Escaping the mafia is no easy task, especially on a broken leg.
Galloping through the rusty warehouse, I slammed against the nearest door and made a break for the old chevy parked out back. Keys still in the ignition.
Gunshots rang out behind me, just as the engine roared to life.
Swerving through traffic, I raced that old boat all the way to the next town before pulling into a gravel lot.
Panting heavily, and dripping with sweat and blood, I sat there for a few moments, trying to pull myself together.
At that precise moment, I heard a banging, and a muffled yell from the trunk of the car.
There it was again.
Gathering my remaining courage, I climbed out of the car, limping around to the back. Carefully, I opened the trunk.
Inside was a beautiful girl, pretty banged up herself, with raven black hair. The last thing I saw was a tire iron, then
End
No comments:
Post a Comment