It’s 8:45 p.m. Ahh, first day on the job. I’ve done it! The people at the job center have finally gotten me a job, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.Because I'm autistic some people doubted me. They thought it would be a long time before I could handle a job like this.
Ring ring! A man walks in; he’s slim and looks exhausted.
“Busy night,” he chuckles. Ah great, a comedian, I think.
“Yeah… I guess,” I say nervously.
He walks straight up to me and says, “I’m John, how about you?”
I start to shake.
He realizes I am scared so he replies, “I’ll call you Joe.” I really like that, but at the same time it’s very strange. I want to ask him why he is here right now, but nothing comes out of my mouth. He nods his head and skulks over to the liquor department. I stay at my counter.
It’s 9:05. John is still here. Should I go check on him? See what's taking him so long back there? Ring ring! A woman and child walk in; she smiles at me then walks away. I have a poker face. She looks as if she’s in a rush, while her son has an empty expression.
“Do you guys still sell lollipops?” the woman asks. Her son starts to whimper. What do I do? If this little boy starts to cry, I’ll start to cry.Ah I’ve got it! I can give the boy the lollipop I’ve been given for working here.
Before they are about to leave, I yell over to them,
Before they are about to leave, I yell over to them,“Wait I have a special lollipop for you, little boy!” The boy smiles at me, grabs the lollipop and says “thanks.” The kid dashes over towards the candy section; the mother walks towards the kid. I stay at my counter.
A minute has passed since my conversation with the boy and his mother. It’s 9:07. Ring ring!
A boy and girl walk into the store; it looks like they’re about fourteen. They rush in straight to the junk food aisle. From where I am behind my counter, I can hear what they’re saying. They’re talking about getting away from their parents and school by taking a bus up from San Diego to Poway. Ah thats real cute. They’re coming up to the counter.To place they’re snacks.
I scan all the items up and tell them, “That’ll be $28.75.” They don’t say a single word to me; the girl takes out a credit card. What could these two be doing with a credit card? Could they have stolen it? I begin to feel suspicious. Maybe I will just have to ask them a few questions.
“So what brings you two here this late?” They do not answer. What about another question.
“Did your parents send you up here?” Silence. Oh I know a great question to ask.
I scan the card, “Alright enter the pin please.” The kids start to shake.
“I think we are just going to go now,” says the boy.
“Enter the pin,” I say again.
“Stop telling us what to do!” yells the boy.
“Enter the pin!” I demand. Everyone in the store hears us.
“We stole it! the credit card!” the girl finally admits, as she starts to cry. I pick up my phone. I call 911.
“Hello, 911 tell us your emergency,” the operator says in a calm voice.
“Yeah, I’ve got two kids who have a stolen credit card,” I say in a heroic voice.
“Ok, the police are on there way.” I hang up the phone. The kids put away the snacks and sit by the janitor’s door. I stay by my counter.
9:15. Everyone still seems flabbergasted about what just went down. Everyone always told me I couldn't be a hero because I’m autistic. Where’s John? He’s been here for almost over half an hour. I start to survey the room, and head towards the back of the store. I see a man on the ground fast asleep. I tap his shoulder, nothing happens. I shake his shoulder.
“What!” he groans to me. He opens his eyes, and says in a high voice, “Sorry”.
“What are you doing in my gas station?” I whisper loudly.
“I just lost my house and I have no place to go,” he says.
“How’d you lose your home?” I ask.
“Because I’m a big, fat drunk, man!” John starts to cry.
“Alright, well I guess you know what I’m going to have to do,” I state. John grabs me begging for mercy.
“No! I’m sorry!” he sobs. “Just let me go! I won’t do it again!”
“I’m sorry, but the police are already on their way,” I say. Then John remembers what happened with the boy and girl a couple of minutes ago.
“I see,” John says, “looks like it's the end of the line for me.” I return to my counter and stand.
I hear a car. Crashing into the small parking lot of my gas station. The door is kicked open by two men in black clothing with ski masks on. They’re robbing me! One, big and buff, and the other, is skinny and tall. The buff one walks straight up to me while the skinny one watches the door.
The buff one shouts,“Where’s the money?” I stand there not doing anything.
“Where’s the money! We don’t have time for this!” he shouts again. I still say nothing. He puts his gun up to my forehead. The robber turns off the safety on his gun.
“Don’t make me ask again.” Right before he pulls the trigger, I hear a noise. Sirens! Two police cars come up to the scene.
“Come outside with your hands up!” a police man says through his bull horn. The two kids run outside crying for the police officers. The commanding policeman knows something is up so he signals his buddy to stay and see if anything else is going on.
“Damn it!” The robber who is pointing the gun at me shouts, “Who called the cops?”
The skinny robber begins to speak.
“It must have been the store clerk. Shoot him! Give him what he deserves!” Thinking I’m about to take my last breath I barely see John come up behind him.
“Don’t shoot! I’m the one who called the cops,” John confesses. But John never called the cops. I guess this is what he wants to do. He did say his life was over.
“Fine then! Works for us.” The robber with the gun pointing at my head turns and shoots John. John risked his life for me, but at the same time he didn’t. He got his wish so he left, he’s gone. The cops hear the gunshot and do not react so kindly.
“Tear gas out!” a cop shouts.
As the cop is about to throw the tear gas a robber shouts, “We have hostages!” The commanding policeman puts away his tear gas. The deputy, however, doesn’t roll like that. He gets out of his car and starts to run towards the gas station. Quickly, the skinny robber sprays his gun at the deputy. so the deputy took cover by the wall closest to the gas station. The angry deputy kicks open the door and quickly shoots the skinny robber straight in the side of his stomach.
“Ahh!” the skinny robber cries. He falls to the ground tightly grasping the side of his stomach. While the deputy is distracted, the other robber aims and shoots him right in the head and the deputy falls down in a pool of blood and dies. Quickly, the buff robber drags the injured robber against the janitor’s door, which is 15 ft from my desk. The two robbers are talking to each other, finally there is silence. I stay hiding under my counter
10:20. An hour since John's death. I start to peer over to the two robber’s conversation. The one who is tightly grasping his wound is letting go. His arms go by his side and he dies. The big robber is crying, but what’s that laughter I hear? It’s the little boy. The robber gets up and walks towards the boy. He grabs the boy by his neck.
“Are you laughing at my best friends death?” the robber asks loudly.
“Let go of me!” The boy kicks the robber at his knee. That was a bad decision, the robber points to the boy and fires; the boy dies. The mother punches the robber, pushing him to the ground. The robber shoots her two times in the chest from the floor. She dies instantly.
I am the only one left. I have to get this over with and kill him. I crawl over to the other robber’s dead body. I grab his gun. I stand up and shoot the robber in the knee. He starts to shoot back at me. I take cover behind my counter.I stand up with all the courage left in me, I fire a bullet straight into the robbers heart, he falls. I open my eyes, I did it! I saved the day! I’m a hero!
I run outside to go tell the cops. They have their guns pointed at me. They shoot me, I’m the one who now falls.