Amidst a Robbery

Amidst a Robbery


I couldn't see any way out of this mess. A darkness so thick that my eyes strained to see enveloped us, we were bound back-to-back on chairs. I could feel Amanda's clammy hands trembling against mine, and her shoulders shook in fear.
"Calm down, Amanda. We'll figure something out, " I said, hoping I sounded more confident that I felt. "First, we need to know where we are." I began to struggle again and—

Hold on, let me start from the beginning.

It was a relatively normal day in Riverside, California, but inferno hot. Amanda and I were walking along Rose Avenue, home to the busiest and most expensive shops in Riverside. The street was covered with stores on both sides, built neatly in rows. Forest green trees and blooming colorful flowers lined the sidewalks, and crowds of people mingled in front of store windows, window-shopping. Car drivers honked their horns and yelled at pedestrians in front of them. Amanda and I made our way down the street, through mobs of people, until we reached our favorite jewelry store. The shades were drawn, and the door was closed, but Amanda rapped firmly on the door three times.
"Amanda!" I said, and grabbed her by her knuckles, preventing the fourth knock. "Can't you see they're closed? Let's go somewhere else." I turned to walk away and expected to hear footsteps following me, but Amanda stayed where she was. "No way, Jennifer," she said, arms crossed. "Mom's birthday is Monday, and I still haven't gotten her a gift yet. I only have enough money to buy a bracelet, and that's with the discounts Eddie gives us."
Eddie was an old friend of our dad and despite his grouchy moods, we were his most frequent customers.
I rubbed my forehead. She always did things like this; waiting until the last minute was her style. But I knew that once Amanda's mind was made up, there was no stopping her. And if I didn't go with her and something happened, Mom would kill me.
"Fine," I sighed reluctantly. "Let's get this over with."
Amanda smiled triumphantly and knocked again. Hearing no response, she tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, she pushed it gently, and it opened with an eerie creak.
The entire shop was dark, and I felt around for the light switch. Flicking it on, Amanda and I gasped as we surveyed the wreckage that was once the shop. Glass that once protected the jewels now littered the floor, and the window shutters on the side dangled crazily by one hinge. Every piece of jewelry was gone. Whoever had ransacked this place hadn't missed a thing.
Suddenly, a crash sounded from the storage room from the back room and the head of a large, burly man popped out. "Hey Doug! I found a couple more necklaces that you might..." His voice trailed off and his pleased expression morphed into a snarl instantly. "What are you girls doing here?"
Our eyes widened, and we turned towards the door. "Run, Jennifer!" Amanda and I scrambled for the door, when a huge rhino of a man cut us off. Doug, I assumed, leered down at us with a crooked smile and a long scar down his face. He was huge, his frame blocking the entire doorway. "Going somewhere?"
We took slow, cautious steps backwards and looked fearfully around us. I prayed to whatever godly spirit might be listening and wished that Amanda had never opened the door.
"Grab 'em, Scott!"
Scott, who had surprised us, snatched one of us in each arm, and we opened our mouths to scream. Quickly, Doug clapped wet rags smelling faintly of alcohol over our mouths. I struggled to not to inhale the chemical, but my vision began to go fuzzy. Chloroform, I thought. Through my hazy line of sight, I saw Amanda collapse on the floor, unconscious.
"No, Amanda, wake up," I tried to say, but the chloroform had numbed my mind and my words came out as an incoherent jumble. I felt my limbs give out from underneath me and I fell to the floor with a thud.
Then everything went black.

When I next came to, my head pounded with a ferocity that I couldn't believe possible. I tried to stand up and speak, only to find my arms and legs bound tightly behind my back and a rag tied around my mouth. Everything was dark, and I wasn't sure where I was. I tried to recount what I knew. As far as I could tell, I was bound and gagged by a couple of robbers who had taken me and my sister by surprise at the—
Amanda! Where was she? What had the robbers done to her?
I shook my head frantically in effort to dislodge the cloth bound around my face. The rough material fell away, and I blew some hair out of my face.
