80 Columns
Tristan Farnon presents...

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		     |	Dead  End  |
		     +:-:-:-:-:-:-:+ ...another twistful adventure!

  "Next, please." said the attendent. Sarah had been working at Citicorp Savings
Bank for almost a year now. WHY? She asked herself. THIS HAS GOT TO BE THE MOST
BORING PLACE IN THE WORLD.

  "Hello." greeted the man politely. "My name is Max. In my left hand, I hold a
.22 caliber revolver."

  It took a few seconds for what he said to register in Sarah's head. Then,
another few to actually realize what he meant. She froze.

  "Please! Please..." smiled the man (if you could call it smiling - his eyes
were staring coldly at her, but his mouth was turned upward with a smile that
only LOOKED safe.) "Act natural. If you act as though something peculiar is
going on...I'm afraid I'll have to shoot you." his voice remained calm, but his
gun remained pointed.

  "What do you want?" whispered Sarah.

  "I'd like to make a withdrawl. A withdrawl of, say, ten thousand."

  "Let me check with my--"

  "NO!" he commanded. "The money is in the drawer right in front of you. I'll
take it in ten One-Thousand dollar amounts, please."

  Sarah quickly fumbled with the key to open the drawer. Hastily, she counted
out ten thousand dollars.

  "Thank you. I would advise you to keep absolutely quiet and remain perfectly
still until I leave. My gun will be pointed at anyone and everyone within range.
Do you understand?"

  "Yes." replied Sarah, stiffening.

  He quickly walked towards the exit. HURRY...HURRY...he thought. GET THE HELL
OUT OF HERE. YOU'RE ALMOST OUT THE DOOR. WALK NATURALLY.

  Sarah let out a scream. "Stop him! He stole ten thousand dollars!! HELP!" The
  security guard reached for his gun. "Freeze!"

  Quickly drawing out his pistol, Max fired a shot at the guard. He crumpled to
the ground. Screams shot out from various locations of the bank. The second
security guard reached for his gun.

  Instinctively, Max grabbed a young woman and held her in front of him. His gun
was pointed directly under her chin. He clicked the trigger back.

  "ANYBODY MOVE AND I SHOOT A BULLET STRAIGHT UP HER SKULL!" he stated.

  The guard dropped his gun to the floor. People stood around, not knowing quite
how to react.

  "Nice to see you all. Have a nice day." Still holding a handful of her long
blond hair, he pulled her out the door and into his car.

  "Where are you taking me?" she cried.

  "Shut up." He started the car, and drove off at a speed that almost broke the
sound barrier. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he kept his other hand holding his
pistol, which was pointed straight at her.

  "What's your name." he didn't ask it...he said it.

  "Cathy." she whispered. "Where are we going. You don't NEED me anymore. Let me
out of the car. Please."

  "Be quiet. We're going to count my money - that's where we're going."

  They got out of the car right in front of his apartment.

  "Get inside," he commanded.

  She walked across the room and sat on the bed, not looking at him. WHY DOES HE
WANT ME HERE? WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ME?

  "Look." he said, and flashed the $10,000 in front of her face. "Quite a steal,
isn't it?" She said nothing. "ISN'T IT!" he screamed.

  "YES!" she screamed back, with tears in her eyes. "I WANT TO GET OUT!!"

  "Have a drink." he poured her a glass of scotch.

  She decided to go along with him. "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Have you ever SEEN that much money before in your LIFE?" he boasted.

  "No...I haven't."

  "You're a nice girl. A very nice girl." he said. She said nothing. "See this?
See this gun? Watch." He opened up the wheel and took all four bullets out of
the cage. "We'll forget about the gun. Now we can enjoy ourselves."

  "What are you doing?"

  "What does it look like?" he smiled...unbuttoning his shirt.

  "LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T COME NEAR ME!" she shrieked.

  "Why? Don't you like me? You do like me, don't you? DON'T YOU!"

  She smiled. "I like you...do you know why?"

  "Because I'm rich. I'm a rich man."

  "Nope." she said, reaching into her purse.

  "They why?"

  "Because you're my first case." she said, pulling out a gold badge and a
rather large pistol. "You're under arrest."

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      "Dead End" - Copyright (C) February 5th 1986 by Tristan Farnon
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