It was now May 22, 1935, Wednesday morning. This would be the morning of Clark's final mission.
The sun rose above the horizon, and Dirk was up making sure his gang wouldn't sleep another wink.
Down in Austin, Wallace woke up and got ready to teach his class on Introductory Physics at the university.
He walked away from the motor court and walked off to the campus.
He felt a little guilty for planning on leaving tonight to head back home to 2014. But he knew he couldn't stay and hoped Dr. Evans would forgive him. Wallace knew that his trip to 1935 would be his last. If he time-traveled again, he wanted to experience some other era. Like maybe 1776 and witness the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
Or visit Gettysburg to video some that famous battle.
After the guys woke up, Marge started brewing coffee and cooking eggs in the fireplace. These were the eggs from Bo's chickens.
During breakfast, Clark pondered how he could fulfill his mission during today's heist. He could not come up with a viable plan.
They finished eating, and Dirk summoned everybody into the living room. He wanted to go over the assignments for today's heist.
An hour had passed.
Two young eight-year-old boys, Scotty and Butch, were out and about in the woods on their way to a friends house.
They stopped the second they saw Dirk, Jerome, Peter, Carl, and Clark walk out of the rear kitchen door of their hideout.
"I didn't know someone is living in the Sampson home," said Butch while he and Scotty stopped and looked.
Scotty's eyes widened in surprise. "Do you know who that is?"
"Who what is?" replied Butch.
"That's Dirk Beaumont."
"Dirk Beaumont? The outlaw?" replied Butch, not believing that that outlaw would be in their neck of the woods.
"Yeah. I recognize him from the detective magazine daddy has in the basement," said Scotty, and he looked sure of himself.
"Well, I'll be. Then who is the lady?" asked Butch in awe with the sight of that famous outlaw.
Scotty looked then she saw Marge while she ran out of the back kitchen door and over to the Buick. The boys watched while Marge gave Dirk a kiss on his lips. "Maybe Dirk is married?" replied Scotty.
"Maybe," said Butch while they watched Dirk get in the passenger side of the Buick and Marge rushed back inside the house.
The boys watched while the Buick drove off toward the driveway in the front of the house.
"I bet they're going to rob a bank," said Butch and he looked serious.
"I bet," replied Scotty while they watched the Buick drive down the driveway.
Butch and Scotty looked at each other, and their eyes widened with the same idea.
"We better tell my daddy," said Scotty.
"We better," said Butch.
The two boys ran off through the woods.
"You think we'll get the reward money?" asked Scotty while he and Butch ran as fast as they could through the woods dodging trees.
"Hope so," replied Butch, and the thought of getting reward money made him think that he'll be rich for the rest of his life.
While Scotty and Butch ran to Scotty's home, Clark drove the Buick north on Eylau Loop Road.
Clark turned the Buick and headed north on Clara Road.
Clark turned and drove the Buick down Wingwright Road.
It was quiet inside the Buick while Clark drove down the road.
Scotty's family lived on a small farm about a half of a mile from Dirk's hideout.
The boys were out of breath when they stormed through the rear kitchen door.
Scotty's father, Gilbert, sat at the kitchen wondering where he could find some work.
He missed last month mortgage payment and didn't feel proud of himself.
"Daddy, the famous outlaw Dirk Beaumont is here," cried out, Scotty all out of breath.
"What?" asked Gilbert, not understanding his son.
"We saw Dirk Beaumont and his gang at the old Sampson home," cried out Butch also out of breath.
"Dirk Beaumont?" asked Gilbert as he understood that word.
Butch and Scotty nodded their heads in agreement.
"Plus we saw Misses Dirk Beaumont give him a kiss buy their car," said Scotty.
"And they have another big black fancy car at the back of the Sampson home," added Butch.
"Yeah, fancy," added Scotty.
