Runaway

Chapter Nine: Hits the Fan

*** 

The dim light of the sun filtered throught the frosted windows, giving the shop an eerie quality. The pestering rays forced me to open my eyes and get up, stiff from my sleep against the wall. I stretched out, my spine cracking, releasing some tension. I glanced at my watch, it was eight o' clock, a half hour before Helen would arrive to open the store.

Rubbing my eyes, I lazily staggered into the store room, searching for the coffee maker. I put on a pot, making enough for me and for Helen, if she wanted some when she got here. I always saw her drink far more than two cups in a day so I figured it would be a safe bet if I made a full pot.

While waiting for the coffee to be made I tidied up my stuff, gathering it in and around my pack. It took a few minutes before I realized that the radio was still on, playing very softly. I turned it up and changed the channels, putting it on the morning news. Stories crackled to life as over enthusiastic news casters talked about traffic and weather. 

Hearing the loud click the coffee maker made when it was ready, I nearly sprinted into the back room, eager to get my hands on a hot cup of java. I poured the magical potion that is coffee into a plain white ceramic mug and let the warmth emanating from the liquid warm my chilly hands.

Pressing the edge of the cup to my lips I let the warmth travel down my throat and into my gut, warming me all the way down. I laughed to myself, wondering if I could survive without my daily dose. 

A sudden sound made my ears prick up. It sounded like someone turning a key in a lock. Was Helen here already? I had planned to leave for a bit before she got here, so it would seem like I had come from somewhere else. There wasn't much I could do then, I would just have to greet her and make something up.

I dashed into the main room, catching Helen as she was coming in the door, her purse in one hand and the keys in the other. My sudden appearance caused Helen to shriek and drop her bag. Her hand went over her chest and the look of horror fled her face when she realized it was me. 

"Don't EVER do that again!" she stormed, her breath still heavy from the shock.

"Sorry . . . I didn't mean to scare you," I said apologetically.

"I thought it was weird that I smelled coffee when I stepped in here, now I know why," she said, gesturing to my mug. 

"I made some enough for both of us, if you want some," 

"Do you even have to ask?"

I smiled and ran back into the store room, pouring a cup of coffee for Helen. I returned to Helen, finding her listening intently to one of the news stories on the radio.

"~The search continues for a missing Alberta boy as police head into the fourth day since he was seen at his boarding school. The authorities have finally decided to release his name, hoping citizens will be able to aid in the search. If you have any information pertaining to a young man by the name of Darren Wester, then it is of paramount importance you contact your local police department. I repeat, the name is Darren ---" Helen slammed her hand down on the power button, ceasing the voice of the male newscaster.

Her eyes turned to me, filled partly with anger and partly with confusion. She held out her hands, as if silently asking "why?" All I could do was stare back, in complete shock. She stared , clearly not knowing what to do. It seemed she had made up her mind when her hand slid into her purse, coming back out with a phone in hand.

I shook my head trying to say "no" but finding words would not come. Her fingers began to press keys, starting a call. Dropped my coffee, leaving it to rest on the counter and bolted to my stuff, sliding into my coat and getting the straps of my bag over my shoulders. So much for a job, now I had to run without getting paid.