"Touchdown!" the television announcer shouted and Nick felt his heart drop like a stone into his stomach. As the crowd on the screen cheered, Nick was crossed the room, wadded up the sheet of paper in his hands and threw it in the wastepaper basket by his little desk. The paper ball hit the side of the little trash can and slowly rolled its way back to his feet, his crossed out picks stared up at him, taunting him. Disgust and fear ran through him as he looked at them. He was disgusted at all of the football teams he'd picked that week for losing what the experts had said were sure wins. He was also disgusted at himself for gambling again after two months of going without it. Everything he'd worked hard for and saved, all gone in one day. His loss of money and continued enslavement to his addiction weren't his worst fears, however. That was reserved for Mickey down at the corner bar.
Mickey Two Legs was a small time bookie who ran all of the gambling in their part of town from his booth at the Irish Eyes bar. He had reputation of being a fair man when it came to paying out winnings and collecting them. He was always more than willing to give people the amount of time they say to gather the money, within reason. If the agreed upon time frame passed and Mickey didn't get his money, one or two of Mickey's guys would be sent out with a reminder. He didn't believe in sending small, subtle messages, either. There was a reason he was called Mickey Two Legs, after all.
Last weekend, Nick had placed a bet with Mickey, his first in months, and ended up just barely on the losing end. Because what he owed was small, only two hundred dollars, he was allowed to carry it over to the following week. With all of the talk on how easy of a week it was going to be for the dominant teams in the league, Nick felt he had a very good chance to pay back what he owed with a little extra on top for himself. He swore that, if he pulled this off, he'd quit gambling for good and pick another, less dangerous habit.
Nick bent down and picked up the wad of paper and squeezed it tight in his hand. He'd listened to all of the experts and picked all of the teams they said should win. Now, just because those men had a very off week, he was in deep for over five thousand dollars with a deadline was midnight that night. If Mickey didn't get his money by then, he would probably be in a wheelchair by morning. His knees began to throb in anticipation of the coming night, but instead of trying to soothe them by rubbing them, he opened his hand and focused all of his anger on the tiny ball of paper. He rolled it around in his hand for a couple of seconds before closing his fingers over it again and, with as much intensity as he could muster, threw the paper ball as hard as he could.
As the paper ball left his hand, he expected paper ball to bounce harmlessly against the front apartment door. He didn't expect the door to open or his roommate to duck, thus allowing the mocking reminder to fly into the hallway. "Whoa, bad day at the races again?" his roommate, Freddie, asked with a smile. He already knew the answer, but liked to ask because he knew how much talking about money matters bugged Nick. He grabbed the handle and asked, "Do you have anything else you want to toss out there before I close the door?"
Nick glared at Freddie for a single heartbeat before saying, "Yeah. You." Freddie's grin grew and he closed the door while Nick walked over to his recliner and settled into it. He really hated his roommate and that stupid, stoner grin of his. He always seemed to pull it out at the most inopportune moments, like when he owed a bookie a large sum of money. One would think he did that as a way of mocking Nick, but that might have been giving the little pothead a little too much credit. Still, when it came to roommates, even he had to admit that Freddie was a good one. His recreational habit helped to make sure the cupboards and refrigerator were always stocked up and his part of the rent was also always on time. Nick didn't think he ever wanted to know where the money came from when he never stayed with a job for very long, but now, with the predicament he found himself in, he didn't have another choice.
Nick opened his mouth, but the question never passed his lips. This was because Freddie said the strangest thing he'd ever heard, "I found out something funny today at work. The department store I work for doesn't use a security system." When Freddie re-entered the living room he was carrying a sandwich and an amused look on his face. Nick wondered if Freddie was being serious or just mocking him. If it was the latter, he didn't find it funny and wanted to tell him that. A little voice in his head told him to hear his roommate out on the off chance he was serious. Freddie, however, saw the disbelief in Nick's face and said, "I'm not kidding. The owner of the store I work for doesn't believe in modern alarm systems and never had one installed." He added with a chuckle, "It's the funniest thing."
