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"Foxy, wha... how the hell...?" Caleb sputtered.
"I don't know," replied Foxy, "A fe wdays ago I suddenly felt tense, like something bad was about to happen. Then I started leaking."
"Something bad?" Caleb questioned, "Any idea what?"
"Only that someone will get killed."
The mere thought of this caused blood to drip from Foxy's snout.
"Okay," Caleb said, regaining his composure, "I'll call John. He'll know what to do."
Before Caleb left, Foxy made one last request.
"Caleb?"
"Yeah?"
"Please don't tell Chica."
It struck Caleb as odd that Foxy specifically mentioned Chica, but he agreed not to tell her before going to the office and dialing John's number. It rang for at least a minute before John picked up, and he sounded half-asleep when he answered.
"Urggh, hello?"
"John?"
"Caleb?" John asked sleepily, "What exactly was so important that it couldn't wait until I got a good night's sleep?"
"John, I need you to come into work as soon as you can," Caleb said quickly, checking the hallways in case someone was coming, "I think something bad's about to happen."
"What?" John murmured, "What makes you say that? Is everything okay?"
"Foxy's suit is leaking blood."
"Again?!" John exclaimed, now wide awake, "When did it start?"
"A few days ago, according to him."
"Fuck! Okay, I'll be there in half an hour. Don't let the place open until I get there," he instructed, "Lock all the doors and don't let anyone in or out, got it?"
"Got it," Caleb replied, getting only a clicking sound as a reply. He put the phone down, grabbed the keys to the building and moved as fast as he could without running. He made it to the dining area just as William walked in through the front doors.
"Hey Caleb, I just left my wallet..." he stopped when he saw Caleb's face, "Caleb, you okay?"
Caleb's mind seemed to work in slow motion as he tried to find a response.
"Uh... yeah, just fine. It's just... John wants me to lock down the building. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
"What?" William said with a confused expression, "What is this? What's going on?"
"William, I'm sorry, but John asked me to. I'm just doing my job."
"Can I just get my wallet? You can watch me. It's in the office," Will asked.
Caleb pondered the offer for a moment.
"Okay, but quickly. Hey Jenny! Can you lock the doors until John gets here? Okay, thanks."
Caleb led William to the office where he retrieved his wallet from the desk. Outside, he heard a commotion.
"What the hell's going on out there?" he said aloud as the two of them rushed to the dining room. Jenny, a young waitress at the pizzeria, was holding the doors firmly shut and shaking her head at three men on the other side. All three wore suits and one was holding up a badge.
"Jenny, what's going on?" Caleb asked her.
"These men want in, but I was waiting for your ok before I let them in," she explained, one hand still holding the doors shut.
"Yeah, they're police. Just let them in," Caleb told her. Nodding, Jenny let go of the door handles and allowed the men to enter.
"Is there a problem, officers?" Caleb asked cautiously.
"Is the manager of this establishment here?" asked the man with a badge. His black fedora kept his face in partial shadow.
"No, he'll be here in a few minutes," replied Caleb.
'Good, go about your business as we wait."
The three men made a beeline for a table close to the show stage.
"But officer," explained Caleb as they walked, "I've been told not to open until our manager gets here."
"Do you know why?' one of the officers questioned.
"No. I was only told to put the building on lockdown."
"Then open as usual."
"But sir-" Caleb protested.
"Are you questioning authority, son?" one of the officers challenged, standing up. Caleb noticed that everyone in the room was watching.
"No, sir," Caleb replied.
"Then open as usual or we'll have to take you in."
The man sat down, and Caleb turned to the bystanders.
"Well? You heard him. Get to work!" he snapped, storming off.
Caleb watched in utter fury as customers filled the pizzeria. John was nowhere to be seen, but the three officers, or detectives or whatever they were, didn't seem bothered.
This confused Caleb. Something was off here, he could tell. Just then, William passed him.
"Will," Caleb asked quietly, "I need you to get the shotgun from the office."
"What for?" asked Will suspiciously.
"Something's not right with those cops over there," Caleb jerked a thumb towards the "police", "Get the gun and lock yourself in the office. If you see anything happening on the cameras, get your ass out here. You'll probably no what to do then."
"Okay," William said repeatedly, "Okay. Have you got a gun?"
"No, just a pocket knife. It's not much but it's effective. Now go!"
Caleb heard the doors of the office lock as the three men stood up. Cautiously, he made is way to their table.
"I'm sorry officers, I don't know where John is."
"No matter," one of the men said, "One less person is no big deal."
Caleb saw it coming, and ducked to the left as the man lunged at him, only for one of his companions to seize him, throw him to the floor and handcuff him. Meanwhile, the other men were on their feet and loading semi-automatic weapons.
"Everybody stay in your seats!" one of them yelled, firing a burst of rounds into the ceiling.
There was a mixture of screaming, chairs scraping across the floor and running footsteps. Caleb was pulled up by his shirt collar, and felt a gun barrel pressed into the side of his head. Two others were placed on either side of him, whimpering and fearful, as William watched on, John's shotgun aimed at a space above Caleb.
"Drop your weapons!" William shouted.
"You drop yours!" Caleb's hostage-taker commanded.
"I will kill this one!" he added, kicking Caleb in the back and pressing the gun against the back of his head.
"Then I will kill you!" William shot back.
"And we'll kill you and these others!" another man sneered, "Now, drop. Your. Weapon!"
William switched between the three gunmen, unsure of what to do. Then, he slowly lowered the gun and threw it to the floor, putting his hands behind his back. A gunman came forward, handcuffed him, and kicked him to the floor.
"Everybody pay close attention," the "leader" gunman project his voice through the dining room, "This is an armed robbery. We have multiple weapons at our disposal, so don't even think about trying to escape. If we receive an adequate amount of money, either by ransom or from this building, we will allow you to return to your homes and families, provided that the police are willing to cooperate with us."
I was carted off into the office along with the rest of the employees by the leader gunman. As he turned to us after locking the door, I saw that he had a scar running through his left eye.
"Listen very closely," he growled, "At least one of you has information that my employer wants. If you want your co-workers to live through the day, then you WILL tell me."
"How about you?" Scar-eye said to William, pulling him up to the desk and pinning him down.
"Tell me your name."
"William."
"Well, William. Tell me, do you know anything about the fate of one Mike Schmidt?"
I froze, and my eyes must have went wide, but luckily Scar-eye wasn't looking.
Oh. Shit.