"Amanda?" I called quietly, to ensure the robbers didn't know we were awake. "Sis? You there?"
Someone groaned from behind and if I could've collapsed with relief I would have.
"Uhmh mhmnu hbm," was all that she said before realizing the cloth restricting her ability of speech. She shook her head until the gag came off and said, "Jennifer? Is that you?" She sounded scared, and her voice trembled with effort not to burst into tears. Amanda was a strong, tough girl that would rather pick a fight than back down, but sometimes I forgot that she was also just an ordinary 11-year old girl.
"Yes, it's me," I tried to soothe her fears with an air of assurance that I certainly did not feel. "It's going to be okay. We'll find a way out of this mess."
I pulled at my wrists, hoping that the knots may have loosened with time, but to no avail. The nylon rope that restrained us cut deep into my wrists, bruising them. I gave it one last tug, and gave up, still feeling the sting of the rough fibers in my sensitive skin.
"Okay," I said. "So we can't get out of this with brute force. We need to find something to cut the rope."
Amanda, still stunned by our situation at hand, spoke up. "A light switch," she said, her tone impassive. "We need to find some light."
And as if on cue, a voice from the darkness spoke. "Ah, so you're awake at last," it said. It was rough, but had a slight quiver that betrayed the voice of an elderly person. The voice was so familiar and I couldn't place it, but it was on the tip of my tongue...
Amanda beat me to it. "Eddie?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
Eddie chuckled, a thin weak laugh that turned into a hacking coughing fit. "I might ask you the same thing, girlies," he said. "This is no place for two young girls to be."
"This is hardly a place for one old man to be," I retorted. "But at least you're alright."
I heard the strike of a match, and a little flame flared in the darkness. We all squinted, our eyes more accustomed to the dark. Slowly, our eyes adjusted, and I took in the surroundings. Eddie's ankles were chained to a plank of wood nailed into the wall by iron cuffs, but his hands were free. He lit a half melted candle nearby and shook out the little matchstick. We were in a large room, wooden planks lining everything, from the ceiling to the floor. Crates were stacked into high piles all around us. A few lay cracked open at Eddie's feet with their contents spread out. The walls seemed hard, tough, and unmovable. The room we were in wasn't too big, about the size of an ordinary kitchen. We were on one side, and Eddie was on the other.
"Come over here so I can untie you," Eddie gestured for us to go to him. "Just scoot your chairs slowly over here."
We tried to move, shifting our weight towards Eddie's voice. The adjoined chairs scooted a few inches closer towards him, and we made little progress. Each time we pushed ourselves with our feet, the chair hopped a little closer towards our destination. The work was tiring, and the rope scraped at our ankles and wrists with every hop.
Reaching Eddie took longer than it should have, but I suspect that both Amanda and I were still reeling from the after effects of the chloroform. My head still spun, but my headache had reduced to manageable pounding. Now that we were closer to Eddie, I took a better look at him. His condition was worse than I initially thought, and I'd seen his better days. His white 'Eddie's Jewelry' shirt was torn up to his bellybutton, his pants were smeared with grease, and he had no shoes. Around him were random items strewn about, like notebooks and guitar picks. He handed me something that glinted in the light, and, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a shard of broken glass. "Here," he said, and placed the shard behind my back and into my hand. "Use this to cut the rope."
Unable to see the glass, I turned it slowly in my hand and felt the sharp edges. "It's sharp," I said. "Why can't you do this?"
Eddie held up his hands, his rueful expression melodramatic. His hands had been bandaged with white cloth that had once been the bottom half of his t-shirt, and scarlet red stains blotted his palms. "But alas! My palms are raw and bloody."
Amanda elbowed me as best as she could and urged for me to hurry.
I turned it once more in my hand and began cutting. The process was slow and tedious, the sharp blade slicing through the thick fibers at a maddeningly slow rate. The shard bit into my hands, and I felt a thick, warm liquid drip down the palms of my hands and onto the floor. I ignored it and sliced at the rope again and again.
