers... that’s funny. But you’re right let’s go, now.”

    “Do you need a ride?” He pushed the chair back under the table.

    “No, I only live two blocks away. I’ll be fine.”

    “Let me give you a ride. They could be waiting around the corner for you.”

    I checked the parking lot and saw no signs of trouble. After locking up we hustled out to my car, a dinged up Ford Focus. It had a dented rear fender and only three hubcaps, a thief’s nightmare, so no worry it would ever be stolen.

    I felt good doing something to help her. She was a young single mother doing her best to support her child. It was a short drive. I’d drop her off and get back to my bland life. It was two blocks, no big deal. She thanked me repeatedly, as we turned west on Second Street toward the projects. When we rounded the corner, I spotted two cars riding side-by-side exchanging gunfire.

     “Holy Crap! We have to turn around.” 

    Julie looked at me with tears rolling down her cheek. “But my son, I have to get home.”  

    I made a U-turn in the middle of the street. "We will, but we have to go a different way." 

    Just then a third car turned the corner at high speed heading my direction. Now driving east on Second Street, I stomped on the gas, but my economy car was no match for their go-fast car. They were gaining on us quickly. At least I was driving a direction that was familiar to me. Two blocks down on the left was Compton Avenue, which leads to the rail yard. If I could get to the yard, I might be able to lose them.

    Compton was quickly approaching but so was the thugmobile. I didn't slow down. As I made the turn on to Compton, I could feel the car lift up on the left almost leaving the ground. The tires screeched like an animal being skinned.  

    Julie huffed, moaned and yelled. “Shiiiiiiiitttt.”

    I was too focused and scared to say anything until we exited the turn unscathed. Then brilliantly claimed. “That wasn’t so bad.”

    Through the rearview mirror, I could see the chase car take the turn at a high rate of speed, much faster than I had. They made the turn but sideswiped two parked cars, which slowed them down. But they didn’t stop. 

    They were further back now. So, there was a chance I could lose them in the rail yard. When I worked there in my teens I knew a back way out. I hoped it hadn't been closed off.  

    Julie regained her composure. “For a quiet guy, you have a wild streak." 

    Before I could respond with a witty remark, I heard the churning wheels of a train.  

     “I hear the train . . . a coming.” I gripped the steering wheel.

    Julie braced herself, “It’s rolling around the bend.”

    “No time for Johnny Cash." I teased. "Maybe a duet later, June."

    She laughed. “You’re nuts.”

     With the gang not far behind, my car launched over the tracks. I could see they were trying to beat the train. It was going to be close. The screeching of tires, the blaring horn from the train and the sound of the crushing metal filled the air. 

    I looked at Julie. “They won’t be bothering you anymore.”

     “There’ll be someone else to take their place.”

    We drove in silence to her apartment; relieved the nights' trauma was over. As I pulled around to let her out, she yelled. "Watch the curb." Too late my front wheel jumped the curb, and I hit the light post. 

    I ignored the minor bump and smiled. “Can I give you a ride to work tomorrow?” 

    "I think it would be faster taking my son’s skateboard . . . definitely safer.”

    I winked. “I’m an early riser.”