122 lines
4.5 KiB
Standard ML
122 lines
4.5 KiB
Standard ML
80 Columns
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Tristan Farnon presents...
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| Dead End |
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+:-:-:-:-:-:-:+ ...another twistful adventure!
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"Next, please." said the attendent. Sarah had been working at Citicorp Savings
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Bank for almost a year now. WHY? She asked herself. THIS HAS GOT TO BE THE MOST
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BORING PLACE IN THE WORLD.
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"Hello." greeted the man politely. "My name is Max. In my left hand, I hold a
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.22 caliber revolver."
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It took a few seconds for what he said to register in Sarah's head. Then,
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another few to actually realize what he meant. She froze.
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"Please! Please..." smiled the man (if you could call it smiling - his eyes
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were staring coldly at her, but his mouth was turned upward with a smile that
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only LOOKED safe.) "Act natural. If you act as though something peculiar is
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going on...I'm afraid I'll have to shoot you." his voice remained calm, but his
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gun remained pointed.
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"What do you want?" whispered Sarah.
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"I'd like to make a withdrawl. A withdrawl of, say, ten thousand."
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"Let me check with my--"
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"NO!" he commanded. "The money is in the drawer right in front of you. I'll
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take it in ten One-Thousand dollar amounts, please."
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Sarah quickly fumbled with the key to open the drawer. Hastily, she counted
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out ten thousand dollars.
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"Thank you. I would advise you to keep absolutely quiet and remain perfectly
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still until I leave. My gun will be pointed at anyone and everyone within range.
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Do you understand?"
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"Yes." replied Sarah, stiffening.
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He quickly walked towards the exit. HURRY...HURRY...he thought. GET THE HELL
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OUT OF HERE. YOU'RE ALMOST OUT THE DOOR. WALK NATURALLY.
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Sarah let out a scream. "Stop him! He stole ten thousand dollars!! HELP!" The
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security guard reached for his gun. "Freeze!"
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Quickly drawing out his pistol, Max fired a shot at the guard. He crumpled to
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the ground. Screams shot out from various locations of the bank. The second
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security guard reached for his gun.
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Instinctively, Max grabbed a young woman and held her in front of him. His gun
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was pointed directly under her chin. He clicked the trigger back.
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"ANYBODY MOVE AND I SHOOT A BULLET STRAIGHT UP HER SKULL!" he stated.
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The guard dropped his gun to the floor. People stood around, not knowing quite
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how to react.
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"Nice to see you all. Have a nice day." Still holding a handful of her long
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blond hair, he pulled her out the door and into his car.
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"Where are you taking me?" she cried.
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"Shut up." He started the car, and drove off at a speed that almost broke the
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sound barrier. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he kept his other hand holding his
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pistol, which was pointed straight at her.
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"What's your name." he didn't ask it...he said it.
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"Cathy." she whispered. "Where are we going. You don't NEED me anymore. Let me
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out of the car. Please."
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"Be quiet. We're going to count my money - that's where we're going."
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They got out of the car right in front of his apartment.
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"Get inside," he commanded.
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She walked across the room and sat on the bed, not looking at him. WHY DOES HE
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WANT ME HERE? WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ME?
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"Look." he said, and flashed the $10,000 in front of her face. "Quite a steal,
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isn't it?" She said nothing. "ISN'T IT!" he screamed.
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"YES!" she screamed back, with tears in her eyes. "I WANT TO GET OUT!!"
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"Have a drink." he poured her a glass of scotch.
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She decided to go along with him. "Thank you," she whispered.
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"Have you ever SEEN that much money before in your LIFE?" he boasted.
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"No...I haven't."
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"You're a nice girl. A very nice girl." he said. She said nothing. "See this?
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See this gun? Watch." He opened up the wheel and took all four bullets out of
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the cage. "We'll forget about the gun. Now we can enjoy ourselves."
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"What are you doing?"
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"What does it look like?" he smiled...unbuttoning his shirt.
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"LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T COME NEAR ME!" she shrieked.
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"Why? Don't you like me? You do like me, don't you? DON'T YOU!"
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She smiled. "I like you...do you know why?"
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"Because I'm rich. I'm a rich man."
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"Nope." she said, reaching into her purse.
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"They why?"
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"Because you're my first case." she said, pulling out a gold badge and a
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rather large pistol. "You're under arrest."
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"Dead End" - Copyright (C) February 5th 1986 by Tristan Farnon
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