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Date Posted: 12:51:59 09/30/99 Thu
Author: Swank
Subject: CABS 4 HIRE Chapter 1 - Somewhere in the Northeast

Hey all give me some opinions on this story I put together. I have a couple of chapters done but I have kind of stalled on the writing.. This is a first for me so you may be critical.


This is a story about former cab drivers from New York City who seek adventure and fortune by becoming Mercenaries in the Southwest of the United States. The year is 1977, and the country is falling apart. It is a time for Vigilantes a time for.....

CABS 4 HIRE


CHAPTER ONE - SOMEWHERE IN THE NORTHEAST....

The taxi’s meter continued to climb, it was now past the five hundred dollar mark. “I wonder how high I can get it” Anthony pondered while passing a rest-stop full of Moth trucks. Anthony had switched the meter on back in Manhattan and it had climbed to two hundred and fifty dollars when they crossed the Delaware Water Gap out of Jersey. Now in the middle of nowhere in the hills of Central Pennsylvania, Anthony figured it should reach three thousand bucks before they arrived in Texas.
“Would you turn that stupid meter off!” came an obviously annoyed voice from the back of the cab.
“The clicking noise is keeping me awake!” The voice continued.
The source of the voice squeezed her head and her right arm through the hole in the Plexiglas, and reached at the meter to shut if off. Anthony lashed out at his sister with his gloved fist knocking her hand away.
“Cut it out, I want to see how high I can get it!”, Anthony yelled.
A short struggle insued which resulted in Anthony forcing his sister back to the rear seat. He Turned his attention back to the road.
Anthony knew his sister Claire would be sulking. He could feel her cold dark eyes in the back of his neck.
“Retard” she whispered under her breath.
Anthony annoyance was temporary, sure his sister was a pain in the ass, but Claire was the only immediate family he had left. He did however plan to let her sulk for awhile.
Anthony Cardone or “Brooklyn” as he was called by his friends continued driving the yellow cab down the highway. He thought to himself that all of this was so unreal. Just last week he was managing the family taxi company that he inherited from his father. Now he was on his way to become an auto vigilante.
Anthony was determined to turn his life around. The last month has been one disappointment after another. He failed out of NYU, he couldn’t save the family business from bankruptcy, and to top it all off his fiancé had left him. He certainly had felt like a loser, but now he was excited. He was going to Texas, the new Wild West, to protect a rich oil baron from attacks on his oil fields. Anthony also felt lucky that the gang he hung out with were following him there. He was glad he had answered the add from the Oil Baron in the “Daily News”. Anthony took the crumpled add out of his pocket and read it to himself again.

Wanted: Auto Vigilantes

Texas Oil Man seeks auto mercenaries for tanker protection work. Good driving skills
a must. Will provide auto combat training. Applicants must have own automobiles
and armaments. All inquiries to Fred Connor P.O. Box ISS35 Pearland TX, 77581


When he first found the ad in the paper Anthony was immediately interested, and he quickly started making plans to pick up and move to Texas. He wrote the Texan and quickly got a telephone call back from him. Anthony was impressed by the man’s booming voice and friendly nature. When Mr. Connor asked if he knew anyone else who would be interested, He told him that he would have to call him back. He was surprised to find that many of his friends were as intrigued as he was, and in a weeks time they had finalised the plans and were all now heading to Pearland Texas, a small town outside of Houston Texas.
Anthony looked at the meter again. It had not moved much since last he checked it. Anthony was hot and thirsty. He looked back toward his sister. Breaking the silence he spoke.

