Two's Company (standard:action, 7290 words)
Author: Goodsharkey	Added: Aug 28 2003	Views/Reads: 3758/2466	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A heist, a long road and a lot of money...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

the previous roadblock Jake had hidden, this time it was Cooper's turn. 
He wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't like confined spaces at the 
best of times but in this heat it would be unbearable. Jake had drilled 
holes in the trunk to supply more air and he had made it so that it 
could be locked and unlocked from the inside. Jake was clever like 
that, which was why Cooper was watching him now. He pulled a 
handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped the back of his neck. Sweat 
was pouring off him. He looked down at his plaid shirt. A large, dark 
patch was spreading down from his chest to his crotch. He needed a 
shower. "Pull over." Said Jake. "What?" "Pull over. I gotta stretch my 
legs." Cooper looked at Jake, then looked out of the window. Was this a 
trick? The car came to a stop by the side of the road, throwing up a 
wall of sand. Jake climbed out and stretched. God, it felt good. Then 
he turned, leaned in through the window and grabbed the canvas bag. 
"What the fuck?" yelled Cooper, pushing his door open and jumping out. 
"Calm down Coop. I'm just holding it so you don't get the urge to put 
your foot on the gas." "What are you saying?" Cooper stomped round the 
car to face him. "Look, I gotta use my legs for a minute," continued 
Jake, "and I'm gonna take a piss over there. You'll be able to see me 
all the time." Cooper thought for a minute, and decided it would be 
okay. After all where could he run to? "Okay." He said leaning against 
the car and taking a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. 

Jake walked away from the car, the bag over his shoulder. As Cooper lit
his cigarette, he watched. The desert can hide a lot of things, he 
thought. He watched as Jake stopped and, with his back to the road, 
began to take a piss. Cooper looked round at their desolate 
surroundings. All was quiet. He placed his hand on the roof of the car, 
then snatched it away. The Mustang was boiling. The police were looking 
for two men. Jake had said that himself. He reached down to his belt 
and took hold of his 9mm.Beretta. He took another long drag from his 
cigarette, then flicked it to the floor. Slowly he started to walk over 
to where Jake stood. The heat from the sun above him was incredible and 
he suddenly became very aware of just how much he was sweating. He 
raised the gun and aimed it at the back of Jake's head. There was only 
about 20 foot between them. The sweat poured down his forehead, 
stinging his eyes. He licked his dry lips and could taste the salt on 
his skin. Suddenly Cooper felt a cool breeze flow past him. Cold air 
circled him for an instant. He looked round and out of nowhere came the 
sound of a horn . He nearly stumbled on the hard ground as he saw a 
huge articulated truck barrelling past the Mustang, the driver was 
honking at them. He quickly put the gun behind his back as Jake turned. 
"What the hell you doin'?" cried Jake. "Just.... Keeping an eye on the 
bag, man!" "Which bag you fuckin' queer!" Jake stomped back in the 
direction of the Mustang, which was hidden by a huge cloud of dust. 
Cooper let out a long breath and looked down the road at the trail of 
dirt thrown up by the passing rig. He slipped his gun back into his 
belt and headed for the car. Jake threw the bag back into the back seat 
and got into the driver's seat of the Mustang. It was like climbing 
into an oven. The deep, leather bucket seat stuck to him. Cooper was 
acting very strange, he thought. He looked out at the big man as he 
approached the car. Never mind, soon he'd be out of the picture. Cooper 
reached the car. "Give me the keys." Said Jake, "I'll drive from here." 
"Why?" "It's not far to the next roadblock." Cooper fished around in 
his pocket, produced the keys and threw them over to Jake, then slid 
into the car. Jake started the engine. 

Doug Brantford stood in the middle of the road. The brim of his hat
protected his eyes from the unbearable sun, however the rest of his 
uniform was soaked with sweat. He looked over at the patrol car parked 
at the side of the road. It was so hot that a haze was hanging over the 
metal. He looked down the road through dark glasses, watching for any 
signs of approaching vehicles. How much longer would he have to stay 
out here? No one had passed him since he'd got there and the 
temperature was getting worse. He started to walk back to the patrol 
car. He found it difficult to walk over the hard ground as he was only 
wearing socks and the heat from the tarmac was burning the soles of his 
feet. He had stupidly decided to take off his shoes about ten minutes 
earlier, hoping it would ease his suffering but his feet had swelled up 
and he couldn't get them back on. He stumbled back into the car and 
took a swig from his water flask. Then he switched on the radio to 
listen for any news from head quarters. As he listened to the garbled 
messages being transmitted to different officers he looked down at the 
shoes sat on the passenger seat next to him. 

