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The Last Airport

Page 8

Vacen Taylor

The picture was the same. She unwrapped the garage bag, tipping it up and out plopped neatly banded blocks of fifty dollar notes. She counted through one block and then added the total.

‘There’s twenty thousand dollars here,’ Anna said. ‘He robbed a bank and killed his two little girls.’ She returned the money, newspaper clippings and black book to the box.

‘We have to leave,’ she said.

‘Help me up. I can walk in these.’

Anna helped Dave to stand. Dave pulled out the garbage bag and slung it over his shoulder. ‘We’re taking this with us and reporting it to police.’ Anna opened the door slowly, peering out to look for Mr Last. They left the shed, walking along the path. The shackles rattled with each hurried step. Anna jumped onto the Diamond’s wing and hauled Dave up. They scrambled into the seats and Dave tried to start the engine. It stalled. He tried again. No joy in that attempt either. Then Mr Last appeared a reasonable distance away. He ran towards the shed, a resolute look on his face as he picked up an axe leaning on the wall. 

‘He’s coming, hurry up!’ Anna screamed. Her chest heaved with gasping breaths as she trembled in the seat. 

The closer Mr Last came to the Diamond, the more frantically Dave tried to start the engine. 

‘We need to get out of here!’ Anna yelled. Her eyes wide with terror as Mr Last strode forward.

‘I’m trying.’

Page 8

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