Paradise

No Bonnie and Clyde, true enough. These two just weren't as bloodthirsty. At least, not in that old, machine-gun manner. But also no dummies, Danny and Brenda had the math all worked out for their destiny with paradise.

An ice-cool four hundred grand to split! Maybe more. So simple, their plan was also solid, well thought out down to every detail. The busy, blue-collar Savings and Loan was ridiculously consistent. 4pm, Thursdays, driver and one guard.

Danny laughed at their good fortune.  He was betting these back road banks take a ton for granted, thinking no one knows or cares to hit them- very soft target, Danny said. He looked over at Brenda, recalling how they hooked up.

He first saw her at last year's county rodeo, just as she was deftly seperating one big, smiling cowboy from his wallet, then disappearing into the crowd, Danny stealthily following. He had found a kindred spirit.

The rest was easy, Brenda liked what he offered, and that was six months ago. Only small pickings since then, but all that changed with their big plan. Danny had one very clear daydream: Beach. Unnamed island. Gone world. The perfect paradise.

Brenda imagined her life afterwards. She would maybe take a  bath in all those bundles of cash. But that's a selfie she couldn't share, she chuckled silently. Brenda's real end-game was stronger than Danny or anyone knew.

The day came with all their planning in place. Danny brought a gun, and his lucky Vegas silver dollar, just in case. But it wasn't needed, the hold-up went down without a glitch. The guard and driver weren't heroes that day, left lying flat on the ground, two heavy bags safe in Danny's trunk. Then, off the two lovers sped down the empty Interstate, just like- well, you know the rest.

With, so far, no one the wiser, they drove across the vast Mojave, rear-view mirror as clear as the open May sky. Then, Brenda said casually from the passenger seat, "Danny. You feel that? I think we've got a flat or low tire in the back, my side. That would be bad." Danny remembered the rental he got with a stolen credit card probably had a spare, if needed. Better check it.

Danny pulled over into a shallow, dry arroyo, leaving the motor running. Brenda didn't even wait for Danny to get to the back of the car. She slid over in one fluid movement, slamming the door shut, throwing the shifter into drive, then gunning and peeling back out of the gulley, bouncing back on the blacktop like she'd practiced the maneuver a dozen times.

Tires squealing, Brenda glimpsed Danny in the driver-side mirror, standing with both arms raised, getting smaller with every fleeing second. After six months, she had seen enough. But four hundred grand sounded twice as good as two. It was a lucky Vegas silver dollar coin-toss if the buzzards find him first, or the cops, Brenda considered for only a moment.

That unanticipated audible call detour in the storyline lasted another twenty scenic desert miles, as Brenda rolled right up on a full, four-lane roadblock. The good guys had radar-tracked them since Henderson, fifty miles back.

After that unfortunate bit of bad karma, there was simply and sadly no one left to enjoy that perfect paradise.