019 POV outside pharmacy 918

I sit in disbelief for a moment before saying, 'I'm going to what?'

'You heard me. Don't make me repeat myself, it's annoying and a waste of time we don't have.'

The very thought of going in there and stealing medical supplies seems so foreign to me. Even when I was at the lowest of my lows during my addiction I never stooped to stealing to fund my habit. The very idea is abhorrent to me.  'I have no idea how to do that.' I insist. 

'There's nothing to know. You go in there, get what you need, but instead of paying at the end, you just walk out.'

'They'll call the police.' I offer redundantly.

'They probably will, but we won't care because we'll be gone.'

'What if they try and stop my, physically.'

'They won't. Insurance companies insist upon a no-resistance policy. A few hundred in stolen goods is far cheaper to cover than a dead employee.'

'I'm not going to kill anyone.'

'It's easier than you think.'

'I don't believe that for a second.'

'You will.'

'All due respect, but, I'm not you. I can't do what you do.'

'And what do I do?'

I want to say, you're a killer, I saw you shoot a man dead earlier tonight. But I figure that's not going to help my current circumstance at all so I don't bother. I don't answer his question. 

'I'm not who you think I am.' The man offers cryptically. I don't press him on the point. My rationale is that the less I know about him the higher my chance of getting away from him alive is. 

'Don't you have any money?'  I ask.

'I did. But my wallet got burned up in the car crash.'

A snapshot of the flames burning in his car flashes to mind.

'You're either going in there and getting medical supplies, or if you refuse, then you're no longer any use to me. Do you recall what I said would happen when you're dead weight to me?'

I nod slowly. 

'Good. This won't be hard. The sooner you're in there, the sooner you're out.'

'How do you know that? About the insurance companies insisting on zero-resistance?' 

He doesn't answer, instead he cuts me a look that says: Don't ask stupid questions.

He unravels my earphones from my cell, takes his own cell from his pocket and asks, 'What's you're number?'

I tell him and he dials it. My cell lights up and plays a tinny version of Mares Eat Oats and Does eat Oats and Little Lambs Eat Ivy.

The man looks at me strangely regarding this peculiar ringtone.

'It's my daughter's idea of a joke.' 

He nods, and answers the call on my cell. He plugs the earphones in my cell, then hands it to me.

'Put them in your ears.' I do as instructed. 

The man speaks into his cell, 'Can you hear me?'

There's a slight delay between hearing his voice in real life and through the earphones. 

'I can hear you fine.'

'Good. Make sure the call stays connected the entire time you're in there. If it ends for any reason I will shoot you. Understood?'

I answer that with, 'What am I getting?'

'I'll tell you as you go.'

I notice an incoming call on his cell phone. I avert my eyes. I don't want to know the name of anyone that calls him. The less I know about him the better.

In my peripheral vision I notice that he hesitates. Like he wants to take the call and that he's reluctant to reject it, which, after much indecision he does. This spurs me to wonder who it was that called? Who has the power to make a killer concerned?

The man is now outwardly stressed. I can almost hear his inner dialogue. Like he's debating something with himself. Eventually, he arrives at a decision and says out loud, 'Let's get this done. We're in a hurry.'

Whoever it was that just called him is not someone who can be kept waiting too long. 

I stay sitting in the driver's seat, sincerely reluctant to get out of the car. 

The man reads my obvious apprehension and spurs me on by almost shouting, 'Go. Now. Move!'

'Wait.' I say. Then angle the rear-view mirror on myself. I grimace at just how bad I look. My hair's a bird's nest, and the cut on my forehead, though not very large is leaking enough blood to leave streaks down my face. 

'I should clean up first. If I go in there looking like this it's going to alarm them.'

The man seems annoyed by my suggestion, but he evidently sees the merit of keeping a low profile as he nods. 'Make it quick.'

I gesture to the glove box in front of him. He opens it, and passes me a half used pack of wet wipes that I use to clean my wound on my forehead and wipe my face clean of blood. I reach over into the back seat to get a different sweater, which causes the man to raise his gun at me. 

I hold up the sweater as I say, 'My top's covered in blood, this one's clean.' The man nods me on and I quickly replace sweaters.  

I look myself over one last time. The cut on my forehead is still very obvious, but I don't look as bad a I did before my make-over. 

'You're done, go.'

'Maybe I could try to use some concealer on this cut?' I suggest. 

'I'm not sitting here with this piece of metal imbedded in my thigh while you put makeup on. Get in there now.' The man shouts at me. 

This startles me into opening my door and getting out. 

I walk around the car and onto the sidewalk where I stop and look into the pharmacy through its floor to ceiling shopfront windows. Excessively bright neon lights illuminate the interior. Fortunately, there are no customers at this late hour. I see only two employees. A young lady, probably no more than twenty years old sits at the empty checkout, she's reading something or perhaps watching something on her cell, while an older lady, probably in her fifties, busies herself at the drug dispensary setting up a display of a flu symptom relief drug. 

'What are you waiting for? Get in there now!' These words I hear loud in my earphones. I swallow dry, desperate to not go in. I look up and down the street. No sign of life. No one out walking a dog or drunk coming home from a bar. Not that they'd do me any good if they were here. I think I'd just feel safer if there were more people around. 

'I'm not going to say it again. Move, or I'll drop you where you stand.' The man hisses at me through the earphones.

I cross the sidewalk and hold my breath as I step into the pharmacy. Terrified of what's about to happen.