[2nd Sem - Episode 2.08] "Breakdown"
Michael's maroon sedan coughed and sputtered, giving up the ghost about ten miles beyond the outskirts of the city. He was asleep in the back, exhausted after driving for most of their long flight. Sabrina coaxed a final two-hundred yards out of the car before pulling it off of the road and into a small copse of trees.
As the car lurched to a stop, Michael rose with a start, banging his head against the roof. "Fuck." He yelped without much feeling, his voice quiet as though he was afraid that someone would hear him.
"Are you okay?" Sabrina didn't bother looking back at him, busily going through the pockets of her backpack.
"I'll live. Where are we?"
"Outside of Des Moines." She reached back between the seats to hand him an oft-reused bottle of water that claimed to be from an artesian source on some tropical island but the taste belied the pedestrian nature of the water itself.
Michael was in no state to complain and gulped it down. "You're a life saver."
He looked up and found her staring at him through the small rend in the front of her ski mask that allowed her vision. "Don't be so sure. It's a long way to hike and the gods only know if anyone is going to be by to pick us up," he could almost hear the wry smile in her voice, "or if they're going to do nice things when they do." He could definitely hear the venom there.
"C'mon Sabrina," He implored from the backseat, sounding strained, any semblance of the cool, cocky bastard who had gotten her into all this in the first place gone.
"What do you want me to say, Mikey? Thanks for getting me involved, thanks for sending me across the wasteland in a piece of shit sedan that's wasn't going to make it even if we did luck into enough gas?" She was on her knees, looking down at him from the front seat. "Thanks for ruining my life?"
"What life?" He was angry and scared and the words came before he knew what he was saying.
He didn't see the heavy wrench that he kept under the driver's seat so much as he heard it cut through the air. Wiry though she may be, Sabrina had a lot of strength in her and the head of the wrench caught Michael right below the eye, knocking him senseless, sending him sprawling across the back of the car. She watched him initially struggle against the weight that seemed (to him at least) to be crushing him into the vinyl seats.
She reached down to the floor in front of the passenger's seat and picked up the briefcase, tossing it onto his stomach. "Half the money. And four hand and toe warmers. I won't even leave the door open, and call it even."
"Shhaaab." His voice was slurred and sputtered a bit from the teeth her strike had broken.
"Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you and your car and your stupid fucking ideas." She climbed out of the car and into a bitter wind, quickly moving to fasten up every zip and snap of the parka she'd grabbed from Anna's closet before they took off. She reached back into the car and grabbed her pack and the small handgun that she'd hidden beneath it the entire time she was driving, tucking it into an easily-accessible pocket in the front of the jacket.
She considered the door a long moment before kicking it shut and clipping her pack across her chest. Her feet carried her instinctually to put another five or ten yards between herself and the edge of the road. Half a million dollars could go a long way in Des Moines, but only if she made it there intact.
==
This story is part of the Second Semester of "30 Days of Fic." Today's prompt was to write the middle of a novel called "The Long, Dirty Afterwards."
For a full rundown on my Second Semester of 30 Days of Fic, please click here for future prompts and to find all the stories I've created.
As the car lurched to a stop, Michael rose with a start, banging his head against the roof. "Fuck." He yelped without much feeling, his voice quiet as though he was afraid that someone would hear him.
"Are you okay?" Sabrina didn't bother looking back at him, busily going through the pockets of her backpack.
"I'll live. Where are we?"
"Outside of Des Moines." She reached back between the seats to hand him an oft-reused bottle of water that claimed to be from an artesian source on some tropical island but the taste belied the pedestrian nature of the water itself.
Michael was in no state to complain and gulped it down. "You're a life saver."
He looked up and found her staring at him through the small rend in the front of her ski mask that allowed her vision. "Don't be so sure. It's a long way to hike and the gods only know if anyone is going to be by to pick us up," he could almost hear the wry smile in her voice, "or if they're going to do nice things when they do." He could definitely hear the venom there.
"C'mon Sabrina," He implored from the backseat, sounding strained, any semblance of the cool, cocky bastard who had gotten her into all this in the first place gone.
"What do you want me to say, Mikey? Thanks for getting me involved, thanks for sending me across the wasteland in a piece of shit sedan that's wasn't going to make it even if we did luck into enough gas?" She was on her knees, looking down at him from the front seat. "Thanks for ruining my life?"
"What life?" He was angry and scared and the words came before he knew what he was saying.
He didn't see the heavy wrench that he kept under the driver's seat so much as he heard it cut through the air. Wiry though she may be, Sabrina had a lot of strength in her and the head of the wrench caught Michael right below the eye, knocking him senseless, sending him sprawling across the back of the car. She watched him initially struggle against the weight that seemed (to him at least) to be crushing him into the vinyl seats.
She reached down to the floor in front of the passenger's seat and picked up the briefcase, tossing it onto his stomach. "Half the money. And four hand and toe warmers. I won't even leave the door open, and call it even."
"Shhaaab." His voice was slurred and sputtered a bit from the teeth her strike had broken.
"Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you and your car and your stupid fucking ideas." She climbed out of the car and into a bitter wind, quickly moving to fasten up every zip and snap of the parka she'd grabbed from Anna's closet before they took off. She reached back into the car and grabbed her pack and the small handgun that she'd hidden beneath it the entire time she was driving, tucking it into an easily-accessible pocket in the front of the jacket.
She considered the door a long moment before kicking it shut and clipping her pack across her chest. Her feet carried her instinctually to put another five or ten yards between herself and the edge of the road. Half a million dollars could go a long way in Des Moines, but only if she made it there intact.
==
This story is part of the Second Semester of "30 Days of Fic." Today's prompt was to write the middle of a novel called "The Long, Dirty Afterwards."
For a full rundown on my Second Semester of 30 Days of Fic, please click here for future prompts and to find all the stories I've created.