It turned out that stakeouts were boring as hell. At first, I took notes on everyone I saw entering and leaving the apartment complex. I recorded license plates and thought about buying a camera with a zoom lens.
After about an hour of that, I was tired of taking down useless information. I didn’t see the stoner guy leave and there was no sight of Leif or Hugo. I recited laws in my head, studying from memory and looking things up on my phone when I couldn’t remember them.
Then the guys had started messaging me through PixUs and things became much more entertaining.
Danzig was always quick to message me back and sometimes he’d have to message three or four times in a row to explain the first message because he’d hit send before reading it.
Marduk’s messages were always comprehensible complete sentences with perfect grammar and were often followed up with explanations.
I enjoyed both types and had fun switching between users. I knew this distraction wasn’t going to do my stakeout any good but I was having too much fun chatting with the twins. Especially because they had all kinds of random fun questions. They also answered my questions without hesitation.
It felt like a safe way to get to know each other.
Two hours flew by. I could’ve remained parked here and messaging with them for hours longer, but my bladder was full and ready to burst.
Ending the conversations, I looked up the nearest gas station, relieved to find one was close. The drive there only took a few minutes and I rushed inside, grateful to find that they had a bathroom I could use. It was reasonably clean.
Washing my hands after I was done, I thought about the results of my stakeout. I might’ve had fun, but I hadn’t gotten anywhere. I was going to have to come up with another way to find Leif. Should I ask Jim for advice, or would he tell me to give up?
I was distracted by that question, so when I stepped out of the tiny gas station bathroom, I didn’t notice the guy with the gun right away. I was almost behind him when I realized what was going on.
The woman behind the counter was wide-eyed but mostly calm as she emptied out her cash register, then started dumping packs of cigarettes from the rack behind her into a bag.
The door leading outside was right next to me, but I didn’t run.
No way was I going to let this guy get away with this! This was the new, adventurous Bec. I wouldn’t let assholes take advantage of me or anyone else.
I took a silent step back and grabbed two cans of soup off a nearby shelf. I’d played softball all through high school and college, then later joined an adult league. I was one hell of a pitcher and during times of stress, I’d practiced my skill with uncommon objects, like rocks. I tested the weight of the soup can, and it didn’t feel too odd. I was sure I could throw it with accuracy.
There was a problem, though. I didn’t want to hit him while he had the gun pointed at the cashier because he might shoot her by accident. I needed him to turn away from her first.
Aiming, I pitched the can at a chip display to the robber’s left. I watched it topple just as I’d hoped. The guy shouted out insurprise and turned to face the mess I’d made, pointing the gun at the fallen rack.
I was already cocked and ready with the second can. The moment the gun wasn’t pointed at the woman, I sent it flying. It should’ve impacted the center of the back of his head, at least knocking him down if not out.
Instead, he moved slightly and the can only clipped his ear, making him cry out and turn to face me.
“You fucking bitch!” he screamed, pointing his gun at me. That hadn’t gone as planned, but I had another plan.
“Oh wow, are you okay?” I asked, as if I was surprised as he was. “Did you see the guy that threw the can?”
The robber blinked, confused. “What? Where?” He started looking around for the phantom soup thrower.
I pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “I think he ran that way.”
The robber looked torn. Part of him wanted to hunt down his assailant, but the other wanted to finish grabbing everything and run.
While he was debating, his gun arm lowered so that it was pointed at the floor. I tensed, ready to act, except I didn’t get a chance.
The electronic chime on the door sounded, making both of us turn to see a guy in a motorcycle jacket with his helmet still on walk in. Oh shit, some poor biker was about to get caught up in this mess.
“Run!” I shouted, even as the robber lifted the gun at the new guy.
The biker ran, but not in the correct direction. He sprinted at the robber, completely ignoring the gun. The robber fired, the gunshot impressively loud in the store. I wasn’t prepared for the sound, and I shrunk back, tripping over my own feet.
I didn’t fall, but by the time I got my balance back, I turned to find the robber on the floor and the biker holding the gun.
Oh wow, that was impressive.