Nick didn't see how it was funny. If what Freddie said was true, then he could get the money he owed Mickey and not end up in a wheelchair after all. Still, he wanted to see if his roommate was being straight with him and he said, "Who in their right mind would have a store the quality and expense of Hovdy's and not have some kind of protection for it? A place like that would get ripped off in a heartbeat if that was true. Someone must have been pulling your leg, bro."
Freddie smiled as he pulled out his stash and papers and began rolling what he called his "work release program". "I didn't say he didn't have something protecting his store, I just said there was no security system." Seeing the puzzled look on Nick's face, he added, "No dogs either. At least that's what Karen told me." Karen was one of Freddie's co-workers and not someone known for her intelligence or sense of humor.
"Karen? That's your source? Man, she's just a dim bulb who'd tell you anything for attention. You know she's been crushing on you since you started working there. Who's to say that she isn't just telling you all of this to get closer to you?" Freddie stuck the little cigarette in his mouth and gave Nick a look that said "back off". Nick, in turn, put his hands up and said, "Fine, fine. Okay, so maybe if she is telling the truth and Hovdy's doesn't use a security system or dogs to protect the stuff. Did she say what they were using? Security guards? Electric fence? Gestapo?" He chuckled a little at the last thing, but Freddie just stared at him with the unlit joint hanging out of his mouth and he knew he'd taken a step too far. The smile faded from Nick's face and he said, "Sorry."
"That dim bulb, as you call her, is a sweet girl with a good heart. Don't be dissing her in front of me." The straight, serious look on Freddie's face as he said that made Nick wonder if there was something between him and Karen after all. Freddie lit his joint and sucked in a deep breath and held it in for a couple of seconds before exhaling a big cloud of smoke before continuing. "Besides, she was telling the truth about the security system. She showed me where the system used to be before the place was bought up a year ago and there is only a silhouette of the box on the wall. I also made sure I was one of the last people out of there and I didn't see even a security guard. The place, as near as I can tell, is completely unprotected."
Freddie took another drag of the cigarette as Nick let the information sink in. He felt a plan forming in his head, but first he had to be sure there was absolutely nothing to get in the way. "That makes absolutely no sense at all. How can someone have that expensive of clothing and stuff without having some way to protect it. Are you sure they aren't using something that you might have overlooked? Maybe Karen or one of the other workers mentioned something sometime?"
Letting out another cloud of smoke, Freddie nodded his head and giggled a little. "Karen did tell me about one thing, but it's so far out there that I don't even believe it." He looked at an expectant Nick with eyes already becoming bloodshot and said, "According to her, the owner invited a witch, warlock\, voodoo witch doctor, or something like that to the store right after he bought it. They, whichever they are, worked about casting a spell on the place to protect it. So far, I guess it's worked, because there haven't been any successful break ins. Supposedly, anyone who breaks in either disappears or has a real crazy story to tell after they turned themselves in." Freddie then took a bite of his sandwich and turned the television on to the news, and didn't say anything more.
Nick thought about what Freddie said and then thought about the money he owed Mickey. As the weatherman was going on about how warm and beautiful of a night it was going to be, Nick decided that any fairy tale curse on the store was worth chancing if it meant he kept the use of his legs for a little while longer. He climbed out of the chair and walked over to stand by where Freddie was sitting, eating and smoking. Freddie was so caught up in what he was doing that he didn't notice Nick had moved until he said, "Freddie, I'm in quite a bit of trouble."
***
"You know, if I wasn't so baked right now, I'd be telling you to take care of your own problem and not get involved," Freddie said with a grin. He fumbled into his pocket for his keys while Nick stood nervously hopping from one foot to another. He hadn't wanted to ask for Freddie's help, but, at the same time, he didn't think he was able to pull it off without it. That's why he waited until his roommate was feeling really high before asking for the keys. Now that they were at the store's back door and Freddie was inserting the key, he wanted to back off and find some other way to come up with the money, but knew he had no other options.