When our hands were free at last, we stepped out of our ankle restraints. Amanda knelt at Eddie's feet and attempted to pull the chains off his ankles.
"It's no use," Eddie coughed. He pointed towards a stack of boxes. "There might be something in those boxes that you can use to pick the lock. I've found all sorts of fantastic gizmos in them! Have a look!" He held up a purple Hello Kitty digital watch and dangled it in our faces. Amanda and I exchanged looks. Alright, Eddie...
"This pretty little thing can tell me the temperature, the date, time in three different time zones, AND it glows in the dark!" Eddie said, admiring its' face. I cleared my throat. "Er, Eddie?"
"Yes?"
"What time is it today?"
He checked, and promptly announced, "Six twelve AM, Sunday."
Amanda's jaw dropped. "WHAT?! We were out for twelve hours?! Mom's birthday is tomorrow!"
I slapped a hand over her mouth, silently hoping that no one had heard her. I made Amanda promise not to scream if I let go, and she nodded. I dropped my hand, and Amanda sputtered, "Gross! That was disgusting! Jennifer, your hands are still bleeding!"
Oh, right.
I looked at my bloody hands. I had long since forgotten about them, and they had gone numb. Eddie quickly tore off another two strips of cloth from his t-shirt and bound my hands tightly.
"To staunch the blood flow," he explained. Amanda and I got right to work after that, searching through all the boxes until I stumbled upon a crate filled to the brim with all sorts of metal wires. Grabbing a bobby pin, Amanda picked the lock with evident ease. Eddie rubbed his chaffed ankles and thanked her languidly. Picking up the chains, I admired her handiwork.
"Nice work, sis," I commented. "Handy skill. Why'd you learn to pick a lock like that?"
She chewed her bottom lip. "To pick the lock on your diary. Please don't yell at me right now!" she added.
"We need to get out of here right now, if we want to still make it to Mom's birthday. " I said. I pointed a finger at her. "Don't think I've forgotten about you. We will have a serious talk about privacy later!"
We ran over to the door, Eddie trailing closely behind. The double-doors were made of a dark shade of mahogany, and kicking it was like kicking a tree. It didn't budge.
All of a sudden, the ground shook and crates toppled from side to side. Eddie, Amanda and I were thrown to the ground like rag dolls. Beside me, they both groaned and raised their heads. "What was that?" Amanda asked, still lying on the floor, her long brown hair spilling across the floor.
I heard shouts and laughter from outside, likely Doug and Scott, and I was almost afraid to answer. I heard an engine roar to life, the room jolted, and nausea roiled in my stomach. I clutched it.
"Guys," I said slowly. "I think we're in the back of a truck."





Amanda and Eddie's eyes widened, and at that moment, we all thought the same thing. Escape.
Easier said than done, though. We tried everything. From picking the lock to screaming at the top of our lungs, nothing worked. The double-doors were chained and bolted from the outside, and the chances that someone heard our cries for help were slimmer than my Uncle Henry.
We'd long since given up on forcing ourselves out, and sat on the ground bored out of our minds. As the sun rose, it came apparent that the day was even hotter than the last, and the walls, constructed of metal, radiated heat. Its' surface burned our skin at the slightest touch, so we all leant against the wooden crates, however little comfort that may have given us.
"It's so hot," Amanda panted, fanning herself with a paper plate that we'd found.
"I know, darlin'," Eddie said. "It hasn't been this hot since the summer of '96!"
Too parched to speak, I nodded in agreement.
"Darlin', do me a favor and check those boxes." Eddie raised a hand lazily and pointed to the last stack of unopened crates. "There might be—" he coughed weakly. "—some water in them," he finished.
I got to my feet, and began to climb the mountain of boxes.
The effort was exhausting, and sweat dripped freely from my brow. I wiped it away and pushed the top crate down to the ground. It hit the truck floor with a thud and the wooden box broke on impact. "Good." I gasped like a fish out of water. "Now we don't have to open it ourselves."
