“Sugar, we could steal their car and their clothes!” I shouted.
She turned to me and slid her glasses into her hair.
“Darling, if you think I’m going to spend my last day in this fucking world dressed as a cop, you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”
I looked around at the raw desert. There was no one around but us. The two of us and two dead cops, bleeding all over the burning road.
“Baby!? We could-“
“I’m dying in heels and a Vivian Westwood dress. And you’re dying in that shirt and tie I love so much.”
She grabbed my tie and tried to pull me in to her lips. I pulled my tie from her hands. I looked at her. She was deadly serious.
“So we’re just going to die. That’s it?! No fight, no blazing guns. We’re just giving up and we’re going to die?!”
I slumped back down into the car seat. I thumped the dashboard. I grabbed the bottle at my feet and took three big gulps of the burning tequila. I wanted to cry. She slid in close to me. She took my hands and wrapped them around the gun. We held it together in our hands.
“Baby, we’re going to die. And we’re going to die together. I’m going to kill you and you’re going to kill me.” I looked into her eyes. They looked warmer than I’d ever seen them. “That’s how it needs to be.”
I looked down at our hands, together, wrapped around that thing that had brought us to where we were. I looked at the horizon in front of us, cradling that sun that was like our hour glass, counting down slowly.
“Okay” I said.
“So let’s get going then. I want to drive a little more with you.” She leant in and kissed me on the cheek. She put her hand down and started to rub at my dick again. I started the engine. The old bird roared to life. Raw Power by the Stooges kicked back in where it left off. I kissed the beads and hung them back on the mirror. She unzipped my fly and put her head down into my lap. I slammed my foot down and headed for the border. Moving our big red grave further into the sand.