The Nearest Horizon

Before I tell you this story, let's make one thing Windex clear. I'm not a bad guy. I've got bad habits, and sometimes I make bad choices, but I'm not a bad guy. In fact, I'd say I'm quite averse to being a bad guy.
Unfortunately, as you'll soon find out, I'm also not much of a good guy.
It starts at around 8:47 PM on a Tuesday night. I'm getting ready to fix myself something nice to eat after a long day, not thinking too hard about what the outside world might throw at me next. I've got plans for a good dinner.
All that gets cut short when my phone rings in my pocket. When I pick it up, the caller ID surprises me. It's a friend, sure, but it's one who hasn't spoken to me in years. His name is Salvatore Lobosco
"Sal?" I ask, and I can hear the dull confusion in my own voice as I speak. "Long time no speak. What's up?"
"Mark, man, I don't got much time." The voice on the other end is a lot more panicked than I'm expecting it to be, and that sets me on edge immediately. "You and me gotta get out of town, man. I dunno where, but anywhere but here, you understand?"
"Why? What's going on, Sal? Talk to me."
"That shit we did for the Half-Case back in '99. Someone found us out."
That stops me dead.
"What do you mean 'someone found us out'? Nobody was there but--"
"We can talk about it later, alright? Right now, you gotta get moving." His voice is fast. He was always a fast talker, but fear and anxiety have kicked his speech into a high gear. "Get whatever you think is good for travel, then meet me at the 405 underpass. Be there quick. We don't got much time."
He doesn't give me the courtesy of hanging up first. But my