Thanks to everyone who followed on Twitter and Facebook. I will definitely be trying this again, perhaps continuing the saga of Sam and Jo. I’m also hoping to have some good news about a similar project with a favorite writer friend of mine, so stay tuned for that.
I’ll have some deeper thoughts on the whole process at a later date. For now, enjoy the story in its entirety and my thanks for reading.
***
The Story of Sam and Jo
A Twovel in 76 Parts
By: Russ Pitts
Ch1. “It’s not where you go,” he said, blinking from the pain. “It’s how you get there.” His father said it often. Finally, he understood why.
Ch2. Sam was bemused, considering where it was lodged, they called it “#2 buckshot.” He hoped the girl’s father appreciated the irony.
Ch3. The reverend didn’t care. “This is where you say ‘I do,’ son,” he whispered, grinning like a corpse. Sam looked at the girl and spoke.
Ch4. “I … do,” Sam muttered, panic rising behind his ears like a flood, adrenaline rushing like a hurricane. “Not.” And he ran.
Ch5. Shotgun blasts shattered the quiet confines of the church. Cy, the girl’s father fired again and again, hitting nothing but scenery.
Ch6. The reverend was aghast. This had never happened in his church. Shotguns, yes. Shooting? No. He stepped in front of the smoking gun.
Ch7. Cy didn’t care. If there was a God (and he was by no means sure) why allow his only girl to get knocked up and then left at the altar?
Ch8. The reverend beseeched him in the name of Christ to show mercy. Cy didn’t know the word. He fired. The reverend fell between the pews.
Ch9. Sam’s ass hurt like hell, what with the buckshot still in it, but his Harley was fast and he was running for his life, so he gunned it.
Ch10. He shouldn’t have bedded her. He’d been lonely, and drunk and she was just his type. Almost worth getting shot in the ass over. Almost.
Ch11. He bought her a drink (was that all?) then she was his. And then she was his. She never mentioned her father. But then, why would she?
Ch12. The gun went off before he did. Like in a nightmare. Caught in the act, shot in the ass. Sam shook his head and rode on. A nightmare.
Ch13. Alone at the altar, Jo was in tears. “He broke my flowers,” she said. Daisies. They lay trampled at her feet. “My flowers!” she cried.
Ch14. Cy didn’t care. He turned to Jo and slapped her face. “If you’d kept your whore legs shut none of this would have happened,” he said.
Ch15. Cy’s anger only made Jo cry harder. He looked away in disgust and spat. Something welled up inside of her and then broke loose.
Ch16. The bible was heavy, but felt light in her hands. She didn’t feel it when it hit the back of Cy’s head. He crumpled and she cried out.
Ch17. “This is my wedding!” she wailed, as she leapt from the dais, snatched the gun from Cy’s large, limp hands and ran out the door.
Ch18. Sam rode on, chasing the setting sun. He thought there was a town ahead, but he wasn’t sure. He was low on gas. God damn what a day.
Ch19. The trucker didn’t care. Wedding dress, shotgun, whatever. He’d seen it all. Jo got in his truck and he put the pedal to the metal.
Ch20. His name was Bob. She was pleased to meet him. Johnny Cash on the radio. Pot in the ashtray. Next town, 22 miles. She was done crying.
Ch21. Cy was blowing cigarette smoke at the crucifix. “Screw you,” he said. The police sirens got louder. “And screw your damn father, too.”
Ch22. Sam was tired. He had to get off the highway. Hole up somewhere. Rest. He turned down a gravel road hoping to get lost in the desert.
Ch23. The blowout almost killed him. Head first over the handlebars at nearly a hundred. He was lucky his neck didn’t break. Lucky. Right.
Ch24. He dragged his broken bike into the brush, dusted himself off, picked a direction and walked. He’d done it. He was lost in the desert.
Ch25. The state trooper didn’t care, he told Bob. Standing in the road, waving a pistol was a crime. Especially if you reeked of reefer.
Ch26. Bob looked at Cy. Cy, covered in blood, didn’t speak. They were both handcuffed in the back of the cruiser. It would be a long ride.
Ch27. Driving Bob’s truck was harder than Jo thought it would be. She shifted gears and adjusted her dress. Harder than stealing it.
Ch28. She had a hunch Sam had turned onto the gravel road, and she was right. Here was his bike in the brush. She climbed back in the truck.
Ch29. The truck stop came out of nowhere, like a mirage. Sam knew he shouldn’t stop, but he had no choice. Tired, thirsty, he couldn’t go on.
Ch30. He used the last of his cash for a burger, a shower and a shirt. He didn’t have long, he knew, but he needed to wash and dump the tux.
Ch31. They knew what Jo wanted before she even opened her mouth. The waitress pointed to the showers. Nobody even asked about the gun.
Ch32. She heard the shower running and saw his boots on the floor. The gun was heavy. Her heart pounded. She turned the corner.
Ch33. Sam didn’t say a word. He stood under the running water, naked, frightened and … something else. Jo looked in his eyes and saw love.
Ch34. The gun hit the floor and she was in his arms, standing with him in the wet warmth. He held her and their lips pressed together.
Ch35. The waitress didn’t care. “Nine times out of ten they end up screwing in there,” she said. “The tenth time we call the cops.”
Ch36. The sergeant didn’t care. “Fingers in the ink,” he said, pointing his bony finger at Cy. He didn’t even notice the look on Cy’s face.
Ch37. Bob had never broken out of jail before. Didn’t this time, really, he just stayed out the way, watched Cy work, then followed him out.