"So.. Same as last time yeah?" asked Cooper, wiping his handkerchief
over his forehead. Jake looked at him. "Yeah, only this time you hide 
in the trunk." "And I keep the bag with me?" "Sure. That's what we 
agreed?" Cooper grunted and looked back out over the endless desert. At 
the last roadblock it had been Jake, who had climbed into the cramped 
trunk keeping the canvas bag with him, in case Cooper had 'tried any 
funny stuff.' He wished he didn't have to do it, he wasn't looking 
forward to hiding in there, but they'd agreed. Apart from the rig that 
had just passed them, that was the only other time they'd seen any cars 
on this God forsaken road. They had approached the police roadblock and 
as Cooper had been alone, the cops waved him on. No doubt they were 
just as pissed off to be out here in this heat as Jake and himself. 
Another vehicle had followed them through the roadblock. A dark, red 
pick up truck. Then as soon as they'd cleared the cops, the pick up had 
over taken them and raced ahead into the distance. A little further 
down the road, Cooper had stopped and Jake had re-emerged  from the 
trunk still clutching the bag. He looked at Jake now, nervously. "How 
hot is it in there?" he asked. "Stop worrying, there's plenty of 
air-holes." Jake had to stifle a laugh. The big guy was scared. Mind 
you, that wasn't surprising as it would be a tight fit in the trunk, 
what with his big body and huge head. 

Doug took another swig from his flask and then stopped. He peered
through the windscreen. There on the horizon was a dust cloud. That 
meant a vehicle was approaching. He threw the flask down onto the seat 
next to him and grabbed for a pair of binoculars on the dashboard. 
Placing them to his eyes he adjusted the focus until he could see what 
was out there. It was a large rig and it was heading this way. 

Al Carmine chewed his gum, and peered out through the windscreen of his
eighteen wheeler. There was something up ahead. He scratched his chin. 
It was rough, he hadn't shaved in a couple of days and the stubble was 
thick. The small electric fan on his dashboard stopped turning. He hit 
it and it burst into life again. He hated the desert run. He always 
expected this to be the day his rig would break down. Stuck out here in 
the middle of nowhere. He looked down at his trusty CB Radio. His 
lifeline with the outside world. He could see now, he was approaching 
another roadblock.. Where were his papers? He moved the crumpled copy 
of Penthouse to reveal a clipboard with documents attached to it. This 
was the second load of cops he'd seen. Something to do with a robbery 
in the last town he'd passed through. He looked back at his copy of 
Penthouse. On the front was a dark-haired girl straddling a motorbike. 
He smiled. Those tits had his name on them, he thought. He probably 
wouldn't have much trouble parking his truck in there. As he continued 
to approach the police car he noticed a dark red pickup truck parked 
behind it. Al started to slow down and saw the cop climbing out of the 
police cruiser. The officer raised his hand as a signal for him to 
stop. On his shoulder he was resting a twelve gauge pump action 
shotgun. This guy was prepared. The rig slowed and eventually stopped 
with a huge hiss of air from the pneumatics. Dust and sand fell away 
clouding the surrounding area. The cop wasn't wearing any shoes. 

"This is it." Said Jake calmly. Cooper looked at him, a last hope that
there was another way of doing this. Jake didn't return the look, but 
stopped the car by the side of the road. Cooper grabbed the canvas bag 
and they both climbed out. Jake looked up the road. Ahead they could 
just make out the rig that had passed them earlier. It had stopped and 
next to it was what looked like a police car and another vehicle. They 
both walked round to the back of the car. "Okay, in you get." Smiled 
Jake, opening the trunk. Cooper stared at the compartment he was about 
to get into. It looked so small. "What if we just shoot the cop?" he 
said , a little too eagerly for Jake's liking. "I told you, no 
killing." Cooper's mind raced. He couldn't climb in there. His thoughts 
went to the gun in his belt. "You've got the money, now get in!" 
snapped Jake heading back round the car. In a flash, Cooper raised the 
gun, aimed it at Jake and fired. The bullet hit Jake full in the back, 
lifting him off his feet. He crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust 
several feet from where he had been standing. "Fuck you!" cried Cooper, 
"I ain't getting in the trunk!" Jake didn't move. A slight breeze 
caught his baseball cap and it began to roll across the desert floor. 
"Jake?" Cooper slowly walked round the car and stood over the lifeless 
body. He gently tapped Jake's arm with his foot. Nothing. Cooper 
swallowed. Which hurt in the dry air. He pulled out his handkerchief 
and wiped his brow. Then he looked up the road. A cloud of dust on the 
horizon told him that the big truck ahead had started on its way. He 
wondered if the shot could have carried that far. Could the cops have 
heard it? He shoved the gun back into his belt, ran to the back of the 
car and slammed shut the trunk. He picked up the bag and threw it onto 
the back seat. Then climbed back into the Mustang. The keys were in, so 
he started the engine. He looked down Jake's body, then hit the 
accelerator. 