We found three bottles of water; we guzzled one each greedily. I drank the entire bottle in a few gulps, my throat dry as a desert. Despite the water being lukewarm, I still longed for more.
"Ugh," Amanda moaned. "We need to get out of here. I can't stand this anymore!" She flipped herself over onto her stomach and pounded her fists on the floor. She stopped, and pounded it again. "Wait," she said, hardly daring to believe it. "This part sounds hollow." Her fists hit the floor for a third time.
In a flash, we were all there beside her, scratching, poking, and scrabbling at the floor, hoping to find something that could aid our escape.
I ran my fingers along the floor, finding a thin, barely noticeable line. "Over here," I motioned to Amanda and Eddie to come over.
"It's a trap door," I realized. Covered by a stack of boxes, the wooden flap was harder to open than we'd originally thought. Eddie grunted as he shoved the last box aside and rested a hand against his hip. "My old bones can't take much more of this," he wheezed.
The trap door finally free, I unlatched the lock and carefully lifted the wooden trap door.
We could see the ground moving as the truck drove past, and the wind whistled through the hatch. Our sweat froze on our skin, chilling us to the very marrow in our bones. We sighed collectively, a sound of relief and pleasure in feeling the wind. The truck moved too fast to jump, and to attempt it would be suicide. In spite of our anxiousness to leave that wretched truck, we decided to wait. Eventually, one by one, as our fatigue overtook us, we fell asleep.






The vehicle rolled to a halt, and my eyes snapped open, wary and alert. Hearing voices through the walls, I woke Amanda and nudged Eddie's leg. He gave a snort and shot to his feet. "What's going on? What'd I miss?"
I shook my head and crawled over to the side of the wall. "Nothing yet," I replied. Pressing my ear to the smooth surface, their voices became more and more distinguished. I gestured for Amanda and Eddie to do the same thing as me, and they mimicked my actions. The voices of Doug and Scott floated through the wall.
"So now what?" Scott was saying. "What are we going to do with them?"
I smelt the acrid smoke of a cigarette and imagined the tip lighting up. "Kill 'em, I guess."
I felt Amanda tense up beside me and heard Eddie's sharp intake of breath.
"I don't think so, man." Scott sounded hesitant and for that I was grateful. "I don't think I could kill two little girls and an old man."
"Come on, dawg! We been robbing jewelry shops all across the country for months. We can't afford to get caught now. 'Cause you and me? We's a team."
The clink of a beer bottle was barely audible on a wooden table. "That's just the thing," Scott said. "I'm a robber. I signed up to rob stores with my brother; but I'm no murderer."
Doug let out a frustrated groan, and we heard his fist slam the table. "So what do you want to do then, huh?" Doug demanded. "Just let them go and make them promise not to tell anybody? I don't know what your plan is, man, but I sure as hell am NEVER going to prison. Ever."
He pushed his chair back, creating a horrible scraping sound against the floor.
"Look, why don't we just drop them off at our next pit stop?" Scott suggested. "They'd never get back home."
"There's so much technology these days; they'd find their way." Doug wasn't shouting, but his voice held a dangerous, exasperated tremor. "We can't."
Scott still persisted. "C'mon," he insisted. "Even if they did get back, we'd be long gone! Besides," he snorted. "It takes a long time to get from Mexico back to California."
I stifled a gasp. Mexico?! We were in MEXICO?!
"I don't know, Scott," Doug said. "I still think we should just kill them. But..."
We all held our breath in anticipation for Doug's next words, and it was so silent you could have heard two pins drop.
"Fine," he said reluctantly. "But if we get caught, I swear to God, I'll kill you."
Quietly, we let out a sigh of relief. We weren't going to die—at least not today.
After the light tinkling of chimes above a gas station door assured us that Doug and Scott had gone, Eddie opened the hatch and we slipped out, quiet as mice.
