The guy snarls as he takes a step closer, waving the gun between the two of us. “Shut up, you old fuck!” he cries. “Get the money out of the register before I blow your fucking head off!” He glances behind him, out the front window. The sidewalk is empty this far down Poplar Street. “Where’s the other guy?” he snaps when he looks back.
Shit. “What other guy?” I ask, tapping a button on the register, opening the till drawer.
“The big one! Where’d he go?”
I shake my head, grabbing the bills that make up the hundred or so bucks I’ve got in the drawer. “He left out the back a while ago. Had some errands to run.”
He looks toward the back of the store. It’s empty. “You got a safe back there?” he asks, jerking his gaze back to me.
“Nothing in it,” I tell him. “Bank pickup came yesterday afternoon.”
“Fuck!” he screams. “All I wanted was a fucking hit, man! Traynor told me I could get it, that fucking bastard!”
Traynor. The name is familiar, but I can’t place it right now.
“What did Traynor tell you that you could get?” Abe asks gently.
He swings the gun back and points it at Abe. “I told you to shut the fuck up,” he says coldly. “I will kill you, man. I’ve done worse. I don’t fucking care.”
“I’ve only got a hundred bucks,” I say loudly, trying to get the guy’s attention off Abe and back to me. “It’s yours if you take it and leave now.” I hold it out to him across the counter, both of my hands visible.
He twitches again, the gun coming back in my direction. He takes a step toward me then stops, narrowing his eyes. I can see something stirring in his mind. Whatever it is can’t possibly be good. Cal! I scream again. My heart is starting to pick up in my chest and my palms feel clammy. But I’m also pissed, maybe more so than I’ve been in a long time. This is my store. This is my father’s store. He worked his ass off to make sure this place stayed afloat and I’ve done the same since it became mine. Who the fuck does this guy think he is, walking in here, waving that fucking gun around? This place was my father’s. It is now mine. This is my home.
“Maybe I don’t believe you,” the man says slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Maybe I don’t believe you about the safe.”
“The bank comes the same time every week,” I tell him, a sneer on my lips. “Just because you’re tweaked out of your mind doesn’t mean I’m lying to you.”
“Not a good idea to upset the guy with the gun,” Abe mutters.
“There’s no money in the back,” I tell him again, my voice hard. “Either take what I’m offering or get the fuck out of my store.”
“I’ll fucking shoot you, you goddamn asshole!”
“Take the money and get out.”
“Benji,” Abe pleads.
I look the guy straight in the eye and say, “Get. Out.”
I think, Cal.
I can see it all, those next few seconds stretched out so that they feel like days. His finger tightens around the trigger, the hammer inches back. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead, slides between his eyes and off the side of his nose, leaving a track like a tear under his sunken right eye. His lips tremble. His shoulder shakes. His finger jerks and the gun fires, the sound surprisingly muffled in the store. Cal, I think again.
The world around me suddenly darkens with a loud rush, and I smell earth, raw and pungent.
Silence.
Then:
A low snarling noise rumbles near my left ear.
“Holy mother of God,” Abe whispers.
The would-be gunman moans.
I open my eyes, unsure of when I closed them.
It’s dark, which confuses me for a moment. Wasn’t it just daylight? And then I wonder if I’ve been shot in the face and am blind. There’s no pain, but I’ve never been shot in the head before, so I don’t know if it’s supposed to hurt. Maybe I should be relieved there’s no pain. If there is no pain, then there can be no sorrow.
The earth smell hits me again. It’s overwhelming and a lump forms in my throat. I don’t know why. This earth is my home, I think, not knowing where it comes from. Then the black ruffles against my face, light and soft scratches. The rumbling near my ear gets louder. Oh, I