Author's Note, 11-07-03: I'd just like to point out that almost all of this
chapter was written before last night's episode, so if you read something
and think it's similar to one of the scenes, it was purely coincidental.
Plus, one of Susan's jokes might seem a bit tacky after the news that was
sprung on us last night about her mother, but I'm not changing it. Just
remember it's me who's tacky, not Susan. Oh, and the story's rated PG-13
now. I changed it for language.
---
"Spectacular Spectacular! No words in the vernacular can describe this great event. You'll be dumb with wonderment. Returns are fixed at ten percent. You must agree that's excellent. And on top of your fee, you'll be involved artistically." - Harold Zidler [Moulin Rouge]
*
Chapter 6: Something Wicked This Way Comes
"Can we have it?" Suzy pressed, tapping her foot with impatience. She motioned at the Chicago VHS, incase there was any confusion as to what she wanted. No one had answered her first statement, though they were all staring at her. She made a noise like a mouse squeaking when Susan approached from behind, crooked a finger around the shoulder strap of her backpack, and steered Suzy backwards a few steps. "Aunt Su-"
Susan cupped her hand over the little girl's mouth, muffling the indignant protest. "Sorry, don't mind her," she said, flashing a grin at the bemused strangers. "She has Tourette's. Blurts out the strangest things sometimes."
"Whum?" Suzy tilted her head back to glare at her aunt. "Hmm-mm." She got her revenge by licking Susan's palm.
"Oh..." The blond girl - she was the taller one Susan was supposed to "get" if it came to blows - glanced at her companion. They seemed to be deciding whether or not to take Susan seriously. Or maybe just contemplating if they should run for the hills. "That's okay. It's not like we haven't seen it a million times already." The girl with frizzy brown hair nodded in agreement.
"Isn't it great?" Susan said, happy to meet some fellow fans. Right after watching the movie she had wanted to discuss it and made the mistake of trying out a few online chats and forums, hoping to strike up a conversation or two. What she found was a bunch of annoying know-it-alls, none of them a day over fourteen, each wanting to dissect the movie to its very core, complain about its downfalls, tell her how misconstrued her opinion was, and congratulate themselves for making lame points to support each other's analyses. It was like broaching the idea of broccoli to a group of kindergartners. But these girls, although young (Susan guessed them at about 18 to 20-ish), looked relatively bright and mature enough.
"Oh yeah, it's amazing," said the blond. "Even better than the stage version. Especially the Cell Block Tango. Catherine's so great there, and I love the way they used the red scarves to represent blood."
"Me too. And who knew Renée could sing so well?"
"I did." It was the short girl, looking quite eager to join in on the topic, though she gave off a strong bashful vibe. She continued in a hurry, her confidence visibly dwindling when all eyes were on her. "She sings at the end of Empire Records. I didn't even know who she was when I first saw it, but I thought she sounded great."
Susan was intrigued. "Really? I've never seen it. I'll have to check that out."
The discourse continued for a few moments more, touching on everything from favorite Chicago quotes to how unfair it was that Renée Zellweger hadn't taken home an Academy Award for her portrayal of Roxie Hart (the brown- haired girl was especially passionate about that). It was beginning to look as if the three ladies might break into song if this kept up, but Susan had Abby and Suzy to think of. They were patiently - and silently - waiting through a conversation that would only be of interest to someone who had seen the movie. Time to move on.
"So anyhow..." Susan put on a polite-try-at-getting-away smile. "Enjoy the movie, guys. We'll make do with Into the Woods."
"Wait, you should take it." Again, it was the blond girl speaking while her friend nodded consent. "If y'all haven't seen it" - she indicated Abby and Suzy - "you need it more than we do. We'll be buying copies of our own, soon as we get the money, anyway. This was just to hold us over 'cause we're broke." Both girls chuckled, apparently at ease with their current poverty.
"You sure?" Susan feigned reluctance. She hadn't seen Chicago in such a very long while, but the other girls had gotten to it first, fair and square.
