Liberation: Chapter 1

August 29, 2011 began not unlike any other before it, but within minutes of merging on to I-75, the day skipped down a path of steepening instability.

Left turn signal, check.
Cut around slower vehicles prior to the end of the merge lane, check.
Enter the leftmost lane and drive 15 MPH over the speed limit, check check.

Daniel sat in a relaxed position in the drivers seat of his 2001 Chevy Malibu rental car, left arm on the window well, elbow against the glass, hand on back of head. Stretching his back from the early, static hours of the morning, Daniel took in a deep, slow breath, holding it for a few seconds, and then releasing it; an indication that the morning had truly begun. He reached for his orange juice, a replacement to his regular coffee, and before his lips could reach the straw, his body heaved forward with a sudden jolt, his grip tightened around the steering wheel. "...the fuck!?" Daniel gazed into the rear-view mirror to spot an empty lane of traffic, and as if on cue, a red-and-black Firebird sped around to his right, and he floored his accelerator.

Center lane, left lane, center lane, left lane again... The Firebird jumped between cars like a flea, leaving Daniel with only a couple of feet worth of room to navigate the same route as his assailant. Center lane, right lane, center lane, left lane... The Malibu and the Firebird reached the front of traffic, lingering for mere moments before the Firebird's custom exhaust system roared with the fire of ogre bellies and began widening the distance between the two vehicles. Trying to keep up, Daniel's Malibu whined and squealed; it's rebuilt engine taking the stress of high-speed driving with stride. Coming upon the next block of traffic and closing the distance on the Firebird, the pair entered the cluster from the center lane, immediately cutting to the right in front of an aqua Honda Accord, back to the center lane around a black and grey Chevy Blazer, and into the left lane around a Publix semi-truck and trailer. By the time Daniel's Malibu caught up to the left lane, the Firebird in front of him was pulling in front of the truck and took chase to it, but on impulse he tapped his brakes halfway up the side of the truck and pulled around behind it to find that the same Firebird he had been chasing was hovering around the back corner of the truck in a vain attempt to outsmart him. Daniel pulled up behind them and flashed his high beams at them; this amusing game of cat-and-mouse was in check. The Firebird once again accelerated to escape, but as soon as they had started, the Publix truck swerved right and cut them off. The vehicles collided, and the Firebird hovered into the emergency lane for a few, brief seconds before succumbing to drop of the slope, mere feet to the right. The Firebird's driver slammed the brakes as soon as he was on level ground, and the car squealed and smoked before spinning out on the dewy grass and, at last, coming to a halt. Daniel flipped on his emergency lights and pulled off the side of the interstate, threw his car in reverse, and slowly approached the Firebird, his dented bumper leading the excursion.

Since the moment he got rear-ended, Daniel had his first, rational thought. "Who would run from something small like that, considering I could have reported his license plate later." The thought that the Firebird he had been so desperately chasing could have been stolen, and the driver was some hardened criminal who was breaking his parole. "Ah, Christ. What have I gotten myself into?" By the time Daniel has his epiphany, he had already backed up to the car with the smoking tire wells, and the doors had already begun to open. "Fuck, why did I have to stop for this asshole? He's probably got a handgun and an ounce of cocaine in his glove box. Maybe I can throw my car in reverse and... no, that's never gonna work, he's probably The freakin' Flash on that crack. Shit! Fuck! I could always just drive off..." Daniel threw his car into D and was about to slam the accelerator, when he had an epiphany. His foot hit the brake and the car shook and his transmission grinded as he threw it into P from an idle speed. "Fuck it, I'm no pussy. I'm not gonna run from this shit, I've got too much pride for this." Daniel opened his door with haste to meet the driver of the Firebird face-to-face. His face tightened, a confident scowl formed from his lips, his eyes squinted, and he marched stiffly from his car to his partner in chase. Daniel walked around the open driver-seat door and was greeted to a twenty-something blonde girl with her nose pointed downwards at a small puddle of vomit; his guard was dropped immediately.

