500 words a day

508 words - 31st July 2009

Each time the car went over a bump he banged his head on the boot lid and felt the tools digging in to his back. He’d hoped it would only be a short journey but, so far, it had been at least 30 minutes, last time he checked his watch. Freddie and Jake would be laughing and probably thought they’d won already. He wasn’t going to give in though. He could still make it back in time, as soon as they stopped and he heard the fat bastard that was driving, get out, he’d make his move. The bet was, ride in the boot, then steal the car and get it back to Freddie’s in the garage, door down before midnight. He had an hour. It sounded for the last 10 minutes like they were on a motorway, must be the ring road or could be the M2, he hoped not though. If it was the M2 it may be he was going to London, which would take at least an hour, maybe more. Then he’d lose the bet.


         Freddie, the little shit, had made it back last night with 2 hours to spare,  but it was a nothing car, a Mondeo. No challenge. Freddie looked pissed off when he’d told him, said he should show him, if he thought he could do better. He thought he could, but there had to be something in it for him. That was the challenge, back by midnight and then he would get a cut. He tried for 50-50 but Freddie just laughed, said his Uncle would beat the shit out of them all if he asked for that much. He had to settle for 10%. Still, on this kind of car, a Merc, that would be a good earn.


         Freddie  had the key and he didn’t have to wait long for a decent car to show up. The secret was speed. The alarm didn’t matter. They were always going off. As expected, they guy came out, saw no one in the car, obviously didn’t check the boot, who would, pressed his remote key a couple of times to stop the alarm, then back to the shop.


A pillow or something soft was his main regret, that and the fact that this bastard seemed to be driving  a long old way. Ten minutes later he made a phone call.


         ‘You ready? I’ll be there in about 5 minutes.’


Then the car started to slow down. He could tell when it pulled off the motorway and after that made a series of turns before slowing right down and driving over some rough gravelly terrain, before stopping.  He made himself ready, he’d worked out how to open the catch ages ago. Instead of getting out though ‘fatty’ must have wound down the window.


         ‘Oi, John, over here!’


         ‘Evening Mr Derwent.’


         ‘It’s done then?’


         ‘Of course.’


         ‘Any problems?


         ‘No, none.’


         ‘Sure? You sure no one saw you?’


         ‘Absolutely.’


         ‘Good, stick it in the boot then and we can get this over and done with.’











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Steve Wybourn





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