"Yep, here."
Suzy intercepted the video tape and clutched it greedily to her chest with the rest of her loot. She did, however, show some manners once everything was situated to her satisfaction. "Thank you."
"Yeah, thanks," Susan echoed.
"You're welcome."
They had started to go their separate ways, when the less than courteous employee who had "yo"d Susan and the others earlier sauntered over with an armload of movies and began organizing them on their shelves. She looked mildly annoyed when Susan's new buddies snatched up a copy of Chicago that barely had time to get cozy with its neighbor, Catch Me If You Can. "Yeah, that one's going quick," she said to no one in particular. "I don't see what the big deal is. The choreography stinks and half the people in it can't even sing. Except for Queen Latifah. And if you wanna see her, just rent this." She held up a copy of Bringing Down the House before moving down the line to put it in an open space. "It's da bomb."
Hearing her movie being defamed so nonchalantly almost made Susan wince. She was all for freedom of speech and accepting another's opinions, if not embracing them, but some people just needed to keep their mouths shut. Especially little prepubescent-looking chippies who said things like "da bomb" and sported an unnatural shade of hair that could have come straight from Elmo's collection of fur dye. The color clashed horribly with the red Video Heaven t-shirt the girl was wearing. It was tripping Susan out. She glanced at Abby and pretended to gag herself, open mouth, insert finger style. From the looks of it, the two friends Susan had chatted with felt the same way. They were exchanging disgusted scowls and edging away from the employee. "Emily" (her nametag read) was oblivious to the reactions. She went on arranging movies and chewing her gum like her life depended on it.
No, not chewing... popping, Susan thought.
"Can me and Bernadette go look at the kids' movies, Aunt Susan?" Suzy eyed the brightly decorated nook that was tucked away on the far side of the store. Cartoon character decals were plastered over every inch of window space and a big playroom rug, the kind you buy at Wal-Mart with a whole town and roads designed on it, formed an island in the middle of the surrounding shelves. Someone had done a nice job of making it an alluring spot for children. Adults would appreciate it, too, because of the easy visibility that allowed them to browse and keep a watchful eye on their youngsters at the same time.
"Sure. But don't wander off."
Suzy was already clunking across the store, her tattered sandals in danger of flying off and putting someone's eye out. "I won't."
"She's a great kid," Abby said, her fond smile matching Susan's.
"I think so too." As they strolled, Susan trailed her finger across movie boxes, glancing at the titles but not really seeing them. "She's so much like Chloe."
Silence followed. Susan sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't say that."
"Why?"
"Well... I don't want to jinx Suzy." Susan shrugged. "But it's not like Chloe is all bad. I kind of made her out to be a monster this morning when I told you about her, but she's not. She's got a lot of good qualities too. She's great with people; one of those 'never meets a stranger' types, you know? And she is hilarious. Always knows how to make you laugh."
"Sounds like you."
Grinning, Susan turned nostalgic. "This one time, I was really upset because I'd just found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me. Chloe was royally pissed. So she decides we're going to follow the guy and his date to the theater one night and hide around the corner with a couple of Super Soaker squirt guns filled with Hawaiian Punch."
Abby's eyebrows went up.
"It stains better," Susan explained. "But the movie turned out to be really long. I think it was Star Wars, or something. And we both got thirsty and started drinking the Hawaiian Punch, and by the time the movie let out, most of the punch was gone." She snickered at the memory. "A normal person would have just gone home, but not Chloe. She waited till the very end, and then grabbed a soda cup from some complete stranger's hand as they were walking by. She went right up to the guy and dumped it over his head."
"And?"
"And it was water. We laughed about it for two days straight." Susan shook her head, smile growing fainter. "It's stuff like that that makes me want to help her. She may be flighty, but she's been there for me when I needed her... more than once. No matter how angry she makes me, I can't give up on her." Realizing she had begun to ramble, Susan glanced over at Abby, whose hands were stuffed deep into her pockets, her shoulders curving inward as she walked along, eyes pointed at the floor. "Do I sound too sappy and pathetic?"
