A short story written for a competition. I was given the subject of a supply route and the genre of 'action adventure' and had to write it in a week. I came 4th in the first round - not enough to get through to the next!

Jack drew back his fist and smashed it into his boss’s mouth. Dawkins fell back into his chair and put a hand to his lip, looking at the blood in disbelief.

‘And that’s for all the times you docked my pay for being five minutes late, you cheap bastard!’ Jack said, turning on his heels and storming out the office to the van outside.

‘Well well,’ said Len Davies, presenter extraordinaire, over the intercom. ‘You quite surprised us there. We never knew you had it in you?’

‘Where’s the money?’

‘That’s the magic question! But I have to ask: are you sure you’re up for this?’

‘I’m up for this?’

‘That’s the spirit! Get to the city bank in ten minutes. If your late, the bomb planted in the van will explode. BOOM! Are you ready to start the clock? Then st-a-a-a-a-rt the engine.’

Jack turned the key and the vehicle roared to life.

‘Go Jack, go!’

Jack sped through the streets, swerving round any obstacle that came in his way, cursing at the drivers blowing their horns and nearly hitting someone on a zebra crossing as he pulled up to the bank. ‘We’re here.’

‘Good timing Jack! You got there in seven minutes and thirty two seconds. You must be some kind of rally driver! Take a look in the bin outside.’

Jack stepped up to the litter bin standing outside the entrance to the bank. His heart pumped faster in his veins as he peered in. A brown parcel glared back up at him. He reached in and plucked it out. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the masking tape. Then, thinking better of it he returned to the van. Jack ripped open the parcel and a bundle of notes slid out and onto the floor. He leaned forward, picked them up and inhaled.

‘Doesn’t it just smell like roses?’

Jack tore the whole thing open. Thick wads of twenty pound notes spread over his lap like treacle. ‘What now?’

‘Well Jack, you could – if you choose, undertake the next challenge f-o-o-o-o-r – fifty thousand pounds!’

‘I’m in!’

‘Remember you have to get there in ten minutes or you go BOOM!’

‘Where?’

‘Wyevale Secondary School, Jack. Can you get there in time.’

‘I can get there in time,’ said Jack reaching for the ignition.

‘But first you have to do your forfeit.’

‘What do you mean a forfeit?’

‘First forfeit, punching your boss, second forfeit, commit a robbery.’

‘What!’ Jack exploded. ‘If I wanted to risk my neck robbing a bank I could do that without your help and get a lot more than fifty thousand. I’m out!’

‘Rel-a-a-a-x Jack. Not the bank. Just around the corner there’s a side-street. In it you’ll see a little antique’s shop there. The lady there won’t give you any problem. In fact, she’s a bit of an antique herself.’

‘I’m not doing it,’ said Jack. ‘I’m taking the money and getting out of here.’

‘Everything you need is in the glove compartment. Take a look.’

Jack paused, reached over and flipped open the compartment. He pulled out a black balaclava and a gun. ‘Now I’m definitely out! Game over!’

He stuffed the notes into his jacket and opened the door. He walked past the bank and looked down the sidestreet. There was no one there. He felt the bulge in his jacket, smiled and returned to the van.

The sign above the shop door read ‘Compton’s Antiques.’ The bell jingled as he pushed open the door. The woman looked up, startled as Jack put the gun in her face.

‘Open the till!’ he demanded.

‘What?’ she stammered.

‘Open the till, you old bitch!’

The woman opened it. Jack walked round the counter, barging her out the way.

‘Just take the money and go,’ she begged. Jack snatched the takings and ran back to the van. ‘What kind of sick game show is this,’ he screamed at the intercom.

‘I know, I know,’ said Davies. ‘Not much money there, but now you’ve got bigger fish to catch. Jack Brimmer, delivery driver; are you ready to start the clock?’

‘Bring it on.’

‘Well st-a-a-rt the engine!’

Jack burned through the streets, his teeth clenched, his right foot rooted to the floor.

‘Three minutes left, Jack and there are road works ahead. Do you think the light will be on green? Your life depends on it.’

Jack ignored Davies, setting his eyes on the road. Signs flashed by indicating the roadworks 200 yards ahead, 100, 50 – damn! The lights were on red – of course they were.

‘Time to improvise. Go Jack, go!’

