Lucky Dog 1 translations 04 Ivan Route 01
Part 2: Escape
Our Alfa Romeo makes a mad dash over the small country roads away from the prison like the hounds of hell are nipping on its back bumper.
Gradually, we catch sight of more and more people on the roadside. Dawn is about over, and the town is starting to wake up, too.
Bernardo skillfully handles the wheel and avoids any faraway speck of human activity by swerving down a different road again and again.
We’ve got to get out of this town without being spotted, if possible.
Ivan: We’re heading west, right? We’ll get there in a snap if we pull onto the highway.
Bernardo: Here it comes!
Bernardo pulls hard on the wheel and the car peels straight around.
|Bernardo: Don’t get thrown out!|
Clinging to the front seat, I keep my mouth shut tight so I don’t accidentally bite my tongue.
The driver of the car we’d hastily hijacked is Bernardo. Ivan’s shotgun. Luchino, Giulio and I fill up the backseat.
It’s pretty tight in the back with three guys crammed in. Luchino should’ve gone into the passenger seat, but that’s a thought for another day.
A sudden G-force swipes across us, leaving Giulio’s weight on me.
I muster a bit of force and push him away. Giulio pulls back, as though flinching away.
|Giulio: Excuse me…|
|Gian: Scrunch into your end a bit more, would you?|
|Bernardo: Hm, was there someone by the roadside just now?|
|Gian: Should someone keep an eye out back?|
Bernardo: If possible. But we should be fine. Even with five passengers, the horsepower of this car should allow us to outrun almost anything.
That’s awesome. You’ve got my thanks, Chief.
I’d originally imagined us split between two slightly less conspicuous Fords…
I mean, don’t you think a carmine red Alfa Romeo’s just a tad too flashy for a getaway ride? It is fucking cool, though!
About as cool as having a Lincoln, one of those with a roof (Those’re the standard for capos being discharged from prison!), coming to pick us up, perhaps?
|Gian: What kind of ride’d you prepare for us anyways, Bernardo?|
|Bernardo: Two veeeery plain and subdued Fords.|
Just as I thought.
|Luchino: What a shabby getaway that would be.|
|Bernardo: I’d made arrangements for us to transfer in Suncreek, on the way to Daivan, to a Lincoln limousine more suitable for our triumphant return.|
|Ivan: We’ll just need to get to Suncreek then?|
The sudden thunder of gunshot causes us to swivel around in panic.
What was that?
A Ford Model T-touring appears in front of us. The slightly nostalgic model of a car is barreling towards us.
There’s a middle-aged man in the driver’s seat, suspender belts over his shirt and a badge pinned to his chest. The hand not gripping the steering wheel’s gripping a revolver with its muzzle pointing skyward.
That’s the sheriff of the town … which makes the gunshot just now his warning shot!
|Ivan: He’s coming this way! You planning on ramming him?!|
|Bernardo: I can dodge him, no problem!|
Bernardo, instead of hitting the brakes, slams the gas instead. There’s no time for words.
We charge headlong towards each other before, at the very last second, Bernardo spins the wheel.
The cars’ bodies pass each other, one moment heading for a head-on collision, the next slipping by with a paper-thin margin.
In that instant, I catch a clear glimpse of the sheriff’s face, drawn tight in fear.
An unpleasant sound catches my ears from behind.
I turn and see the Model T smashed into a roadside building.
Teetering, the sheriff climbs out of the car… It’s probably impossible for him to chase us any further. Take care! Relieved, I turn forward again.
|Gian: …Man, that was really pushing it.|
|Bernardo: But we got through, right?|
He’s pushing it a bit too much, though. Bernardo’s already the very image of calm again (though that stunt’s probably stressed his receding hairline quite a bit)… This isn’t like him.
Could he be high off the thrill of escape…? I study Bernardo sitting in the driver’s seat.
Bernardo’s steering the wheel, looking straight ahead and nowhere else.
He doesn’t answer.
|Gian: Hey, Bernardo! Cool down!|
|Gian: You’re on a bit of a high. You pull off any more stunts like that, and I’ll have to take you off the wheel.|
Bernardo punches the steering wheel with a thwump.
|Bernardo: …You’re right. Sorry, I’ll be more careful.|
His reply is a little cold. The engine gives a wild roar. He probably stepped down hard on the gas.
When the engine falls quiet, everything around us follows suit, too. The other three’re observing our exchange with deep interest. Bernardo’s the top capo and I’d just thrown my thoughts in his face.
…We’re almost out of the town.
The sight of countless dirt roads branching through excessively sprawling fields into the horizon greets my eyes.
There’s nothing jutting out of the landscape, so I can see pretty far into the distance.
|Ivan: The view’s pretty good here…|
Beyond the far edge of the farmlands, a village, larger than the one we’d just passed, stretches just barely into view. To the right are some foothills covered in green.
|Ivan: If we don’t find some cover, we’ll be sitting ducks.|
|Gian: Anyone would think we’d be heading to that town over there, so that’s out. We’re gonna head for the hills and pull through the forest there.|
|Gian: It’ll be a roundabout drive to Suncreek, but whatever. Let’s just head west. We’ll get to Suncreek if we just head north somewhere along the way.|
|Giulio: Is there … a path … through this forest?|
|Gian: There should be. ‘sides, it’s the only place we can lay low around here.|
The car’s tires finally leave the town borders behind, violently kicking up dirt behind us as it does so.
|Luchino: This is going to wear the tires down for sure.|
|Bernardo: We picked this up for free anyways. …Fortunately, the tank’s still three-quarters full.|
Ivan turns back to the village, as though reluctant to leave it behind. The only thing we can see of the prison now is the tip of its walls.
|Ivan: We won’t be able to fill up on gas for a while. No phone, either … which means no way to contact Daivan.|
Ivan glares at me. I get the feeling he’s maliciously criticizing me.
Just when I’m about to say something back, Luchino cuts in.
|Luchino: If we make a call nearby, the guards will catch up to us in no time. We’ll find another chance to contact them. Let’s just let the Lucky Dog call the shots for now … right, Gian?|
I keep quiet. With Luchino’s sound logic I also feel the responsibility of the whole affair hanging over my head.
Luchino’s eyes bore into me as I ignore him. After a long while, Luchino snorts and turns his head towards the passing scenery.
Ivan shifts his gaze between me and Luchino, but finally ends up silently turning forward.