"Nope." Abby straightened and put on one of her smiles that always reminded Susan of a self-conscious little kid trying to hide missing teeth on picture day at school. "At least not to me. I understand it. I don't think many people do unless they've lived it. They think it's a piece of cake to walk away from, but when it's your sister or mom or brother telling you they need you..."
"You drop what you're doing and come a-runnin'," Susan finished.
"Oh yeah."
They slipped into another brief, thoughtful silence that made Susan wish she hadn't brought up such a weighty topic in the middle of a video store. One of these days she and Abby were going to do what normal friends did and have their meaningful discussions over cups of coffee at a secluded restaurant table, rather than in hospital bathrooms and Video Heaven.
"Anyway. Let's make fun of Chen again." Susan grabbed a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets from the shelf they were passing. "What's this remind you of?" She held the box close to her face, the cover art of Daniel Radcliffe and his Hogwarts cronies pointing towards Abby, and parroted the high, screechy voice of Chen's assailant. "Die, Muggle, die!"
"God, I can't believe I missed that," Abby said, laughing. "It's so unfair."
"I tell you what -- next time they wheel a fruitcake into the ER, we'll bribe her to slap Chen for us. Maybe it'll become a tradition."
"Woo!"
Both ladies were still making wisecracks and cutting up as they approached an odd sight at the end of the new release section. Emily, aka Video Heaven employee, and the two Chicago fans Susan had befriended were standing stock- still in the aisle, their eyes transfixed on the TV screen a few feet overhead. Judging by the siren noises, it sounded as though they were engrossed in an intense action movie sequence. None of them budged or took notice of Abby and Susan edging past, until Susan caught a glimpse of the television and furrowed her brow. "Hey, what is this?" It definitely wasn't a movie.
"Didja hear about those creeps that busted outta jail this mornin' in Cicero?" Emily asked, barely intelligible over the wad of gum she was gnawing at. Grape flavored, from the smell of it.
Susan nodded. Abby murmured, "Ace."
"'pparently one of them's got a relative here in Chicago, so they hijacked a car and went to the person's house to get guns and money and crap. Cops caught wind of it and now they're chasing the guys. I've been watching the news about it all day."
The jumpy aerial feed from a helicopter camcorder confirmed Emily's run- down of the situation. As everyone watched, the small brown vehicle on television swerved wildly and took a curve at top speed, several wailing police cars in pursuit.
"Oh, my God." Susan squinted at the TV. "That's close to the hospital."
"So?" said Emily.
"We work there."
"Doctors?" the blond girl asked, distracted.
"I am."
"Nurse," Abby answered.
Hypnotic as the chase scene was, Susan kept a vigilant eye on the children's corner and her niece. Odd how becoming a guardian could immediately affect one's behavior. She had a sudden, intense urge to call Suzy to safety. But it would be such an illogical request from a rational, easygoing person like herself, Susan thought. The video store was empty, save the small party gathered by the television -- no one around to even pose a threat. Chocking the sensation up to blossoming motherly instincts in need of fine tuning, Susan returned to the drama being played out on TV. Instead of fleeing criminals, two news anchors had appeared to say there would be more coverage of the getaway after "this short break."
"Damn." Emily snapped a tiny purple bubble with her gum and drifted off to her post at storefront.
What took place within the next few minutes adopted a surreal quality that could have rivaled most of the drama/suspense flicks that lined the Video Heaven shelves. Susan clearly remembered picking up a copy of Mommie Dearest and joking that it reminded her of Cookie Lewis (Abby responded by saying the movie Sybil was, in fact, based on her own mother, Maggie), but everything that followed became a blur. She heard the sirens first, too clear and loud to be coming from television speakers, and would have stepped over to have a look out the window even if Emily hadn't yelled, "Holy shit, they're gonna drive right past!"