“Hand me a coke?” He ordered.
Claire reluctantly reached into the red and white Coleman cooler, past the half soggy sandwiches, past the Marathon candy bars, and past the six pack of TAB. She grabbed a can of Coke for her brother, tugged at the pull tab, and reluctantly handed the now open can to her younger brother. Without taking his eyes off the highway Anthony grabbed the ice cold can and quickly chugged half of the Coke. As the cool liquid flowed down his throat he let out an exaggerated sigh that was meant to taunt his sister.
Claire Ignored the obvious taunt from Anthony. She was unaccustomed to playing slave for her brother, but for a while at least she needed to play at being gracious. She had promised to do “anything” he said if he let her come to Texas with the gang. This included fetching sandwiches and Cokes, as well as doing all the cooking when they got to Texas. Claire wasn’t bitter though. She would have promised anything to get out of New York. Since the death of her father and the bankruptcy of their family’s taxi company she felt restless, she needed a change. Besides, once in Houston, she had no plans on keeping up her end of the bargain.
“Breaker one-three, Brooklyn you got your ears on?” Came a call on the taxi’s CB radio.
Anthony picked up the receiver and answered back.
“10-4, this is Brooklyn, is that you Blind Robin” he questioned.
“In the flesh... We gonna make a pit stop soon?" Streaker’s bladder is about to burst.”
“Sure,” Anthony replied. “I just saw a sign for a Mondo Burger, it’s about 3 miles up the highway, we’ll stop there.”
“10-4 Brooklyn, I’ll tell the rest of the convoy” Blind Robin called back.
Anthony listened as Blind Robin informed the rest of the convoy of the planned stop at Mo’s. They all responded with enthusiasm. Anthony surmised the enthusiasm didn’t come from the choice of food, but probably because Streaker’s bladder was not the only one full by now. Claire sat quietly in the back of the cab and didn’t comment on the planned stop. She was busy putting on eyeliner.
The convoy pulled off the highway and easily found the Mondo Burger. The mismatched caravan stuck out like two sore thumbs in the parking lot. Anthony and his sister took the “front door” of the convoy in their hubcap free yellow Chorcheval Royal taxi cab, the in-service light still on. Blind Robin and Streaker followed in a grey and white panel truck that they had stolen this very morning from its driver who at the time was busy drinking a cup of coffee in a SOHO diner. The truck still had its New York Times logo emblazoned on each side of the truck. Although they didn’t find time to paint over the NYT logo they did however manage to dump the hundreds' of newspapers that once partially filled the back of the truck. The only things now in back of the truck were Blind Robin’s mechanics tools. The tools that he had received upon graduation from the APEX technical school. He treasured those tools and wouldn’t part with them for the world.
After the NYT panel truck, the Moth truck hauling a car carrier full of yellow cabs pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. Instead of parking, the driver decided to go through the drive-thru. Anthony noticed that the truck was a too tall to be making the attempt. CRASH.. the top of the truck hit the height restriction sign. The sign splintered as the truck sent it crashing to the ground. Almost immediately the Mondo’s Burger’s manager was now outside of the restaurant screaming at the driver.
Butz, the truck’s driver and part of Anthony’s gang , ignored the screaming manager and backed the rig out away from the ravaged sign. All Anthony could do was shake his head. Although Anthony was the appointed leader of this Gang, he knew he could not control Butz. Anthony had known Dave Butterworth or Butz since grade school. They had become quick friends. That friendship, although strong, hadn’t given Anthony the power to control Butz. No one controlled Butz, was a strong believer in free will. He did what he wanted, when he wanted.
Butz had managed to back the truck out of the drive-thru lane and proceeded to pull it along the right side of Anthony’s Taxi. Anthony watched as Butz jumped down from the truck’s cab, and then walked toward the Mondo Burger. The restaurant’s manager followed Butz, chastising him for the destruction of the drive-thru. As Anthony expected, Butz ignored the manager as both of them entered the restaurant.
