"Stop the truck." The voice was grey, and tense as a pulled string.
"What?" McPherson trembled. "Is something wrong? Or have you always wanted to meet her royal Madge?" The truck carried on its way
There was a clink, and a shout "Oi! Don't touch that!"
"stop! No!" The boy shouted.
The gun stared him right in the eye, and another pair of menacing grey ones met his sight too.
"Stop the truck or you loose your pretty face
The boy stumbled towards the door, a sudden bump sent him crashing headfirst into the metal. The driver must have noticed because he eased the break so that the van almost stopped.
Almost
"Better," said the producer, who had turned a sickening shade of grey. "But still not good enough"
Clinka clink. A spring somewhere creaked.
The boys hand tightened around the handle. A knot in Chris' throat left him choking on a protestation, he could only sit and pray to god that nothing would happen.
But he couldn't in good conscience. He knew it was a gun, he knew what it did.
He counted slowly in his head, the seconds trudging on...
3
2
1
BOOM!
the blast shook the silence, as the kid finally pushed the door.
To his surprise the truck was still at a crawling pace, and so he stepped out into the open,
And breathed steadily
As he watched the door swing, and the boy's feet endging closer to the edge.
Chris stood, and finally found his voice "no!" He grabbed the boy,
But then, the floor was slippy, he found himself moving in slow motion,
Screaming in slow motion.
But, he hit the gravel quicker than anticipated
Crunch, the dirt road met his face.
