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A clunking sound comes from the back of the store, followed by a hum as one of the freezers kicks on, and Oliver’s head jerks in that direction.
“That wasn’t there before,” he mumbles. “It was different.”
“Yes, it was in a different spot.”
It’s hard to keep quiet but throwing questions at him now won’t be helpful. Instead, I watch his face while he takes a few steps and continues to look around. His tongue slips out to wet his lips and his breathing speeds up.
My chest feels tight, the anticipation and fear warring between my ribs. Something is happening.
He turns in a slow circle, then looks at me. “Ella,” he gasps. “I think…”
Whap! Whap! Whap!
His words are cut off, and his hands fly to his ears. Pure terror overrides his features.
“Hey!” Whap! “I called the cops!” The clerk calls from outside, slapping his palm against the glass door. “Get the fuck out!”
Oliver drops to a crouch, his hands still over his ears, mumbling something indecipherable. His eyes bulge, darting around the store.
The clerk stares at me while I step over and turn the little metal disc to lock the doors. We’re in this now. Something is coming back to Oliver, and I’m not going to let it get interrupted. After cursing, the clerk goes back to his car to wait.
We don’t have long.
“Oliver.” He jerks when I lay my hand over his and gently tug it away from his ear.
“Gunshots! He’s shooting!” he cries.
“No, the clerk banged on the window. No one’s shooting.”
Quick, rasping breaths flare his nostrils while his gaze locks onto the dirty blue floor tiles. “Blood. There’s so much blood! His eyes are wrong. I can’t reach him! I need help!”
He isn’t making much sense but it’s clear this is working. I don’t know if this is a flashback or a memory but he’s recalling the robbery.
Red and blue lights chase each other across the walls of the store. Shit. Our time is running out.
I kneel beside him. “What do you remember? What do you see?”
“They came in behind us.” He looks up to the ceiling at the buzzing fluorescent lights. “I made fun of the song playing on the radio.” His gaze jumps to the front doors. “We were laughing, and then a gun was pointed at me. At all of us. They wanted our wallets and phones. I thought it was a joke or something.” Despair grows on his face when he looks at me. “I laughed. I thought it was a joke,” he sobs.
“Okay, it’s okay. You gave them your stuff.”
His nod is frantic. “We all did. I thought they’d go for the register next, but this guy stepped out and yelled…something.” He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Then everything exploded. Blood was everywhere. I couldn’t reach him.” His hand crawls up to grip his throat, covering the scar. “I kept screaming his name, but no sound would come out.”
A bang on the front door makes us both jump.
“It’s the police. I’ll talk to them.”
His body trembles as he gets to his feet. He stays where he is while I approach the door.
I’m a little relieved to see Sawyer staring back at me. At least it’s someone we know, someone who knows our situation. It probably won’t keep us from going to jail though.
Snow falls around him, sticking to his hair as he tries to open the door. “Ella? What’s going on? Unlock the door.”
I glance back at Oliver. He’s holding onto the counter so hard his knuckles are white while he stares at the floor. Whatever is going on in his head isn’t over.
“Ella!” Sawyer snaps.
“No. Listen to me. We aren’t taking anything or hurting anything. Oliver needs to be here. To try to remember…and face what happened.”
