June 2010 — Flea Market Zombies

I wasn’t sure that I shared her optimism, but I nodded. I knelt awkwardly and picked up her cane, handing it to her. It was a lot heavier than I would have expected. Looking back on it, I wondered at how she was even able to lift it, but that didn’t seem to occur to me at the time. Come to think about it, there were a lot of things that seemed to make sense at the time, but don’t seem to now.

She took the cane and released my hand.

“Until the next time,” she said.

She turned and slowly ambled toward the front door, leaning heavily on her cane. I wondered how she was going to keep from getting shot when she walked out, but I don’t think the cops even noticed her departure.

She’d no sooner left the building when one of the other gunmen, the one who’d been watching the exits, came in to check on us.

He saw me still standing over Billy’s body where I’d just helped the woman called Witch up from her chair.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He just fell over,” I said.

It sounded lame. I expected the gunman to shoot me, but he didn’t even seem to question what I’d told him.

He went over to the sleeping gunman and poked his toe into the man’s ribs.

“Get up,” he growled.

“Where’s Billy?” the sleeping gunman asked groggily.

“He’s dead,” the other said.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

Just then the phone finally rang for the first time since we’d been taken hostage. The two gunmen stared at it.

“You going to get that?” the one who’d been asleep asked.

The other didn’t respond. He just went to the phone and answered it.

“Hello?” There was a long pause. “Okay.” He hung up the phone.

“What?”

“We just surrendered,” he said. “We’re supposed go to the front door, set down our guns, and then go outside with our hands on our heads.”

The other gunman didn’t seem to question it. They both got up and walked to the front door. I moved to the door of the break room to watch. The gunmen did exactly what they were told to do. They put their guns down and walked outside.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as the gunmen were forced to the ground. A group of cops in dark fatigues swarmed in and started pointing their guns into every corner of every room and yelling “clear” back and forth to each other.

They ordered me down on the ground when they came into the break room. But they must have figured out that I was a hostage because they helped me back up and took me outside, along with all the other hostages.

The rest was a blur. No one seemed to ask me anything that mattered. I remember that they wanted me to go to the hospital to get checked out. I refused. Other than being dehydrated and missing a couple of meals, I was physically fine. My ordeal came from watching a man die at the hands of a woman called Witch.

The cops drove me home that night. I don’t know how my car got there, but when I awoke the next day, it was in my driveway.

I turned on the news. They said that Billy Williams died of a heart attack during the robbery while the other two robbers were being held without bail. That was the official story. There was no mention of an old woman.

And I never did find that damn rebate check again. Just as well, I guess.

Now, as the days slip away, so does my recollection of what really happened. I decided to write this down before it goes completely. Before long I know that I’ll forget a woman called Witch. But someday, somewhere, I know an old woman will walk up to me and ask me if I remember her.

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