by A. Z. Mohd

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, heart still racing in his chest; he leaned down to grab his hat off the sanded road surrounded by red patches of blood and placed it on top of his head to block the sunlight that has plagued this town since the day he was born. He squinted as the haze blocked his view of the dust bowl farmlands beyond the roads. Haze that came not from the burning sun above that turned the color of pebbles into sand, but from burning metals that rested in the middle of the road. The smoke turned black, rising into the air like a signal fire. It was time to leave.

He raised his gun, smoke still rising from the barrel, and popped the cylinder out—empty. He threw the revolver on the floor and walked away from two empty police cars. Seemingly, because one failed to get out in time as the car caught up in flames. The rest were on the floor drowning in their own blood with their dead eyes staring at the burning sun.

“You okay, Mr. Barrow?” said the woman waiting for him in the car.

“Fine and dandy, Mrs. Barrow.” Clyde smiled as he approached their stolen black Chrysler Imperial Convertible Sedan. “Better than our new FBI friends a’ways back. Try as they might, with their fancy 2-way radios and all, there’s no catching the Barrows gang.” He gets into the drivers sit, reaches back to grab a new pistol, armed and loaded and placed it on the dashboard in front of him. “They’ve been tryin’ through just about all here 48 states, and Canada and Mexico, isn’t that right, Bonnie?”

“Indeed. They’ve been awfully aggressive lately, don’t you think?” Bonnie leaned toward the side mirror fixing up her blonde curly hair. “I guess we better get going then before they catch up.”

Clyde smirked as he turned on the engine. “That ain’t happening.” And drove across the road.

“Now what were we talking about, before they interrupted us?” Bonnie rested her head on his shoulder. “Oh, yes—I’ve got somethin’ important to ask.”

“And what’s that my pet?” He stared at her from the rear-view mirror. “And please, no more foolishness about a baby.” The road’s no place for an expectin’ wife or a young‘un. No, sir.” He stared at her. Bonnie kept her mouth shut as the creases on her forehead formed into ridges; her brows pulled close together while the edges of her mouth turned down. Clyde sighed. “Remember that road in Bienville? If we hadn’t switched cars with Henry and his double-crossin’ papa, it would’ve been us in that ambush.” Bonnie still kept quiet. The road seemed empty as they approached the next town. Clyde stared at the rearview mirror, taking a glimpse of what they left behind. “I think we might need to switch cars again—but this place is as empty as a desert.” The police cars were gone from sight, but the smoke was still there, black as a raven.

Bonnie pulled herself off of Clyde’s shoulder, eyes wide. “Look darling, would you look at that.” Pointing toward what’s in front of them.

Clyde slowed down the car until they pulled into a stop next to an old man kneeling on the side of the road, fixing a broken tire from a red pickup truck. “Just about time. No ways the FBI will look for us in that ol’ red heap?” He turned toward her.

“No, Clyde. Want me to do the talking?”

“Ladies first.” He grinned.

Bonnie leaned out of her window overlooking the old man with a white shirt soaked in sweat from his back. Her eyes wondered toward the driver’s seat where an old woman sat staring back at her. Bonnie shifted her gaze back on the old man.

“Hey, old timer! You need a hand?” She said in a soft voice that almost came across as a whisper.

“No thank you, ma'am—I’m almost done here.” The old man turned to face her with a smile under yellowed teeth, and grayed bushy beard, standing on two feet to face her.

“Who is it, Johnathan?” The old woman said with her burning gaze as she stared daggers at Bonnie.

Bonnie stared back at her, chuckled, and leaned even closer toward the old couple. “Why, so glad you asked, old-timer! Were—”

“Bonnie and Clyde Barrows.” Said Clyde. “I trust you've heard of us before?”

Bonnie sighed and quickly turned to glare at Clyde, before turning back toward the couple. The fire in the old woman’s eyes faded into dark cold stares. Her trembling old hands pressed on her parted lips as if to stop it from getting wider. The old man’s arm rested on the side of the car as he slowly walked, his back leaning on the truck, hands stumbling to find its way toward the front of the car.

“Please, we don't want any trouble, youngsters.” The old man’s hand finally reached the arm of the other, until their hands clasped together, as he stood in front of her like a human shield.

Bonnie and Clyde got out of the door. Pistols in hand. Finger on the trigger.

Leaving the car doors opened as they raised their guns. The old man moved closer to his wife, almost blocking her view.

“Well, old-timer.” Bonnie said. “Don't you know—"

“That trouble is our middle name?” said Clyde. “Why don’t you.” Clyde pointed at the broken tire with his pistol. “Finish fixing that tire, then we'll be on our way?”

As the farmer bent down on the wheel, Clyde, pistol drawn, moved closer toward the front of the pickup. The old man stared back at him, wrench in hand, fastening the spare tire. Clyde tipped his hat toward the old man’s wife. Her hands still covered her mouth.

“Excuse me, ma'am but—why don't you vacate this here vehicle so we can let you both be?” Clyde smirked.

“It's all right, Martha.” Said the old man now standing next to the broken tire. “Come on over here. I’m done.” The wrench held firmly in his hand.