Before they left, Nick called to tell Mickey that he'd be a little late in coming up with the money, Mickey reminded him of their agreement and added, "If that money is not on my table by midnight, then I will have my boys break both of your legs and your arms." It was when Nick offered to pay him interest that Mickey relented, but not without adding a stipulation, "Fine, but if you're late or decide to skip town, I will have my boys take what you owe me out of your body, literally." As an added exclamation point, he finished the phone call by saying, "You know, hospitals and colleges are always in need of new bodies. Don't make me have to offer yours." Nick swallowed hard as the phone clicked in his ear.
"I'm sorry," was all Nick could say. Freddie put on a serious face and stared at his roommate, but it didn't take long before the giggles took hold of him and he was opening the door. Nick walked into the building and was met with an immediate feeling like something was watching them. Unconvinced that Freddie wasn't the victim of a joke, job sabotage, or Karen's desperate attempt at getting his attention, Nick pulled out a ski mask and pulled it over his head. He hoped that if there were cameras in the store, they hadn't gotten a good shot of his face. The material the mask was made from itched against his skin and he rubbed it against his skin, but it didn't help.
When he turned to ask Freddie where he suggested they start at, he was met with a quizzical look and a big grin. "Is that a mask, dude?" Nick nodded his head, which brought a fresh peal of laughter from Freddie. When he got himself back under control, Freddie said, "Dude, I told you there are no security systems here. I checked the area myself. Now, take that ridiculous thing off. You look like some white guy pretending to be a ninja, and not doing even a passable job of it." Without waiting for him to do it, Freddie reached across and yanked the mask off of Nick's head. Nick in turn shot his hands up to cover his face and Freddie said, "Fine, if I show you that you have nothing to worry about, will you relax so we can get down to business. It's your rear in the sling, after all."
"Yes, please," Nick said and Freddie led him to the back of the store where any security systems would be stored. Just as Freddie had told him, there was a silhouette on the wall where the security system had been, but no system otherwise. Nick felt some relief wash over him, but when they walked back onto the sales floor, the feeling of being watched came back and he asked Freddie, "Do you feel something different about this place than you usually do?" Freddie answered him with another fit of the giggles and a shake of his head before pulling out and lighting a tightly rolled joint.
As the aromatic smoke billowed out of Freddie's mouth, he walked up to a nearby mannequin and said, "This guy is always staring at me when I work this section." With a quick roundhouse punch, the mannequin's head flew off its body and landed on the ground with a light thud. With another laugh, Freddie ran up to the head and kicked it high into the air and deep into the men's clothing department. He looked at Nick with a big grin and took a deep drag from the little cigarette before following the head. Nick for once didn't want to know what was mixed in that batch of marijuana or what his plans were for the head. Instead, he headed for the electronics section of the store where the more expensive items were.
On his way to the electronics, Nick passed the hardware section of the store and spotted a few tools he wanted to grab, both for him and to pawn off. The one item that really caught his attention was a riding lawnmower setup right in the middle of the sales floor. What made it stick out was partly the cool tiger striping it had on its engine cover and fenders. The other thing that caught his attention about was the way the other tools and gadgets seemed to all stay about three feet away on all sides. It was almost like they were afraid to get too close to the mower. Even he felt a little fear as he passed it, almost like it was watching him hungrily with its headlight eyes. Nick picked up his pace to get out of the section, but stopped where the department changed to electronics and looked back over his shoulder at the lawn mower.
When he first entered the department, he was sure that the front wheels were pointed straight ahead. As he walked by, he thought he'd seen the wheels turn to follow him. When he looked at the wheels, however, they were pointed away from him. He made a mental note to try and stay away from that lawnmower. There was something wrong and dangerous about the machine, something that made him feel like it wanted to come after him and gobble him up like an overgrown lawn.
