Chapter 1: Pop’s Place
The morning sun shone brightly onto the tree-lined city of Mayfield. Three miles away it glistened off the waves that carried early-rising surfers along for a ride before gently kissing the sands of the California coastline. The rays leisurely warmed the families spreading picnic blankets on the beach. In town, the rising daylight still ducked just enough to invite itself under the red awning of Pop’s Place, Mayfield’s oldest convenience store. It gleamed off the barrel of the pistol in the robber’s hand.
Joe Haughty squinted his cool blue eyes against the weapon’s glare, measuring the situation. The athletic 18 year old stood 6’1” tall, giving him a slight edge. If the masked man outweighed Joe by a few pounds, it was only due to extra fat.
“The money!” barked the man with a menacing wave of the gun. The voice had a smoker’s raspiness to it which suggested another advantage for the blonde teen, a repeat track champion with a racehorse’s endurance. To Joe, the anxious fist pounding on the clean white countertop seemed more nervous than intimidating.
Pop’s eyesight may have weakened a bit during forty years serving three generations of Mayfield residents, but his faith in the basic goodness of his neighbors was strong. The only reason he’d installed a security system in the store was to help his customers feel safer at Ma’s insistence. From a distance, Joe gave Pop a small signal to sound the alarm, which Pop acknowledged with a slight nod.
“Let’s go! Now!” yelled the man, pushing the shaky pistol forward to within a few inches of his victim’s nose.
Joe glanced quickly at the clock. He knew from experience that a police car would patrol by shortly. He slowly raised his right hand such that the thief didn’t notice, and met eyes again with Pop as the owner went for the alarm button. Joe also knew that it was time to act himself. Breakfast was getting cold.
“See you later,” Joe silently mouthed to Pop from the rear exit with a smile and wave, pushing the door handle smoothly. Meanwhile, the agitated gunman’s muzzle never left Pop’s face.
“What are you reaching for, you old fool?” roared a frenzied voice and a hail of gunfire. The door clipped neatly shut behind Joe, as he whistled down Main Street. He’d pay for the groceries some other time.
Joe Haughty squinted his cool blue eyes against the weapon’s glare, measuring the situation. The athletic 18 year old stood 6’1” tall, giving him a slight edge. If the masked man outweighed Joe by a few pounds, it was only due to extra fat.
“The money!” barked the man with a menacing wave of the gun. The voice had a smoker’s raspiness to it which suggested another advantage for the blonde teen, a repeat track champion with a racehorse’s endurance. To Joe, the anxious fist pounding on the clean white countertop seemed more nervous than intimidating.
Pop’s eyesight may have weakened a bit during forty years serving three generations of Mayfield residents, but his faith in the basic goodness of his neighbors was strong. The only reason he’d installed a security system in the store was to help his customers feel safer at Ma’s insistence. From a distance, Joe gave Pop a small signal to sound the alarm, which Pop acknowledged with a slight nod.
“Let’s go! Now!” yelled the man, pushing the shaky pistol forward to within a few inches of his victim’s nose.
Joe glanced quickly at the clock. He knew from experience that a police car would patrol by shortly. He slowly raised his right hand such that the thief didn’t notice, and met eyes again with Pop as the owner went for the alarm button. Joe also knew that it was time to act himself. Breakfast was getting cold.
“See you later,” Joe silently mouthed to Pop from the rear exit with a smile and wave, pushing the door handle smoothly. Meanwhile, the agitated gunman’s muzzle never left Pop’s face.
“What are you reaching for, you old fool?” roared a frenzied voice and a hail of gunfire. The door clipped neatly shut behind Joe, as he whistled down Main Street. He’d pay for the groceries some other time.
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