::the open end::

by ML Kennedy

(Author’s note: 1500 more words for you people. Hopefully it will help to pull you out of your Billy Mays related depression.)

Chapter 5

I dive behind a shelf packed with cartons of Niagara brand cigarettes. Something wet drips down my back. I take off my backpack and coat to assess the damage, turning my head towards the counter to check on Nicole. I don’t see her.

But I don’t see the multi-line telephone either.

Soon, I can hear her from underneath the counter. She explains the location of this gas station by means of the nearest Tim Horton’s donut shop. She’s already called 911. Her voice is clear and steady. People ordering pizza should be so composed.

I examine the bullet hole in the pack. The hole continues through all fifty pages worth of squiggles. There are two holes in a can of sirloin burger soup. (“I am sorry,” said the soup, “I have nothing left to give you.”) The hole stops short of my back. I can feel a flattened bullet inside the lining of my coat. I’d say our shooter has a good handgun or a crappy rifle.

And the pack will need a wash.

I hear another gunshot, but don’t see its results. Nicole stops talking, so I ask her if she is all right. She tells me that she’s fine as though we were old friends who chanced upon each other in the supermarket. This woman was carved out of granite.

I look out the window to try to see our attacker. It is too bright in here and too dark out there to get much more than a reflection from the windows. I can feel the cold winter air blow in through the holes in the glass. I ask the empty counter, “Can you see the shooter on the security camera?”

“It’s fake. Not hooked up to anything. I just got a black and white TV back here. I was watching ‘Cheaters‘.”

Let‘s try this again. “Would you be able to turn off the lights without, uh, exposing yourself?”

The lights go off; I guess she can do that thing. I tell her, “thanks.“ There is less glare now, but I’m still not capable of seeing just who is firing at us.

“Earlier, you implied that you have some sort of gun or weapon or something under the counter.” It was almost a question.

Nicole replies, “Well, yeah, a shotgun.”

Hope rising.

“But it sucks,” she adds.

Hope fading.

“How bad is it?” I ask.

She answers, “A twelve gauge, crooked site, filled with birdshot.”

“Well, it’s something.”

“Yup, it’ll be great if our guy turns out to be a slow-moving pheasant.”

She makes a valid point.

Another gunshot knocks down a cardboard cut-out of the Marlboro man.

“Hey, guy,” I hear Nicole say. “Is this like, the dumbest robber in the history of mankind? He’s firing blindly. What do you think: he’s out there stealing gas or something? Why can’t he just come in and ask for the money?”

“That would be the polite thing to do were he a robber. Maybe he’s not. “

“Oh, so he’s the dumbest assassin in the world?“

“Can you think of anybody that wants you dead?” I ask her this question, secretly hoping the answer is yes.

“Not off the top of my head.” Drat. “You?”

A cinderblock smashes through what remains of the glass. That shattering noise always reminds me of the high keys on a piano. A moment after the last note is played, brightly colored water balloons start coming in through where the window used to be.

“I might have a few people that want me dead.”

“Did that guy just throw balloons in here?” Nicole asks this thing with the incredulousness it deserves.

“Yeah. Water balloons.” Holy water balloons. Why yes, my life has become Zombies Ate My Neighbors. I betcha this douchebag would throw silver spoons at the Wolfman.

“They didn’t even pop.”

“I think they are frozen.” Then I realize something. “Nicole, did you see him?”

“Yup. I was able to move the mirror back here with a mop handle. We got a bald guy in a trench coat. Guy’s got something that looks like a SIG Sauer. He’s standing behind the engine of his van for cover, lining up another shot. “

“What’s the van look like?”

She describes Hugh’s van. This guy isn’t Hugh.

“It looks like he’s just gonna stand out there in the cold. Cops should be here soon. We’ll just wait’m out, I guess.”

Nicole’s right. The police will be here soon. And I’m a dead man with a stolen car being shot at by a one man Monster Squad. This situation will raise questions I do not wish to address.

