The conclusion to Chapter 3.  The plan takes an unexpected turn.

    I was standing there watching the dust settle as the car went out of sight.
    “You know, we forgot the second part of the plan.  What’s Woody going to do after he wrecks the car?  And what if he meet’s somebody on the road?  We didn’t go over that part.”
    “I think that ol’ boy is bad enough he’ll figger out whut to do.”  The old black guy was smiling his snaggle tooth smile as he readjusted his ball cap.
    “I don’t know your name,” I said to him.  “You keep helping me out and I don’t even who you are.”
    “Name’s Pate.”
    “I’m Coy, Jr. and that’s my Grandmother, Mama Pope,” I said as I pointed at her.
    “Yessuh, I know Miss Addy.  I used to work fo’ her husband back in the fawties.” Pate took his ball cap off, then put it to his chest, “Miss Addy, is you okay?”
    “I’m…I’m alright, Pate.  I think I need to go in the house and clean up a little.  It’s time to feed Janie.  Coy, Jr. you need to run on home now.  And don’t talk to anyone about this…”
    “Mama Pope, you don’t look too good.  Is your head okay?  I saw Hannon hit you.  I know it must of hurt.”
    “Coy, Jr. go home.  Just go home!  And keep your mouth shut about this!  Go home!”

    “Coy, she be awright.  I’ll stay with her for a while.  She just skeered ol’ Hannon gwine to come back, that’s all.”
    “What about Woody?  What if he comes back?  What if he doesn’t come back?” I asked Pate.
    "Son we best be hopin’ he ain’t done killed ol’ Hannon and hisself,” Pate was kind of grinning.  “If I sees him, I’ll send him yo’ way.  He be okay.”
    I started walking toward my house.  I was really worried what would come of all this.  I wondered if Woody would be okay.  I was hoping to high heaven that he wasn’t going to kill Hannon.  I looked down just as I was about to cross the fence and realized I still had Hannon’s pistol in the waist of my jeans.  I stopped for a second, thinking about what I was going to do with it.  I decided that I would go by the pond Woody and I were originally headed to and throw it in.  Maybe I would fire off a couple of rounds before I got rid of it.  That way if somebody ever did find it, it would look like it was used to commit a crime or something.  It was kinda scary that I could think about stuff like this.  I mean, making a plan on how to get away with a crime wasn’t something that I ever thought I would be doing.  But it seemed nowadays that I had to think like a criminal just to save my own hide from the “real” criminals.  And the real criminals were the law.
    Meanwhile, Woody was driving down Gunner’s Creek road like a drunken idiot and ducking his head down every time he passed a house or a mailbox or a dog or anything else that spooked him.  The police radio was steady talking which didn’t help his nerves in the least. Woody was making a plan on how to wreck the car and get out alive.  Actually, he decided on a plan to get out and let the car wreck itself.  He figured that he would jump out the window on the right side just before the bridge and let the car run off the bridge on the left side.  He was going to use the window so that when the car wrecked, the passenger door wouldn’t be open.  Not a bad plan considering this was Woody thinking it up.  He rolled down the window when he could see the bridge just about a half mile or so ahead.
    “Aw-righty Hannon.  Looks like you’re gonna have a little more pain courtesy of Mr. Durwood Avalon Povine.”  Woody let go of the wheel and grabbed Hannon’s leg so he could put his foot on the gas pedal.  He wrestled around with Hannon’s leg, yanking on the knee of his britches.  “John Brown, limp-legged, stinkin-ass bastard!  Get yo’ foot on that pedal!”  Woody was 200 feet from the bridge when he finally got Hannon’s foot on the gas.  Unfortunately, Hannon slid down in the seat and pushed the gas pedal to the floorboard.  The transmission kicked into passing gear as the car went over a dip and leapt onto the bridge.  Woody was simultaneously climbing out the window.