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Cort's Journey pt. 4: ESCAPEH

Cort Marshall

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We return to Tibet--or somewhere in the area, now that Cort Marshall has been captured for speaking the name of a political dissident and martial arts master, “Big Head Gay Man.” The shot is of the truck as it pulls up to the gate of what looks like a prison complex and stops. Two guards speak to the driver of truck before opening the gate, and the truck rolls forwards to stop a few meters ahead. The guards approach the back of the truck and open the doors.


Cort squints as he sees daylight for the first time in hours. The guards enter the truck and bark orders at the two of them; Cort doesn’t understand a word of it, but his fellow captive nods demurely. He motions at Cort to stand up, doing so himself. They’re both grabbed by a guard and walked towards the open end of the truck, until the prisoner shouts:


Prisoner: Now!


He kicks his guard in the nuts and pokes him in the eyes, revealing that he’s escaped the handcuffs. The guard stumbles back and reaches for his weapon, but he receives a spinning kick to the side of the head and slumps to the floor. Cort was a bit slower to react, and he tussles with his guard around the back of the truck, trading blows. Cort wins in the end, grabbing his head and slamming it against the side of the truck’s box, which sends a reverberating “donnngg” noise through the truck.


Cort and the prisoner look at each other. Cort smiles incredulously.


Prisoner: Not bad, American male! But we must hurry!


They rush out of the back of the truck and up to the driver’s door, which was just beginning to open, the driver having heard the noise coming from the back. Cort grabs the driver as he gets out and lays him out on the concrete with a perfect plex!


Cort: I’ll drive!


He hops up into the driver’s seat and his fellow escapee slides in opposite.


Cort: Let’s see here… manual trans, seems pretty simple to me…


He throws the truck into reverse with an authoritative CLUNK from the ancient, trusty gearbox.


Cort: Mama, I’m comin’ home!


Chirping the rubber, he reverses the truck full speed into the gate, smashing it open. An alarm is raised as guards pour out of the building and towards their cars to make chase.


Cort: Baby, don’t let me down now.


Still reversing, he rolls the wheel to the left a little, then violently to the right. A classic J-turn--or at least it would be, if it wasn’t such a top-heavy vehicle. It lurches up onto two wheels, very nearly tipping over before completing the spin. The violent movement deposits the two unconscious guards into the road in front of the gate, and the pursuing cars screech to a halt to avoid hitting their comrades.


Cort whoops in joy.


Cort: Jim Rockford, I love you!


His joy is quickly replaced by worry as the road has been cleared and the cars begin to give chase.


Cort: Go, go, go, you big fat sunuvabitch!


Cort yells, giving the box truck full throttle. Its engine groans at the unintended use and the exhaust belches smoke, but acceleration remains mostly unchanged.


Cort: Oh, to have my monster truck now.


The prisoner is leaning out the window to look at their pursuers--two black sedans--but pulls his head back as a gunshot cracks through the air.


Prisoner: No good. They have guns!


In worse news, one of the cars has pulled up to the left of the truck on the narrow road. One of its occupants leans out the window, spraying shots into the side of the truck as both men duck. Cort jerks the wheel to the left, smashing into the side of the car. Metal crunches metal and the car’s steering locks up, sending it into the bush off of the road.


Cort: One down…


The next car follows behind, taking potshots at the truck’s wheels. One hits, and the truck starts to bounce as the tire loses air.


Cort: Shhhit.


Prisoner: Need new car huh?


Cort nods.


Prisoner: No worry.


The prisoner opens the truck’s door and clambers up onto the roof while Cort stares in a mixture of fear and amazement. The camera switches from an in-cab view to a wide helicopter shot, with the prisoner making his way across the top of the bucking box truck. Somehow he keeps his balance, reaching the rear edge. One of the men in the car leans out the window to shoot, but not quite in time--the strange disciple has taken flight, angling a dropkick right through the car’s front window, Jackie Chan style. The glass shatters and the occupants are disoriented, each being thrown out of the car by the prisoner.


Cort, meanwhile, can only stare into the mirror as all this is going on.


Cort: What do they FEED people here???


Soon, the prisoner has the car alongside the truck, motioning for Cort to jump.


Prisoner: You bettah hurry, they not happy!


His point is punctuated by a few pops of gunfire from the now-stranded guards. Cort gulps, opening the door and eyeing the distance ruefully.


Cort: I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.


He jumps, managing to grab the B pillar of the car and hang on as it drives off, leaving the crippled box truck to come to a shaking, indignant halt. Cort scrambles in through the window, being dumped head first into the front seat--which is covered in glass.


Cort: Ow! Ow! Fuck! Balls!


The prisoner laughs.


Prisoner: You have many good words in english friend.


Cort manages to contort himself around and back to an upright position, and picks a piece of glass out of his head before flicking it out the now-open windshield.


Cort: Okay, what now?


Prisoner: What you mean, what now?


Cort: I mean, do you know where we are? Do you know where we’re going? Do you know why ANY OF THIS IS HAPPENING?


The prisoner laughs again.


Prisoner: Answers come with time. By the way, my name is Tsewang.


Cort: Nice to meet you, uhm…. Say Wang.

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