It suddenly dawned on Gilbert that there was a ten thousand dollar reward for the capture of Dirk and five thousand a piece for the capture of Jerome, Peter, and Carl. He figured that his financial troubles were over forever.
He rushed over to the telephone that hung on his wall.
He rang the operator. "Sally, get me, Chief Whitfield. And hurry!" he said into the receiver. He waited for his call to go through.
Meanwhile, it remained quiet while Clark drove the Buick down Finley Street.
This was typical for Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl while they went through the upcoming robbery in their heads.
Clark drove by and glanced at the spot where he visited in 2014 where Dirk and Carl were arrested after their first time they robbed this bank.
At the Texarkana Police Station, Police Chief Wilbur Whitfield sat behind his desk with his desk phone to his ear. "Thanks, Gilbert, and yes, if we arrest the Beaumont gang, I'll make sure you get the reward money," he said then he hung up his phone and looked concerned.
He got up from behind his desk and rushed out of his office.
Eight blocks over from the police station were the Texarkana First National Bank.
The inside of the bank was quiet while there were five male and two female customers waiting in line for the one teller to finish business with his male customer.
The two front doors slammed open, breaking the silence. The customers to turn around to see who was in a rush to enter the bank.
Peter whipped out his Thompson machine gun from under his suit coat. He immediately fired off bullets into the ceiling of the bank.
Plaster rained on people in the bank.
Jerome whipped out his Thompson machine gun from under his suit coat and let everybody know that he would instantly kill them if they were a threat.
The women in line for the teller screamed. The guys froze in fear.
"This is a holdup. Everybody remain calm, and nobody gets hurt," yelled out Dirk while he ran over to the counter with Carl and Jerome by his side.
Peter remained by the front doors with his Thompson machine gun ready to take down any threat.
The forty-year-old security guard Matt reached for his 38 Special in his holster.
Peter felt this guard was a threat, so he fired off bullets from his machine gun.
Matt was dead before his body hit the floor.
The females in line screamed again while everybody in line dropped to the floor.
One of the guys in line peed his pants.
Dirk, Carl, and Jerome ran behind the counter to get the cash from the safe and teller window.
Peter watched over the customers and anybody that entered the bank.
Outside the bank, Clark waited behind the wheel of the Buick. He thought about just driving away and leaving the guys to fend for themselves.
He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw four Texarkana police cars racing down the street toward the bank. The cars each had four cops inside, and Clark knew this meant trouble was brewing. Big trouble!
Inside the cop cars, the sixteen cops were excited about their opportunity to take down one of America's Most Wanted criminals. They knew they would be the talk of Texarkana for years to come.
The second Clark thought about driving away he looked in the rearview mirror.
He saw the four police cars screeching to a stop, and all doors flew open.
The doors of the bank slammed opened.
Gun fire erupted from the four police cars the second the cops saw Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl run out of the bank with guns and machine guns in hand.
Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl returned fire at the threatening cops.
Windows and headlights from the cops cars were shattered, and the cops ducked behind their cars. But two of the cops weren't that bright, and they dropped dead to the street from bullets from Jerome's machine gun.
The cops returned fire from their hiding places behind their cars.
Jerome dropped to the sidewalk dead with a couple of bullets through the middle of his chest.
"Fuck!" yelled out Clark while he froze in fear, not knowing what to do.
Clark glanced and only saw Dirk and Carl firing back at the cops.
Two more cops who got a little too brave received some bullets in their bodies.
They dropped dead to the street from Peter's machine gun.
The other cops returned fire from behind their cop cars.
Peter dropped to the sidewalk dead also with bullets through the middle of his chest.
The front passenger and rear passenger doors of the Buick flung opened.
"Get us the fuck out of here!" yelled out Dirk while he jumped into the front seat with the bag of loot in hand.
Bullets penetrated the rear of the Buick while Carl got inside the back.
"Get away now!" yelled out Dirk while he leaned out his opened door window and fired off a few rounds at the cops.
Clark stomped on the gas pedal and raced off down the street.