"No!" Nick said and closed his eyes. "That is just a machine, an inanimate object. It can't move on its own and it's not going to come after me. I'm just stressed and paranoid because I'm robbing a store to keep from being killed because I was stupid and placed some bets!" When he opened his eyes and looked at the lawnmower again, the front wheels were pointing straight ahead. Right then, Nick wanted to get far away from the hardware and fast. He began walking as fast as he could towards the electronics department. A part of him was still afraid that the mower would take him down like a tiger would a deer and didn't want to provoke it by running away. Once the uncomfortable machine was out of sight, Nick breathed a sigh of relief and figured he'd go a different way to get back on the other side of the store when he was done.
All thoughts of the lawnmower vanished when he stared at the television sets hanging from the wall and sitting on store shelves. One in particular, a one hundred and three inch plasma flat screen television, caught his attention and made him forget all the others. It loomed over him and he wondered if it might actually fit into their living room. Nick reached out and pushed the power button and felt his jaw drop as a large football was shown flying through the air in the wobbly way kicked footballs did. Then he remembered that there was one more game being played that day between the Dallas Cowboys and the Pittsburgh Steelers. He had money riding on this game, much like the ones earlier in the day, but even if his team won, it wasn't enough to pay off the debt he owed. He smiled as the score flashed on the screen showing the Cowboys were leading twenty eight to three.
When one of the teams called a timeout, the game cut away to a commercial break and Nick took the time to find a way to listen to the game while he "shopped". Figuring the store had to have some kind of a PA system, he strolled over to the cash register desk and found an old fashioned microphone stand like they used to use in schools. It consisted of a mouthpiece on top which attached to an almost impossibly thin neck and ended with the base. The base itself was at least twice the size of the head and contained a single transmit button. While Nick wondered why anyone would keep such an antiquated piece of equipment, he noticed a glaring difference to the models he'd seen in those early 80's movies. Where the movies showed a wire or cord of some kind leading to the actual system, this little microphone was completely wireless. After both parts of the system were turned on, Nick tested them and winced when his voice boomed from the speaker and echoed through the store. He adjusted the volume down to a manageable level and taped the transmit button down before placing it in front of the gigantic television.
When the game went to another break during the two minute warning in the first half, Nick heard a low rumbling sound coming from the outside and he felt his blood literally turn to ice in his veins. When he heard a second, much louder rumbling, he dropped the game system he was holding and dashed to the nearest set of doors leading to the outside. Fear and panic grabbed him by the throat as he saw the night sky light up in clear arcs of lightening. The loud boom that followed made him stumble back and he landed hard on his behind while a voice came from the speakers above him saying, "And that signals the end of the first half."
This was going to change everything as far as their getaway. He heard the weatherman say that the night was supposed to be calm and clear. He knew that storms had a habit of popping up unexpectedly, even in early autumn, but this one seemed abnormal. Usually, the only time you saw a storm this active was in the middle of the summer when the temperatures reached around ninety to one hundred degrees. The high for the day hadn't even come close to that. He didn't know what was fueling it, but he didn't believe any kind of magic or curse was the cause.
The change in weather did throw a big monkey wrench into his plan, however. If the storm was as large as the clouds suggested, then there was a possibility it might last until someone came to open the store. Nick didn't want to still be there if anyone showed up, but the thought of going outside with the lightening petrified him. It was his one biggest fear since childhood and not something he'd ever been able to work through. Bad dreams were powerful things, but now he may not have a choice, especially if he hoped to pay Mickey in time.
Grabbing a couple of shopping carts, Nick began grabbing boxes off of shelves, not even paying attention to what they were, and stuffed them into the carts. Overhead, he heard the halftime report show coming to an end. "Maybe listening to the game will let me relax a little," he thought to himself. He didn't mention who he wanted to win out of fear of jinxing the game or his chances of actually winning a bet.