Clyde took a step back, pointed his pistol on the ground while the woman climbed out, nearly tripping over as she walked toward her husband. The old man received his wife, letting the wrench dropped to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” Said the old man. “We used to look up to you.” His voice kindled a fire in his eyes. “But you've changed. Now you’re just in it for yourself. Is money that importan—”

“Johnathan, no!” His wife squealed, finally finding her voice. Her terrified eyes, staring blankly back at Clyde, and the barrel of the gun held by Bonnie.

“It's okay, ma'am.” Said Clyde. “After our car was shot up in that ambush, I realized that could've been us. It could've been my Bonnie shot up like that.”

“Get behind me, Martha.” Pulling her behind him.

“See? You understand. My Bonnie coulda died, just like the no-good Henry and his papa. I’ll have nothing like that happen to her.”

“Aw, shucks honey.” Said Bonnie now standing beside Clyde, gun still pointed toward them. “Now old-timer, hand over the keys, so we can be on our way.”

The old man reached into his pocket, fished out a key and held it toward them. Bonnie’s slender hands brushed off the old man’s rough calloused fingers as she grabbed the key and took a step back.

“Much obliged, old timer.” She tilted her head as her hair fell off her shoulder and smirked at the key in her hand, before handing it to Clyde.

“And we’d be obliged if you can put away your guns.” Said the old man.

The wind picked up speed. The old man embraced his wife closer. Dust blew around them; everyone squinted at what seemed like the coming of a storm. The old woman leaned away from her husband and turned to look beyond the barrel of the pistol on Bonnie’s hand.

“Johnathan, what’s that noise?” The old woman stared up into the sky.

Grey clouds covered the smoldering sun, the weather grew cold, and in the smog, on the quiet side of the road, a piercing sound breaks through in the far-off distance. The old woman’s eyes grew even larger, as she stared at a bolt of light coming down from afar. The ground trembled, ears turned deaf, left ringing from the blast— then silence.

The dust-covered fog disappeared, and as the sun glimmered once more, Bonnie and Clyde stood in front of the old couple. Their bodies laid on the floor with gunshots to the chest. Fresh smoke still oozing from Bonnie’s pistol.

“Damn! Bonnie, darling, what did you shoot them for?”

“I-I didn’t mean to! I got spooked!” Hands trembled; she dropped her pistol. “What the hell was that?” Clyde turned around to find a trail of black smoke, bigger than the one they left behind fuming in the sky.

His eyes wondered toward the dead couple, then to the key in his hand, and rushed toward the red pickup after grabbing their bag of guns and money from the old car.

“Get in!” He yelled from the driver’s seat as the red pickup roared into life. “It could be an FBI plane or somethin’!”

Bonnie leaned down to snatch her gun and stared at the dead couple. The old woman gazed back at her as she stumbled into the car. “No, Clyde! I got to see what it was. What made me jump the gun on them poor old-folks.” Tears flowing down her cheeks. Her hand brushed on a big red blanket that rested on her seat. She grabbed the thick red blanket and wrapped herself in it. “His wife reminded me of my poor Momma!”

“We are out of here. That’s what we’re doing.” Clyde drove the pickup at full speed leaving a trail of dust behind them.

“No Clyde!” Bonnie wailed like a little girl hungry for supper. “I’ve got to see!” Her eyes balling as she stared at him, pleading.

Clyde sighed as they approached an intersection. Teeth clenched; eyes focused on the road not wanting to look at her. But one glimpse of her from the rearview mirror was enough to make him turned the wheel as they head straight toward the black smoke entering Mallville, Kansas.

“Over there!” Bonnie yelled as the pickup slowed to a stop.

The black smoke was not far beyond the side of the road on a farmland, hidden under some crops.

“Looks like it crashed!” said Clyde turning off the engine.

He followed her out of the car as she stood on the side of the road, before walking through the crops.

“Careful now darling!” Clyde’s finger resting on the trigger. “Get your gun ready.”

After a few minutes of walking, he found her, still wrapped in that thick red blanket, standing in front of the smoke inside a small crater on the ground with melted pieces of metal scattered around.

“Oh, my world Clyde!” She turned around to face him standing on the edge of the crater. Her eyes bawling in tears, almost hysterical.

Clyde stepped into the crater and felt the heat from inside enough to make sweat drip from his forehead. He slowly approached her as she turned around and stared at the ground where the smoke came from. His lips slowly parting, gaping, until his mouth hanged wide opened. His eyes opened up like a crater as he stared down at the big chunk of melted metal and crystal that sparkled in the noonday sun, shaped into a pill or the shell of a bullet.

Bonnie dropped her pistol and leaned down to grasp the thing that was inside it, wrapping it with the thick red blanket. Clyde edged closer standing next to her and that thing she held in her arms. A mop of black hair, small eyes with tiny hands, holding on to Bonnie’s soft fingers. Clyde was in awe, as he saw her with the brightest smile he has ever seen. He smiled and leaned down to take a closer look.

“Look Clyde!” said Bonnie. “My dreams came true.” Leaning closer toward him. “It’s a baby boy.”

Clyde still biting his lips, unsure of it all.

“We should name him.” said Bonnie. “Oh, I got one.”

“Which is?” Clyde whispered as he found his breathe.

“Kent. We’ll call him, Kent.”