A bell jingled in the front.
“Ugh. I hate when customers come in so close to closing. Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Nah. I’ll take this one, but you owe me.”
The door between the front and back room swung heavily. The manager closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, reveling in the silence. Silence. The manager’s eyes opened again. There shouldn’t be silence with a customer and boisterous employee just beyond the door.
“False alarm?” the manager asked, exiting the back room.
“Stop there,” a calm voice said. “She says you’re the one to open the register. Do it.”
A gun aimed at the manager’s chest beckoned him to comply. The drawer swung open and the manager stuffed the cash from a lucrative day into a pillowcase. Within seconds the assailant vanished into the night, followed minutes later by lights and sirens.
“That’s all we need from you right now. I can have one of our deputies escort you home.”
The employee shook her head but thanked the sheriff for the offer. She walked briskly to her car and entered just as quickly. A man popped his head up from the backseat.
“How much did we get?” the employee asked.
About the Creator
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Ooh, I like this a lot. The storytelling gave just enough away to keep us continuing, but nothing to detract from, or bog down, the pacing. The twist is great!