Then the air was filled with frantic shouts and screaming. And glass. God, so much glass. It came from all directions, like razor-sharp raindrops that chose erratic paths at will, rather than simply fall from the sky. Shards of it grazed Susan's cheeks and arms, flooding them with a searing pain she didn't comprehend. It was the most basic of rules any doctor should know: broken glass cuts, and cuts hurt; but none of it registered in her mind. She was still trying to understand what she had just seen. The car losing control and skidding. The way it ramped the curb, going airborne and landing in a shower of sparks before it careened into the plate glass entrance of Video Heaven. Abby knocked backwards and scrambling across the floor on hands and feet after Susan had shoved her out of the car's path. The first heavyduty movie rack tipping precariously, then starting a domino effect that reached the back of the store and sent the shy, brown-haired girl sailing in the process. Had any of it really happened? Had a bomb been set off? The car might have been a figment of imagination. But no, Susan could hear a horn blaring, and when she had risen from the floor, her clothes shedding a layer of glass that tinkled around her feet, she saw the car a few feet away, its nose smashed in. The brown paint was chipped and covered with dents and blemishes.
"Are you okay?" Abby's voice was thin and shaky. She was trying to get up without placing her already bloodied hands in any more glass. "Oh, Jesus," she whispered. "Jesus."
"I think so." Susan took her friend by the elbow and balanced her. She was about to ask if Abby was injured, but a rush of fear made her breath catch sharply. Suzy. Where was Suzy? That wasn't a child's voice that was calling for help. Why wouldn't Suzy be calling for help?
Abby's face drained of its remaining color when she locked eyes with Susan and seemed to intuit her thoughts. Speechless, Susan turned and waded through the wreckage that surrounded her. Plastic video cases were strewn about the floor, DVD boxes lay open, their discs scattered nearby, overhead lights reflecting off their round surfaces in rainbow color. They would easily have been kicked aside if it weren't for the glass that was spread over everything, thick as icing. Susan had to move slowly to keep from slipping. Dammit, why had she changed into flip-flops? She crunched noisily with every step, and winced as tiny slivers of shattered window embedded themselves into the soles of her feet. It was as pleasant as walking on hot coals, but she ignored the pain and forged on, driven by fear for her niece.
Susan noticed movement behind the windshield of the car as she edged past it to get to Suzy's side of the store. There were also shouts from outside, male voices telling her not to move. But how could she listen when she had just spotted Suzy no more than ten feet away, huddled in the kiddie corner, sobbing her heart out? Susan would have made it to her destination, too, if an armed policeman hadn't appeared in what used to be the doorway - now a gaping hole - and ordered her to stay back. Too late. The deafening pop made her ears ring, and at first, she thought the cop had fired at her. When the uniformed man suddenly dropped to his knees, a geyser of blood spurting from his chest, Susan realized it was he who was shot. GSW to the chest. She'd heard that phrase so often she thought of it as a single word; volumes of medical text and years of studying sprung to life whenever it was spoken. She knew exactly what to do for such a victim. She could have done it in her sleep. But witnessing the victim actually getting the gunshot wound was a very different story. Nothing could have prepared her for that. Nothing.
Suzy was howling now, hands over her ears, her face glistening and red from the tears that poured as she screamed for Aunt Susan. Feeling as horror- stricken as her niece looked, Susan had to force herself into action.
She didn't get far.
A hand and gun retreated from the empty window pane on the car's driver side, then emerged again when the door swung open as if it had jammed and been kicked from the inside. Susan tried to sidestep him, but the man dislodged himself from behind the steering wheel and seized a handful of her shirt in one deft motion. She gasped as he spun her roughly towards him, her back colliding with his stomach, and snaked a powerful arm around her neck. She didn't consider herself a weakling, but this guy could pitch her like a rag doll, she was sure.
"Ple-" She gagged when he tightened his grip to cut her off. He didn't want her to speak. That was okay, Susan felt much less talkative now that he was pressing the nozzle of a gun to her temple. Her knees started to give, but her captor kept her upright and pressed against his rigid body. She felt her own chest vibrate with his when he hollered a warning to the legion of cops that were pounding forth on foot, guns drawn.