A line of traffic was snaking its way through the maze of cones. Jack dropped down a gear and floored it, smashing through the cones. Workmen leaped out the way, newly laid grit shot out in all directions. A digger was ahead, blocking the path. On the other side of the road was a Mini. Jack smashed straight into it, barging it into a ditch.

‘One minute left Jack.’

Jack spun round the corner and arrived at the gates of the school. ‘Made it, made it!’ he screamed. ‘Stop the clock, stop the clock!’

‘The clock has stopped! Congratulations Jack! You made it in nine minutes and twelve seconds and fifty thousand pounds are yours for the taking.’

Jack punched the air. ‘Come on!’

‘Go into reception and explain that you attended Parent’s evening last week but forgot your briefcase. It will be handed over to you and in it will contain your hard earned cash.’

Jack pushed through the current of students heading for the gates. He stepped through to the reception area and approached the desk. The lady peered at him through her horn-rimmed specs.

‘I was at the Parent’s evening last week,’ stammered Jack. ‘And I think I left my briefcase.’

‘Oh yes, something was handed in.’ The woman dived beneath the desk and surfaced with a tattered brown suitcase. ‘Would this be it?’

Jack walked out to the van, his hands sweating as he opened the door.

‘Open it Jack. See what you’ve got.’

Jack popped the catches and opened the lid. Every corner was packed with wads of twenties. He saw that they were bundled into ten and there were a lot. He snapped the case shut. ‘Well I’m out of here.’

‘Your turning down the chance to win five hundred thousand pounds.’

Jack shut the door. ‘Ok, what?’

‘You see the little girl coming out the building now?’

Jack looked and saw a girl, aged around twelve, walking across the empty playground. He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Grab that child and sling her in the back, Jack!’

‘I may be a lot of things but I’m no –‘

‘That’s all you have to do,’ Davies said. ‘Just get her in the back of the van, drive to the next location and let her go. She’ll be home in time for tea.’

‘This is perverse, you hear me?’ Jack spluttered into the sat-nav.’

‘Go Jack, go! Go Jack, go!’

Jack punched the steering wheel and stepped out the van. The girl was just getting to the gate.

‘God forgive me,’ muttered Jack as he raced up and grabbed her.

‘Where’s the next location?’ yelled Jack over the sound of the thumping and banging behind him.

‘It’s not far from here. Slinger’s farm.’

‘That’s ten miles away!’

‘Ten miles in ten minutes! Go Jack, go!’

The engine squealed and the tyres screeched as the van lurched forward and stalled.

‘Shit!’

‘We must ask you to mind that language Jack. This is a pre-watershed show.’

The van rocked back and forth until Jack managed to control his left foot enough to get moving. Jack’s eyes were streaming, blurring his vision.

‘Seven minutes Jack. You’ve got to make it. Go Jack, go!’

‘Please let me out,’ sobbed the voice from the back. ‘Please, please, please.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Jack called out. ‘Won’t be long left. I won’t hurt you, I promise.’

The van chugged its way up a dirt road. Jack had to drop down to second gear just to keep moving.

‘Three minutes left,’ said Davies. ‘Will Jack Brimmer, delivery driver, deliver the goods today? Stay tuned to find out.’

Ahead, the road was blocked by a flock of sheep. Jack spun the van round into the barbed wire. The tyres churned the earth and the engine screamed as it strained against the wire. The girl in the back also screamed.

‘Shut up!’ yelled Jack as he dropped to first gear. The posts holding the wire finally tilted and collapsed and the van launched itself into the field. There was a bang as the tyres exploded.

‘Oh no!’ said Davies. ‘You’ve got a flat and only a minute and a half to get up that hill. See the barn at the top, that’s where you’re headed. Go Jack, go!’

Jack swore and hammered the steering wheel as the van crawled inch by inch up the hill.

‘Fifty seconds and counting Jack.’

‘I am going to kill you Davies, you sick twisted –‘

‘Now now, temper, temper. Think of the children watching at home.’

The ground levelled out a little and the van picked up speed.

‘Thirty seconds.’

The barn could only be about two hundred yards away.

‘Go Jack, go.’

Maybe one hundred yards.

‘Ten seconds, ten, nine, eight –‘

The van lurched forward and ploughed straight into the side of the barn, dismantling it like a house of cards.