Doug Brantford was sat in the car. It shouldn't be long now, he thought.
He took a long drink from his flask. "D'you want some?" he asked out 
loud. He turned in his seat and held out the container. Down on the 
back seat was a man. He was gagged and his wrists and ankles were tied 
forcing him to lie in a foetal position. Dressed only in his socks, 
briefs and a vest, he stared at Doug. "No?" Smiled Doug "It's thirsty 
work out here. I don't know how you guys do it." He turned back to face 
the windscreen and ahead of him he could see another vehicle 
approaching. "Show time." He said, dropping the flask onto the 
passenger seat and grabbing the shot gun. 

Cooper could clearly see the patrol car up ahead, then he noticed a dark
red pickup truck parked behind it. It was the same pickup that had over 
taken them after the last roadblock. A cop was stood in the middle of 
the road, holding up his hand. Time to be cool, thought Cooper. He 
glanced over at the canvas bag in the back seat. 

As the Mustang came to a stop, Doug stepped forward. In the driving seat
was a large built, sweaty looking man. "Afternoon sir." Said Doug, in 
his best police officer voice. "Hi there." "On your own?" "Yep. What's 
this all about officer?" "Robbery." "Really?" "Yeah... D'you mind if I 
have a quick look over your vehicle?" "Not at all officer." 

Cooper's hands tightened on the wheel. Stay calm. The cop walked along
the side of the car, looking in the window. "Mind if I check your 
trunk?" he called from the back of the car. Cooper smiled, Jake's great 
plan would have failed. "Not a problem officer." He climbed out of the 
car and walked to where the cop was stood. He unlocked the trunk and 
opened it. "Thank you." Said the cop, looking in at the empty space. He 
then walked round to the passenger side of the car. Cooper slammed the 
trunk shut and walked back to the driver's side. Doug tapped his 
shotgun on the side of the car. "So you got rid of  Jake?" he asked. 
Cooper froze. "I didn't think you'd do it." Cooper looked across the 
car at him. "Who the fuck are you?" he snapped. "So did you just shoot 
him and leave him out there in the desert." "How the fuck do you know?" 
Cooper blinked the sweat from his eyes. His breathing quickened. "How 
far back was it?" "What?" "How far back did you shoot him?" "About a 
mile.... You knew Jake?" Cooper's mind raced, was this somehow part of 
Jake's plan. Doug looked back down the road. "So you killed him for 
what's in that bag?" "Who are you?" "What do you think is in that bag 
Cooper?" The sweat from Cooper's brow was blinding him now. As the cop 
was on the other side of the car, he knew he wouldn't be able to see 
his hand as it reached for the Beretta. "You tell me, if you fuckin' 
know so much!" "Nothing!" smiled Doug, "Paper, that's all." Cooper 
swallowed, his throat was tight and dry. He was confused. Who was this 
guy? How did he know everything? "This was all Jake's plan," continued 
Doug, walking round the car towards Cooper, "And the plan's just been 
changed." As he rounded the back of the car, Cooper pulled out his gun, 
aimed and fired. 

