by Doug Draa
“I’m here about the liquor store. I just thought you should know what’s coming.”
“Oh.”
“Listen to me. Things don’t go exactly as you’d like them to tonight. The guy behind the counter has a gun too.”
“Seriously? Does he shoot me?”
“He tries, but you fire first. ‘Lucky shot’ gets him right through the heart. That’s how we ended up where I am right now.”
“Prison.”
“Yep. Life sentence.”
“So you want me to skip the robbery…”
The old man was a fuzzy, fading image now. Mark tried to study his face, his eyes, his clothes. He didn’t know if he would see him again, until he saw him in the mirror. His voice was fading in and out as he spoke his final words.
“No. We can’t change things that much. Just don’t shoot him. Everything will work out if you just don’t pull your gun.”
“Hey, wait! Doesn’t that mean he’ll shoot me?!”
“That way we can get the degree and get out in time to do something with it.”
The old man sputtered and blinked until he was almost gone.
“Answer me!”
Mark stood up and checked his reflection in the window one more time. He looked over his shoulder to where the old man was sitting just a second ago. The gun was already in his trembling hand before he stepped inside the liquor store.
I am a warrior, no matter what my stupid tattoo says.