"Come any closer, I'll blow her fucking head off!"
---
"Spectacular Spectacular! No words in the vernacular can describe this great event. You'll be dumb with wonderment. Returns are fixed at ten percent. You must agree that's excellent. And on top of your fee, you'll be involved artistically." - Harold Zidler [Moulin Rouge]
*
Chapter 6: Something Wicked This Way Comes
"Can we have it?" Suzy pressed, tapping her foot with impatience. She motioned at the Chicago VHS, incase there was any confusion as to what she wanted. No one had answered her first statement, though they were all staring at her. She made a noise like a mouse squeaking when Susan approached from behind, crooked a finger around the shoulder strap of her backpack, and steered Suzy backwards a few steps. "Aunt Su-"
Susan cupped her hand over the little girl's mouth, muffling the indignant protest. "Sorry, don't mind her," she said, flashing a grin at the bemused strangers. "She has Tourette's. Blurts out the strangest things sometimes."
"Whum?" Suzy tilted her head back to glare at her aunt. "Hmm-mm." She got her revenge by licking Susan's palm.
"Oh..." The blond girl - she was the taller one Susan was supposed to "get" if it came to blows - glanced at her companion. They seemed to be deciding whether or not to take Susan seriously. Or maybe just contemplating if they should run for the hills. "That's okay. It's not like we haven't seen it a million times already." The girl with frizzy brown hair nodded in agreement.
"Isn't it great?" Susan said, happy to meet some fellow fans. Right after watching the movie she had wanted to discuss it and made the mistake of trying out a few online chats and forums, hoping to strike up a conversation or two. What she found was a bunch of annoying know-it-alls, none of them a day over fourteen, each wanting to dissect the movie to its very core, complain about its downfalls, tell her how misconstrued her opinion was, and congratulate themselves for making lame points to support each other's analyses. It was like broaching the idea of broccoli to a group of kindergartners. But these girls, although young (Susan guessed them at about 18 to 20-ish), looked relatively bright and mature enough.
"Oh yeah, it's amazing," said the blond. "Even better than the stage version. Especially the Cell Block Tango. Catherine's so great there, and I love the way they used the red scarves to represent blood."
"Me too. And who knew Renée could sing so well?"
"I did." It was the short girl, looking quite eager to join in on the topic, though she gave off a strong bashful vibe. She continued in a hurry, her confidence visibly dwindling when all eyes were on her. "She sings at the end of Empire Records. I didn't even know who she was when I first saw it, but I thought she sounded great."
Susan was intrigued. "Really? I've never seen it. I'll have to check that out."
The discourse continued for a few moments more, touching on everything from favorite Chicago quotes to how unfair it was that Renée Zellweger hadn't taken home an Academy Award for her portrayal of Roxie Hart (the brown- haired girl was especially passionate about that). It was beginning to look as if the three ladies might break into song if this kept up, but Susan had Abby and Suzy to think of. They were patiently - and silently - waiting through a conversation that would only be of interest to someone who had seen the movie. Time to move on.
"So anyhow..." Susan put on a polite-try-at-getting-away smile. "Enjoy the movie, guys. We'll make do with Into the Woods."
"Wait, you should take it." Again, it was the blond girl speaking while her friend nodded consent. "If y'all haven't seen it" - she indicated Abby and Suzy - "you need it more than we do. We'll be buying copies of our own, soon as we get the money, anyway. This was just to hold us over 'cause we're broke." Both girls chuckled, apparently at ease with their current poverty.
"You sure?" Susan feigned reluctance. She hadn't seen Chicago in such a very long while, but the other girls had gotten to it first, fair and square.
"Yep, here."
Suzy intercepted the video tape and clutched it greedily to her chest with the rest of her loot. She did, however, show some manners once everything was situated to her satisfaction. "Thank you."
