Borrowed Time
by ShadowMan
It was 1:00 AM.
Rick sweated profusely as he clutched the plastic sack full of cash. He was concealed in a small wooded area across from the house where he rented a room. The cops had come and gone, but he wanted to be sure they weren't coming back; he decided to wait a few minutes more.
He knew he shouldn't have robbed a liquor store where he was known, but he'd been desperate. He wouldn't have come back at all, but he'd left his anti-rejection drugs on the small cardboard box he called a nightstand. He knew wouldn't get far with a donor heart and no drugs. His hand unconsciously drifted up and touched the scar on his chest. A thirty-five year old man with a sixteen year old heart should consider himself lucky, but Rick knew he was living on borrowed time. He needed to get his medicine, then he would have to run. With this last robbery he had enough stashed away in his bus locker to make it to Canada.
The couple he lived with had gone to Austin for the weekend and the small bungelow was dark and empty. He checked the street for signs of vehicles one last time and slipped from his hiding place. He crept carefully around the side of the house and climbed the back gate. His young heart was racing as he slid open his window and pulled himself inside. Still cautious, he slowed his breathing and listened. He didn't put it past the cops to leave someone in wait for him, but he was fairly certain he was alone in the house. The only sounds were the familiar ticks of the ceiling fans.
Rick grabbed his medicine bottle and stuffed it into the sack with the money, then debated whether or not to leave his pistol behind -- they didn't allow such things in Canada. Despite this travel restriction, he left the revolver tucked into his waistband. He might have to pull a final job on the way to the bus station if the money in the sack turned out to be less than it seemed. He would dump it in the trash at the station.
His mind made up, he climbed back out the window. Just as his feet hit the ground, something hard and cold hit the side of his head. His world went black.
Rick sweated profusely as he clutched the plastic sack full of cash. He was concealed in a small wooded area across from the house where he rented a room. The cops had come and gone, but he wanted to be sure they weren't coming back; he decided to wait a few minutes more.
He knew he shouldn't have robbed a liquor store where he was known, but he'd been desperate. He wouldn't have come back at all, but he'd left his anti-rejection drugs on the small cardboard box he called a nightstand. He knew wouldn't get far with a donor heart and no drugs. His hand unconsciously drifted up and touched the scar on his chest. A thirty-five year old man with a sixteen year old heart should consider himself lucky, but Rick knew he was living on borrowed time. He needed to get his medicine, then he would have to run. With this last robbery he had enough stashed away in his bus locker to make it to Canada.
The couple he lived with had gone to Austin for the weekend and the small bungelow was dark and empty. He checked the street for signs of vehicles one last time and slipped from his hiding place. He crept carefully around the side of the house and climbed the back gate. His young heart was racing as he slid open his window and pulled himself inside. Still cautious, he slowed his breathing and listened. He didn't put it past the cops to leave someone in wait for him, but he was fairly certain he was alone in the house. The only sounds were the familiar ticks of the ceiling fans.
Rick grabbed his medicine bottle and stuffed it into the sack with the money, then debated whether or not to leave his pistol behind -- they didn't allow such things in Canada. Despite this travel restriction, he left the revolver tucked into his waistband. He might have to pull a final job on the way to the bus station if the money in the sack turned out to be less than it seemed. He would dump it in the trash at the station.
His mind made up, he climbed back out the window. Just as his feet hit the ground, something hard and cold hit the side of his head. His world went black.
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