Chapter 27

6:25 p.m.– 6:53 to Termination

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault

Whatever happens we have got; the maxim gun, and they have not. —Hilaire Belloc

He got to the door, adrenaline coursing. Lifting a foot, he kicked against the handle of the door, flinging it open. Another step and he was inside the store. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright light of outside.

A tall barrel-chested man stood behind the counter. His head bald, and he wore a goatee. He lifted his eyes from a magazine on the glass case in front of him.

A short, stout man in his mid-forties with a salt-and-pepper mustache, Wranglers, and boots stood in front of a side counter. He wore a light jacket over a button-down cowboy shirt. He glanced casually over his shoulder when Nick entered the store.

Jane screamed at his chest.

In a single motion, Nick had the pistol in his hand. He directed it first toward the man behind the counter, and then at the man with the boots. He couldn’t bring himself to actually point it at them. The thought of the gun discharging on accident sickened him.

“Anybody moves and I shoot.” He said it loud to be heard over Jane, but with clarity and a calmness that belied the terror scattering through his gut.

Neither of the two men moved, but neither one looked scared, either.

That wasn’t good.

Nick looked at the man dressed like a cowboy. The man stared back with eyes through narrow slits that darted between Nick and the baby against his chest.

He’s calculating the odds of shooting me without hurting the baby. He’s going to pull. The bastard’s going to pull.

This was every gun owner’s wet dream—to use their weapon and stop a bad guy.

Jane’s timer flickered. Just a fraction, but it was there. Something bad was about to happen.

Baby Jane was in danger.

Panic filled him. For everything that had happened on this shitty day, Nick felt he was closer in this moment to his careful plan spiraling out of control than ever before. His attempts at saving everybody else would end, along with his life, right here and now.

And then Celeste was there. In front of him, pointing at the man in boots, but looking at the bald man behind the counter. “Allen, tell him to stop. He wants to be a hero.” Celeste sounded horrified.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” The man at the counter—Celeste had called him Allen, though how she knew that Nick couldn’t tell—had a deep voice. “Everybody bring it down a notch. Celeste, what the hell’s going on?”

How the hell do these two know each other?

Nick fought the urge to laugh. He was going mad; there was no other explanation.

He realized immediately that there was. Hadn’t he just explained to Celeste that this entire world was nothing more than a simulation? Of course Celeste knew this man. None of this was real.

Truth is stranger than fiction, because in the end, everything is fiction.

He pushed the madness aside and fought to regain control of the situation. He waved the gun, though he was careful not to point it at anybody. “Anybody reaches for a gun, and I shoot you in the goddam head,” he made himself yell this. “And you,” Nick pointed just to the left of the man in Wranglers. “Hands in the air. Nice and slow or I pull the trigger. I’m not shitting around, here.”

“Do what he says,” Celeste said. “He won’t hurt anybody, but you’ve got to do what he says.”

Allen raised his hands and spoke, his voice calm. “Carl, don’t do anything stupid. Do as he says, Carl.”

The man named Carl looked angry. Nick aimed his gun at the man’s knee, hoping that would scare him into obeying.

Carl’s face turned red, but he raised his hands above his head.

“Where’s your gun?” Nick asked.

Carl said nothing. Nick looked at Allen. He appeared calm, his hands still in the air. Nick put himself in their place. If Nick wanted to kill them, he would have done it already. So, they would play along. They would look for an opening, and if it came, they would act.

There was no way around it. He was in danger here, and the longer it took, the deeper in danger he would become.

He looked at Carl. “Take off your pants.”

“Wha—”

Nick raised the gun, this time aiming it at the man’s chest. He felt sweaty and chilled at the same time. His finger could spasm. Had he taken off the safety? Could they see if the safety was on or off? All he had to do was squeeze the trigger and he’d know if the safety was on.

He shook his head. Focus. “Take off your pants or I shoot you. I have nothing to lose, and you have three seconds.”

“Carl.” Allen sounded angry. “Do what he says. Do it now.”

The fury was plain on Carl’s face. He reached forward and undid a large buckle. He dropped his pants, but couldn’t take them off because of the boots. His legs were white with tiny dark hairs springing from shins and calves. Nick saw a small revolver in a clip holster inside his pants.

Thankfully, Jane had quieted. She still whimpered, but no longer screamed.

“Celeste, get the gun.”

She didn’t move.

“Celeste. The gun.”

She muttered something under her breath, but stepped forward and picked up the gun, separating it from the pants.

Movement on his left caught his eye.

Allen had turned his head, just a fraction. Nick followed his gaze.

A door. To a back room. Opening slowly.

Too many variables.

“Hey!” He shouted, and Jane started screaming again. “Who’s back there? Celeste, come here.”

The door flew open. Nick saw a flash of flannel and a thick red beard.

And the barrel of a shotgun, black and gaping.

“Billy, no!” Allen shouted from behind the counter. “He’s got a kid!”

Nick ducked, jumping to his left as the report of the gun went off. Nick heard a crash as the shot hit the wall above and behind him.

Billy had seen Jane at the last minute and pulled his shot high.

Jane’s weight made him stumble, but he was able to keep from falling. With one hand he steadied himself against the counter. The other hand came up, the pistol pointed at Billy.

Billy already had the gun pointed to the ceiling, his other hand held up in submission. “Holy shit, man. What the fuck?”

Allen and Billy were good men. Men who didn’t fire at someone holding a baby. Men who would never strap a baby to their chests to use as a human shield.