We were in the middle of nowhere. The truck was parked on the side of the single road, which cut a line across the seemingly endless pebbles and sand. The setting looked like something cut straight out of an old Wild West movie, with its blazing summer heat, dusty animal tracks, and I could've sworn I saw some tumbleweed roll past. The sun was hotter now that its' rays shone directly on our skin, and the occasional summer breeze gently blew through.
The gas station which Doug and Scott entered stood a short distance away, looking run-down and beaten. On the other side of the road was a large abandoned warehouse so old that there was paint peeling off the walls and rust eating the door hinges.
"We'll hide out there until our captors leave." Amanda set off at a rapid pace and I followed reluctantly, Eddie falling behind.
Rusty red hinges that might have once been silver creaked as they opened, and we coughed as the dank, musty air invaded our lungs. The warehouse couldn't have been opened for at least twenty years, and the smell of two decades worth of mold and rat droppings hit us all at once.
"Whoa!" Amanda waved a hand in front of her nose. "This place stinks!"
I shoved the door open completely and stalked inside. "Yeah, but it's the only place we've got."
But inside the warehouse was a different story. Though it was dusty and stunk, it was otherwise clean. Stepping cautiously in, we surveyed the interior. Mostly empty, save a few old tables covered in moth-eaten blankets, the floor was covered in dust and grime.
"What now?" Eddie scratched his head. Amanda shrugged. "Wait here, I guess."
An enormous crash sounded from outside, and we all jumped to our feet and crowded at the door frame. Doug had punched the side of the truck, leaving his fist's imprint on it. "Scott!" he roared. "You moron! They escaped!" Scott poked his head out from behind the gas station door and rushed over. "What?"
Doug grabbed his brother by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him up. "They. Escaped." His demeanor was slow and forced, and although he didn't raise his voice, it was clear that he was infuriated. "How could you let them get away?!" he roared again, fists quivering with anger.
Pulling Doug's hands off him, Scott straightened his shirt and looked around. He held his hands up in an act of peace."Calm down, Doug," he said evenly. He gestured at the warehouse and we ducked behind the door to avoid being spotted. "Where could they have gone? They're probably in there."
Doug's face turned ugly, and he retrieved something indistinguishable from the truck. It glinted in the light, and with a sinking heart, I realized it was a knife and we were totally, completely screwed.
"Let's get 'em," Doug said, and a wicked grin crept onto his face.
Scott shrugged and grabbed a wooden bat hidden under the seat of the car. They were two strong, armed and dangerous men out for blood. Our blood.
And what were we? A 14-year old girl, her 11-year old sister, and an old man, all unarmed.
Desperate for any kind of protection against the hulking man-beasts headed out way, I broke a leg off one of the wooden tables and held it in my hand. It was just small enough for my fingers to encircle it and touch each other, and I turned it a few times. It was no bat, but it would have to do.
Eddie had found an old rusted pipe running down the wall and had wrenched it from its' socket. He wielded it above his head and smiled grimly. "This'll do."
But Amanda hadn't moved a muscle. She leant against the warehouse wall and slid down until she hit the ground, her back towards the wall. I walked over to her. Her face was drawn and pale, and when I touched her forehead I came away with cold sweat on my fingertips. Her shoulders shivered, but I seriously doubted it was from the cold.
"Amanda," I said softly, hoping my voice was as calming as I'd intended it to be. "I know this is scary, but you have to stay strong; you have to survive." She shook her head once.
"No," she whispered, so quietly that I nearly missed it. "I can't."
Placing a hand on her quavering shoulder, I rubbed her arm up and down. "If you won't stay strong for yourself, do it for me. Or at least hide, please. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.
Slowly, and a little more steadily, Amanda stood up and I stashed her behind a stack of cardboard boxes that had lain unseen to us until then. A little color returned to her face, but I still worried about her.
"Here." Eddie ripped another section of the metal pipe out of the wall and offered it to Amanda, and I felt a little better.
