The Getaway

         “Gun it!” exclaimed Chet, as he dove into the back seat of the car, not even bothering to close the door.  Brad slammed his foot on the gas pedal, screeching the tires, and bolting the car down the narrow street.  The force of the acceleration slammed the backdoor shut.

         “Fuck…”  Chet winced in pain as he looked down at the bullet wound in his stomach.  He placed his hand on the wound trying to stop the flow of blood, but it was no use. 

         “What…what is it?” asked Brad.  He kept his eyes on the road as he sped through the tight streets, trying to escape out of town.  They could hear sirens chasing them in the distance.

         “I’ve been shot,” said Chet.

         “What?”

         “I’ve been shot,” Chet repeated.

         Brad took his eyes off the road for quick second and looked back at Chet.  He could see the red liquid pouring through Chet’s fingers as he tried to hold in as much blood as possible.

         “Oh, shit!” said Brad.  “Don’t worry brother, we’re going to get you fixed up fast.  We just need to get out of the city.”  He kept the car speeding through the streets, running red lights, passing cars and sending pedestrians diving out of the way.

         “Did you get it?” asked Brad.

         “Yeah, I got it…Plus…a little bit more.”

         “What?  What do you mean a little bit more?” asked Brad.  “You were supposed to stick to the plan!”

         Chet opened the large, canvas bag, revealing bundles and bundles of euros, jewels and a small tin box.

         “I did stick to the plan.  I grabbed all the cash and jewels from the deposit box…but…there was something else in there…something that pulled me towards it…it wouldn’t let me leave without it.”

         “What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Brad.

         “This,” said Chet as he held up the small tin box.

         Brad looked back to see what Chet was holding up.  “What the hell?  What’s so special about that?”

         Brad brought his eyes back to the road.

         “Shit!”  Brad swerved the car to the left, barely missing an old lady crossing the street, and smashed into several trash cans sitting on the sidewalk, sending garbage flying all over the place.  He kept his foot on the gas pedal and continued speeding away, debris still fluttering to the ground.

         Chet couldn’t take his eyes off the little, tin box, unphased by Brad’s driving.  “I…I don’t know what’s so special…”  He sat hypnotized, in complete awe.

         “And what do you mean, ‘it pulled you towards it’?” asked Brad.

         “I don’t know.  Something inside me wouldn’t let me take my eyes off of it.  It felt like the box was reaching out to me – telling me, ‘Don’t leave me.’  And then I felt a searing pain in my side, breaking my hypnotic gaze off the box.  So, I quickly grabbed it and fired back at the guard, giving me just enough cover to run for the stairway out.”

         Chet sat there, staring at the box. 

         “Well, open it,” said Brad.

         Chet held the box in his left hand, popped the latch with his right thumb and slowly opened the lid.  Chet’s face illuminated, as a golden, bright light, poured out of the tiny box.

         “Oh, my god…”

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