The Last Customer by Daniel Coughlin

nervous.
                Winny grabbed Garth’s ankle. He crawled a few feet ahead. He whispered, “The phone in the back office…we’ll call the police.”
                Garth turned to Winny, annoyed. He’d already thought of calling the police. It was the only thing on his mind since the thieves had smashed their cell phones.
    “No shit, Sherlock. Can we get the hell out of this war-zone first? Do you mind?”
                Winny looked dumbfounded. He removed his hand from around Garth’s ankle. They continued crawling toward the door. Garth popped to his knee. He staggered, settled, and then wrapped his fingers around the doorknob. He turned in the direction of the store area.
    Cherri screamed.
                “Timmy, where are you?” she begged.
    Garth appreciated that Cherri was calling attention to herself. She was drawing the psychos away from him and Winny. Since he didn’t care for the red-head, this was great. He hoped that she would continue hollering.
    Garth found it difficult to shake his thoughts of the sadistic young couple. There was something disturbingly wrong with both of them. In fact, their behavior was so disturbing that he didn’t want to know what was wrong. Obviously, they were dangerous. The farther Garth and Winny could get away from them, the better.
                Twisting the doorknob, ever so slowly, Garth inched the office door open. When the space between the door and the jamb was wide enough, he slid through the small opening. He didn’t make any noise. The pressure from the door was uncomfortable and was squeezing his ribs. Garth’s hand was replaced by Winny’s, who then slid through the door. Once on the other side, they let the heavy door slide shut. It whined, ever-so-slowly, until the lock clicked, securing it. Garth flung the switch to the right. There wasn’t much relief that came from locking the door, but a secured door was better than an unsecured one. Given what had happened, nothing was very assuring when considering the madness on the other side of the door. Garth could only imagine the harm those bastards could inflict.
    2
     
    Cherri’s knees weakened with each step she took. She wanted to sit, but knew that she couldn’t. She was sick. Her head pounded and she was thirsty. She stopped in front of the cashier counter. She rubbed her damp hands together, frazzled, scared, and shaking. She wanted Timmy to hurry up. She wanted to leave.
    Where was he?
    She’d seen death before and didn’t like it. That was something that no normal human being could ever get used to. It was unnervingly frightening because she was in potential danger. The murderous psycho could easily kill her too. She wanted to vomit. Her stomach was flipping. She would do anything to be far away from here. Maybe, if given the opportunity, she’d turn herself in to the police. She hoped that they would come. Right now, she’d feel safe in custody. Better yet, jail was an even better place to be. She imagined that this was what waking up meantand she was certainly awake. She felt dizzy, but alert. If she could go back in time, she’d have jumped out of the stolen truck. She would leave Timmy and never look back. She’d never even cuss again if it meant that she could get out of this nightmare alive. But that wasn’t the case and she knew it. There was trouble ahead. The young psychotic couple that had come in from the cornfield was somewhere in this store. They were maniacal, deranged and they were shot, badly. They were nowhere in sight, as if they’d simply disappeared, but still, she feared them.
    Where could they have gone? They’d both been wounded to the point they should be dead. Cherri didn’t understand how they were alive and she didn’t want to understand.
                Feeling heavy as cement, her legs stiffened. She could barely walk but somehow she managed to step toward the restrooms. That’s where she’d last seen