Eddie and I pressed ourselves flat against either side of the door and waited anxiously for them to arrive. As their footsteps neared, my heartbeat quickened and the back of my neck broke out in a cold sweat. What if this plan didn't work? We would die, I thought. I shook my head. No, I couldn't afford to be thinking about this right now. I was already nervous anticipating the—
KABOOM! The doors blasted open with the force of a hundred elephants and the two thugs stormed in, swinging their weapons crazily. I let out a squeal (much to my later embarrassment) and held my table leg high above my head and brought it down on Doug's head. It shattered on impact, wood splinters flying everywhere as Doug turned around. He wasn't knocked out; he wasn't even fazed. He just growled and advanced at me, knife held aloft. Dimly aware of Eddie's own struggle with Scott beside us, I took slow deliberate steps backwards as my heart leapt to my throat. Soon my back hit the wall; and I had no place else to go. Doug lunged at me, the foot-long knife narrowly missing my left ear, and I ducked and rolled to the right.With a louder-than-thunder roar, he lunged again, and I fell to the floor with a thud. The impact with the floor had knocked my breath out and I gasped for air as I grappled with my assailant. Wow, the mere thought sounded pathetic. Me, 14-year old Jennifer Flynn was fighting a man who was twice her size. And armed with a VERY sharp knife.
He pushed me roughly onto my back and pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand in one quick swoop. He squeezed my wrists so hard, I felt the healing cuts in my palms start to break open again. I struggled to push him off, but it was futile. As he raised the knife and prepared to plunge it through my chest, I finally understood the phrase, "my life flashed before my eyes". And so it did.
I remembered all the fun times I had had with Amanda, my family and my friends. The time when I puked up my eggnog during Christmas, the time when we'd missed our plane to New York, and the time when Amanda had thrown a Barbie doll through the kitchen window and blamed it on me. And although these moments had seemed so insignificant at the time, they were the ones that I remembered most when I thought I was about to die. The times I'd spent with my family. At that moment, my only regret was not being able to protect Amanda better and not being able to make it to my mother's birthday.
The knife came up, and when it was an inch away from puncturing my chest—BOOM! A heavy metal pipe hit Doug's head so hard I bet he saw stars.
Amanda let a little squeak escape her lips. She dropped the pipe and it fell to the ground with a noisy clatter. I got up to my feet and wrapped my arms around her, feeling the stiffness of her body. "Breathe," I reminded her, rubbing her back.
Amanda nodded, her breath coming in in short gasps, and I could feel her shuddering. She took a deep breath and said, "I am NEVER watching another horror movie again." We laughed, and I gave her another hard squeeze.
Hearing a deep grunt from behind us, we turned around, just in time to see Scott's eyes roll back in his head, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Nothing's like being greeted by the sight of Eddie swinging his metal pipe around carelessly (and smugly).
Eyes widening and slack-jawed, we rushed over to him. "Wow, Eddie. Never knew you had it in you," Amanda remarked, looking only slightly impressed.
He merely grinned and rested the pipe on his shoulder like a baseball bat. "Did you gals know that I used to be a general in the army?" He put a hand to his forehead in mock salute.
Putting his hand down, Eddie dropped his makeshift bat and scratched his balding head. "Now what?"
I shrugged. "I guess we could ask whoever's at the gas station for help," I suggested, then added, "But they might only speak Spanish…"
"And the truck keys are probably somewhere on Doug's person," Amanda said. "There is no way I'm touching him." She held up her hands to emphasize her words.
Eddie clucked. "Then the gas station's our best bet."
Grabbing the door handle, I felt the weirdest prickly sensation on the back of my neck; as if we were being watched. I turned around, and shrieked.
Doug, having regained consciousness, barreled towards us, fast as a bullet train, and held up his knife once more. Then, for the second time that day, BOOM! Doug crumpled to the floor, his expression shell-shocked, then outraged. As he passed out, I saw who was responsible for saving our lives.
It was Scott.
The same Scott that had kidnapped us, tied us up, and discussed our deaths. He gripped the heavy wooden bat tightly, his knuckles white. Dumbfounded, we stood there gaping. (Though, in hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.) Grinning sheepishly as he hefted the weapon over his shoulder and stuck out his hand, we took an involuntary step back. Still smiling amiably, Scott shook his head. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, and dropped his club. "See? I regret what Doug—" he winced. "—we did. When we talked about what to do with you three, he suggested killing you." He shook his head. "Never in my wildest dreams did I think he'd actually try to act on his words."
