Dark
In a milli second the oxygen in the air actually swooshed, as though the tab had been yanked on a vacuum sealed canister.
Tony's head shot up as he whirled around in his seat to assess the transformation. Two men, shrouded in black hoodies and black face masks, had burst through the main doors.
The fork clattered to his plate and Abby, in the process of swallowing a mouthful of chocolate milkshake, scowled as Tony's glass of Coke sloshed onto the table. The cola liquid trickled towards the floor in an erratic path, and she pulled her chair sideways to avoid it.
The events unfolded quickly. Responding instantaneously, Tony ascertained that he and Abby, as well as the employees and customers of the diner, teetered on the brink of losing their lives at the hands of the gun toting thugs.
He defaulted to his professional persona and reacted decisively, swiveling to Abby and whispering the order, "Get under the table right now, Baby Girl, and stay there until I tell you it is safe."
Abby's eyes reflected her terror and she glanced at the long checked tablecloth. It would provide a shelter, a sanctuary beneath their table which would shield her from the danger confronting them. Instead of obeying, however, she whimpered, "Tony, I won't leave you…"
He cut her off abruptly and grabbed her arm, shoving her quickly down as he hissed, "Do what I say, and stay under the table. Keep yourself hidden behind the cloth. Got it?"
She nodded her head forcefully, her pigtails shaking.
"Call Gibbs on your cell immediately and give him the lowdown. Tell him I have visual on two armed perps, then call 911 and leave the phone line open. Understand?"
He roughly pushed her out of her seat, placed one hand atop her head, then leaned over her to whisper. "I need you safe, Baby Girl!"
That galvanized her and she disappeared under their table as ordered. Tony conducted a quick sit rep and cursed under his breath. His service weapon lay safely locked in his desk drawer at NCIS, where he had left it just a couple of hours before.
That meant he would be on the defense against two armed criminals.
Glancing around quickly, to see if he could spot a potential ally, his stomach lurched at the mix of patrons in the crowd. His fellow diners would not be able to provide backup for him. Whatever battle lay ahead would rest entirely on his own shoulders.
Tony's heart pounded as thrusts of adrenaline intensified his reaction. He and Abby had gone straight from the agency to eat supper here, at a restaurant they loved. The two planned to catch a seven o'clock movie before heading home for the night. Gibbs had declined to join them, insisting that he needed a break from them, insisting they had irritated him the entire workday.
Tony shook his head. Five minutes later he and Abby would have already paid the check and left the restaurant. Now they joined the rest of the eatery's diners as sitting ducks.
Tony felt Abby settle onto the floor, her back against his right leg. Getting her out of sight under the table afforded him a modicum of relief. He wanted her safe. Hurriedly he rearranged the dishes before him to make it appear that only a single customer belonged at the table.
The attack obviously resulted from some planning ahead of time, quite a premeditation. One of the men possessed a wiry, lean build, and turned to snap the lock to the establishment's front door, then stood guard, shouting obscenities and waving his gun threateningly. His confederate, built like a professional wrestler, screamed commands for everyone to move to the section of the restaurant where Tony and Abby had their seats.
The cafeteria had already erupted into pandemonium. The establishment's clientele realized the two figures swinging shotguns held the power to end their lives and had not visited the place to order hamburgers.
Tony studied the movements of the two from a federal officer's point of view, recognizing and then processing their yin and yang working relationship.
The panicked patrons, hurrying to follow instructions, jogged en masse and collapsed trembling into booths and chairs.
Unmoving in his seat, Tony furtively assessed his fellow hostages as they fell into seats around him. He sized up the three males, one a teenager and the other two senior citizens. Then he counted one elderly woman and two additional females of yuppie age, roughly in their early thirties. Further, the teenaged male clutched a toddler boy in his arms, and a little girl around six clung to the hand of the older woman.
The fact that children, innocent babies, witnessed the takeover enraged the NCIS agent.
