A car had been following Johnny for the last 3 hours.
It was a big black truck and it persistently, annoyingly, followed wherever he went.
It had to run out of gas sometime right? But Johnny would run out too. He nervously glanced out his side view mirror. The man in the black pickup truck wore a tanktop and black ski mask, even though it was in the middle of summer. He was burly and Johnny could see light scars running across his arms. Next to him was a large assault rifle, and bags of food and gas. He was fully prepared to pursue him for days on end if he needed to. Fuck.
He could call the police… No, they would figure out why he was being pursued.
Johnny gripped his steering wheel tight. There was nothing to see except sand and shrubs out here. The lonely road went straight across the Chihuahuan desert. He didn't even know where he was anymore, he had spent 2 hours taking twisting paths trying to lose the truck.
Maybe, Johnny thought, just maybe stealing millions of dollars from the mob was a bad idea.
Johnny liked to think of himself as somewhat of a big shot. Even if he was on the shorter side. And finding a suitcase full of 5 million dollars while robbing someone's house was what he deserved. He hadn't even been able to go home with it, it was still in his back seat.
Maybe… he did have that gun just in case. It was far smaller and probably slower than what the man had, but maybe he could take him by surprise.
Johnny gripped his tiny gun and slowed down his car, he wasn't a very good shot, to the amusement of his various range partners. He rolled down his window and fired 3 times before speeding off again.
Johnny smiled and looked out his window. He was free.
The truck was fine, the windshield was apparently bullet proof. Johnny imagined a smug expression behind the mask. He just wanted to go home.
He kept driving another hour
It was getting dark now. He couldn't keep going for much longer. Johnny glanced at his fuel tank. “Shit.” Johnny whispered. His car pulled to a stop.
He sat there for a moment. Hoping maybe nothing would happen, or his car was safe.
The truck stopped next to him and the man came out. He walked, assured in what was going to happen. Johnny's hope shattered and he ran out into the desert, tripping over his own feet.
He heard the spray of bullets before he felt them, though the difference was only a microsecond. He immediately collapsed, and screamed and cried. Nobody was there to hear him. He barely noticed the man only aimed at his legs
The man continued walking towards him. He tried to curse but it came out more of a whimper.
Johnny was crawling now, desperately trying to get away from him. “Please,” He groaned. “What are they paying you? I'll double it. I'll even take a loan if what I have isn't enough. Just please let me live.”
The man dropped his gun and put on a pair of brass knuckles, slowly walking towards him. His eyes were cold and professional, but he was taking his time and Johnny could tell he was enjoying himself. Johnny let out a sob as he laid there on the floor like some pathetic deer. The man continued walking forward.
Without really thinking about it, Johnny reached into his belt and shot him. The man stood there for a second, holding his side, stunned. Johnny shot him again. And he kept shooting him even after he had fallen over and he stopped moving, only stopping when the magazine ran out. He laid there panting for a while, but he would bleed out soon.
Johnny, bloody and bruised and a dozen holes in his body, crawled back to his car. On the drive to the hospital he thought about what lie he would tell this time.
back