Ch38. “You know how to use this?” Cy asked, handing Bob a bloody gun. Bob nodded. “Good,” Cy said. “Let’s go get my daughter.”
Ch39. The sun was rising. They’d ditched Bob’s truck and stolen a car. They were headed West, laughing. Sam, Jo and their unborn child.
Ch40. Cy missed them at the truck stop, found the truck further down the road and was now hot on their heels, racing the rising sun to LA.
Ch41. Bob’s nerves were shot. He thought it was a bad idea to be driving a stolen police cruiser. He wanted to stop. Cy told him to shut up.
Ch42. The sheriff didn’t care. His sole source of income was the speed trap on I-10. Pregnant and newlywed or not, 75 in a 50 got you $350.
Ch43. Sam argued, but it was no good. Jo cried. Nothing. The sheriff took Sam’s license and went to run the plates. Sam started the engine.
Ch44. The sheriff heard Sam’s engine start and he reached for his gun. Then he saw the cruiser pull up and stop behind him. He was relieved.
Ch45. Cy got out of the cruiser in time to see Sam and Jo speed off in a hail of dust. The sheriff pulled his gun, but not quickly enough.
Ch46. The sheriff fell backwards with a bullet in his brain. Bob jumped out of the cruiser and tumbled head first down the embankment.
Ch47. Cy smiled. For the first time in his life, he felt in complete control. He had power over life and death. He was full of righteous fury.
Ch48. The cruiser was between them, and Bob had a 50-yard head start, but Cy wasn’t concerned. He aimed and fired and Bob fell. Cy smiled.
Ch49. “Holy crap! That was my father in that police cruiser!” Jo shouted. Sam clenched the wheel and floored it. This was not happening.
Ch50. “What are we gonna do?” Jo cried. Sam didn’t know, so he drove, willing the car to go faster, even as he knew it wasn’t fast enough.
Ch51. The cruiser grew large in the mirror. Jo was hysterical, in tears. She knew he’d kill them both. The first bullet shattered a mirror.
Ch52. They ducked, reflexively, but Cy wasn’t aiming at them. He just wanted to get their attention. The next bullet blew a tire.
Ch53. Sam briefly considered his shit luck with tires before another blew, then another. The car flipped and careened across the road.
Ch54. The stolen car came to a shuddering stop upside down on the side of the road. The dust settled like falling snow. The engine smoked.
Ch55. Sam was dazed, his vision blurry with blood. He looked over at Jo and desperately checked her pulse. She was alive, but unconscious.
Ch56. Sam saw the cruiser’s wheels glide to a stop. The door opened. Cy’s booted foot touched the road. He came closer, one boot at a time.
Ch57. Cy’s hand looked larger than it should. That was Sam’s first thought. His second was to stop the son of a bitch from hurting Jo.
Ch58. Cy grabbed her by the hair and pulled. Her limp body grated against broken glass as she slid limply out of the car.
Ch59. Sam clawed his way free. He heard wet slaps and muffled cries. His knee gave out as he tried to run, so he crawled, cursing Cy’s name.
Ch60. Sam didn’t get far. He felt the gun against his forehead, and looked up into Cy’s hard, cold eyes. Cy would kill him. Sam didn’t care.
Ch61. “Don’t you hurt her, you son of a bitch,” Sam spat. He reached within himself. Found something hard and cold as a diamond. Cy laughed.
Ch62. Sam was at the end. He couldn’t run, couldn’t hide and couldn’t fight. He had nothing left. He closed his eyes and said “I love her.”
Ch 63. “Too goddamn bad,” Cy said. He aimed his gun at Sam’s heart and pulled the trigger. The blast sounded like a cannon shot.
Ch64. Sam opened his eyes. He saw bright sunlight. He saw buzzards circling overhead. He saw Cy, dead. He saw a truck driver holding a gun.
Ch65. “I’m Bob,” the truck driver said. “And that sumbitch had it coming.” Bob raised his gun again, aiming it at Jo, “and so does she.”
Ch66. Sam surged to his feet, grabbed Bob’s gun and wrestled him to the ground. They struggled for what felt like days. The gun went off.
Ch67. The bullet hit Sam’s thigh like a white hot hornet mated to a freight train. He felt a wet trickle of blood roll down his leg.
Ch68. Sam couldn’t breathe through the pain in his leg. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Bob stood up and pointed the gun at his face.
Ch69. “Boy, you done messed with the wrong bubba,” Bob said, leveling the gun at Sam’s eyes. “I am a speed takin’ truck drivin’ sunovabitch.”
Ch70. “You’re also dead,” Jo said from behind him. Then she fired her shotgun, tearing a hole through his chest like he was made of Jello.
Ch71. Blood splattered Sam like warm, red rain. Through the haze of smoke, he saw Jo, with tears in her eyes, pointing the shotgun at him.
Ch72. “You love me?” she asked, her voice quivering with emotion, her eyes narrow, her trigger finger pulsing with every stuttered heartbeat.
Ch73. Sam looked at her and smiled, gasping from the pain in his leg. He loved her more than ever. “Honey, I took a bullet for you,” he said.
Ch73. They were making love when the cops arrived. Love is like that. No obstacles. She cried out his name as they were pulled apart.
Ch74. The judge didn’t care. “Stealing a truck is stealing a truck, no matter how crazy your daddy is,” he said. She’d have the baby in jail.
Ch75. But Jo didn’t care. And neither did Sam. The papers had already been filed. They might be outlaws, but they were in love. And married.
Ch76. “It’s how you get there,” Sam said to their boy, years later. They stood outside the prison waiting. The gates opened. The boy smiled.
The End.