"Yeah, thanks," Susan echoed.
"You're welcome."
They had started to go their separate ways, when the less than courteous employee who had "yo"d Susan and the others earlier sauntered over with an armload of movies and began organizing them on their shelves. She looked mildly annoyed when Susan's new buddies snatched up a copy of Chicago that barely had time to get cozy with its neighbor, Catch Me If You Can. "Yeah, that one's going quick," she said to no one in particular. "I don't see what the big deal is. The choreography stinks and half the people in it can't even sing. Except for Queen Latifah. And if you wanna see her, just rent this." She held up a copy of Bringing Down the House before moving down the line to put it in an open space. "It's da bomb."
Hearing her movie being defamed so nonchalantly almost made Susan wince. She was all for freedom of speech and accepting another's opinions, if not embracing them, but some people just needed to keep their mouths shut. Especially little prepubescent-looking chippies who said things like "da bomb" and sported an unnatural shade of hair that could have come straight from Elmo's collection of fur dye. The color clashed horribly with the red Video Heaven t-shirt the girl was wearing. It was tripping Susan out. She glanced at Abby and pretended to gag herself, open mouth, insert finger style. From the looks of it, the two friends Susan had chatted with felt the same way. They were exchanging disgusted scowls and edging away from the employee. "Emily" (her nametag read) was oblivious to the reactions. She went on arranging movies and chewing her gum like her life depended on it.
No, not chewing... popping, Susan thought.
"Can me and Bernadette go look at the kids' movies, Aunt Susan?" Suzy eyed the brightly decorated nook that was tucked away on the far side of the store. Cartoon character decals were plastered over every inch of window space and a big playroom rug, the kind you buy at Wal-Mart with a whole town and roads designed on it, formed an island in the middle of the surrounding shelves. Someone had done a nice job of making it an alluring spot for children. Adults would appreciate it, too, because of the easy visibility that allowed them to browse and keep a watchful eye on their youngsters at the same time.
"Sure. But don't wander off."
Suzy was already clunking across the store, her tattered sandals in danger of flying off and putting someone's eye out. "I won't."
"She's a great kid," Abby said, her fond smile matching Susan's.
"I think so too." As they strolled, Susan trailed her finger across movie boxes, glancing at the titles but not really seeing them. "She's so much like Chloe."
Silence followed. Susan sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't say that."
"Why?"
"Well... I don't want to jinx Suzy." Susan shrugged. "But it's not like Chloe is all bad. I kind of made her out to be a monster this morning when I told you about her, but she's not. She's got a lot of good qualities too. She's great with people; one of those 'never meets a stranger' types, you know? And she is hilarious. Always knows how to make you laugh."
"Sounds like you."
Grinning, Susan turned nostalgic. "This one time, I was really upset because I'd just found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me. Chloe was royally pissed. So she decides we're going to follow the guy and his date to the theater one night and hide around the corner with a couple of Super Soaker squirt guns filled with Hawaiian Punch."
Abby's eyebrows went up.
"It stains better," Susan explained. "But the movie turned out to be really long. I think it was Star Wars, or something. And we both got thirsty and started drinking the Hawaiian Punch, and by the time the movie let out, most of the punch was gone." She snickered at the memory. "A normal person would have just gone home, but not Chloe. She waited till the very end, and then grabbed a soda cup from some complete stranger's hand as they were walking by. She went right up to the guy and dumped it over his head."
"And?"
"And it was water. We laughed about it for two days straight." Susan shook her head, smile growing fainter. "It's stuff like that that makes me want to help her. She may be flighty, but she's been there for me when I needed her... more than once. No matter how angry she makes me, I can't give up on her." Realizing she had begun to ramble, Susan glanced over at Abby, whose hands were stuffed deep into her pockets, her shoulders curving inward as she walked along, eyes pointed at the floor. "Do I sound too sappy and pathetic?"
