When I can stand staring at the security cameras no longer, I decide to stock candy bars and lottery tickets. I don't like to leave the counter, even though Craig said sometimes you just have to. You pick a slow moment to go to the bathroom, preferably late at night. I have learned to pee fast and to not drink much prior to my shift. But boredom causes me to retreat to the back room for the occasional retrieval of a box so my hands can have something to do while I monitor my lonely counter.
The last person to purchase a Slurpee complained about the flavoring, so I decide to refill the machine by changing out the syrup bag. They're kept on a shelf in the back so I pull out the step stool and climb up to get it when I hear a familiar chime. It's the door, letting me know there is a customer in the store. That's hardly unusual in itself, but it's one in the morning, it's raining, and foot traffic has been slow. "Just a minute," I call out, tugging the box of diet soda syrup out from under a stack of root beer flavors. While I do, I glance at the security camera.
There are two men in suits that have entered. Both are wearing sunglasses. One has paused by the door and puts a hand inside his jacket and leaves it there. He scans the room as the other stalks around inside.
This…makes me anxious. I'm not entirely sure why. It strikes me as unnatural, even more so when they begin to speak in a language I recognize but don't understand: Russian.
My skin prickles with alarm. Do these people know Nick? There are surely not that many Russians in the city, are there? And why would they show up at a gas station at one in the morning in suits? I think about Nick's job, his likely computer hacking. Are these people looking for him? Maybe they are police, but that doesn't explain why they speak Russian.
I'm scared. I'm so terrified I immediately begin to shake, but I somehow manage to go to the stock room door and shut it—and lock it—before anyone can come back here.
Two seconds later, a hand jiggles the knob. I hear swearing, and then a man calls out to the other in Russian. They're clearly angry, and one slams against the door. I turn to the cameras but both have moved out of sight. They are probably at the door.
I am trapped.
My brain shuts down. I stop shaking. I've been trapped before. I spent twenty-one years trapped and cornered. I know how to function like this. The best thing I can do is to stop thinking, stop processing, and just exist. Do what needs to be done.
I calmly drag a shelf in front of the door, though it's heavy and I can't push it more than a few feet. Once they figure out how to open the door, it will fall over and block the way out, but I'm stuck anyhow.
I'm not helpless, though. I go to the time-clock and the lockbox that is kept underneath it. I open it and pull out the C2 Taser Gun. The bat is under the counter up front at the cash register, so I can't get to it. Calmly, I pick up the body of the Taser and then the battery pack that goes into the back. I slide it in and consider the air cartridge. These men look like they could carry guns. If I aim mine at them, I need to be faster. Better to have the element of surprise. I skip the air cartridge and will use the C2 as a stun gun instead. If they come close enough to grab me, I only have one chance anyhow.
I'm so calm as I slide the safety cover on the switch back and ready the gun. Then, I crouch in the farthest corner of the room, my hands tucked between my legs so I can hide the gun, and wait.
On the camera, I see one man return to the front of the store. He's watching so no one else comes in. The other continues to fuss with the knob on the storeroom door, and I'm waiting for the click that will tell me he's worked his way in.
It comes a moment later, and I stiffen, though I am calm.
The door opens. Just a crack, and then it meets the shelf I have dragged forward. With another muttered curse, he shoves at the door and the shelf careens forward in slow motion.
It makes an enormous crashing sound, boxes of candy bars sliding forward and smashing to the floor.
One man barks a command in Russian, and the one at the door answers, clearly annoyed. Then, he pushes forward, stepping over the fallen shelf, and I get a good look at him.
He could be my age, but there's something hard and familiar in his eyes that makes him seem older. His suit is rumpled, and he looks irritated at the shelf. He scans the room, and his gaze finally falls on me, huddled in the corner and crouching low.
"Come," he says to me, and he flicks his hand in my direction.
I don't move. I refuse to. I watch him with wary eyes instead.
He calls something over his shoulder at the other man, and he steps over the fallen shelf, moving toward me.
I tuck myself back further into my corner, doing my best to look frightened. I'm not; my brain is still numb.
The man steps forward, approaching me. His hand is out, but I don't take it. I know he's trying to look not-scary but it's failing. His eyes are too cold, too gleeful.
Then, he's standing right in front of me, bending over.
"Please don't hurt me," I whisper, since I know he wants to hear something like that.
"You come and no one gets hurt," he tells me, and his hands go to my arms as if to grab me.
I jam the Taser forward, shove it between his legs, and hold down on the button. Without the air cartridge in, it acts like a stun gun. It crackles with electricity, and I hear flick, flick, flick, flick it makes as it contacts his flesh and sends shockwaves through his groin.
He jerks, shudders, and collapses.
I calmly stand up, though my knees ache from my crouch. It's clear he didn't expect me to fight back, but my father's anxiety has trained me well for this sort of situation. I step over the fallen man and climb over the shelf and out of the room.
