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Part 3; The Choice
About 4 hours later, Tim was watching his TV, not doing much on his peaceful Sundays. After awhile, however, Tim became bored and hungry. He decided to call his good friend Michael to see what he was up to.
After Tim dialed the Michael's phone number, Tim was met with a busy signal. Tim hung up the phone, and called back 5 minutes later. Busy signal again. Tim didn't worry, for Michael had just come back to San Clemente, and Michael might be calling some of his friends back in Philadelphia.
Tim, though was still hungry and he did not feel like fixing anything up, so he grabbed the phone once more, but instead called the number for Joe's Pizza Shack. Tim called in, placed his order, and hopped in his car 15 minutes later.
Tim reached Joe's Pizza Shack 5 minutes later, parked his car, and started to walk up the street toward the restaurant. When Tim turned into the restaurant, he saw blood on the floor, shattered glass almost everywhere, and bullet holes. Tim's heart rate immediately quickened at this site. "Oh God!" he exclaimed still in disbelief. Tim slowly crunched his way up to the counter, and he looked over the counter. To his horror, there was Joe the owner of Joe's Pizza Shack on the floor. Tim bent down and asked if Joe was alright. Sadly, there was no response. Joe's face had a look of shock on it, and Joe had 3 visible, bloody bullet wounds to his stomach. Tim stood back up, looked around and noticed that the cash register was open.
Did Tim need the money? Not really. He could afford his bills and taxes with enough money to spare for himself, his wife, and his 2 children. Tim also noticed his pizza, ready to be taken, fresh out of the oven. Tim glanced around, grabbed his pizza. He then grabbed three fistfuls of money and stuffed them into his jacket. Then, Tim heard the sirens.
Tim ran out to his car, hopped in, and drove off in a flash, right as 3 police cruisers turned to go to the crime scene at Joe's Pizza Shack. Immediately, the cruisers followed Tim. Tim did not notice the cruisers until he got onto the freeway heading south with a full tank of gas. As soon as Tim got onto the freeway, the cruisers flipped on their lights and sirens. Tim looked through his rear-view mirror and saw them after him. Immediately, seconds turned to years. Should he stop? Should he make a break for it? Tim thought about his family, his friends, what would happen if he made the wrong choice? Then time returned. Tim pushed his foot to the gas pedal even harder.
Tim raced down the freeway heading to the Mexican border with now 3 cruisers in hot pursuit with 5 more on the way. Tim drove like a madman for the sanity had left him awhile ago. Tim pushed the gas pedal even harder as he dodged through normal traffic on the freeway. The needle jumped above 90 mph at one point. Tim was not aware, however, that the police had cleared the freeway 5 miles up ahead and had laid a tack strip across the lanes.
Tim did not see the strip until it was too late to break. Immediately his tires popped, and Tim slammed his head into the steering wheel. Tim's car continued and crashed into the cement divider on the freeway and bounced back to the middle of the freeway. Tim's car had lost both of its side doors in the crash. Tim lay there unconscious for minutes, until he fell from his chair onto the cold hard cement that was the freeway.
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