Scott shook his head sadly, and I tried to place myself in his shoes. He'd hit his crazy murderous brother over the head to save three complete strangers. I couldn't imagine how I'd feel if I'd have to harm Amanda; that must've taken courage.
He sighed. "I just never thought Doug would do anything like that."
The incredulous look on Amanda's face told me that she thought otherwise, and I squeezed her arm. She looked pained, but she bit her tongue and withheld her snarky retort.
The smile returned to Scott's face. "Here." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled something out and a jangling mass of metal came flying my way. I fumbled with it, nearly dropping it.
"Keys?" I asked. "You're giving us the keys to the truck?" I shook them once to hear the jingle, as if to reassure myself it was real. He grinned widely, showing the gaping hole where his front tooth used to be.
"Think of it as my apology," he said. "Just one more thing: I need a ride to the police station."
"Why, by all means!" Eddie exclaimed. "Let's go!"
After Doug was tied up and stowed safely away in the back of the truck, we all hopped in, and Eddie stepped on the gas. "Say," he asked Scott. "That missing tooth of yours. Did I do that?"







Several hours later, when we arrived at the police station in Riverside, I was exhausted. As I found out, near death experiences plus an unwanted kidnapping really take a toll on you. I had to force myself to keep my eyes open, and focusing my eyesight took more work than it should have.
As we opened the front doors to the police headquarters, a cool blast of air hit us. It was a wonderful change from the unbearable heat of Mexico, and Amanda sighed with pleasure beside me, a silent agreement.
"Amanda! Jennifer!" Attracting stares, our mom came down the hall, fast as lightning. Dark circles under her eyes, crumpled clothes, and her two mis-matched shoes were clear signs that she'd been worried. She wrapped her arms around both of us, and squeezed us tight. "I'm never letting you two go ever again," she whispered in our ears.
"You're going to have to," Amanda choked out. "You're crushing us, Mom."
She withdrew her hands and hastily straightened her shirt. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she apologized. "I was just..." She pressed her lips together. "I was so worried!"
Amanda held Mom's hand. "We're okay now," she said gently.
"Yeah," I chimed. "We're just sorry that we couldn't make it to your birthday, or get you a present."
Placing one hand on each of our cheeks, she smiled kindly at us, reminding me why we loved her so much. "It's alright," she said. "You being safe is the best birthday present anyone could've ever given me." Then her eyebrows crinkled and the corners of her mouth turned downwards. "Now then, what exactly happened?"
We proceeded to tell her the abridged version of our adventures, and how Eddie, Scott and Doug fit into it. After hearing Eddie's role in our story, Mom gratefully pressed a fifty-dollar bill into his hand, and wouldn't take it back. "Thank you," she said.
Towards the end of our story, some policemen finally noticed us. We were such a strange group, I was surprised that we weren't spotted earlier. I mean, who can miss two sweaty little girls, an old man dressed in rags, a rhino of a man, and his brother bound and gagged?
Amanda, Eddie and I were questioned individually, and we told them the same version we'd told Mom.
And guess what happened?
Doug was sent to prison, in solitary confinement, for thirteen long years. He regained consciousness just as the metal bars closed down on him.
Scott was given only two years in prison for helping us and cooperation with the police. He got time off for good behavior and doing community service.
We still see him sometimes, and when he's allowed Internet access, Amanda and I chat with him online.
Eddie recently left Riverside to expand his jewelry business. Last that I heard, 'Eddie's Jewelry' had become a huge, wealthy jewelry franchise.
Amanda and I? We rejoined the world with a new story to tell. Sometimes, people ask, "How could something like that happen?"
When asked this, I look at Amanda, and she looks at me. She shrugs, and I say, "I guess that's what happens when you're amidst a robbery."