Impala Cruise 1

http://www.netsaga.is/media/files/01%20Track%2001.mp3



The young clerk smiled at Obadiah as he entered the convenience store. He already felt guilty about what he was about to do. Her smile had just made it that much more difficult. He went straight to the back and began eying the wall of refrigerated beer. His whole body vibrated with anticipation, even as his blood sugar level plummeted.

How had he sunk this low? Had he lost all sense of morality? Obadiah brushed his guilt aside. The only way to do pull it off was to do it without thinking. He wanted to be back on the road in two minutes, with a cold beer in hand, an open bag of Fritos on the seat beside him, and wads of cash stuffed in his coat pockets. Unfortunately, he no longer owned a car.

Just do it. He opened the glass door and grabbed a six-pack of Budweiser.

Then he heard somebody walk into the store. He froze. The police, he thought. Somehow the clerk had suspected him and called for help. Why had he been so foolish? It was after 11:00 p.m., and this was a small town, so he thought it would be easy.

Then he heard a man’s voice.

“Give me a pack of Marlboro Reds.”

Obadiah relaxed. It was just a customer. And the man would never even know Obadiah was there. Since there were no cars parked out front, he would assume he was the only customer.

“Now give me all your money, Bitch!”

“Please…please don’t shoot me—I have a two-year old.”

“Hurry up! Just dump the whole drawer in the bag.”

“Okay, okay. But there’s not much in here. Most of the money is in the safe.”

“Then crack it open!”

Obadiah wished he was anywhere but here. The guy sounded crazy. Would he kill the girl?

“But…I don’t know the combination.”

Obadiah bent over and tiptoed to the middle aisle to take a look. He could either continue to hide and be safe, or try to help the girl and possibly die. No! I just can’t deal with this right now, he thought. His head throbbed. His hands began to shake.

“Yes, you do,” shouted the man with the gun. “And you’re gonna open it right now or I’m gonna blow your head off!”

The girl began to sob. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Obadiah stayed low as he hurried up the aisle. Just as he was about to grab the man’s arm from behind and try to wrestle the gun away from him, the girl spotted him.

Her eyes tipped off the robber. He spun around.

Obadiah grabbed the man’s right arm with both of his hands, and the pistol went off. The bullet blew past Obadiah’s ear, and tore into the ceiling.

The girl hit the floor and pushed the silent alarm button.

The man struggled to break free. But Obadiah knew if he let go he was dead.

The man jabbed Obadiah in the face with his left fist.

Obadiah grabbed the man’s left forearm, leaving only one hand to control the gun. He felt weak. He hadn’t eaten all day. Adrenaline was no longer enough. He was losing the battle. Soon a red-hot chunk of metal would be lodged in his brain. Maybe it was for the best. He deserved to die. But what about the girl? The robber would have to kill her too. He fought back with renewed strength. But he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

The robber gasped and looked down.

Obadiah looked too, and saw what appeared to be the tip of a steel-toed work boot—jammed deep into the man’s crotch from behind.

Obadiah quickly took advantage of the man’s weakness, snatching the gun away.

The man bent over in agony, holding himself with both hands, assessing the damage.

The same work boot that had flattened his manhood kicked him in the back. He fell to the floor.

His assailant was a woman—5-foot-6, with short brown hair, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and…steel-toed boots. She was cute—in a kiss me…and I’ll break your arm kind of way. Right now, Obadiah wouldn’t care if she broke his arm. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She took out her cell phone. “Now keep the gun on him while I call the police.”

The clerk peeped up from behind the counter. “I’ve already called them.”

The police arrived moments later, took statements, and hauled the robber away.

The young clerk repeatedly thanked Obadiah and the boot woman. The police had taken her name, but Obadiah didn’t catch it. He had been too busy answering the questions of another officer.

The boot woman walked out and got into her big blue, 1970-something car.

Obadiah began walking along the road, wondering how long he would survive without food. He tried not the think about the beer and Fritos.

The big blue car passed him and pulled over.

When he reached the car and looked in through the open passenger window, she said, “Get in.”

Oh, Lady, he thought, you think I’m a nice guy because I tried to stop the robbery and save that clerk. I’m not nice. You need to stay away from me.

But there was an irresistible sparkle in her eyes.

He ope

ned the door and got in.