Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I'm rooted to the linoleum floor while my brain struggles to catch up with what's happening. Emmy and her mom are already flat against the ground, their bodies pressed into the narrow space between candy displays.
I flatten myself beside them. The cold floor presses against my arms. My heart hammers so hard I swear the vibrations might give us away. Is this really happening? A robbery? Here? In this random convenience store on a Friday night?
"Listen up!" The man's voice echoes through the store. "We don't want to hurt anybody, understand? Everyone stays down, keeps quiet, and cooperates—everyone goes home safe. Simple as that."
His voice doesn't sound as threatening as I expected. Almost reassuring in a twisted way. Like he's practiced this speech, rehearsed it until it sounds almost reasonable.
I need to see what's happening.
Eileen must sense my intention because her hand shoots out, gripping my arm. "Don't," she whispers, barely audible.
But curiosity burns through my fear. I need to know. Is the cashier okay? What about the others? What about the man from the drinks section—the one with the dark eyes and easy smile?
"I'll be careful," I whisper, gently pulling my arm free.
"Please don't," Eileen pleads, but I'm already moving.
I lower myself onto my elbows and knees, crawling silently toward the end of the aisle. Every movement feels deafening—my breathing too loud, my clothes rustling like paper bags. The linoleum sticks to my palms with each crawl forward.
At the end of the aisle, I pause, gathering courage. Then I slowly, carefully peer around the corner.
The sight knocks the breath from my lungs. Two men in dark hoodies stand by the register, one holding what is unmistakably a gun. The cashier's hands are raised, shaking visibly even from this distance.
And there, near the front doors—the dark-eyed stranger from before, frozen in place, his eyes meeting mine across the store.
My eyes widen as I take in the whole scene. Three men. All in black. Black masks covering their mouths and noses. Faceless nightmares moving with practiced efficiency.
One grabs the cashier, and holds her in a chokehold—a tiny woman with wild curly hair that seems to defy the gravity of the moment—the barrel of his gun pressed against her temple. Her eyes are wide, pleading, fixed on nothing and everything at once.
Another man vaults over the counter with disturbing ease. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass pierces the air as he breaks into the cabinet where they keep cigarettes, lottery tickets, and God knows what else of value.
I flinch at the crash, my body jerking involuntarily.
My gaze darts back to Emmy and Eileen. Emmy’s face is crumpled, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, her small shoulders shaking.
My heart twists. I want to crawl back, to hold her hand, to whisper that everything will be okay—even if I have no right to make such promises.
I’m surprised when Eileen heads toward me, holding Emmy’s hand.
The third man starts moving down the aisles, methodically checking for witnesses, for complications. He’s coming our way.
I'm exposed. Out in the open. My breathing catches, and I press myself further against the end of the candy aisle, as if I could somehow melt into the Snickers and M an elderly man leaning heavily on his cane even while sitting; and a young couple huddled together, the girl silently crying into her boyfriend's shoulder.
Eight hostages total. Eight lives in the hands of three men with guns and desperation in their eyes.
Julian doesn't let go of my hand. I should find it strange, this intimacy with a complete stranger, but right now it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart. His presence beside me feels like finding an unexpected ally in enemy territory.
I glance around at our little group of hostages. The cashier catches my eye and gives me a soft smile. The elderly man stares straight ahead, jaw clenched, perhaps remembering other dangers from decades past. Eileen whispers comforting words to Emmy, who is still clutching her candy.
Eight strangers thrown together by bad timing and worse luck. Eight people whose lives just intersected in the most terrifying way possible.
The tallest robber has the cashier by the elbow, forcing her to empty the register.
Money flutters into a black duffel bag. His partner is systematically clearing out the locked cabinet behind the counter—cartons of cigarettes, vapes, lottery tickets, and expensive electronics disappearing into another bag.
The third man keeps his gun trained on us, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
My phone is gone, but I suspect it's vibrating in my surrendered purse. Daniel, wondering where I am. For once, I wish he knew exactly where I am—maybe he'd call the police. The irony isn't lost on me.
A small sound draws my attention. Emmy's delicate shoulders are shaking uncontrollably now, her face buried in her mom's side. Eileen wraps her arm tighter around her daughter, whispering, "Shhh, baby. It's okay. We're going to be fine."
But Emmy's trembling only intensifies. Her breathing comes in short, panicked gasps that I recognize as the beginning of a panic attack. The guard thief notices too, his posture stiffening.
"Shut that kid up," he hisses, taking a menacing step toward them.
Eileen's eyes widen with fear. "She's just scared. Please—"
"I said shut her up!" The man raises his voice, causing Emmy to flinch and cry harder.
Julian shifts beside me, his hand still holding mine. He finally lets go and reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bag of gummy bears he grabbed earlier. Carefully, he rips it open, pulls out a green one and holds it out toward Emmy.
"Hey," he whispers, his voice soft. "Green ones are magic. They make the scary stuff go away."
Emmy peeks out from her mother's side, hiccuping softly. Her eyes are red-rimmed and wet, fixed on the small green bear in Julian's palm.
"Really?" she whispers back.
Julian nods solemnly. "My grandma told me. Never failed me once."
With a trembling hand, Emmy reaches out and takes the gummy bear. She studies it for a moment before popping it into her mouth. Her chewing is mechanical at first, but gradually her breathing steadies. The trembling subsides.
"See?" Julian smiles. "Magic."
The armed man watches this exchange with narrowed eyes but turns away when Emmy quiets down. I squeeze Julian's hand in silent gratitude, amazed at how this stranger knows exactly what to do in a crisis that has me frozen with fear.