Never again does she offer to close the night alone on a Friday of all days. A bar on a Friday night filled with their usual crowd in attendance along with the added addition of a few young ladies out for a bachelorette party, a few guys celebrating the end of finals and a few stragglers, coming in to drink alone due to some unforeseen circumstance that erupted in their life. She had to cut a few off. She had to break up two fights. She had to kick one person out but that's typically the average Friday night so she doesn't know what possessed her to offer to bartend alone. She knows why; it's because the person that was supposed to be working with her tonight was out of town on some kind of family emergency and the bartender they could have gotten to fill in for him couldn't find a babysitter in time to watch her kid. Erin was just going to take an overtime pay and work the shift alone but goodness gracious it'll be well deserved because by the time she washed the last dish, flipped the last chair over onto the last table and wiped down the bar top, she was ready for a hot shower, a cold beer and a replay of whatever sports game they're showing on tv tonight.
She couldn't wait to get home.
She couldn't wait to sleep the weekend away.
Erin gives the door a gentle tug to ensure its locked before heading off in the direction of her parked car. Face down, flipping through her keys, she's distracted and caught absolutely off guard when she hears a scream, "Help," the word is strangled, it comes out in a distant sob. It snatches her attention away from her keys to notice a man limping up ahead. He trips but he doesn't fall yet it makes her jump, her slippery hands dropping the keys and she's forced to pull her attention away from the man -barely noticeable because of the street light flickering above him- to scramble and pick them up, "Help me please," he was calling out to nobody at first but now he sees her, "You have to help me," he turns to start dragging his feet, his battered body in her direction when suddenly he falls over after the resounding shot of a weapon is fired.
Her body stiffens. She hears a scream. And it didn't come from her. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, to suppress the urge to scream along with the stranger that did when another shot is fired, this time ensuring the man crying for help was gone. She looks around, desperately in search of the person that screamed when she spots him. He's hiding, stooped low in an alley but the sound of his scream not only pulled in her attention, it pulled in theirs as well. As quietly as possible, she backs away, moving further from her car and in the direction of another. She holds her breath out of fear that if she breathes too loudly, they'll see her.
Erin tries to signal for him to be quiet, to shut up because his breathing and his sobs are pointing them to his exact whereabouts but he's too far gone, they've already heard him and they don't intend to leave until he's spotted. No matter what she wants to do, she can't help him. From her position, she can see him and she knows that means if and when they find him, they'll be able to see her. She has to move. She stoops beside a truck, rolling under it for coverage and not a second too soon because the man's sobs and panting finally stop, but it's too late, they're in front of him and he's crying out, "Please, I won't say anything. I didn't see anything."
Her white button-up shirt is covered by the dirt and gravel of the ground. To her left, up ahead she can see the outline of the man that pleaded for her help and to her right, she bears witness to a man currently being held up against the brick wall, the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead, his eyes are closed and he's still crying out, he's still pleading, hoping his words will change their mind, "Just hear me out please, I-"
She jumps. She bites down on the hand that covers her mouth when the shot rings out. She has her eyes closed, fortunately she shut them before the final blow and she has no interest in reopening them until this is proven to be a figment of her imagination, a nightmare of some sort. Erin doesn't intend to move from this spot, she's willing to wait until morning, wait hours before she even thinks of revealing herself when the ringing of her cell phone tries to make the decision for her.
"No no no," she mutters, reaching down to pull out her phone, scrambling to silence it before one of them notices, "Shit," tears are practically pouring out of her eyes and her blurry vision manages to read her dad's name before she sends it to voicemail, turning the volume down afterwards to ensure it couldn't be heard when he called back. Because he will call back; he always does.
Praying that neither of them heard the ring, Erin lies the phone down flat in front of her before reopening her eyes to find both of them separated, one under the flickering street light, checking the pulse of the first man they killed while the other remains with the second man, checking his pulse to ensure the job is done. It's the clearest image she gets of them, the clearest view she gets of their faces before she finally hears their voice, as clear as day, "I heard something."
Damn it!
For a moment, a highly unlikely moment, she unrealistically believed she silenced her phone in time. She actually thought she was going to get away from this unscathed. How stupid. She's seen both of their faces, heard both of their voices and has witnessed them commit two coldhearted murders; it shouldn't be a surprise their ears are on high alert. And when her phone lights up, silently ringing because her dad just can't take a fucking hint, she sends it to voicemail again. She couldn't afford to answer it. She couldn't risk uttering a word especially when the two of them separate in search of her. She knows they're waiting for her to make one wrong move, one shift, one breath, one anything that can pinpoint them to her exact location and talking to her dad would do just that, "It came from this direction."
Erin couldn't see where they were pointing but she could assume it was on the side of the street she was hiding on. Her attention is drawn to her phone, lying in front of her, when the screen lights up because of an incoming text, forcing her to dim the light after her face unlocks it, hey kid, just checking in to make sure you got home safe, call me back. It's too much of a risk to call him back. It's no time for an explanation. She uses one hand to type a response, 911 can't talk, help, work. She stares down at the phone, praying that her dad didn't send off a text and then toss his phone to the side and when she sees the read receipts, showing her that he's seen her message she lets out a relieved sigh. A sigh that was just a little too loud when she hears "over there, I see her," at the exact same time a car turns on the street, music blasting out the vehicle full of young adults either going to or coming from a late-night party.
"We gotta go, we gotta go," one tells the other, "come on!"
"What about-"
"We'll get her another time," he reassures his partner, tugging him in the direction of their parked car just up the block, "if we get her now, that's too many witnesses and they're in a car," that same car stops at a red light, they're chanting, bopping their head to the music, completely unaware of the fact that they just saved her life.
"It'll be quick," as he tries to convince his partner, she rolls from beneath the car, stooping low and moving further away trying to use the cover of darkness and them being distracted to her advantage.
"I know it'll be quick but there's too many eyes," he averts towards the car that's now in motion when the light turned green. He watches to see how far it goes, if it leaves the block and when it does, his shoulders relax and he nods, giving in to his partner, "Alright fine, but hurry up before another car turns on the block.
He pulls out his weapon, happy to receive permission to take out another target, "You don't have to tell me twice," he aims his weapon forward, moving closer, expecting her to still be in that same hiding place. She watches him from further down the street, it was as far as she could run while they were distracted. She's holding her breath. She's looking for another place to go, another way to make it out when she hears his frustrated shout of anger, "FUCK!"
She jumps back, pressing her back against the wall that blocks her view of them. She wasn't there anymore, she wasn't under the car and neither of them knew where she went and neither of them had time to search, "We have to go. We've been out here long enough," his partner looks up at the darkened windows to ensure he saw no blinds or curtains moving.
"We can't leave any witnesses."
"We will come back."
"How do we know she'll return?"
"We'll find out. We always do. Come on before anyone else comes."
The second they're gone; she lets out a throaty sob, a cry of relief. Her body slides down the brick wall and her hands cover her face. She tries to catch her breath, not from running away but from the adrenaline coursing through her body over almost becoming the third body of the night. She shuts her eyes, trying to hold back the tears, remaining in her hidden position until she hears sirens in the distance, growing closer with every excruciatingly slow second that passes. It's almost over, her mind chants, it's almost over, it's almost over. If only she knew this was just the beginning.