Part 4 (of the Journal-Story I'm writing backwards, more to come).

7:28 pm, June 1, 2004

"What the fuck are you doing? Shoot them!" Whitford couldn't believe his partner was just standing there while he was bleeding all over the place.

"Don't worry, they're trapped in there. The only other exit is bolted closed. Just, let me call my doctor in here to get you looked at." St. Holmes casually re-holstered his gun inside his jacket and pulled out his cell phone.

MEANWHILE, INSIDE THE WAREHOUSE:

"OK, smart-ass, how the hell are we getting out of here?" Alec said, holding the package under his left arm. "Well?! Come on! You led us in here!"

"Hold on, there's got to be a way out. Remember who you're talking to, I can escape from anywhere at anytime. Just give me a minute to think," Shane said, appropriately stroking his chin-whiskers while searching high and low for an exit.

"Fuck, I knew I should have brought the guns with us. That prick St. Holmes will break through that door any time now! And when he does, that's it man," Alec was starting to get discouraged now. They'd come so far, only to get suckered into this Macgyveresque situation. And Shane, Houdini as he tried to be, was no Macgyver.

"OK, so far as I can see it, there's no way out. Now, we know our car is just around the corner, all we've gotta do is get to it and we're free." Shane liked to think out the situation aloud, in hopes that one of them would manage to find an idea in there somewhere. "So, what we've got to do is, somehow, when St. Holmes gets in here . . ."

"When St. Holmes gets in here, he's gonna have, like, five more guys with him! We've gotta get out now!"

"All right, all right! Then, look for something that we can hit him with or stun him with, or something that we can use as a shield."

The building they were trapped in appeared to be some sort of cargo hold. Alec and Shane each grabbed a crowbar and started opening the giant wooden boxes around them; Alec never letting go of the package - he saw how Shane was eyeing it when they first stole it.

Five minutes went by and the search was getting them nowhere. Everything in the boxes was made of industrial steel and was too heavy to carry. Alec finally grew fed up with the search.

"Listen, how about this: you grab this huge box-top. Then, I'll unlock and pull open the door. You run out, straight at Whitford and St. Holmes. It should block the bullets enough. If you do it quick enough, and just chuck the top at them, it should stun St. Holmes enough so we can run to the car."

"I guess it's our only chance. OK, let's do it."

MEANWHILE, BACK OUTSIDE:

"Don't worry, just keep applying pressure to the wound. Doc Wallace will be here in ten minutes. I'm gonna go over by the door and see if I can hear anything." St. Holmes couldn't wait until the rest of his posse got there. His gang had been the keepers of what those two idiots kept referring to as the "package" for the last six months. Sanders refused to meet their price. St. Holmes underestimated these two idiots earlier in the day, but no longer. Once he had some numbers, these two would be put out of commission, and Sanders would have no choice but to pay up. And, when the package was recovered, Mr. Sanders would surely be paying a much higher price. There was no doubting that.

St. Holmes put his ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything over Whitford's whining. After shushing him, St. Holmes went in to listen again. He heard someone say, "Two, one," and before he had time to react, St. Holmes was knocked to his ass.

"Run!"

St. Holmes sat up just in time to see Alec and Shane running around the side of the building. He jumped to his feet and gave chase, gun begging to be shot.

Since they'd planned ahead, the trunk was already open. Alec gently placed the package inside and closed it while Shane ran over to the passenger seat. He unlocked the driver's side door so Alec could jump in and hotwire the car.

Alec worked his magic like only he could; his partner sat there blankly. Shane couldn't help remembering the promise he'd made to Carrie before he left.

Current Mood: Yo mama's so ugly, she looks like
Current Music: she got hit with a bag of "What the fuck?!?!"