Jake stood up and stretched. He had been sat here for an hour now and he
was starting to feel faint from the heat. He'd lost his baseball cap 
and the sun was burning his head. He looked up the road for any sign of 
movement. He could just make out the shape of the roadblock on the 
horizon, but the haze made it hard to see. He looked down at the ground 
where the blood pack was lying. The same blood pack he had been wearing 
all day. Everything had gone to plan. He knew Cooper couldn't have 
hidden in the trunk and he knew the prick would have shot him. The gun 
had worked perfectly. He was glad to be rid of the garment now as it 
wasn't comfortable and it had made him even hotter. He took a deep, hot 
breath. He couldn't stay out here much longer without any shade. Where 
the hell was Doug? He should have been here by now. Maybe something had 
gone wrong. Jake began to walk along the hard asphalt road. Soon it 
seemed like an eternity had passed and each step became harder and 
harder, his body felt like lead. The sweat dripped from his nose and 
streamed onto his lips. He tried not to lick the moisture, as he knew 
it was salty and the last thing his body needed. His legs were becoming 
shaky, and he was no longer walking in a straight line. He was 
meandering all over the road. His eyes were closing and he had to shake 
his head to ward off sleep. Then he sensed movement above him. 
Painfully he raised his head and looked up. In the sky ahead of him, 
dark shapes were slowly circling. Jake knew they were buzzards. 
Scavengers, and only one thing brought them out. He looked ahead, up 
the road and there in front of him was the Mustang. His brain took a 
moment to put the scene into perspective. Why was the Mustang still 
there? Surely Cooper should have gone by now. Over at the side of the 
road was a police car. Jake leant against the back of the Mustang, his 
lungs clawing for air. Where was Doug? There was no sign of the pickup. 
He edged round to the side of the Mustang and nearly fell over 
something. Something big, lying in the road next to the car. He looked 
down and there was the lifeless body of Cooper. Blood was everywhere. 
He'd been shot from close range by something big. A shotgun. His chest 
was completely gone, as if it had been gouged out by the claws of some 
huge animal. He could see the tell-tale signs that the buzzards had 
already started pulling chunks of flesh from the corpse. Next to the 
body was the canvas bag. It was unzipped and inside were bundles of 
newspaper, cut down to the size of $20 bills. Everything had gone 
crazy. Jake wiped the sweat from his eyes and felt the rough skin of 
his dry, chapped lips. He needed water. He looked into the back of the 
Mustang and there was the metal drinks container. He leaned in the 
window and grabbed it. Unscrewing the top he gulped down the water. It 
was hot. He didn't care. It burnt his throat. He didn't care. He poured 
the remaining water over his face. He looked down again at the huge 
corpse at his feet. The smell was already bad. Why was Cooper's body 
out here? He should have passed the roadblock with the bag. The only 
person that should have been here was Doug. He looked around. All he 
could see was the patrol car parked at the other side of the road. Jake 
walked over to it, not knowing what he would find. Had someone else 
been here and killed both Doug and Cooper. Why else hadn't Doug come to 
pick him up? As Jake reached the car he looked in through the side 
window. On the back seat was another body. This one was of a man, tied 
up in his underwear, who had also been blasted at close range by a 
shotgun. The whole of the back of the car had been peppered by shot and 
blood. On the front passenger seat was a police uniform, another blood 
pack and a water flask. He grabbed the flask and shook it. Thankfully 
it had some still in. Could Doug have done this? If so, why? Where was 
he? Where was the money? Jake hadn't wanted any killing and yet here he 
was surrounded by carnage. Cooper had been the only uncertainty but he 
had acted just as predicted.. His greedy mind had led him to shoot 
Jake, then he should have reached the roadblock and Doug, disguised as 
a cop, would have approached him and acted suspicious. If Jake had read 
Cooper correctly he would have shot Doug as well, with the fake gun, 
and then he would have driven off leaving Doug to come and pick him up 
from the desert. Cooper would later have found the money wasn't in the 
bag, but thinking Jake was dead and that he would be wanted for killing 
a cop, there was no way he would have come back this way. Something had 
seriously altered the plan, and as Doug wasn't here Jake couldn't help 
but think he had been double-crossed. 

Jake crossed back over to the Mustang. He had to get into shelter. He
picked up the bag, zipped it shut and threw it into the trunk. Then he 
saw the car keys were still in Cooper's fat hand and he had to prise 
them from the stiff, purple fingers. Once in the car, he bathed in the 
shade it offered. It was still alarmingly hot but after two hours in 
the desert sun it was like a cold bath. He started the engine, took a 
long drink from the water flask, and then carried on along the road. In 
the mirror he looked back at the scene he had just left and watched as 
the buzzards stopped circling and began landing next to Cooper's body. 