"Nope." Abby straightened and put on one of her smiles that always reminded Susan of a self-conscious little kid trying to hide missing teeth on picture day at school. "At least not to me. I understand it. I don't think many people do unless they've lived it. They think it's a piece of cake to walk away from, but when it's your sister or mom or brother telling you they need you..."
"You drop what you're doing and come a-runnin'," Susan finished.
"Oh yeah."
They slipped into another brief, thoughtful silence that made Susan wish she hadn't brought up such a weighty topic in the middle of a video store. One of these days she and Abby were going to do what normal friends did and have their meaningful discussions over cups of coffee at a secluded restaurant table, rather than in hospital bathrooms and Video Heaven.
"Anyway. Let's make fun of Chen again." Susan grabbed a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets from the shelf they were passing. "What's this remind you of?" She held the box close to her face, the cover art of Daniel Radcliffe and his Hogwarts cronies pointing towards Abby, and parroted the high, screechy voice of Chen's assailant. "Die, Muggle, die!"
"God, I can't believe I missed that," Abby said, laughing. "It's so unfair."
"I tell you what -- next time they wheel a fruitcake into the ER, we'll bribe her to slap Chen for us. Maybe it'll become a tradition."
"Woo!"
Both ladies were still making wisecracks and cutting up as they approached an odd sight at the end of the new release section. Emily, aka Video Heaven employee, and the two Chicago fans Susan had befriended were standing stock- still in the aisle, their eyes transfixed on the TV screen a few feet overhead. Judging by the siren noises, it sounded as though they were engrossed in an intense action movie sequence. None of them budged or took notice of Abby and Susan edging past, until Susan caught a glimpse of the television and furrowed her brow. "Hey, what is this?" It definitely wasn't a movie.
"Didja hear about those creeps that busted outta jail this mornin' in Cicero?" Emily asked, barely intelligible over the wad of gum she was gnawing at. Grape flavored, from the smell of it.
Susan nodded. Abby murmured, "Ace."
"'pparently one of them's got a relative here in Chicago, so they hijacked a car and went to the person's house to get guns and money and crap. Cops caught wind of it and now they're chasing the guys. I've been watching the news about it all day."
The jumpy aerial feed from a helicopter camcorder confirmed Emily's run- down of the situation. As everyone watched, the small brown vehicle on television swerved wildly and took a curve at top speed, several wailing police cars in pursuit.
"Oh, my God." Susan squinted at the TV. "That's close to the hospital."
"So?" said Emily.
"We work there."
"Doctors?" the blond girl asked, distracted.
"I am."
"Nurse," Abby answered.
Hypnotic as the chase scene was, Susan kept a vigilant eye on the children's corner and her niece. Odd how becoming a guardian could immediately affect one's behavior. She had a sudden, intense urge to call Suzy to safety. But it would be such an illogical request from a rational, easygoing person like herself, Susan thought. The video store was empty, save the small party gathered by the television -- no one around to even pose a threat. Chocking the sensation up to blossoming motherly instincts in need of fine tuning, Susan returned to the drama being played out on TV. Instead of fleeing criminals, two news anchors had appeared to say there would be more coverage of the getaway after "this short break."
"Damn." Emily snapped a tiny purple bubble with her gum and drifted off to her post at storefront.
What took place within the next few minutes adopted a surreal quality that could have rivaled most of the drama/suspense flicks that lined the Video Heaven shelves. Susan clearly remembered picking up a copy of Mommie Dearest and joking that it reminded her of Cookie Lewis (Abby responded by saying the movie Sybil was, in fact, based on her own mother, Maggie), but everything that followed became a blur. She heard the sirens first, too clear and loud to be coming from television speakers, and would have stepped over to have a look out the window even if Emily hadn't yelled, "Holy shit, they're gonna drive right past!"
