Rescue Me!. Elda Minger
And Jen realized he was no drunk.
The unspoken command in his eyes was unmistakable.
Get behind that counter. Now.
She did, crabbing back on her hands and knees, moving sideways over the slick linoleum floor, trying her best not to make any noise as the “drunk” continued to talk.
“Okay, okay! Hands up, I get it!” The stranger backed away from the robber, and Jen noticed he was doing an excellent job of keeping the man’s shotgun pointed toward his midsection—away from her and the young clerk. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Goddamn it, I said up! Up in the air, you bastard.”
What happened next went down so fast, she didn’t see all of it. The stranger moved so quickly, butting headlong into the robber and blessedly avoiding the shotgun. The gun flew up and fired, and chunks of the ceiling rained down, clattering against the linoleum. Jen got behind that counter in no time, and the young clerk threw himself down on top of her, covering her, then putting his hands over his ears, his wiry young body shaking as hard as hers was.
Then the sounds of fists.
One punch. A grunt. Two punches.
Then silence.
The clerk was crying, and Jen smoothed his short hair back from his face, offering comfort. She used her cashmere sweater, still tangled around her arms, to wipe his eyes. And hoped to God that their stranger was the one still standing.
She had the sobbing boy cradled against her as she looked up. The stranger leaned over the counter and smiled, his split lip bleeding.
“Guess I can’t ask him if he has any rope.”
“By the—by the car stuff, the oil and stuff,” the clerk gasped, then continued to cry. Jen’s eyes stung as she held him closer.
“Great. Be right back after I tie our friend up.”
She heard each decisive step as he strode across the store, paused, then walked back. Heard him unwinding rope. Then she almost started to cry herself as she pictured him tying up the man who had almost taken all of their lives.
“I’m okay,” the clerk gasped. “I’m okay.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ve gotta call my boss.”
“Call the police first.”
The boy was in no shape to do anything. Gently disengaging herself, Jen stood up, reached for the phone behind the counter and dialed 911.
“Where are we?”
“Don’t worry,” the clerk said, then blew his nose. She recognized the signs of masculine embarrassment in his eyes. “The address will come up on their screen.”
He glanced up as the stranger approached and placed a large cup of black coffee on the counter, then selected two raspberry doughnuts from the display and put them in a waxed paper bag.
He set the bag next to the coffee and smiled wearily at them. “Just tell ‘em there’s been a robbery and their man is right here, all hog-tied and waiting for them.” He reached into his back jean pocket and took out his wallet.
“I really don’t think—” Jen began.
He threw down a ten-dollar bill. “That should cover the rope, the coffee and the doughnuts. How’s he doing?”
“Okay, but—”
He walked over to a display, plucked down a small, travel-sized packet of tissues, then leaned over the counter, making eye contact with the clerk on the floor.
“You did real good, son,” he said, handing him the tissues. “You didn’t lose your head.”
The boy simply nodded.
The stranger picked up his coffee and bag of doughnuts, then started toward the door.
“But—” Jen said. “The police are coming. Aren’t you going to stay and—”
He held up his hand. “I’ve got to go. People are depending on me.”
“But—”
He smiled, then grimaced in mild pain as the expression pulled his split lip taut. “Darlin’, I wish I could stay, but I can’t. You’d better get dressed—the police should be here shortly.”
Jen glanced down. Clad only in a delicate, lacy demibra, she might as well have been topless in front of him. But it didn’t bother her. Not now. She’d almost been killed.
“Wait!” She pulled her sweater over her head, flipping her long hair out of the neckline. “Wait! I don’t even know your name or how to thank you or—”
“You don’t want to know me,” he said and walked out the door.
2
REACTION SET IN AS CODY pulled out of the parking lot.
His hand—his right hand holding his coffee—started to shake. Setting the cup down in the van’s drink holder, he concentrated on driving. If the van lurched along at a slightly slower pace than was normal for this stretch of road, that was all right. The sun wasn’t very high in the sky and there wasn’t much traffic.
Two black-and-white police cars whizzed by, lights flashing, sirens screaming, racing toward the convenience store. Cody watched their progression in his rearview mirror, then turned his attention back to the desert road.
He couldn’t have stayed. The press would have had a field day. He could see the headline in the tabloids now: Washed Up Action Hero Makes a Real Rescue. Or worse. No, he wanted no part of it. He’d seen firsthand how the media destroyed people’s lives.
Hell, he’d been one of their supreme achievements.
He drove until he reached a shopping center, complete with grocery store, drugstore, dry cleaner, pet shop, a bagel shop, a health-food store and a Mexican restaurant. Feeling as if he were operating the van in slow motion, he guided it into the parking lot, where he chose a parking space on the far side of the stores. Turning off the ignition, he sat in the driver’s seat, staring ahead, seeing nothing.
Talk about a wake-up call. Today had been nothing short of a sharp smack to the side of his head.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, but finally he shook his head and reached for the bag of jelly doughnuts. He ate first one, then the other, then drank some of the strong, warm coffee. Just the ordinary feel of eating something, just the everyday smell of coffee, the taste of powdered sugar and raspberry jelly, was enough for him right now.
It comforted him.
Cody closed his eyes, then opened them quickly as he saw brief flashes of the robbery in his mind. Better to see what was actually out there. He focused his gaze on a cactus on the side of the parking lot and took a few deep breaths.
He’d been scared to death going into that store. But all he’d known was that he couldn’t let those two people inside die. Both of them so young and filled with promise. Both thinking they had all the time in the world when he knew that wasn’t true at all.
Older and wearier—but not necessarily wiser—he knew better than to take an optimistic attitude to life.
He checked his watch. He didn’t have to report to the set until noon, so he could afford to take a short nap. Even though he knew he probably wouldn’t sleep, he needed to breathe, to feel, to close his eyes and center himself. He could still feel the adrenaline buzzing through his bloodstream.
Thankful that the van only possessed its two front seats, while the rest of the vehicle was used for hauling equipment around, Cody got out of his seat and maneuvered himself into the back of the van. Someone had left an old sleeping bag there, and he unzipped