Episode 3 “Shots Fired”

     Naive Niesha what have you gotten yourself into this time? Her weary heart is straining against the date rape drug just to beat fast. It makes her grab at the space between her tear shaped breast trying to relieve the pain by rubbing her chest plate while she tries to control her breathing. She rest her other hand on the edge of the sink while she looks at how much of a mess she is in the bathroom’s mirror. “I don’t belong here” she says to her tattered reflection as it speaks back at the same pace in the same style. “Everything about this place is cheap” she says again to her only friend before scanning the tiny space looking to be proven wrong. She looks over the cheap faucets and cheap sink, the cheap paper towels and the cheap flickering light above her head. Mostly she listens more than looks. She listens to the running water from the sink made by whoever is in the men’s bathroom. She listens to the distant mumbled conversation making its way easily thorough the cheap bathroom door. Although the male voice she hears isn’t crystal clear, she can tell that its Trevor’s by the bass tone and the island flavor. His voice is getting louder. Not closer, but definitely louder. It sounds as if the woman who helped her is arguing with Trevor. She looks at herself in the mirror again before she examines the dexterity of the door. It’s not the cheapest door ever made by man, but its close. What really gets her attention is the single little brass lock on the bathroom door. The only real barrier between her and Mr attempted rapist is a dead bolt lock no thicker than a plastic straw. “Shit” she says under her breath while beyond the door, Trevor’s loud talk turns into loud yelling. Splashing water on her face to try and snap out of her chemical spell, decides to make a move. “What can he really do to me while people are in here?” she tries to rationalize while unlocking the brass lock. The loudness of a shouting match gets even louder as she slowly opens the door. She turns pale and loses strenght in her arms and legs as she now looks down the barrel of a police officers standard issue Glock 9mm. The barrel is just inches from the tip of her nose. She keeps waiting for the flash of light before the silence but it never comes. Yet she can still hear Trevor’s voice so she knows she isn’t dead. The edgy policeman finally lowers his gun while placing his opposite hand next to his face putting his pointer finger over his mouth. She recognizes the “be quiet” signal and just nods while she trembles uncontrollably. He leads her down the rust colored, oily tiled floor of the hallway with his gun drawn with his right hand while reaching across his body with his left to whisper for back up through a CB radio on his opposite shoulder. The officer is a prime grade “A” specimen of Georgia’s finest corn fed big as hell, country boy. Bigger than a young Hulk Hogan and whiter than John Wayne himself. She can barely see what’s going on beyond the hallway with his giant shoulders in the way. She hates cops, but she’s glad he’s here. Her joy ends when the hallway finally runs out and they both see the madness of what’s going on. The officer yells so loudly it drives the invisible axe she had in her skull the rest of the way through.
     Niesha couldn’t believe what she saw. There, toe to toe was a good old fashioned Mexican stand off. The policeman had his gun pointed at Trevor. Trevor had his gun pointed at the nice lady that helped me behind the counter and she had a sawed off shot gun pointed to Trevor’s belly. WTF??? Nobody seems to move until everyone flinches when the cop yells even louder.
     Trevor smiles and the lady behind the counter starts shaking. You can tell because you can see the tip of her shot gun moving fast. Just then the officer’s CB “chirps” as dispatch starts talking through his mouthpiece on his shoulder. “Officer Martin, this is dispatch, please confirm” Nobody moves, everyone is as still as a tree on a breeze less day. That is with the exception of the shotgun’s tip that is shaking with the rhythm of the owner’s nervousness. “Officer Martin, this is dispatch, please confirm” The officer slowly puts his left hand across his body to his left shoulder squeezes a button and then speaks. “Dispatch, I have a hostile enviorment with two armed civilians and a known fugitive” “I’m located at… Niesha doesn’t hear the rest of the words because all she heard was “Fugitive” meaning the cop recognized her. (Damn) Fuck this, I can’t go back to prison” Niesha says to herself before making a dash for the door. The officer takes his gun off of Trevor for a second trying to reach for Niesha, and that’s exactly the window Trevor needed apparently. He took his pistol off of the Waffle House clerk and started blasting wholes in the policeman’s legs. The cop returned fire as he was falling quickly behind his own blood to the floor beneath his flat feet. Trevor’s yell sounds like he’s gargling after a bullet passes through his windpipe. He drops his gun so he can clutch his own neck. Confused he reaches for the gun that fell. That’s when the real hell broke loose. BOOM! BOOM! Grandma started blasting that damn shot gun but she wasn’t hitting anything but the windows. Niesha found herself in the same spot on the same floor, with broken glass and blood everywhere. The smell of gun powder is very distinctive, just like the smell of crack cocaine is. Only hood ratz like Niesha know the smell of both. Just as it started sudden it ended the same way.
Everything is quiet.
     All Niesha can hear is the hum of the refrigerator with all of those tiny orange juices in it. Niesha hops to her feet. The excitement must have helped push the last of that poison out of her system. But it looks as if everyone is dead. “Ill” she says out loud as she hears the sirens in the distance. Instinctively she looks at the door, but she looks down at Trevor’s lifeless body first. The giant whole in his neck with the pink and red meat hanging out of it almost makes her blow chunks. As she bends over with a few dry heaves she notices a set of keys with a Mercedes symbol on the end sticking out of his pants pocket…