"Now lock the door."
She click-clacked over to another control panel behind the counter and threw a switch. With an audible snap, the door locked electronically. "How do you unlock it?" Ronnie asked her.
He was smart, Tiel thought. He didn't want to get trapped inside.
"Just flip this here switch," the cashier replied.
The cowboy and the two Mexican men were still lying facedown on the floor, their hands on their heads. They couldn't be seen by the man approaching the door. Tiel and Sabra were also out of sight in the aisle between two rows of shelves.
"Everybody stay put." Ronnie duck walked to the elderly lady and grabbed her arm, lifting her to her feet.
"No!" her husband cried. "Leave her alone."
"Shut up!" Ronnie ordered. "If anybody moves, I'm going to shoot her."
"He's not going to shoot me, Vern," she said to her husband.
"I'll be all right, as long as everyone stays calm."
The woman followed Ronnie's instructions and crouched down with him behind a cylindrical cold-drink cooler. From above the rim, he had a clear view to the door.
The customer tested the door, discovered it locked, and called out. "Donna! You in there? How come you shut off the lights?"
Donna, cringing behind the counter, remained mute.
The customer peered through the glass. "There you are," he said, spotting her. "What gives?"
"Answer him," Ronnie instructed her in a whisper.
"I'm… s-sick," she said, loud enough to carry through the door.
"Hell, you ain't got nothing I ain't already had. Open up. All I need is ten dollars' worth o' gas and a six-pack o'
Miller Lite."
"I cain't," she called out tearfully.
"Come on, Donna. Won't take two shakes, and I'll be on my way. It ain't quite 'leven yet.
Open the door."
"I cain't." She unraveled at the same time her voice rose to a full-fledged scream. "He's gotta gun and he's gonna kill us all." She dropped down behind the counter.
"Shit!"
Tiel didn't know from which man the expletive had come, but it echoed exactly what she was thinking. She was also thinking that if Ronnie Davison didn't shoot Donna the cashier, she just might.
The man at the door backed away, then stumbled as he turned and ran for his car. Tires screeched as the vehicle shot backward, then spun around and pulled onto the highway.
The old man was chanting, "Don't hurt my wife. I beg you, please don't hurt Gladys. Don't hurt my Gladys."
"Hush, Vern. I'm all right."
Ronnie was angrily yelling at Donna for being so stupid.
"Why'd you do that? Why? That guy will call the police.
We'll be trapped here. Oh, hell, why'd you do that?"