Thanks to Steph Buchanan for fun "Writing
Prompts That Don't Suck"!
Amy ignored the two truckers
watching her from the coffee machine as she pulled a single Coke and a six-pack
of Keystone from the cooler. She added a
pack of gum and Fig Newtons as she pulled cash out of her front pocket. Nodding
out the window, she told the cashier, “Forty on number 4, too.”
The cashier was too caught up in
the black and white tv above her head to bother carding her, although she did
throw everything but the beer into a plastic bag and mumbled “Bye” as Amy
carried her stuff out.
Amy set the beer and bag on the
hood of the pickup truck and kept an eye on the two truckers. They walked out of the store and over to their rigs as she filled her tank.
Forty bucks wouldn’t get them much farther, but she needed the stops to stay
awake anyway. Aunt Lucy wasn’t going to be doing any driving tonight. With any luck, they'd make Thunder Bay by morning.
In the truck, she set the beer at
Lucy’s feet and opened her Coke and the Fig Newtons before she pulled out. Lucy
was fast asleep, head back against the seat, mouth slack, snoring softly. Her
mop of blond curls tumbled loose around her shoulders. Amy shook her head. Her
own mousy brown straight hair only had body when she brushed it out of her
habitual braids, and even a hot iron could barely coax a curl out of it. Lucy
might be a mess, but she had a careless beauty that even years of cigs and beer
hadn’t eroded.
The familiar tingle across her
neck and shoulders alerted Amy, even as Lucy sat upright, completely alert.
“Where?” Lucy demanded tersely.
“I don’t know. Give me a second,”
Amy replied, looking around. Glancing back into the store, she saw the clerk
backed against the counter, away from the register – and the tv. “Crap,” Amy
said, spinning the wheel and revving the engine. She shook her head. Shouldn't have been so worried about those truckers. There must have been someone else in the store.
Lucy reached under her seat and
pulled out a baseball bat. She had her door open before Amy stopped. Amy was
right behind her with a tire iron and link chain from under her own seat.
Looping the chain in her left hand, she rolled her shoulders back as Lucy
pushed both doors open, bat down by her thigh.
“Hey, honey,” Lucy said in a booming
voice. “I gotta pee something fierce. Where’s your bathroom?”
The truckers were nowhere in sight. Amy
frowned. If it wasn't them... The cashier’s eyes were wide with fright. She looked over toward the
obvious Restroom sign, then glanced down toward her feet. Lucy nodded, saying
in that same loud voice. “Thanks, sug. Back in a jif.” She moved silently around
the far side of the counter, away from the restrooms. Amy pressed close to the
register, her finger against her lips.
“Please…” the cashier said in a
trembling voice.
Aw, shit. Amy swung the chain over
the counter and down in a sweeping motion, jerking back hard as it struck. Lucy
vaulted over the counter like an Olympic gymnast and swung her bat in an upward
arc. The solid crack said her aim was true.
The cashier sagged and staggered
backward. Lucy caught her in a bear hug and put her hand against the girl’s
hair, as the girl burst into heaving sobs. “It’s okay, honey. You’re okay.”
Lucy was always good at comforting. Amy was better at cleanup. She pulled out
her phone and called 911 as she walked around the counter to see who they had
attacked.
Notes:
I thought of taking the end of the
prompt literally and having them save people from *stuff* - which still
intrigues me. Maybe hoarders? Accidents with things? Warehouse 13 scenario (Daughter’s latest obsession)…
Also, I’m never very confident
writing fight/action scenes, since I know nothing about it. The chain is
probably a terrible idea, but it came to me, and I went with it. If I
continued, I’d show Amy and Lucy training together. These are seriously tough
chicks!
Dogs in House
|
Houdini, Eggs, Brindle
|
Music
|
Lake Street Dive, Bad
Self Portraits
|
Time writing
|
~45 minutes, interrupted
|
April word
count
|
9,474
|
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