Jake's mind raced as he put the puzzle together. Doug had obviously
decided to change the plan, but for what reason? Had some unforeseen 
circumstance forced him to act? Or had he just decided to keep the 
money. He had known Doug for years and the thought of him killing like 
that disturbed him. If that was the case, why hadn't he come to find 
Jake? The plan had been to fool Cooper, not kill him, then Doug was 
supposed to drive back and collect him. The road became a blur. Mile 
merged into mile and Jake had completely lost track of how long he'd 
been driving when he saw a sign by the side of the road. 'DESERT SANDS 
MOTEL-4 MILES' Then below that were the magic words- 'AIR 
CONDITIONING.' Not far from civilisation , he thought. Jake took 
another long drink from the flask until it was empty. Soon he'd have 
running water to drink and bathe in. He suddenly realised how hungry he 
was and for a moment felt faint. He took a deep breath and concentrated 
on the road. Before he knew it he was there. 

The motel wasn't the Grande by any means but it looked damn fine after a
day in the arid desert. He entered a large fore court and parked up by 
the reception office. The motel itself, was a separate building and was 
set further back from the road. Jake painfully eased himself out of the 
Mustang and walked to the office. As soon as he opened the door, he was 
greeted by a blast of what seemed like ice cold air. He closed his eyes 
and gulped down deep breaths. "Can I help you sir?" Jake opened his 
eyes. In front of him was a youth. A kind of man/boy. He was sat behind 
the reception desk and his smile was huge, which was unfortunate as he 
was wearing some kind of brace, which glinted in the sunlight. He also 
had a severe case of acne. With big red spots which seemed even worse 
because of his pale complexion. You'd think someone working out in the 
middle of a desert would have a fairly good tan but this guy was white. 
He looked like he'd be more at home working at a MacDonalds drive thru. 
"My, you look tired sir." Beamed the youth. "Yeah.... I need a room." 
"Of course you do sir, or you wouldn't have pulled up here at the 
Sands. My name's Stuart and I'm your receptionist today. How many 
nights do you wish to stay?" Jake took in another long breath of the 
cool air. "Just one night." Stuart looked at a large book on the desk. 
"Would you like bath or shower?" "Bath." "If you'd just like to sign 
the register, I'll get your key." Jake walked to the desk, picked up a 
Desert Sands Motel pen and signed his name. Then he saw the last name 
in the register. Doug Brantford. He was here. It made sense, but the 
question on Jake's mind was whether Doug wanted Jake to catch up with 
him? "You can have 18 sir." The spotty faced youth handed him the key. 
"This your place?" asked Jake. "Oh no sir, it's my father's." "The guy 
who signed in before me, did you see him?" "Yes sir." Jake looked out 
across the parking lot. He couldn't see the pickup. "He's a friend of 
mine, I'm supposed to meet him here. Do you know which room he's in?" 
Stuart looked horrified at the question. "I can't do that sir. It's 
private information." Jake looked at him. He wondered whether a punch 
to the face would make those spots erupt prematurely. Then he turned 
and walked out to the Mustang. In the glove compartment was his gun. It 
wasn't real of course just like the one he'd given Cooper but it would 
do the trick. He re-entered the reception. Stuart smiled again. Jake 
raised the gun. "Good and polite staff is always hard to find Stuart. 
Which room is he in?" The receptionist's face turned even paler. The 
colour even seemed to drain from his throbbing spots. "Nine sir." He 