"Fuck! I'm hit," cried out Carl in pain, slumped down from the backseat.
Clark was scared to death and thought he was going to be killed. But then he remembered the history books and knew he would getaway.
Carl cried out in pain again from the backseat while Clark raced the Buick down the street.
"Where you hit?" asked Dirk while he turned around to see if the cops were chasing after him.
"Right arm. It fucking hurts,'" cried out Carl.
"Quit being a fucking baby," yelled out Dirk when he saw the four cop cars racing off down the street after the Buick with four sirens blaring. He glanced over at Clark. "You better be a good driver and get us the fuck out of here," he yelled.
Clark didn't reply while he made a screeching left turn down another street.
Elsewhere in Texas, four Texan Rangers were racing down another country road headed toward the town of Texarkana. They were in the town of Atlanta, Texas and just finished chasing down a false lead about a sighting of Dirk Beaumont in that town. It ended up being some guy that idolized Dirk and grew a similar mustache and had a striking resemblance. Lance Thomas was the lead Ranger on this mission, and he looked determined with capturing the Beaumont gang.
"Where's Jerome and Peter?" asked Clark but then he remembered the history books.
"Probably dead on the sidewalk," said Dirk then he pounded his fist on the dashboard furious that this heist went south.
Clark made a screeching right turn down another street.
Dirk turned around and noticed that the four cop cars weren't chasing them.
He felt a little better and believed they would escape. He closed his eyes to relax and let his heart settle down.
Back at the hideout, Marge started packing up and placing their belongings inside the Cadillac.
In Texarkana, Clark managed to drive the Buick down Finley Street.
Dirk turned around and glanced back at the rear window. He heard the faint sound of police sirens, but the four cop cars were not in sight.
Carl lay on the backseat still in pain from his two bullet wounds.
Surprisingly with his criminal history, this was the first time he'd been shot.
Clark continued to race the Buick down Finley Street.
He passed by a slow-moving train heading down the track away from Texarkana.
He smiled at the sight of that beautiful locomotive.
He got close to the spot where Dirk and Carl were first arrested in 1935 and looked concerned on how he could repeat history. His eyes lit up with an idea. "Did you hear that?" he said then moved his ear closer to the dashboard.
"Hear what?" asked Dirk a little confused with Clark's question.
"The car engine doesn't sound right. Something's wrong."
Dirk listened to the engine. "It sounds fine," he replied then looked at Clark like he was daft.
"A spark plug wire or two came loose. If I don't stop and fix it, the car will break down, and then the cops will arrest us," Clark said.
"What the fuck are you talking about? The car's running fine," said Dirk, and he started to get a little nervous.
Clark slammed on the brakes. The Buick started fishtailing all over the road.
"What the fuck are you doing? There's nothing wrong with the engine," cried out Dirk while he glanced back and peeked out the rear window. The cops weren't in sight, but the faint sound of sirens could still be heard. Those sounds made Dirk extremely nervous.
Clark screeched the Buick to a stop. "This will only take a minute," he said then opened up his driver's door and hopped out of the car.
"You fucking idiot!" yelled out Dirk. The sound of those four police sirens got louder. Dirk turned around and glanced at the rear window. His eyes widened the second he saw the four cop cars racing their way down the road.
Dirk heard the Buick engine shut down. He didn't know what was going on while he looked around.
His eyes widened when he saw Clark running away with two spark wires in hand, and the engine hood left opened.
"Fucking traitor!" he yelled out while he opened his car door and jumped out of the Buick.
The second Dirk's feet landed on the street, he fired off two shots at Clark while he ran toward the slow-moving train.
The sound of the four police sirens was louder.
Dirk turned around and saw the four cop cars within a threatening distance down the street. "We got fucking trouble, Carl. I need your help," he yelled out.
Carl painfully opened the rear door and got out of the Buick.