Daniel bent over, wrists to knees, "Ma'am? Are you alright." She shook her head up and down as well as she could and he looked side-to-side and noticed there wasn't a steering wheel on the car. Puzzled, he looked through to the assumed passenger side of the vehicle and found a forty-something man with receding whitish-brown hair attempting to call someone on his cell phone, his forearms resting on a steering wheel. Snapping back into defensive mode, Daniel power-walked around the front of the car and the right-side driver's door, putting his hand on top of it. "You," he said in a powerful voice. The man shook as his neck snapped over to look at the man he had been running from. The man replied with a heavy Brazilian accent "I am so, so sorry Mr. American Man. My girlfriend and I were driving when I drove into you car... and..." the man was cut short. Daniel smelled marijuana. "Let me get this straight. You were stoned and driving on the highway when you ran into my car and tried to run away." The man nodded once, "Yes, that's it. I'm so sorry, if we were caught I would have been deported. I'm here on a student visa, I'm learning about physics. I'm just here for the weekend, I go to University of Florida. Do you want to see my student ID?" The man was panicking. Daniel just stood leaning inward in the doorway, one bent arm on the door, the other on the roof, looking around for any other details that might be useful to know, when the sound of a car tire driving through gravel sounded to his right. The progenitor of the disturbance? A Florida Highway Patrol car driving off the side of the interstate and into the grassy area occupied by the two cars. Daniel turned to look at the third car, suppressed a spiteful quip to the Brazilian man, and tapped his middle and index fingers on the roof of the car in anticipation.

The officer stepped out of the car calmly and approached Daniel and the Brazilian man, glancing to his left on the sound of the young girl vomiting. The officer looked slightly taken aback. "We received six reports of two cars racing on the interstate, and five reporting a car driving off the road. Would any of you like to explain to me what happened?" Daniel glanced at the Brazilian man before starting. "I would, I was on my way to work when I was rear-ended by him," Daniel pointed to the Brazilian man with his thumb, "and he tried fleeing the scene, so I chased him down and he was run off the road by a Publix truck," Daniel concluded by stepping out of the officer's path to the Brazilian man. The officer looked at the Brazilian man and spoke, "Sir, is this what really happened?" The Brazilian man was unable to keep eye contact, "Yes, officer, it is." The officer quietly inhaled a deep breath, paused for a second and walked over to the other side of the car. "Ma'am, are you okay to stand up?" She nodded her head as she had for Daniel, only quicker, took a deep breath, and stood up with the help of the officer. He led her towards his car and said to her, "Ma'am, I'm going to have to place you and the driver of the vehicle under arrest for the possession and use of a controlled substance. Will you please step into the back of my patrol car?" Looking at the ground with her arms crossed, she nodded again and sat in the back seat as he held the door open for her. She sat there with the door opened, arms crossed and staring at the headrest of the passenger seat, her lips pouting. The officer walked back to the Firebird, past Daniel to the Brazilian man, who had stood up on his own. The officer locked eyes with him for a moment before walking back to his patrol car, seating him next to the blonde girl and shutting the door. The officer walked back to Daniel with shifty eyes.

"Sir?" The officer spoke to Daniel, "Yes officer?" A sinking formed in Daniel's gut, "You are being placed under arrest for illegal racing and reckless driving. Please follow me to my patrol car and I will escort you to the Florida Highway Patrol holding facility." Daniel's reaction was that of someone struck in the solar plexus. "I'm sorry, officer?" The officer continued to look Daniel in the eyes. "I do not intend to repeat myself, please follow me to the patrol car," the officer said as he turned around and began walking. "Fuck my life," Daniel hesitantly followed the officer, who held the door open for him. Daniel took his seat next to the blonde girl, who was hunched over, forearms to thighs, looking roughed up from sweating too much, and the Brazilian man gave Daniel a quick glance before huffing and putting on his seat belt. The officer entered the driver's seat, started the engine, and drove back on to the interstate and sped up to 80. The blonde girl began leaning to Daniel's side and turned her head to say something, but her speech was interrupted as a mass of vomit left her lips instead of words and coated Daniel's shirt and tie; the excess pooling in his lap.