Celeste gasped. Nick turned to find Carl with one arm wrapped around Celeste while his other hand struggled with her for the gun. Nick moved the gun back toward Carl, but the man held Celeste in front of her, both jockeying for the advantage.

“Carl, leave her alone,” Allen said. “That’s Celeste Winward. Officer Lobb’s niece. And Jack Lobb is her cousin. She’s one of the good guys.”

Nick cursed his luck. As if the police weren’t already looking hard enough, he had abducted the niece of somebody on the force. In the back of his head, a stray question was answered. Celeste had been surprisingly calm and composed throughout the entire ordeal. Thinking smart, right from the beginning. He would be willing to bet that her relatives told her stories about police work, self-defense, and the darker side of Cache Valley.

Carl looked at Nick, naked hatred in his eyes. He still held Celeste who was now facing Nick. Her timer remained unchanged.

“Let her go,” Nick said. “I’ll finish up my business and be on my way.”

“How do I know you aren’t going to hurt us?” Carl asked.

“You don’t,” Nick said, leveling the gun at Carl. “But if you don’t let her go, I’m going to shoot you through your fucking face.”

Carl shrunk behind Celeste, using her as a shield. Carl had both arms wrapped tight around Celeste. He looked from Nick to the men at the counter, then back to Nick. His face, ruddy and splotched.

For a moment, no one moved. Then he pushed Celeste away with one hand. His other hand came up, cupping Celeste’s right breast.

Celeste gasped in shock as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She stepped away from, spun, and faced Carl, a look of fierce anger on her face.

A heartbeat, and Celeste stepped forward, gaining speed as she moved. She lifted one foot and used the force of forward motion to drive her heel into Carl’s sternum. She kicked hard.

The man flew backward, unable to catch himself with pants around his ankle. He fell into a display case, glass shattering and falling to the floor. Carl followed, hands and knees crunching in broken glass. He grabbed his chest, gasping and barking. Blood from his cut hands smeared the front of his white shirt.

Nick backed into a corner where he could see everyone. Celeste towered over the figure on the ground, shaking and angry. Billy had placed the shotgun on the counter, and he stood next to Allen, hands still raised. Grim faces.

Had one of them moved? Was Allen two feet closer to the till? Closer to a weapon, or maybe some kind of alarm?

Nick looked from one person to another, breathing hard. For a moment, his mind went blank. He couldn’t remember how he came to be standing in a gun shop with a baby strapped to his chest and a pistol in his hand. A nightmare, black and horrible and please God take this all away.

The timers brought him back. The timers reminded him of what was important on this day of days. Jane’s still read ninety-four years. The others had less than seven hours. All identical.

The end of the world. He was tired. So tired. But he had to focus.

The front door opened, and a man poked his head in. “Allen? I thought I heard a—”

Shit.

Nick whipped his hand around, pointing the gun at the man. “Get inside. Right now, or I shoot.”

The man’s eyes went wide. He raised his hand and stepped through the doorway. His face blanched.

Nick motioned the man to stand behind the counter with the others. Carl still huddled on the ground, gasping and bleeding. Nick lifted his pistol at Allen, then dropped it to his side. He was tired of pointing guns at people.

“I need a revolver.”

Allen spoke in a no-nonsense voice.

“What kind of revolver?”

“I want a revolver with a lot of chambers. The most you’ve got.”

“I’ve got a six eighty-six. Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. It holds seven rounds—that’s the most I’ve got.”

“I’ll take it. I’ve got some cash, but not enough.”

“What with you waving that gun around, I didn’t expect you would have enough cash.”

Allen moved with a slow deliberate motion, keeping his hands where Nick could see them. He walked to a case and reached inside. The gun he selected had a wooden grip and a short barrel. Placing the gun on the counter, the man stepped back, once again raising his hands.

“I need some bullets. Just a single box. I’m sorry about the mess.”

The man turned and pulled a box of bullets from a case behind him. He placed it next to the firearm. Nick picked up the gun and tucked it behind a screaming Jane. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope with the rest of his cash. He dropped it on the counter. He took the bullets and dropped them in his front pocket.

Jane continued to cry.

“Phones on the counter,” Nick said, his voice loud. “Nice and slow. Celeste, go to the back room. If you see a phone there, unplug the handset and bring it out here.”

Celeste paused, then stepped forward. She kicked Carl once in the stomach as she passed. Nick leaned down and grabbed Carl’s gun from the ground. He rifled through the man’s pants and found a phone case strapped to the belt. He dropped that in his back pocket.

Celeste came out of the back room carrying a handset.

Nick motioned with his gun, speaking loud enough to be heard over the baby. “All of you get in the back room. Carl, you too. Move.”

Allen spoke from behind the counter. His voice was casual as if he didn’t have a madman in his store, pointing a pistol at anyone who moved. “If you hurt Celeste, buddy, there’s going to be a line of folks hoping they find you before the police do. And I’ll be at the front of the line.”

Nick felt dead inside. “Go,” he said. “Into the room.”

Allen, Billy, and the man from the street disappeared into the back room. Carl got to his feet and waddled around the counter.

Nick followed him and scanned the back room. There was a single phone on the desk, but without a receiver it was unusable. The four men stood there, hands still raised.

He had to almost shout to be heard above Jane. “Nobody leaves this room for five minutes. If you step out of this room, and I’m still here, I’ll shoot.”

The threat sounded as empty as he felt.

He pulled the door closed and motioned Celeste out of the store. He stepped across the broken glass and paused at the door to look back and see the mayhem he’d caused.

At his chest, Jane screamed and screamed.

---