Rock music blasted off radio station KQRR. A loud beep disturbed the middle of the song that played.

A voice reminiscent of the famous newscaster Walter Cronkite stated, "We interrupt our regularly scheduled program for this important public service announcement. A Category 5 tornado has been reported on the ground in the Highway 43 vicinity south of Petersville. All residents should seek the safety of cover as far away from all windows as possible. Again, a potentially devastating tornado has been spotted on the ground south of Petersville on Highway 43. All residents should seek safety at this time. Stay tuned to KQRR for updates and more information."

Anthony Scovellie turned the volume control knob off and said, "Way freaking cool, dude. That's the way we're headed."

Scovellie stomped down on the F150's accelerator. Speed turned him on.

His accomplice, Jack Berry, glared at him. "That's the least of our problems. In case you don't know what those flashing blues in the rearview mirror are for."

"Man, we've already been in the steel jungle on five year stretches. I ain't going back, no way, Jose!" Scovellie vowed.

"Thought you knew how to drive. You should have already lost them bubblegum machines back by the high school," Berry said.

"You're the one who told me to hook a louie at the next exit when we were on 64. You said 43 was the way to outrun them. I don't see where they've gone nowhere," Scovellie replied.

"Hey, man. Out here on this rural route ain't no place to get cuffed. Step on it!" Berry encouraged the driver.

Scovellie had driven the truck over the median in his haste to escape the law enforcement officers. Not even a flat wheel from StopSticks slowed the criminals down.

"Man, hold it steady. I'm going to crawl in the bed and throw the crap back there at them," Berry said with a laugh, "maybe that'll slow our pursuers enough that we can get away."

"Go ahead. They dodged the wrenches I just threw out my side window," Scovellie replied.

Berry made his way through the opening in the cab's sliding back window. Just small enough to squeeze out one leg at a time, he uprighted himself and grabbed a red toolbox. Berry heaved the heavy container from the truck's bed.

"Watch out! We're under attack!" Officer Carlton Smith told his partner.

Officer Malachi Browne swerved in the nick of time. He barely avoided the projectile as it bounced down the road and skidded off onto the shoulder. Berry wasn't finished. He tossed a sledgehammer, and set of golf clubs, at the chase vehicle in an attempt to disable the cruiser.

As Berry played target practice, a dashboard camera in the police car captured Scovellie careening to and fro across both lanes of the road, then pulling onto the gravel shoulder. Police officers swarmed the truck and apprehended the suspects.

Officer Smith demanded, "What do you have inside the truck?"

He received no response from Scovellie or Berry and searched the vehicle.

Smith held up a fully loaded semiautomatic and asked, "Which of you two culprits does this weapon belong to?"

They pointed at, and accused, each other.

Officer Smith discovered a white residue-covered scale. "Care to tell me what's on it? A field test sure will."

"Cocaine," Scovellie confessed, "we snorted some before we knocked off that bank."

"Where'd you steal the ride from?" Smith asked.

"Over in Blytheville. It's my sister's truck," Berry informed him.

Smith turned to Officer Browne and stated, "Run the tag."

As Scovellie and Berry were placed in the back of the patrol vehicle, Smith said, "Gotta hand it to you two cowboys. That was the wildest, and most bizarre, chase I've ever seen in my twenty-odd year career."

A loud roar exploded nearby. All of a sudden, Smith felt a drastic change in the gust of the wind. He looked overhead and witnessed a dark, foreboding sky.

"Tornado!" He yelled, but could not be heard over the freight train sound rumbling of the storm. "Get out of here, pronto!"

Too late!