“Listen, honey, I got to get out of here before any police show up. Is there a back door to this joint?”

“Yup, right by me. It leads you out around back where the bathrooms are.”

I spot the door. I can stay low and out of sight for most of the trip, save when I have to jump over the counter. I’ll need some sort of-

“Guy, I’ll fire the shotgun, when you gotta hop the counter. I should give you enough of a distraction.”

I imagine that Nicole runs some sort of militia that will soon stage a military coup of Tonawanda.

“Pretend you are shooting at me when you do it.”

“Why?”

“This fella is trying to kill me. He thinks I’m a vampire.”

Well, it isn’t a lie.

“If it looks like I’m trying to shoot you, he won’t have it out for me as a vampire sympathizer.”

“Naturally.”

“Okey. Start crawling. I’m going to shoot on three, wide left.”

I follow her orders, and land sitting next to her underneath the counter. She compliments my hopping abilities and offers me a good-bye kiss, massaging my eye teeth with her tongue. It has been fifteen years since I’ve been kissed. She tastes of Sour Patch Kids.

“Why do you smell like soup, now?”

I explain that thing, and go over my options. A) I run out the door and away. B) I run out the door, and hide in the bathroom. C) I run out the door, charge the guy and drive off.

I check out our shooter’s position in the convex mirror. He should be able to see when we open the door.

Hmm.

“Nicole, I have a plan. It might be a little dangerous fo-”

“I’ll do it.”

“All right. I want you to grab the ladies’ bathroom key and the shotgun. You’re going to crawl out the door and into the women’s room. That should cause trenchcoat mafia out there to run to the side of the building, thinking that he‘s chasing me.”

“Okey.”

“You bar yourself in the bathroom and pepper him in the face if he gets time to open the door.”

“Will he?”

“Hopefully he won’t, as I plan to knock him out from behind.”

Nicole does her part of the plan as I sit, wait and watch. Baldy goes for it. As soon as he’s around the corner, I jump over the counter, grab two holy ice balloons, and run out the front door. As I make it to the back side of the mini-mart, I can see the shooter stare at the tracks in the snow.

He lines up a shot for the bathroom door. Let’s make this count. I wind up, and launch an ice balloon at the back of his head.

He falls face first into the snow. My aim is bad; he should be knocked out. I charge. He flips to his back and points the gun towards me. I toss the second ice balloon at the gun, but miss by a mile as trenchcoat rolls backwards to his feet. He gets off a shot that hits me in the left forearm before I’m close to him.

He doesn’t get off a second.

I grab his right wrist with my right hand and pull him toward me and down. With my knee I pop his elbow in a direction it was never intended to bend. He drops the gun. I turn his hand, and kick his legs from under him, throwing him backwards to the snow.

I break his nose, then take off my backpack.

“Take off your coat,” I tell him.

I take off mine, as he curses me.

“Now.”

He does not comply, so I step on his hyper-extended elbow. The noise makes Nicole come out of the bathroom. She looks at my arm and tells me that I’m bleeding.

A tiny drop of blood travels down my forearm staining the snow. The bullet hit the arm straight on, but made only a tiny scratch. Benefit of being a monster.

She notices that my blood is the color of flesh; that one’s new to me, too.

“You are a vampire, aren’t you?”

I take the coat from our attacker, finding time to kick him as I do so. He decides to pass out.

“What does it matter to you? You offer ‘em a discount on gas?”

I hear a siren. Sounds about a half mile away.

“It’s just kinda cool, is all.”

I put on my new trenchcoat, and grab backpack and old coat.

“Tell you what. I’ll me you here, exactly one year from now, and tell you all about it.“

I’m on 90 westbound by the time the cops get there.

Related TOE posts:

• TOE Short Story :: The Mosquito Song – Ch 4
• TOE Short Story :: The Mosquito Song – Ch 6
• TOE Short Story :: The Mosquito Song – Ch 2
• TOE Short Story :: The Mosquito Song – Ch 3
• TOE Short Story :: The Mosquito Song – Ch 7