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Leah shoved all her observations aside, popped up from her stool, smiled broadly, and offered a cheery “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas.” The woman smiled, a fleeting expression that barely graced her lips, and walked to the gum and snack aisle.
The door dinged again, and a man wearing a balaclava entered.
A knot twisted in Leah’s gut, and her heartbeat kicked up speed. The temperature had dipped, but not enough to necessitate the face covering for a casual outing.
Leah coached herself to relax and think logically. He has a sensitivity to the cold. He’s already unwell and doesn’t want to make himself any worse.
She squared her shoulders and greeted him, but he didn’t bother looking her way. There was no way he hadn’t heard her.
Maybe he didn’t respond because he doesn’t want me to hear his voice?
If that was the case, he was most certainly up to no good. She swallowed, even though her mouth was dry. Goosebumps trickled paths down her arms.
He strolled down the aisle one over from the woman. She seemed to be debating which gum or mints to buy, conflicting with Leah’s impression she was the type to know exactly what she wanted.
The man didn’t appear to browse, but he rounded the far end of the aisle and headed toward the woman.
Leah watched through the mirrored dome. She saw him pull something from a pocket, his hand gripped around it. Is that a—? Leah’s stomach tossed.
The man had a gun and was edging closer to the woman.
Leah opened her mouth to call out a warning, but no sound left her lips.
The woman stiffened, and her movements slowed. She must have sensed something off about him or seen his weapon.
Leah looked at the panic button. She just had to press it and the police would come, but it was out of arm’s reach. Her legs weren’t responding. They were quaking and heavy as if the pull of gravity had increased and tugged her feet into the earth. She stood there, powerless, terrified. Helpless.
The woman acted quickly, striking the man across his chest with an outstretched arm and an elbow to his chin.
The attack must have caught him off guard as he flew backward into the shelving. Bags of chips rained to the floor as if spilling from a smashed piñata.
The man quickly regained his balance, his gun pointed at the woman again.
Leah could hardly breathe. This isn’t happening! Finally, her legs cooperated, and she lunged for the button.
The woman cried out, “Get down!”
Leah was too slow to respond to her warning. There was a sharp bang followed by an intense burning as a bullet cut through her flesh and burrowed into her chest.
Time slowed to a near stop.
The man continued to face her, his gun still raised.
The woman’s face was etched in a mask of sheer agony.
Leah staggered, her hand to the wound. She lifted her palm. It was crimson. It was just a few precious inches to the panic button. She reached out, her fingers grasping at air.
Another thunderous boom.
The impact of a second round pushed her back, and she stumbled to stay upright. Her insides were on fire.
Blood bubbled up her throat and down her chin.
Her legs gave way beneath her. She reached out to stop her fall, but her fingertips simply brushed against the plastic fir, and she collapsed to the floor.
The small Christmas tree crashed beside her, and Leah saw her reflection in a red bauble.
