In the wrong place at the wrong time, a young woman is taken hostage during an epic shootout with the FBI and soon finds herself on the run with the notorious John Dillinger...
"Something about you made me feel a little more alive and a far less lost."
- The Better Man Project
Little Bohemia Lodge, Manitowish Waters, Wisconsin, April 22, 1934
The silence was thick in the small room. The only sounds that could be heard were those of money being counted, and wounds being taken care of. Wads of bills lay upon the bed, thousands of dollars, but the total amount was still very far from what they'd all expected, very far from what Nelson had said there was in this bank in Sioux Falls.
"How much ?" John Dillinger broke the silence, impatient. He was pissed already, and the burning pain in his upper arm wasn't helping his mood.
"$46,120..." Nelson, who had been counting the money, replied, sounding disappointed himself.
"That'd be less than $800,000" Dillinger remarked sarcastically "Am I right ?" When he got no response, he became angrier. "Am I right ?!" he repeated, shouting.
"It's $8,000 a man."
Eight thousand. What was Dillinger supposed to do with that ? The only reason he'd agreed to participate in that bank robbery job in the first place was because he needed the money to break the rest of his gang out of prison, and these eight thousand dollars would definitely not be enough for that. Losing Caroll, getting shot himself, it had all been for nothing after all.
This son of a bitch, Nelson, John had never liked him, and now he was cursing himself for not having trusted his instincts sooner, for ever getting involved in anything this guy was also involved in. From now on, he was going to trust his gut, and at this moment, it was telling him to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Leave me my share and get out" John ordered in a low voice, glaring at the men until they were all gone, save for Hamilton who was barely finished bandaging his bullet wound.
"We gotta cut loose from Nelson" John stated, watching Hamilton put away the strip of cloth and saline solutions he'd used to clean his arm.
"You gotta rest up a while" Hamilton pointed out, referring to Dillinger's injured arm.
"No" John shook his head disapprovingly. "No. If we don't get out of here first thing in the morning, we're gonna wind up dead."
"Only you're gonna make it" Hamilton stated matter-of-factly, wiping his hands on a cloth.
"God damn it, don't talk like that Red" Dillinger exclaimed, abruptly getting up from the chair he'd been sitting on, only to plop down on the bed a second later.
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"No Johnny. I got a feeling that my time is up. And when your time is up, your time's up" the man persisted.
"Red, look here" John said, handing his friend his share of the money. "Tomorrow morning, Homer, you and me will go to Reno, and everything will be fine."
