The man with the gun was infuriated. In a thundering voice, he shouted, “What the hell are you doing? You’re ignoring me to give this little brat a toy?” His voice was fierce, and the look he had for me was vicious.
Quietly and only to the man, “It’ll only take a second.” The toys were already in the boy’s hands, “and he’ll get out of the way.” The man’s uproar caught the attention of several of the customers, as well as Wanda, the manager on duty. I knew if Wanda saw anything she didn’t like, she would be at my side in the blink of an eye.
I didn’t break eye contact with the man and made my body language as relaxed as possible. In the most cheerful tone I could project, “I’ve almost finished your order.” I wondered to myself if it sounded too strained? I was sure it did. I willed in my mind for Wanda to stay where she was.
Wanda must have heard what I had just told the man, but thankfully she didn’t come to my assistance. I knew she was watching closely, but at least she was watching from a distance. I didn’t dare turn around to see.
“I want a robot. I already have all the cars. Can I have the blue robot? My dog chewed up my other one and I really liked it. It was my favorite.” I felt his hopeful smile beaming at me.
His mother appeared behind him, “Frank, don’t be so demanding; she doesn’t have a blue robot and she’s very generous to give you so many toys. What do you say to her?” She smiled at me oblivious of the danger in a green jacket.
The little voice responded, “But I already have all these. I want a blue robot.” The sweet expression that was there a second ago evaporated.
Without breaking the gaze of the gunman, I answered the boy, “I’m sorry. That’s all we have. Have a good night.”
The child stomped his foot and screeched, “But I already have all these!”
His mother was obviously accustomed to his tantrums and did her best to get him away from the counter without a full-blown melt down. She called, “Goodbye Frank, I’m leaving” and started walking to the door. The child erupted with tears, screamed and threw his body at the counter.
My attention never left the gunman, I saw him rotate his body toward the child, the gun drawn. The fury on his face was evident. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I leaped over the counter between the furious gunman and the unruly child.
It sounded like a door slammed. The noise must have rattled the gunman as I watched the fury on his face melt into sudden fear. When I first got over the counter, I wasn’t able to stand upright immediately. I’ve never been all that graceful, and leaping over a counter made me a little woozy. I could see the confusion on his face as my body was clearly protecting the child. I used as authoritative a voice as possible. “Leave the boy alone. I’ll give you what you want. You don’t need to use the gun.” He looked at the child on the other side of my body, but then returned his wild gaze to me.
The gunman opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes were wide with fright. I wasn’t sure but guessed in that second my sudden movement across the counter must have been more graceful than I realized. I must have thrown him off guard. “You can put your gun away; I’ll give you the cash, just don’t hurt anyone.” My voice was forceful, and I realized instead of moving away from him, I was actually leaning into him as my volume increased.
All the fear and anxiety I had felt disappeared. It was replaced by a new wave of confidence. I knew it was likely short-lived and probably a byproduct of all the adrenaline I had pulsing through my bloodstream. My only priority was the safety of the people in the restaurant; I considered moving toward the cash register but believed that might be too offensive of an act. It was bad enough that I was leaning toward him, no sense giving him the indication that I was going to tackle him.
Much to my surprise, he put the gun back in his pocket and turned away from me. I was vaguely aware of the customers diving to the floor, trying to locate whatever protection a table might give them. I heard several screams, but they seemed so distant. The man grabbed the bag of food from the counter, and in one smooth motion, he rotated his back to me and was out the door in seconds.
Frank’s mother had been at the opposite door from the one the robber had just run through. When I looked at her again, she was standing behind me screaming. Why would she scream after the man left? I didn’t believe anyone had even paid attention to the man but me; hearing her screaming after the fact was just plain weird.
Wanda ran from behind the counter, phone in hand as she ran to the door he had just bolted through. She reached for the deadbolt latch and turned it. She grabbed her keys from her pocket and locked a second lock into the floor, nervously jerking it into position. Then she pulled the wire mesh from the ceiling down to the floor, and locked it the way we would if we were closing the restaurant.
She sprinted past me, pushing the screaming mother out of the way. Wanda nearly yelled into the phone, “There’s been a robbery at Tasty Burger, 1545 North Main Street. Send the paramedics.”
She was obviously not thinking clearly. She had asked for paramedics when she should have asked for the police. As I thought about it, the paramedics were a good idea; the child’s mother was still screaming with loud sobs behind me. She must have gone into shock or something.
I was in awe of Wanda. How did she know to react so quickly? The police must show up automatically for a robbery. They’ll think this is a waste of time when they find out the robber only got away with $30 worth of food and condiments. The thought of explaining what happened to the police made me laugh – not many folks get held up for cheeseburgers.
I realized that Melissa was still in the freezer, and I needed to go tell her what happened. I started to go around the counter as Wanda finished locking the second door the same as she did the first. This whole effort of locking deadbolts and engaging the high security doors took less than forty-five seconds. I’d never seen Wanda move so fast. I caught Wanda’s eyes as she was walking to me and told her as quietly as I could, “I’ve got to get Melissa out of the freezer.” Wanda grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Let’s get you to a booth and elevate your leg.”
Confusion must have spread across my face as I stared at her, “My leg?”
Wanda very gently picked me up, my head and shoulders resting on one arm and my legs draped over her other arm. Wanda was wicked strong. How had I never noticed before?
I didn’t understand why she was carrying me to a booth. I looked at my leg, and all I saw was crimson. Still confused, I looked over my shoulder for a broken ketchup bottle that I must have knocked over; then the realization hit me; that crimson was warm and wet on my leg. It was my own blood.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
TAKEN
by
Charlotte Abel
Copyright 2012 by Charlotte Abel
TAKEN: Book Two Page 29