Down the street, the four cop cars screeched to a stop. The doors flung open, and the twelve cops started firing their machine guns and revolvers at the Buick.
Dirk and Carl returned fire from their Colt 45s. Dirk wished he had the two machine guns, but they were out on the sidewalk with Jerome and Peter.
The twelve cops returned fire from their revolvers and machine guns.
Clark ran to the slow-moving train and was able to jump into a boxcar what had its cargo door opened.
After he jumped inside the boxcar, he glanced back and watched while the cops riddled the rear of the Buick with bullets.
Carl fired back at the cops who fired back at him. He dropped to the ground after a bullet hit his right thigh. Carl passed out from the pain of two bullet wounds.
Dirk continued to fire his Colt 45 at the cops then all he heard was the click, click sound of an empty magazine.
He reached down and grabbed Carl's Colt 45 out of his hand. He returned fire at the cops.
The cops returned fire.
A bullet hit Dirk in his left knee.
He dropped to the ground in pain.
Back at the train, Clark was relieved he managed to escape.
He glanced back and watched while the twelve cops inched their way to the Buick with their guns ready. It was quiet, and he knew Dirk and Carl would be arrested again. He smiled. This wasn't his original plan, but he knew it was the right thing to do.
He looked ahead for a safe place to jump off the train.
Back at the Buick, Dirk was furious while he watched the twelve cops inch their way. He knew his goose was cooked. "Fucking traitor!" he yelled out then placed his arms up in the air so the cops wouldn't kill him.
While Dirk and Carl were being arrested, Clark jumped off the train when it got near Clara Road.
He tumbled in the grass then landed on the street face down.
A car blew its horn.
Clark looked and saw a Chevrolet heading east coming straight at him.
"Ahhhh!" he yelled out and jumped up to his feet and jumped back to the grass.
The driver looked at Clark, wondering if he was an idiot while he drove past him.
Clark turned around and ran over the train tracks.
He ran down Clara Road as fast as he could.
He ran down Eylau Road as fast as he could.
Back at the hideout, Marge stood in the living room by the front screen door.
She eyed the street and driveway for the sighting of the Buick. She smoked a cigarette and started to get a little worried, as Dirk and the guys were a little late.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Marge was worried. She smoked another cigarette to calm her nerves.
Her eyes widened when she saw Clark running up the driveway. She could tell that he was in a panic and her instinct told her something went wrong with this heist.
She opened the screen door the second Clark ran onto the porch.
"What happened?" she asked the second Clark ran into the living room.
Clark bent over gasping for air. "Cops," he said out of breath.
"What?"
"Cops," he said still bent over gasping for air. "Got Dirk and Carl," he said between gasps for air.
Marge glanced back at the outside for any signs of cops. "We have to get out of here," she said.
Clark's breathing slowed down, and he started catching his breath. "Right now," she said then grabbed Clark by hand.
Clark and Marge ran out of the living room and through the kitchen.
The rear kitchen door slammed open, and Marge and Clark ran out of the house.
"I'll drive," she said while they got to the Cadillac.
Marge sat behind the wheel and Clark sat in the passenger seat.
She started up the car and drove off toward that small trail in the woods.
"Where should we go?" she asked while she slowly drove the car down the trail through the woods.
Clark thought for a few seconds and knew where he had to go. "Austin. I know a place we can safely hide," he said while he glanced at her. He thought about taking her back to 2014 but knew that would be awkward for Marge to be so much younger than her son Dudley and about the same age as her granddaughter Kristy.
"Are you sure we can safely hide there?" she asked while she drove the car down that dirt trail.
"Might be better for you to drop me off there and you might want to head down to Mexico. You can hide down there for a couple of years until the heat dies down," he said.
Marge thought about his plan. "Yeah, you're right," she said, then the trail ended at the other street behind their hideout.
Marge turned the car left down the dirt road that was now called Parkwood Street. She was told by Dirk that this road could get them to other routes for an escape path.
Marge headed down that d