The Monster Within by Jeremy Laszlo Page A

for touching his woman. I give her another kiss on the lips and grab a carton of smokes, making it look like I’m back here for a reason.
    I push through the swinging doors and I find myself instantly face to face with the barrel of a pistol. I feel my heart stop and I pray to God that whoever this is, they’re only here for the money and they don’t give a shit about me. Thanks to stingy Mr. Chen, I know that there’s only one camera that works in here, and that’s the camera looking over the register, since he assumes that all of us steal from the register, ripping him off. The gunman leans forward and presses the cold barrel to my forehead. I drop the carton of smokes and slowly lift my hands, giving him my silent surrender. I close my eyes and bite my lower lip. This is going to suck. This entire day has been shot to hell.
    “I want everything out of both of those registers,” the man says to me in a raspy, grumpy sounding voice. He has the kind of voice that warns me that he’s not here to fuck around, that he’s here on a mission and I am totally willing to help him get whatever it is he wants so he can just leave me alone. “You trip any kind of alarm, I’ll blow your goddamn brains all across this place. You understand me?”
    I nod to him and he gives the barrel a little forceful shove and I instantly move toward the first register, keying in the code that I’ve had since I first started working here. But as I’m keying in the number, there’s a wave of calm, of relief even that washes over me while I stand here, this close to death. It worries me that I might be some sort of adrenaline junkie, but it’s more than that. I feel like a piece of metal, caught in the warm, forceful embrace of a magnet. Maybe this is my destiny. Maybe this is the glory moment that I’ve been looking for all along. To be honest, that’s what it feels like. It feels like that hunger has finally been satiated. It feels like the hunt has ended, that I’ve found whatever it is that I’m looking for.
    Looking over the man, I stare at him for a moment, taking in as much as I can while he stares through a pair of aviators, gazing out the window, impatiently watching for someone to show up and foil everything that he’s working for. The register dings as the till rolls out and I start to stuff the bills into a plastic bag. I start with the ones, then the fives, taking out the few tens, and then the twenties. I hesitate when I look at the coins, wondering if he’s going to want those. I resist the urge to ask him and just lift up the till, taking the three fifties and one hundred dollar bill from their little hiding place that every register has. Closing the till, I look at the man and he nods to me.
    “Stop fucking looking at me and get the other till,” he shouts. I hope that this is enough of a warning for Courtney to keep hiding. But instead of worrying about her life or mine, all I want to do is break down in tears and hug the guy. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around him, kissing his cheek and letting him hold me. Is this what it feels like to almost die? Is this how wonderful the end can actually feel?
    I key in my number and listen as the till dings open and I once more take all the money from the till, stuffing it into the plastic bag. This guy is not making off with much that will make all of this worth it. He’s got maybe a thousand dollars, but there are twelve cameras that work outside and there’s no way that he’s hiding well enough for the police not to get his car, his license plate, and his description from just looking at the footage. He’s toast. He’s done for.
    “Is there a safe back there?” The man starts heading for the swinging door and I instantly feel terrified for Courtney.
    “There is,” I tell him, “but I don’t know the combination. The owner is the only one who knows it.”
    “Fine,” the man shakes his head, obviously frustrated.
    He reaches out and takes the bag of money