Drowning Lessons

Frankie's P.O.V.

Man, when has Nicholas Cage ever let me down?

Had I not seen Gone In 60 Seconds the weekend before, I would never have been able to help Gerard.

After gloating over our fast action, another thought came to me.

"Gerard, we can't stay here long. They'll probably be on our asses soon. We gotta move."

He looked up at me with wide eyes.

"You're right. Where do we go?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I don't know, Gee. I really don't. Look, let's just go down this highway further, I'm sure we'll come across a hotel soon or something."

He started the car and we began the long tense journey down the long country highway.

Soon enough, Gerard looked at the gas gauge and discovered that we were nearly outta gas.

"Shit," he mumbled. We frantically scanned the view for a gas station, and sure enough, there was a little Stop 'N Go before we broke down. It was one of those old timey places with the bell above the door and the little black and white TV that shows where the car pulls in.

Gerard couldn't pump worth shit, so I pumped while he went in to pay.

"I'll get some other shit too, who knows how long we'll be out here," he said dismally. I threw him a sympathetic glance and grabbed the nozzle.

A while after I was done, Gerard was still in there. I walked into the store and he had just come up to the counter with various things. Nothin out of the ordinary. But he looked nervous as hell and white as a sheet.

Then I noticed that the clerk was staring at the little black-and-white TV.

Gerard's P.O.V.

I was nervous as hell, and I couldn't even tell why.

There was no way that this guy would know why we were driving down this deserted highway at mid day.

Would he?

"Afternoon, boys," said the clerk. He was one of those cotton pickers you see sitting on their porches in their rocking chairs with their shotguns, waitin for "dem city slickers ter come start some trouble".

"Hello," I said tightly. This guy had overalls and a red plaid shirt. He was too much. And he didn't look too kindly, either.

"What brings you chillun out here on a day lak this? You boys should be out mowin yer lawn an sech things," he said with a sour smile.

We laughed nervously and shrugged.

"Interestin lookin lil vehicle ya got there," he said with a suspicious glance at us.

Fuck.

"Really? Oh, well, I guess its pretty old... I got it a while ago and I guess it wasn't all that new when I got it, so..." I trailed off.

We both knew that was not what he meant. He could see our license plate. The number must be out there to shopkeepers and stuff. Or something like that.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

"And can I also get a pack of Marlboro Red Lights, please?" I asked.

"You sure can."

He gave me a sinister look as he turned around.

Okay, just don't look too conspicuous, don't look nervous, act cool and you will be FINE... you'll be fine, Gerard...

Then I saw what he was really doing while getting those cigarettes. He had subtly reached his hand down to a red button on the desk.

The emergency call button.

Fuck you.

I reached into my jacket and wrapped my hand around something hard. I was prepared. Oh yes I was. Then I remembered what being prepared had gotten me last time. It had gotten me here. Oh well.

"Don't you dare push that god damn button."

I brought out my weapon of choice, an Action Semi-Automatic Handgun that my mother had kept in the house since my father left. It was Jersey. Hey, it was normal. Shut up.

He didn't stop inching his hand over.

"I swear to God, motherfucker, you push that button and it will be the last thing you ever fucking do."

I couldn't stop myself. It was insanity. I was desperate. I would not let any harm come to either of us. If that meant I had to use a little force to keep us safe, then so be it.

He heard the gun cock and turned around slowly.

"Thats right. Keep your hand away from that button or you will find yourself a limb or two shy," I said sinisterly.

"I am so sick of you punk kids," he said, "What are ya gon ter do, shoot me? Yeah, you'll get away with that. If your license plate number is as I'm seein it, you're already in a heap o' trouble. You best be just gettin in yer car and goin on yer way."

"Fuck you. Give me everything from the register," I said, jerking the gun towards the large metal box.

Without a word he opened it and began putting the bills on the counter. When he was done I handed them to Frankie who put them in his jacket without a word. He was white and his eyes never left me. I couldn't bear to see that look on his face, so I turned back to the shopkeeper and reminded him that I wanted cigarettes.

When I had gotten what I wanted, We left the shop, but before I closed the door, I said, "Hey, and listen. No pressure, but if you do press that button when I leave, I will know. I will know it was you, and I will come back and empty a round into that cotton picking head of yours."

And that was my cue to exit.