By this time the rest of the convoy had pulled in and parked near Anthony. Rajiv was driving an yellow Chorcheval Royal that was identical to Anthony’s, it was also identical to the half dozen cabs on the Car Carrier. He parked it to the left of Anthony. He flashed a smile to the rest of the gang as he got out of his car. As usual the Pakistani was impeccably dressed. Today he was wearing freshly pressed designer blue jeans and an orange pull-over top. Blind Robin and Streaker pulled up next in the New York Times truck and parked behind Anthony. Bringing up the back door of the convoy was Nick, Anthony’s younger cousin. Nick was driving his cherry red Chorcheval Cavera, which he had customised for the trip. Nick made sure to park at least three spaces away from any other car, and he took up two spots in the process. As Nick got out of his car he checked for any marks on his precious paint job, and then joined the rest of the group.
Aside from Butz, who was already in the restaurant, the rest of the gang walked up to the Mondo Burger together. As the gang walked Anthony teased his cousin.
“Hey, Nick, I thought I saw a leaf fall on your car” Anthony chided.
“Very funny, can’t a guy take care of his ride without getting busted on?” Nick replied.
“Sure, but why should you take such good care of a paint job, which will get shot up when you get to the Southwest?” Rajiv questioned.
“I ride in style,” Nick said proudly “besides what makes you think any bullets are going to even get near me.”
The banter continued as the gang entered the restaurant. Butz was there already at a table eating a "BIG MO". The manager was sitting next to Butz itemising the damages to his drive-thru sign on a yellow piece of lined paper. Butz continued to ignore him.
After a few minutes the gang had all utilised the facilities and were now enjoying some good old American fast food. So intent on their meal, no one in the gang took notice of the three trucks that pulled into the parking lot. The blue pickup with a camper top, a red van, and a white Clydesdale made their way through the lot where they decided to park very close to Nick’s cherry red Cavera, blocking it in.
The three drivers climbed out of their trucks, looked at each other, and headed toward the Mondo Burger. Anthony glanced up from his burger and noticed the three men approaching the glass door.
“Aw.. Shit.” Anthony murmured as he noticed the pick-ups blocking Nick’s Cavera, and quickly surmised that the owners of those trucks were the three thugs who were about to enter the Mondo Burger.
“I think we got trouble” Anthony warned.
“I’m a.. ga.. gonna b..b.. be sick.” Blind Robin Stammered while heading off to the men’s bathroom.
Anthony didn’t have time to chase after Blind Robin, he needed to turn his attention toward the three men who were now entering the restaurant.
“Whose pussy mobile is talking up two of our spots?” The first thug through the door asked.
The man who spoke was an large and opposing man. He was well over six feet tall, hairy, and he reminded Anthony of Chewbacca, a character from that new movie “Star Wars” that he saw in Times Square last week. The other two men dressed similarly to the first, in leather jackets and blue jeans, but they were less intimidating then “Chewie.”
Everyone in the place was silent, and the thug looked annoyed that nobody was answering his question. The Mondo Burger’s Manager stopped itemising on his yellow ledger paper, and slowly walked toward “Chewie.”
“How ya doing Bruce?” the manager questioned the thug.
“Don’t call me Bruce,” he replied. “my handle is Black Flag”
“Oh yea.. What’s up Black Flag. I’m glad you showed, these stranger’s have been messing up your turf.” the manager squealed.
During this exchange Anthony’s gang went back to eating their burgers, and looked disinterested. Actually the gang was far from disinterested, Anthony was trying to think a way out of this one, and the rest of the gang knew it. Back in Manhattan, where the gang usually hung out, these guys would be flattened by now. The rules have changed however, Anthony and his gang were unarmed, even their signature baseball bats were still in their cars. The three thugs were well armed. The leader had two holstered pistols, while his two lackey’s both held hunter’s rifles. That wasn’t the only armament they had. Anthony, peeking out the window, now noticed the pickups blocking Nick’s Cavera were heavily armed as well. He could see that the trucks flanking Nick’s car, the camper and the van, were armed with machine guns and rockets respectively. While the white Clydesdale 4x4, which Anthony surmised was “Chewie’s” truck, sported a machine gun turret on the top of the cab.
Anthony’s gang did not only lack personal weaponry, but their cars were virtually weaponless as well. They had decided to travel to the Southwest unarmed, so not to attract undo attention. They new that in The Southwest vigilantes weren’t hassled as much, but in the rest of the country the law still ruled. Anthony was wondering why these three thugs weren’t in Jail.