‘I made it! Stop the clock, stop the clock!’

‘Jack Brimmer, you have completed the challenge in nine minutes and fifty four seconds. How do you feel?’

‘Show me the money,’ roared Jack.

‘Ok Jack, but why don’t you let the girl go now.’

Jack threw open the doors of the van. The girl cowered in the back, sobbing.

‘Get out!’ said Jack.

The little girl didn’t move. Jack marched up and pulled her out by the arm. ‘Go home!’ he ordered, as he slung her down the hill. The child slipped and stumbled to her feet before running at full pelt down the hill. Jack returned to the intercom and ripped it off the windscreen. ‘Now show me the money!’ he bellowed.

‘It’s in the barn, or what’s left of it. Who taught you how to drive?’

Jack kicked the rubble aside and saw a chest. Flinging it open he found it full to the brim with bank notes. He sank to his knees and dived his hands into the chest. He pulled out several wads and clutched them, a gasp escaped his lungs.

‘Jack Brimmer, delivery driver you have won half a million pounds. Now would you like to go for the final challenge to win a whole round million?’

‘You just tell me what to do,’ said Jack.

‘Take the intercom with you and get the pistol from the van. You’ll be needing that later.’

Jack ran to the van and took the weapon.

‘Now walk up the hill towards the house. You see the little cottage at the top? An old man lives there, he looks out constantly for intruders, and he’s not fond of company. When he sees you approach he will come and confront you. You must then shoot him through the heart.’

Sure enough within thirty feet, the old man did arrive. He had just enough time to say ‘get off my land,’ before he was silenced forever with two rounds to the chest.

‘Good shot!’ said Davies. ‘Now for your money. Go round the back and you will find a coal cellar. Your prize awaits you there!’

Jack circled the house and found a door. He pulled it open and went down the steps. There, stacked from floor to ceiling was a tower of bank notes.

‘This is it?’ cried Jack. ‘I’ve made it!’

‘You certainly have! Jack Brimmer, delivery driver – millionaire!’

Jack threw himself into the pile of notes and tossed them into the air. He waved them around in the air as he danced around the coal cellar whooping for joy.

‘Congratulations Jack,’ said Davies. ‘I’m glad you’re pleased. I have to say the studio audience were really rooting for you. Now there’s just one more thing –‘

‘One more thing?’ said Jack. ‘But that was it, the final challenge.’

‘Well there’s still the question of the bomb?’

‘What bomb?’

‘The bomb in your hand of course.’

Jack stared down at the intercom. ‘What.’

‘I’m afraid the bomb will go off in ten minutes time unless you deactivate it.’

‘How do I do that? How, how?’

‘To deactivate the bomb, you simply have to enter a four digit number into the sat nav. Press the screen.’

Jack did so and it lit up. A touch screen keypad was displayed underneath a clock. It was on 9:24 and counting down.

‘What are the numbers? Tell me!’ screamed Jack.

‘I must warn you not to try and guess,’ said Davies. ‘One wrong entry and it explodes. Move more than six feet away from the device, it explodes. You have only one chance to stop it. Look to your right and you will see a loose brick, pull it out.’

‘What now, what do I do?’

‘Put your hand in and pull out what you find.

Jack reached into the cavity and extracted a mobile phone. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ he yelled.

‘Stored in the phone book are four numbers.’

‘The four needed to deactivate the bomb?’

‘No Jack, I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that. These are telephone numbers. The first one on the list will get you through to your boss, or ex-boss should I say. He has the first number of the code.’

‘No!’

‘The second number on the list will get you through to Mrs Compton, the lady you robbed earlier for the thirty five pounds you took from the till. She has the second number of the code.’

‘I don’t believe this.’

The third number on the list will get you through to the mother of the little girl you kidnapped from the school. She has the third number of the code.’

‘Please, don’t do this to me,’ begged Jack. ‘I’ve always been a good person.’

‘The fourth number on the list will get you through to the wife of the farmer you just murdered in cold blood. She has the fourth number of the code.’

Jack sank to his knees sobbing. ‘Please forgive me. I never meant to harm anyone.’

‘We have sent our people out with the cameras to all four people,’ continued Davies. ‘Which ones will be merciful? Will any decide to spare Jack Brimmer, delivery driver? Stay tuned to find out. Go Jack, go!’