said in a tiny voice. "Thank you Stuart." Jake turned to leave. "Er... 
Sir..... You'll need to leave a deposit." Said Stuart, his voice 
quivering. "I won't be staying after all." Said Jake closing the office 
door. Outside he looked at the wall of the reception building. Phone 
cables extended from the main motel building to the office and then 
down to a junction box. Jake walked to the box and kicked it as hard as 
he could. The front plate flew off revealing the phone wires inside. He 
reached in and yanked the cables free. Through the office window, he 
saw Stuart trying to use the phone. The youth looked puzzled; then 
noticed he was being watched. He slammed the phone down and smiled at 
Jake. Jake smiled back, then walked towards the motel. He then saw the 
pick up parked around the corner of the motel. Time to find out what 
the hell was going on, he thought. As he reached the front of the large 
two storey building he could see the doors were numbered. Rooms 1-10 
were on the ground floor and the rest on the second. Room nine was at 
the far end. Jake slowly walked along the front of the building, the 
place seemed deserted and there were no cars parked out front. He 
looked back at the reception office, but there was no sign of Stuart. 
He eventually reached room nine and stood in front of the door. For 
some reason he was still holding the gun even thought he knew it was 
useless. He wouldn't even be able to bluff Doug because he would also 
know it wasn't real. He had no idea how he was going to handle this 
situation, but before he could think too hard he realised he'd just 
knocked on the door. "What?" Jake recognised the voice immediately. He 
then put on his best teenage geek voice. "It's Stuart from reception 
sir." There was a pause. Then Doug answered. "It's open." Slowly Jake 
turned the handle and pushed the door open. He peered into the room but 
couldn't see anyone. He was about to step in when he felt the cold hard 
barrel of a large gun press up against the side of his head. "Stuart," 
came a voice, "you've grown!" Doug stepped out from behind the door, 
holding the shotgun at Jake. "Well don't just stand there, come in." 
Jake entered the room and closed the door. Straight away he saw the 
canvas bag on the bed. "Jake, I really hoped I wouldn't have to do 
this. I thought that your wait in the desert might have been enough to 
finish you off." "Why Doug? There's enough there for both of us." "I'm 
afraid not. I've got a few debts hanging over me and this little lot is 
just what I need." Doug gestured for him to sit down on an armchair. 
"You may as well put that gun away buddy," continued Doug as he stood 
by the bed, "It's not gonna do you any good." Jake slid the Beretta 
back into his belt. Then there was a silence between them. No witty 
comments, no explanations. They just looked at each other. Doug spoke 
again, only softly this time. "I really need the money man, or I'm 
fucked." "You didn't have to do this though. Ever since I swapped the 
bags and dumped that one out of the trunk, you've had the money. Why 
didn't you just take it and go?" Doug thought for a moment. "It just 
happened. The idea only came to me when I was sat out there in the 
desert waiting for you. Then when Cooper turned up it all sort of 
clicked into place." He smiled. "You should have seen Coop's face when 
he tried to shoot me with that gun. He pissed himself you know, before 
I shot him." "Look!" snapped Jake, "I never liked Cooper but I didn't 
want to kill him. And what about that cop in the back of the car?" "He 
saw my face man, I figured 'what the hell.'" Jake stared at his friend. 
What had happened to him? Doug stood up. "Grab the bag. We're going for 
a little drive." 