It was shortly after the game's second half started that strange things beginning happening. Nick would walk past store mannequins on his way to another part of the store looking for more things to sell and he swore he saw the heads swivel to follow him. When he stopped to look, the heads would be right back where they'd started from. He knew he wasn't insane, but chalked everything up to nerves. He was already stressed about robbing the store just to pay off a gambling debt he shouldn't have had in the first place. Now he had to worry about how they were going to leave the store with a powerful thunderstorm outside. Just thinking about having to go outside in it was enough to drive him to almost hysterics. It wasn't until he felt tears streaming from his eyes that he decided to go looking for Freddie and get his help. "That little stoner is probably passed out already from all that weed," Nick thought with a nervous laugh.
"The running back is looking for some kind of an escape or hole to break through, but he keeps finding his routes covered," the football announcers said through the overhead speakers. This was followed by a blood curdling scream and the announcers saying, "Ooooh!" Nick recognized the voice as Freddie's and he strained his ears to figure out where it had come from. "Now that was a hard hit," one of the announcers said and was answered with, "I think he took the guy's head off with that one." When one of the dressing room doors slammed, Nick headed in that direction.
The first think he saw when he reached the dressing room was a blood stained handprint on one of the stall doors, and he came very close to turning around and walking to the nearest set of doors out of the building. The loud boom of thunder that echoed through the store reminded him that no matter what happened in the store, he was still safe from the lightening outside. He slowly crept closer to the dressing rooms and prepared himself for what he might find behind the marked door.
He heard the crash of the front line of players colliding with each other as the ball was snapped. Once he grasped the handle and pulled, the announcers shouted, "Fumble! The Dallas Cowboys have fumbled the ball and it is bouncing all over the ground." Right when they shouted that, the door swung open the rest of the way and something small and heavy bounced out. Once the object stopped moving, Nick recognized what it was right away and felt like throwing up. Staring up at him with terror filled eyes was Freddie's bodiless head, his mouth forever frozen in a scream. Nick stumbled backwards out of the fitting room area and looked all around him. Someone was in the store with him and whoever it was was a complete psychopath. "Show yourself!" he called out, half expecting to get a response. He moved towards the clothes racks and started pushing them over in the hopes of finding someone. He let out a growl each time a rack fell over, but found no one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pistol he brought in case of any problems and started for the front door.
Nick made it as far as the children's clothing section when he tripped and landed on the shiny floor hard enough to knock the wind out of him. As he struggled to regain his breath, the gun skittered to a stop against the glass door without going off. Once the first lungful of air was drawn in, Nick scrambled to the door, only to feel a hand close around his left ankle. He looked down and expected to find Freddie's murderer grinning back at him, but was more frightened by what he saw instead. The hand that enclosed his ankle didn't belong to a man, but a child sized mannequin laying on its belly. Acting on instinct alone at that point, he started kicking at the hand with his free foot, but didn't have any luck at first. When he heard the buzz of a lawnmower start up, he kicked harder and finally broke the hand free. He scrambled to the door and grabbed the gun just as the riding lawnmower turned a corner and started towards him without anyone driving it. Fear turned to terror when he threw himself against the glass door and he simply bounced back. He made two more attempts to break the glass with his shoulder before he aimed the gun.
A shuffling sound came from behind Nick just before he pulled the trigger and he looked over his shoulder. A line of mannequins stood walked towards him with very stiff steps and he turned his aim at them. Before he knew it, three of the mannequins had holes in them and he was out of bullets. He threw the empty weapon at one of the dummies and started to walk backwards. His back touched the glass just as the member of the line fell over with the gun on its chest. He slid down to the glass until his butt was on the ground and waited for his fate. His hopes for a painless death ended when the plastic men stepped off to the side and let the lawnmower through. The final thing he heard as the machine rushed to him was the television announcer say, 'He really got smeared on that play!"
The store began absorbing the blood splatter on the clothes, floor, and windows almost immediately. By the time the Karen showed up the next morning, all evidence of Nick and Freddie being in the store had disappeared. No one knew there had ever been a break in, nor would they ever. The spell on the store was good at not only protecting the merchandise, but also at consuming the bloody sacrifices it needed to continue working. She opened her little black book and crossed off Nick's and Freddie's names. She hoped to have more written in there by the time it was her turn to take over the business.