Then the air was filled with frantic shouts and screaming. And glass. God, so much glass. It came from all directions, like razor-sharp raindrops that chose erratic paths at will, rather than simply fall from the sky. Shards of it grazed Susan's cheeks and arms, flooding them with a searing pain she didn't comprehend. It was the most basic of rules any doctor should know: broken glass cuts, and cuts hurt; but none of it registered in her mind. She was still trying to understand what she had just seen. The car losing control and skidding. The way it ramped the curb, going airborne and landing in a shower of sparks before it careened into the plate glass entrance of Video Heaven. Abby knocked backwards and scrambling across the floor on hands and feet after Susan had shoved her out of the car's path. The first heavyduty movie rack tipping precariously, then starting a domino effect that reached the back of the store and sent the shy, brown-haired girl sailing in the process. Had any of it really happened? Had a bomb been set off? The car might have been a figment of imagination. But no, Susan could hear a horn blaring, and when she had risen from the floor, her clothes shedding a layer of glass that tinkled around her feet, she saw the car a few feet away, its nose smashed in. The brown paint was chipped and covered with dents and blemishes.
"Are you okay?" Abby's voice was thin and shaky. She was trying to get up without placing her already bloodied hands in any more glass. "Oh, Jesus," she whispered. "Jesus."
"I think so." Susan took her friend by the elbow and balanced her. She was about to ask if Abby was injured, but a rush of fear made her breath catch sharply. Suzy. Where was Suzy? That wasn't a child's voice that was calling for help. Why wouldn't Suzy be calling for help?
Abby's face drained of its remaining color when she locked eyes with Susan and seemed to intuit her thoughts. Speechless, Susan turned and waded through the wreckage that surrounded her. Plastic video cases were strewn about the floor, DVD boxes lay open, their discs scattered nearby, overhead lights reflecting off their round surfaces in rainbow color. They would easily have been kicked aside if it weren't for the glass that was spread over everything, thick as icing. Susan had to move slowly to keep from slipping. Dammit, why had she changed into flip-flops? She crunched noisily with every step, and winced as tiny slivers of shattered window embedded themselves into the soles of her feet. It was as pleasant as walking on hot coals, but she ignored the pain and forged on, driven by fear for her niece.
Susan noticed movement behind the windshield of the car as she edged past it to get to Suzy's side of the store. There were also shouts from outside, male voices telling her not to move. But how could she listen when she had just spotted Suzy no more than ten feet away, huddled in the kiddie corner, sobbing her heart out? Susan would have made it to her destination, too, if an armed policeman hadn't appeared in what used to be the doorway - now a gaping hole - and ordered her to stay back. Too late. The deafening pop made her ears ring, and at first, she thought the cop had fired at her. When the uniformed man suddenly dropped to his knees, a geyser of blood spurting from his chest, Susan realized it was he who was shot. GSW to the chest. She'd heard that phrase so often she thought of it as a single word; volumes of medical text and years of studying sprung to life whenever it was spoken. She knew exactly what to do for such a victim. She could have done it in her sleep. But witnessing the victim actually getting the gunshot wound was a very different story. Nothing could have prepared her for that. Nothing.
Suzy was howling now, hands over her ears, her face glistening and red from the tears that poured as she screamed for Aunt Susan. Feeling as horror- stricken as her niece looked, Susan had to force herself into action.
She didn't get far.
A hand and gun retreated from the empty window pane on the car's driver side, then emerged again when the door swung open as if it had jammed and been kicked from the inside. Susan tried to sidestep him, but the man dislodged himself from behind the steering wheel and seized a handful of her shirt in one deft motion. She gasped as he spun her roughly towards him, her back colliding with his stomach, and snaked a powerful arm around her neck. She didn't consider herself a weakling, but this guy could pitch her like a rag doll, she was sure.
"Ple-" She gagged when he tightened his grip to cut her off. He didn't want her to speak. That was okay, Susan felt much less talkative now that he was pressing the nozzle of a gun to her temple. Her knees started to give, but her captor kept her upright and pressed against his rigid body. She felt her own chest vibrate with his when he hollered a warning to the legion of cops that were pounding forth on foot, guns drawn.
"Come any closer, I'll blow her fucking head off!"