Outside, they walked across the parking lot back towards the reception
office. Jake carried the canvas bag and Doug followed carrying the 
shotgun, not even trying to disguise it. Eventually they reached the 
Mustang. "We'll take your car if you don't mind." Said Doug, "Give me 
the keys." Jake threw them across to him. "Now put the bag in the back 
and then get in the trunk." He threw the canvas bag onto the back seat 
of the car and walked to the back of the Mustang. "You've done it once, 
you can do it again." Smiled Doug opening the driver's side door. Jake 
opened the trunk, climbed in and closed it behind him and once again he 
was hit by the extreme heat. There was hardly any air in there at all 
even though he had cut extra holes in the body work. He felt the engine 
start and was then buffeted about as the car headed back out along the 
desert road. Dust was everywhere and Jake had to fight for breath. He 
then realised he was lying on the canvas bag. The bag with the 
newspaper in. He coughed as more sand entered his lungs. This was his 
chance, but how to play it? He slowly unclipped the trunk door, which 
he had designed to be opened from the inside, and gently pushed it 
open. He was instantly clouded in sand from the outside. He shut his 
eyes and held his breath but it cut into him like sandpaper. He ended 
up letting go and the trunk door slammed shut leaving him to gasp for 
air in his tiny prison. 

After what seemed like an eternity the car slowed and finally stopped.
Jake felt the engine idling and eventually cut out. He knew he had to 
act quickly. He pushed open the trunk and jumped out gasping for air. 
He didn't have to try hard but he was trying to give the illusion he 
was worse off than he was. He kept the bag by his side and then dropped 
it by his feet. Doug climbed out and turned to him. "No funny shit." He 
said. "I'm choking you son of a bitch!" coughed Jake, edging round the 
car on the opposite side. He slid the bag along the ground with his 
foot. "We'd better go for a little walk and get you some air." Smiled 
Doug raising the shotgun. "Why do you have to kill me? I'm not exactly 
gonna go to the cops. You won, it's as simple as that." Doug took a 
deep breath. He was still on the other side of the car and Jake knew 
this was his only chance to act. He made a lunging movement as if he 
was reaching through the car window but instead he picked up the bag 
from the floor. Doug pointed the gun menacingly. "Put that down!" he 
snapped. "So this is what it's all about." Said Jake, moving away from 
the car and lifting the bag into view. He was praying Doug didn't look 
into the back seat and he didn't. He moved from behind the car, still 
pointing the shotgun at him. "Put it the fuck down!!" Jake wasn't sure 
how far he could push this, after all Doug had brought him out here to 
kill him anyway. He stopped and put the bag on the ground. "Now move 
away." Jake stepped back. Doug rushed forward and grabbed the bag. 
"You're only making this easier for me." He snarled. "Listen Doug, If 
you kill me you'll never get your hands on the money." Doug looked 
puzzled. "Trying to fuck with my mind eh? You may have outsmarted Coop 
but I'm not so stupid." "There's no money in that bag." Jake was scared 
now, the sweat was soaking his entire body and his head was spinning. 
He just had to stay calm and maybe he could talk his way out of this. 
He tried to look confident, but couldn't take his eyes off the barrel 
of the gun, knowing that Doug could fire at any moment. He pictured 
Cooper's corpse back up the road and shuddered. Doug hesitated. He 
knelt down next to the bag and slowly started to unzip it. It was 
awkward as he was still trying to keep the gun on Jake. He looked down 
into the bag and his heart skipped a beat. It was full of cut up 
newspaper. His head span, it was impossible. He had had the money in 
the motel room. 

This was the moment Jake needed. He dived forward onto Doug forcing him
to the ground. Dust and sand flew up round them making it hard to keep 
their eyes open. Doug tried to roll him off but Jake kept his legs down 
and forced his knee up into his groin. With a cry he doubled up in 
pain, but as Jake tried to grab the gun Doug forced it upwards and into 
his attackers chin. Blood exploded from Jake's lip but he couldn't let 
go of the gun. The tussle continued as they both rolled back and forth 
on the hot tarmac, both of them knowing the gun was their only hope. 
Doug eventually managed to get on top and began forcing the long barrel 
of the shotgun down onto Jake's throat. Jake felt the hard steel press 
against his windpipe and found it hard to breathe. He could feel the 
blood pumping in his head and his eyes bulging as his lungs fought for 
the hot sandy air around him. His hand moved to his belt. His gun! It 
was the only weapon he had. With lightning speed he grabbed the Beretta 
and smashed it into Doug's skull. With a loud crack Doug fell away and 
lay next to him motionless. Jake gasped for air, his hand on his 
throat. He rolled over onto his stomach and spat as much of the sand 
from his mouth as he could. Then he stood and looked down at his 
friend. Blood was trickling from the wound on the side of his head and 
was mixing with the sand on his face. Jake picked up the shotgun and 
put his fingers to Doug's neck. There was a pulse. "I should blow your 
fuckin' head off." He whispered. He slowly walked back towards the 
Mustang, his legs buckling beneath him. He was so tired and he hadn't 
even had chance to get a bath. Suddenly from nowhere Doug jumped onto 
him and dragged him to his knees. Then blow after blow fell upon his 
head and shoulders. "I'm gonna kill you!" screamed Doug as he kicked 
him in the chest. Winded, Jake tried to block the blows as best he 
could. The shotgun fell from his hands and slid underneath the Mustang. 
Doug released his grip and ran round the other side of the car. Jake, 
desperately trying to breathe, could see the gun from where he was 
lying. He dragged himself forward and reached out to get hold of it but 
he just couldn't get it. At the other side, Doug jumped to the ground 
and also tried to get hold of the weapon. His hand touched it and he 
started to pull it towards him. Jake stretched out even though pain 
shot through his body. His ribs were definitely broken. He managed to 
grab the butt of the gun and pulled. At the same time Doug pulled at 
the barrel. The tug of war only lasted a moment as Jake's finger 
reached the trigger. Doug's eyes widened in horror and disbelief as he 
realised he was staring right down the barrel of the gun as the trigger 
was pulled. That was the last thing he saw as his head exploded into a 
thousand pieces. Blood, brain and skull plastered all over the side of 
the Mustang and the surrounding desert. 

Jake switched off the television, threw the remote control down and sat
up on the bed. He stood and walked over to a door. He stepped through 
into a large black and white tiled bathroom. The bath was filling with 
water. He turned off the tap, removed the towel from around his waist 
and lowered himself slowly into the warm water. He closed his eyes and 
began to dream. He was in Mexico and he was rich. The desert wasn't so 
bad after all, he thought. It could certainly hide a lot of things, 
including himself. 

END 

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