Chapter 18: Be Brave

Slipping off my bracelet and ignoring other thoughts in the room, I tried to project my thoughts to Cara like I did with Mr Kliff the other day. I was standing closer to him that time, but I can still do this. Right?

Cara. Cara? Can you hear me?

I saw her startle slightly with her back to me, but she didn't cry out or let anyone know what I was doing.

"Yes, I can hear you. I would normally tell you to get the *** out of my head, but I guess this is an exception."

Wincing at her choice of language, I looked up, trying to think of something I could do to help. The gunman and the cashier had begun to argue in raised voices.

"What do you mean you 'can't do that?' What's so hard about handing over cash?" The robber was exclaiming angrily, waving his hands in the air.

The cashier looked nervous and sweaty, his curly brown hair stuck to his forehead, but stood his ground defiantly. I scowled. The idiot was putting everyone in danger, including himself, and breaching retail protocol. I knew what he was supposed to do; my mother had told me once ages ago when we'd had the discussion about what to do in a situation like this. She'd used to be a retail worker before she left my dad and had been pretty hard-line when it came to rules. The cashier obviously hadn't been told what to do in the case of an armed robbery.

"I have a gun! I could kill anyone in this room if you don't do what I say!" the gun-wielding lunatic exclaimed, waving his arms around, but somehow, I felt he was bluffing. It was almost as if this was his first time. But since it was my first time being in a situation like this, it wasn't like I had a ton of experience.

Someone needed to distract him so someone else could call 911, and the cashier obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Then an idea sparked.

I took a deep breath.

Cara, when I give you the signal, you have to run and call 911, okay? I projected.

"What? What are you going to do?" Cara thought at me, the worried tone catching me by surprise.

Don't worry about that. You just need to go call the police.

I could sense her reluctance, but I gave her no choice when I got up and stepped out from behind the shelving.

"Just give him the money. Then he'll go and everyone will be safe." I hear myself say, though every ounce of me wants to hide in terror. My eyes are glued to the gun and I can't seem to help imagining what sort of damage he could do with it. Pushing the gruesome images of blood aside, I focus on the task at hand. Everything is always exaggerated in movies, I thought, no way it's that bad in real life. Right?
Walking slowly with my hands up, I move so that when he faces me, his back is to the door, and therefore Cara's escape route. Turning to the cashier, I add, "Haven't you read the retail protocol for a situation like this? I was always told that you give them the money, so no one gets killed."

"Why would I bother reading the manual? It basically states the obvious." The cashier says nervously. "And it's obvious to me that my boss'll kill me if I lose today's takings."

"And you're more scared of your boss than dying?" I say and, in my incredulity, I forget my fear for a second. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cara escaping out the front door with a quiet jingle and breathe a silent sigh of relief.

As soon as she's out the glass door, Cara runs for the payphone across the road. The ugly concrete slamming into her heels. Almost tripping on the curb, she scrambles up to the graffiti-covered metal station.
Stupid phone confiscation. My teacher's gonna be really sorry if she knew that having it this afternoon might've saved someone's life!
But she knew she wasn't really angry about that.
She was really angry at was herself.
She had let her younger foster sister distract the robber who had a gun, then she had run away, leaving her with him. Idiot. Why hadn't she distracted the masked man herself?

Panicked tears began to trickle down her face as she grabbed the payphone out of it's broken socket and began to dial.
9-1-1-dial, she punched in, trying not to think about what was happening across the road.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"A man with a gun is robbing the Klark's Basics on the corner of 9th and Leafton."

She felt like fear was not just dripping onto her heart but completely soaking it. Like gasoline, she felt that at any moment, she could ignite. Maybe it already had. Cara took a deep breath and tried to be patient.
This is the best way you can help her now, she thought.

"Was there anyone else in the store?"

"My sister, the cashier and a few others- maybe ten at most?" She said uncertainly.

"And has anyone been hurt?"

Her heart squeezed at that question, praying that it was still the same as when she'd left. She hadn't heard any gunshots yet, so she was okay. She had to be okay. Juliet was going to be okay.
"Not when I left." Cara answers with a tightly controlled tone. She'd never been very good at trying to sound nice. She'd never seen the point.

"Thank you, we're sending a dispatch now. Do not renter the building and wait for police assistance."

Then the line went dead.

Author's Note:

So, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who favourited this story! It really means a lot to know that you guys like it and encourages me to see this through :) Secondly, I tried to make this scene fairly realistic and so I'd appreciate any feedback on that, especially since I've never made a call to emergency services before (whether 911 or 000 or whatever). What do you guys think of the robber, or Cara or Juliet? I'm pretty proud of Juliet, trying to be brave, but I'm also sad she put herself in danger. What's going to happen next? Find out next time, on Illusionist! lol

Trix