The Perfect Getaway?

“No, no, NO,” I yelled as I weaved through the traffic. The bank heist was supposed to be done without any errors. Everything had been checked over and all the right people were hired for the job.

I, being the getaway driver, had gotten a car to drop three of my cohorts off at the bank. Then, I’d circle a couple blocks and come back once we had the money and pick them up. Next, I drive all of us to a discreet location where another car waits for us. The perfect getaway.

While I circled around, the other three: Matt, Nick, and Peter, were to go in and get the money from the safe and make sure no one contacted the police. Sara, our tech lady, would hack into the city’s surveillance system so that we could keep track of the police’s location and achieve our goal. The perfect heist.

Of course, that didn’t happen. Sara was the first one out. She got kicked off the surveillance system and police were at her door to apprehend her. My job became just that much more difficult.

Matt, Nick, and Peter were stopped just after they exited the bank. I rounded the corner and saw two police cars sitting outside the bank with their lights going. My three accomplices on the ground and their bags of money around them. I did my best to look as though I had no connection to the three. Just cut all my losses.

Unfortunately, the police must’ve sensed something off about me. Within minutes of leaving the scene, a cop was on my tail. As soon as I saw him, I began to floor it to get away. I had no one to help me. My only hope was to reach the other car and lose this cop in the process.

Before the heist, I practiced the getaway route a few times, so I knew what roads to take. A cop following me effected my path, but if I could shake him soon, then I would be on my way to freedom. For the time being, my best plan was to keep driving until I found a good enough area to have a good chance at being free from the cop’s grasp.

“No. no, NO,” I yelled. Although I was moving through the traffic and doing my best to shake this guy, he stayed right on me. Cars honked and people yelled from their opened windows. Why were none of these people pulling over when a cop had his lights on and was chasing me? I had my reason: if I pulled over, I was going straight to jail.

All the traffic lights that I encountered so far were green when I hit their respective intersections. My luck would run out eventually. I was coming up on an intersection, the light was green now. A second later it was yellow. Legally, I should’ve began to slow down. However, I was already in trouble with the police, so stopping was not an option. The light turned red as my wheels landed on the crosswalk lines. I exhaled in relief as I quickly remembered that 1) No one from the opposing intersection would get hit by my car because of the delay in the switching of signals; and 2) Everyone was to be stopped due to the cop chasing me.

My luck managed to continue when I reached a residential area that I knew contained a tangle of roads. I pulled into what would be the arena in which the showdown between the cop and myself would begin.

I wasted no time as I sped from road to road. I hoped and even prayed silently that everybody stayed off the street. The last thing I wanted was to forever alter the life of someone or the lives of someone’s family for what I was doing. Yet I also didn’t want to go to jail. People were leaving their houses to see why a police car was racing through the area. We had an audience to watch our dangerous game of cat and mouse. Unfortunately for the cat, the mouse succeeded in escaping it’s grasp.

“YES,” I shouted victoriously, giving myself a second to celebrate. I then went back to focusing on my next step: changing out the cars. From where I was, I made my way to the back roads and drove into another part of the city. As I did so I began to think of what to do next. I could no longer stay in this city. I would have to change my name, since I did not trust my ex-cohorts to keep my name out of their mouths. I would be safe with the car I was headed to; no one involved knew the cars I picked out. I accepted the fact that I would have to change almost everything about myself, but I would do it because it meant not going to jail. I found the hiding spot to my vehicle, being sure I had no stalkers on the way. I swapped vehicles and moved on to my next step.

A year later, I was watching the trials of my ex-cohorts. Sara was given the lightest of the sentences. Six months in jail and a $550 fine. Matt, Nick, and Peter were all given five years in jail along with five years of parole when they got out. They must’ve struck a deal with the police. Still, they would never find me, and I would remain at large until they closed the case once they no longer had any leads.

At least I thought they would never find me. Then, a live coverage broadcast of the outside of my house was on my television.