"First things first. We need food. I don't think we can survive off of bread and cakes alone," Kit said, watching Emily wrap the last of their bread up in the towel.

"Blankets too. If we stay in another place like this, we can put them on the bed. I swear something was crawling over me last night." She shuddered and brushed her short hair out of her eyes. "We also need fuel."

"If need be, we could steal another motorcar."

"You wouldn't give up a second Royce, not after having to leave my fathers. We can get some fuel. There has to be a garage or something near here."

Kit nodded, smiling a little. He knew Emily was right after having given up the dark green Rolls Royce in favour of the black one. He didn't want to have to give up another one just because it ran out of fuel. If they were getting away entirely and embracing their freedom, he deserved to do it with the Rolls Royce.

"Alright." He jammed his cap onto his head. "You do food and blankets. I'll see about getting us some fuel."

"Meet out the front of the hotel at midday?"

"That's probably the latest we should get out of here, though with the blankets, we might not need a hotel for the night."

"Alright."

Emily nodded. She tucked the bread and cakes under her arm before the two of them left their room before the grumpy man behind the desk kicked them out. He watched them as they left. Kit eyed the small telephone beside him, slightly worried that he might call the police on them, but he wasn't sure if the crimes they committed in the city had followed them so far.

They left the hotel, dumping the bread and cakes into the backseat of the motorcar before going their separate ways. Kit stopped a passing gentleman, asking him for directions to the nearest garage, or somewhere he might have been able to find fuel. He was directed to a large stone house away from the other buildings with a second, smaller building built on the side of it.

Kit walked towards the smaller of the two buildings. The two large, wooden doors were wide open, exposing the inside, which wasn't all that dissimilar from Rob's garage. A car — a black Ford — had been parked inside and a young man stood waxing the bonnet, his back to the door. Kit checked that his shirt was covering the gun in the waistband of his trousers, though he was sure he would need it later, and approached the garage.

"Excuse me, sir?" he asked, tapping his index finger on his thigh.

The man turned, leaving the cloth on the bonnet of the car. He raised an eyebrow at Kit. "Yes? What is it?"

"My missus and I are passing through, but we don't reckon our motorcar's going to make it without fuel. Do you reckon you can spare some?"

"A little. It'll cost you, though."

"That's no issue."

The man nodded, turning his back on Kit. "Where is your motorcar?"

"Not too far. It's just parked around the back of the hotel, but we need to be on the road soon."

"You going far?"

"The coast." Kit reached behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the handle of the gun, feeling the cool metal against his skin. "It's our honeymoon."

"I can give you two cans. It's all I can spare." The man turned around with two cans of petrol in hand. He approached them and set them on the floor in front of Kit. "That'll be one shilling and tuppence. Should be enough to get you to the coast."

"Thank you."

The man looked at Kit, who reached his left hand into his pocket, but he had no intention of handing over the money. A shilling and tuppence could go a long way to getting them a decent place to sleep once they made it the cost and the night in the hotel had already eaten into the meagre funds they had. They would need the money for the coast.

Kit pulled the gun from his pocket, aiming it at the man. He was grateful his hands were steady and that familiar hum of excitement spread through his body. The man stared at the gun with wide eyes. He backed up, tripping over a wooden bucket placed behind him and falling in a heap on the ground.

"I'm going to take these two petrol cans and get out of here, and you ain't going to move. If you do, I'll shoot you. Understand?"

He swallowed, nodding his head. "Please don't hurt me."

"I won't, so long as you do what I say. You're going to stay here for at least ten minutes, then you can do what you want."

He waved the gun a little to prove he was serious. The man slunk back against the stone floor, crawling away but making no movement to try to grab the gun. Kit picked up the two cans, his bruised leg almost giving out under the weight, and backed out of the room. He kept a close eye on the man, so he didn't get the chance to do anything whilst Kit's back was turned.

The man whimpered and Kit almost laughed at how pathetic he looked. Kit looked at the gun, then back to the man who watched him with trembling hands and fear etched onto his face.

"Changed my mind," Kit said. "You saw my face. Can't let you live after that."

"I won't tell anyone."

"See, I have a hard time believing you. Not sure I can take your word for it."

With that, Kit squeezed the trigger and watched the man slump to the ground. He grinned, readjusting his grip on the petrol cans, and took off running. With his bruised leg and the petrol cans weighing him down, Kit struggled on his way back to the car. He stumbled a little, almost falling against the stone floor, but he needed to get back to Emily.

She stood beside the motorcar, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as Kit skidded around the corner.

"Hurry up! They were going to send the police after me for what I took."

"Not as much as they're going to be coming after me." He laughed. "Open the back so I can shove these in."

"Did you shoot the man?" Emily opened the back of the car and eyed the gun still clasped in Kit's hand.

"Had to. He saw my face, but they're going to find him soon enough. We need to go. You can tell me what you grabbed once we're on the road."

"Oi! You two! Get back there!"

Kit barely had time to take a breath before a bullet whizzed past his ear.

~~~

First Published - February 2nd, 2024