Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I can't take my eyes off the door, even after all three men have vanished. My heart still hammers so loudly I'm certain everyone can hear it. The tinny sound of the convenience store's music system feels surreal now—some cheerful pop song completely at odds with what just happened.
Nobody moves. Nobody breathes. We're all statues pressed against the wall, exactly as instructed.
Seconds tick by like hours. I count them in my head—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—reaching thirty when the young man with spiky hair and a nose ring finally breaks the silence.
"Fuck, the assholes took my phone. It was an I16." His voice cracks with indignation, like the phone matters more than our lives.
Julian gives the guy a pointed look. "Language," he murmurs, nodding toward Emmy, who's curled against her mother's chest, small hiccuping sobs still shaking her tiny frame.
The young man rolls his eyes but mutters a reluctant "Sorry."
The cashier stands first, her hands still trembling. "I'm calling the police." She hurries behind the counter to grab the landline phone.
I flex my fingers, feeling returning to my limbs. The terror is fading, replaced by a strange floating sensation, like I'm watching everything from slightly above my body.
"Everyone okay?" Julian asks, his voice gentle as he scans our little group of survivors.
The elderly man nods, adjusting his glasses. "Been through worse in Nam."
Eileen is stroking Emmy's hair, whispering reassurances. "We're fine," she says, though her voice trembles. "Thank you," she adds, looking directly at Julian.
I find my voice at last. "That was...that was really good what you did. With the gummy bears."
Julian shrugs, a hint of color touching his cheeks. "Kids need distractions. And magic."
His eyes meet mine, and despite everything—the robbery, the guns, the fear still coursing through my system—I feel that strange connection again—something warm and unexpected in the aftermath of chaos.
Emmy sniffles, looking up at Julian with red-rimmed eyes. "Do you have another green one?"
My legs have gone numb against the cold linoleum floor, but none of us have moved much. We're all still pressed against the wall like frightened children, even though the men with guns are long gone.
"My wallet had photos of my kids," the elderly man says, his voice quavering. "Can't replace those."
The young couple laments their credit cards, IDs, and the girl’s grandmother's locket that was in her purse. Everyone's tallying their losses, still processing what just happened.
"This is the second time this has happened to me," the cashier says after hanging up, her eyes hollow. "First time was three months ago. Same deal—three guys, masks, guns."
"You're still working here after that?" I ask, incredulous.
She shrugs, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "My dad owns the place. Family business. What am I gonna do?"
Eileen stands, finally helping Emmy to her feet. The girl clutches her mother's hand.
"They cut the phone line," the cashier tells us.
Julian stands up, brushing dust from his black jeans. "I'll check the landline in the back."
He disappears behind the counter, and I find myself watching him go, still feeling the ghost of his hand in mine. A few moments later, he returns, shaking his head.
"Line's been cut," he announces. "They knew what they were doing."
Everyone groans collectively. We're stranded here without phones, without a way to contact anyone.
I glance at my watch, wondering if Daniel is freaking out yet. He's probably called ten times already, getting increasingly angry with each unanswered ring. The thought of explaining this to him exhausts me.
Julian slides back down beside me, our shoulders almost touching. "You okay?" he asks quietly.
His concern feels genuine in a way that Daniel's never does, and I'm not sure what to do with that.
"We can't just wait here," Julian says finally. "Those guys are long gone.”
The cashier nods, nervously twisting a silver ring on her finger. "You're right. We should go find help."
"As a group," I add quickly. "Safety in numbers, right?"
Nobody argues with that logic. We file out of the convenience store, Eileen keeping Emmy close to her side, Julian holding the door for everyone. The evening air hits my face with unexpected coolness after the stuffy tension inside.
"Let's go to the gas station next door," the elderly man offers, pointing south.
"I see someone," Julian says suddenly, nodding toward a man walking his dog across the street.
We all move together, a strange procession of shaken strangers. The man notices us approaching—eight people moving with obvious urgency—and slows his pace.
"Excuse me," Julian calls out. "We need help. The store just got robbed at gunpoint."
The man, silver-haired with kind eyes and a cardigan that reminds me of Mr. Rogers, looks startled. "Good Lord. Is everyone alright?"
"We're fine," I say. "But they took our phones. Could you call 911?"
"Of course, of course." He introduces himself as Albert while pulling out his phone. "I live just down the street."
While Albert speaks with emergency services, I kneel down next to Emmy who's still clutching her gummy candy bag. "You were so brave in there," I tell her. Her eyes are red-rimmed but she's stopped crying.
"The police are on their way," Albert announces, pocketing his phone. "They said to wait right here."
Eileen touches Emmy's head gently. "I need to get my daughter home. She's been through enough tonight."
"But the police will want statements from everyone," the cashier says.
"My husband will be worried sick," Eileen explains. "Our car keys were in my purse..."
"You can use my phone to call him," Albert offers immediately.
Eileen accepts gratefully, stepping aside to make the call while the rest of us form a loose circle on the sidewalk. Julian catches my eye and gives me a small, reassuring smile. Despite everything, I find myself smiling back.
"My husband's coming to get us," Eileen announces, returning Albert's phone.
We all nod in understanding. Getting Emmy home is the priority now.
Red and blue lights flash as three squad cars pull up to the curb. Officers fan out, some entering the store while others approach our ragtag group.
"I'm Officer Garcia,” a sturdy woman with a tight ponytail announces. "We need statements from everyone."
We take turns recounting what happened. I try to be precise, but the whole thing feels surreal now—the screaming, the masks, Julian's steadying presence.
"Could you identify any of them?" Officer Garcia asks.
"They wore masks the entire time," I explain, frustration bubbling up. "Black masks, black clothes. Nothing too distinctive. All of them were Caucasian and young… in their twenties maybe.”
Julian nods beside me. "They were careful. Never used names, never revealed anything."
The young couple fidget throughout the questioning. "We live just two that way," the guy says, pointing. "Can we head home now? I need to cancel my credit card."
After getting their contact information, the police let them go. They walk away hand in hand, still moaning about the guy's precious phone.
The cashier—Melissa, I learn—keeps wringing her hands. "I need to call my dad. He owns the store, and he's going to freak out."
Julian turns to the elderly man. "Which way do you live, sir?"
"Just down Oakridge," he replies. "About a fifteen-minute walk."
"I'll walk with you," Julian offers immediately. "Make sure you get home safely."
The man smiles gratefully. "That's very kind."
"I'm Julian, by the way."
The elderly man smiles. "I'm Gord."
Realization hits me like a bucket of cold water—my keys are gone, sitting in my purse with some masked criminal. I'm stranded.
"What about you?" Julian asks, catching my expression.
"My keys were in my purse," I explain. "I can't get to my apartment walking."
"Why don't you walk with us?" Julian suggests. "My car's at my place. I could drive you home after."
I don't even hesitate. Logic says I should be cautious about accepting rides from men I just met in convenience stores, but something about Julian feels safe. Trustworthy.
"That would be amazing," I say, relief washing over me.
The police take our contact information before we leave, promising to call if they recover any of our belongings.
As we walk away, Julian falls into step beside me, and I feel oddly at peace despite the chaos of the evening. There’s just something soothing about him.
He’s a breath of fresh air.