The other man is clearly surprised to see me. He's bigger than the other man, his face hard. His eyes narrow when I am not followed immediately out of the room. I see the realization on his face; I have disabled his companion somehow. I clutch my stun gun closer, my hands sweating, and circle the shelves as he begins to walk forward, keeping distance between us. It's still raining, but I can run into the night, run all the way home.
"So," the man says, and his accent is thick, and sickeningly like Nick's delicious one. "You are his little flower, da?"
I say nothing. My hand is tight on the button of my stun gun. He's moved away from the door, but he's still too close for me to make a break for it. His words make my belly cold; this isn't a robbery. I knew it wasn't.
They've come for me, and it's something to do with Nick.
The man's hand goes into his jacket again, and it remains there. He has a gun, but he is not going to draw it. Not yet. I keep my hand low on the off chance he has not seen my Taser. I am stupid; I should have grabbed the air cartridge. If I got within fifteen feet of this man, I could shoot him with it and disable him and run straight to the police. But I left it in the other room and now I can't go back. I don't know how long the other man will be unable to move.
I need to do something other than hide behind shelves. But what?
The man's hard gaze remains on my face. "Yury," he calls out. Then he says something in Russian. There is no response, and the eyes narrow, the focus tightening on my face. He pulls the gun out of his jacket and shows it to me. "If you come to me, I will not have to use this."
I know that if I go with him, I am dead. I circle back behind another shelf as he takes a step forward. "If you kill me, Nick won't like it," I tell him.
He barks a laugh. "There are many ways to use a gun, little one. I do not have to kill, only disable. But, very well. We do it your way." He puts the gun back into his jacket, and pulls something else out. It's oblong, flat, and black. After a moment, I realize it is a phone.
When he runs his thumb across the screen and unlocks it, displaying the pretty floral wallpaper and the D8Z under the time, I realize it is my phone.
This rattles my unnatural calm. "How did you…"
"The blonde blyad, she gets scared, and she sings like a canary, da? A little rope on the wrists, a little gun to the face, and she is very scared." His eyes are so cold. "And you will never see her whole if you do not come with me. I will mail her to Nick in pieces. Would you like that?"
I stare at my phone in his hand, trembling. This man has Regan. Happy, carefree Regan who has been nothing but good to me. Who thinks of herself as my older sister and just looks out for my happiness. This is my fault. "Where is she?"
"She is in the back of my car." He gestures out the glass doors. "You may join her if you do not fight, little one. But if you do, it will be very bad for her."
My father has trained me for a hostage situation. I know the stupidest thing I can do is give in to what they are demanding.
But Regan is the one who will pay the price, and it doesn't seem fair. I don't know what to do.
I stare at the man, at my phone in his hand. "How do I know you didn't just take that from Regan and kill her?" My voice is so calm, like it belongs to someone else.
"So suspicious," he says, and chuckles even as he glances back at the store room, waiting for the other man to appear again, and his eyes are narrowed with anger even though he is laughing. He flicks his thumb on my phone—the phone Nick bought for me—and then turns it back to me. "Is proof, da?"
There's something on the screen, but I'm too far away to see it. "That could be anything."
"Suspicious. I like that in you. Suspicious but innocent. I see why Nikolai is so obsessed. Your cunt must be tight indeed." He lowers the phone to the floor and then kicks it down an aisle nearby.
I tremble. Nick is Nikolai to this man and not to me? I step closer to the phone. I'll have to sprint for it; it's only halfway down the aisle. I should leave it.
But I have to know. I have to.
Clutching the Taser tightly, I run for the phone. If he comes after me, I will stun him like I did the other man.
He heads for me as I scoop up the phone. I knew he would. I've made a stupid mistake, and now I will pay. I raise the stun gun as he rushes me, but he's too fast. His arm slams mine into a nearby shelf. Cans fly as my hand makes contact; the Taser tumbles out of my hand.
I don't even reach my phone.
He mutters something in Russian I don't catch, and his hand tightens on my wrist. I struggle against him; I'm dead now that he's got me. I know this, so I fight. I kick and scratch and claw at him with my free hand, ignoring that it feels as if he's breaking the wrist of my other with his tight grip.
The man reaches back, and that's the only warning I get before his hand slams into my face. The world tilts as black stars explode behind my eyes, followed by pain. I reel and stagger, trying to remain upright, remain conscious.
A hard hand grasps me under my chin, forcing me to stare into icy eyes. "Now we do things my way."
The man drags me out to his car, parked at the far end of the gas station, where the cameras' view doesn't quite go. It's almost as if he knows exactly how far their range is and has avoided it.
My head is reeling from his blow, and it's hard for me to focus. Now that he has me in his grasp, my struggles are futile. He's so much stronger than me, this man, and I don't know what to do. I jerk at his grip a few times as he drags me outside into the rain, but when he opens the car door and shoves me in, I go.
I go because I see long blonde hair splayed over the back seat, and it terrifies me.