Anthony’s mind raced. He had to find a way to get his gang safely away from these thugs and free his cousin’s blocked-in car. This all without being shot. Chewie approached the group.
“All right, which one of you guys owns the pussy red Cavera?” Chewie bellowed.
Nick gulped and was about to speak when Anthony interceded.
“It’s mine” Anthony lied, “Did I leave the lights on?” Anthony asked, with a little more then a trace of New York sarcasm.
The large man turned his attention toward Anthony.
“What have we got here, a city boy?” Black Flag sneered noticing Anthony’s thick accent.
As the group of thugs walked toward Anthony, Claire thrust herself between her brother and his antagonists.
“You don’t have to lie for me brother” Claire interrupted, “It’s my car, Handsome.” Claire lied to the thug’s leader.
Chewie and his two lackey’s now gave Claire their full attention, and she kept them busy with her flirtations. Anthony turned as he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was the Mondo’s Burger’s manager, he began to whisper to Anthony.
“You boys better be careful, That’s the county sheriff’s brother, he and his friends were deputised last week and he has been terrorising this part of the county ever since. He’s here on his weekly visit to shake me down for protection money.”
“You know if you and your gang here can manage to take care of them, I’ll forget the damage your friend did to my drive thru sign.” the manager continued.
“I’ll Think about it” Anthony whispered back, noticing that the manager switched loyalties quite quickly.
Claire’s charms, though formidable, were now wearing thin on the three thugs. They again turned their attention toward Anthony. It seemed to Anthony that they meant business this time. Anthony’s mind raced, he needed a plan, and he just couldn’t come up with anything. Just then one of the two lackey’s yelled.
“Someone’s messing with our trucks!”
Everyone in the restaurant turned their eyes toward the parking lot , except for Butz, he was content on finishing up his Big MO burger. Through the window everyone could see someone was indeed messing with the three pick-up trucks. It was Blind Robin! He must have slipped out of the Men’s room window and was now completing a surprisingly good representation of the male genitalia in spray paint on the side of Chewie’s truck. The other two trucks displayed similar completed artwork. Blind Robin was the artist of the group, most of his work was on canvas or sculptured, but he still had some of the best Graffiti skills in the five boroughs.
The three thugs ran for the door. Blind Robin, expecting company, ran to his NYT truck, and started the engine. He left rubber as he jammed the truck into gear and sped out of the parking lot. He made a strait line for the nearby entrance ramp on to the highway.
Once outside, Chewie un-holstered his two pistols and took a few shots at the truck. Only one of the shots hit, shooting out the driver side taillight of the newspaper van.
“Lets get him!”. Chewie ordered
The three thugs ran to their trucks, and they were quickly pursuing blind Robin.
“One problem solved," Anthony murmured to himself noticing that the thugs left Nick’s Cavera untouched.
“Lets move everyone, Doug needs our help.” Anthony urged the gang using Blind Robin’s given name.
The gang ran to their cars, except for Butz of course, Anthony left him behind, he figured Butz would be along when he finished his Burger.
“Streaker you go with Rajiv” Anthony urged Blind Robin’s wife.
The rest of the gang got in their cars and left multiple skid marks in the parking lot as they hurried to save Blind Robin from certain death.
After the Parking lot was quiet again Butz walked out of the Mondo Burger followed by the manager.
“Tell your friends Thanks for all their help!” the manager yelled after Butz.
Butz ignored him and climbed into the car carrier’s cab and fired up the engine. He pulled out of the parking lot and on to the entrance ramp. The parking lot was again quiet.
The manager walked over to where the thugs’ pick-up trucks were parked and began to pick up the empty spray paint cans that lay on the ground. As he reached down to get the cans he noticed there was something else littering the ground. The manager began to Laugh.
“I don’t think Black Flag and his gang are going to get very far.” The manager murmured to himself.
He continued to laugh to himself as he started to pick up the dozens upon dozens of empty sugar packages that that littered the ground.

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