"Who got shot?" Chandler shrieked, icy fear wrapping itself like a vise around his heart. "Who got shot!"
Chandler froze as the gunman pointed his weapon straight at his heart. "It'll be you if you don't shut up."
His heart raced, and his whole body trembled, he focused his gaze at the assailant. Make that assailants. There were two men standing there, dressed in dark ragged clothes, and ski masks. Both were carrying guns. They looked to be in their young twenties. Probably younger than me, Chandler thought. He sucked in a sharp breath. Where was Joey? Where the hell was he?
Joey thought furiously. He had heard Chandler start to freak, but he didn't want to risk standing up. There was a chance that the crooks didn't know he was there, and he couldn't lose that advantage. If only Chandler doesn't give it away, he thought anxiously. He had to do something, and it had to be fast. He could hear the panic rising in his friend's voice. Suddenly, his eyes went wide, and his hand flew to his back pocket. Yes! He thought triumphantly. He fumbled around and pulled out his cell phone. He pulled up Monica's number, he had her on speed dial, pressed send, and laid the phone out on the floor close to his side.
"Everybody just stay still." The second of the two men was yelling and brandishing his weapon. "All we want is the money, but if you so much as blink you will get a bullet in your face!"
Chandler shuddered. This man was not one to be messed with, not because he was strong or menacing, but because he was a lunatic. There was no predicting what he might do. The first still had his attention on the cashier.
"Empty the drawer. And don't even think about pushing that little red button" The woman nodded, obviously scared out of her wits.
Joey could hear Monica pick up on the other end. He did not dare say a word to her, for fear of giving himself away. "Hello?" came the voice over the line. "Hello? Who is this?"
Why the hell did Monica never get caller ID? Joey thought. He heard a click. Damn it! He pressed send again.
"Hey man, I just want my beer," said the man over at the other side of the store.
Chandler's jaw dropped as he stared at the middle-aged man who was speaking. He was obviously drunk.
"You stay the fuck quiet."
"I want my fucking beer!"
"You want beer?" the second screamed. "I'll give you some fucking beer! Or even better! Have some fucking lead!" Before Chandler knew what was happening, the drunk was flung back against the against the glass were the drinks were, shattering it into a thousand pieces as bullets pierced his skin. The man crumbled to the floor.
Chandler gasped in horror as some of the blood sprayed across his shirt.
"No!" he shrieked. He backpedaled frantically and hit the wall, and wound up sitting hard on the floor.
Joey was still lying where he has been since the first shot was fired. All of the sudden Chandler lurched into view, and the only thing that Joey could see was that his shirt was stained red. He threw his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. Chandler's been shot, his mind shouted at him. Chandlers been shot! Chandler sat breathing heavily on the floor, the whites of his eyes seeming to blot out everything else. He looked down at his shirt, and touched the sticky substance that covered it slowly with his hand. He brought his now-red fingertips up in front of his face, and tried to come to terms with the fact that he was covered in a dead man's blood. He turned his head slowly to the side, as if he were in a dream, and spotted Joey sprawled on the floor. His horror turned to relief , and he made as if to call to him. It took Joey a moment to realize that Chandler wasn't dead. That moment almost cost him dearly. He threw up a hand at Chandler, signaling him to be quiet. Their eyes met, and both could see the terror that had latched its claws into them. Chandler closed his mouth and nodded shakily. Joey pointed to the phone. Chandler nodded again, understanding.