The terrified expressions of those children galvanized Tony into focusing his thoughts. He murmured a quick prayer that Abby would stay protected and kept from harm, hidden from view at his feet.
If she could just get through to Boss, Tony's Calvary would jump into action and appear.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and made quick decisions about his next moves, pushing back in his seat in preparation to act.
Before he could do anything, though, a confrontation blew up between one of the elderly gentlemen and the offender at the front door brandishing the shotgun. Tony regarded the customer, who appeared to be in his late seventies and shuffled cautiously as he walked. Obviously, the gentleman had not moved quickly enough to suit the thug, who pointed the shotgun towards him and ordered, "Move it, old man!"
The man turned and nodded, obviously terrified, and then placed his cane back down on the tile and resumed his measured steps to join the others. He had not gained more than a yard when a shot exploded and his body jerked as though electrocuted. At the same instant, his head exploded.
A chorus of terrified screams erupted from the horrified witnesses, and the children scrambled frantically into positions where they could hide their eyes.
Infuriated, the second thug whirled around to confront his partner.
"What do you think you're doing? You're going to get the cops on us before we get a cent!" A vein midway in his forehead pulsed with his anger. "I told you, Man, I have made my last trip to prison!"
Tony digested the comment. That solved the mystery of whether the two were career
criminals, or not.
"This time there won't be any getting out for good behavior, either, for me or for you!"
"Shut up!" responded the other. "You shut up and do what you're supposed to be doing! What's going to get us back into prison is your bleeding heart! You worry about keeping them corralled together while I get the cash. That old man was costing us time."
Loud sobbing caught his attention and he pointed at one of the women. She had a hand covering her mouth, but still, her sobs escaped. "Either you shut up or you will join the dead man. Got it?"
The unlucky woman clapped her other hand atop the one over her mouth to stifle the noise, but tears continued to cascade down her face.
The toddler and little girl had cried so hard already that they were forced to catch their breaths in frantic gulps, their little chests heaving.
Deciding that his partner made sense and that they needed to grab the money and get out, the gunman guarding the customers yelled out, "Which one's the manager here?"
One of the young women held up her hand without hesitation.
She did not speak, but looked steadily at the assailant. Tony watched her carefully, thinking her composure might help diffuse the volatile situation. A young woman in her early thirties, she had one of those peaches and cream complexions and a sweet, girl next door face.
He willed her to stay focused and calm so as not to enrage their captors any more.
"Get over here, then!" ordered the man, and she got up, her posture ramrod straight, and slowly and deliberately made her way to him.
With his right hand locked onto the shotgun, the assailant took his left, yanked her by her blouse, and shoved her towards his buddy. "Get that cash register open and then get back there to the office and empty the safe. Don't say you don't know where it is. It's in the back room. You have…." He glanced over at the wall clock. "You have five minutes to get that accomplished or one of your customers goes to Heaven. Got it?"
Tony made a mental note that the man knew the safe's whereabouts. More than likely, he had worked at the diner prior to the current manager's tenure.
The woman nodded at the command, acknowledging the threat, and moved carefully to the main register.
A large yellow smiley face on the back of the register proclaimed, "We love our visitors!" Tony shook his head at the irony.
The lanky man left his post at the door and joined her, barking curses and demands so forcefully that his spit sprayed the machine's keys. She appeared to ignore him, but worked on anyway, methodically filling a take out container with the cash.
Once the till emptied, they moved to the back to access the safe's money.
Meanwhile, stalking the perimeter of the hostage area, the accomplice swung his shotgun nervously back and forth at the group. Focusing upon the adolescent standing against the wall with his baby, the criminal shrieked, "Get in a chair, fool!"
The teen boy bent to set the toddler down and the captor went berserk, aimed the gun at the young man, and fired. Father and son slumped down to the blood curdling screams of the others.
The man seemed shocked at the response to his shot and for a moment, stood frozen.