Run Smith Run

Do you want to know how this ends? Do you want to know what the F*** is going on? I'll tell ya sonny, I'll tell ya well good, how this goes down...

A truck rolled up the avenue. Nothing unusual about it, except that this was a a truck rolling up a regular avenue. It slowly came to a stop in front of Smith's house. Birds had been awakened as had been Smith. "Holy shit! a truck? The whole bloody truck?" The money bag flew out of the upper cupboard and in to the socks went the Smith & Wesson M&P9 pistol. This was the back up one. When in trouble, have a back up. Latter was what Smith hadn't planned for. He had not planned that today would happen. It was supposed to be a clean sweep. The whole gang had been blown up in the explosion in the yard, he had escaped with the dough but then out of the graveyard shift rolls out the good old Truck. Why the truck? How come the whole damn truck? Where were men enough for it?

Doors swung open, both the door of the truck and the back door of the house. As Smith jumped the fence he heard the front door fall and thick soled shoes thumping on it. Idiots, ha, hadn't he told them many a time, always block both the entrance. Thank god, they didn't learn. Thank God, he had a back up car a few yards ahead. He ran like his life depended on it, well it did and he did run pretty fast. The few female joggers smiled at him, where were they when he jogged every morning?

As he took the turn he heard something whizz past him, a look back and there were the cars galloping towards him and people in there firing at him. The cars too? The truck and the cars? What was it the rebirth? The Second Revelation?

When in doubt go left. And left he ran into someone's back garden, jumped his second fence. They couldn't get him. He was the best, that's why the job had been given to him. Run, Lola, Run. It was a beautiful morning, specially the clouds, they had some beautiful shapes. It was a good day to die. It was a good day to live. Ah, spring, the first day of spring. The rye field used to look so cheerful as the rye swayed. Maybe, everything does count a little more than we think.

He had lost the car following him and had found the car that was to be his ride. Silently, he congratulated himself on being so professional. Experience does teach a thing or two. A few seconds more and he will have vroomed out of the newbies' reach. The black Chevrolet shined in it's full glory, bestowing upon it's viewer a sense of pride. He pushed the handle of the car. It wouldn't budge. The bloody keys, those harbinger of sorrow of remorse unknown, in the bloody table drawers. May untold woe and tragedy befall those that remain hidden in their dark corners when needed. Life is a tragedy on repeat loop.

Well then, again, Run Lola Run. Now what? What was the back up to the back up plan?
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Contd.(Hopefully!)