Into the Specter

Chapter 6

(a/n) Violent situations. I might stop warning for 'violent situations' since there's a warning for graphic violence at the beginning but idk let me know if it is needed. A lot of chapters will have an element of violence.

The doorbell rings loudly through the gas station. Flip is pouring his coffee from the machine at the back. The hot black liquid is steaming from the cup, filling the air with a burnt aroma. He lets the nozzle go and reaches for a lid. Usually, he's the only one in here at 6:30 AM. Weird.

The cashier is shuffling behind the counter. Flip hears boots clacking on the tile. His hand curls around the cup and he walks to the front.

He's passing by an aisle when the person who came in walks by the other end of it. His head turns the slightest bit and he catches a glance at her face. Flip gets to the register and sets down his coffee, nodding to the cashier. He uses his right hand to grab the wallet in the pocket of his tan shearling jacket.

He takes another look behind him and sees the woman facing the drink coolers along the back wall. He looks her up and down. Black bottoms and a brown jacket. Her hair loose.

"Sir?" The cashier, a teen boy, is waiting for him to pay. Flip turns his head towards him slowly. "Go in the back," he whispers. Motioning with his head towards the 'employees only' door. Flip turns and makes his way down the aisle. He has to make sure.

You're staring at the coconut water. It sounds good. Might have gotten some if you didn't plan on assaulting a cop. The boots thudding on the floor behind you are getting closer. Five feet to your right, the detective comes to a stop. Frigid air blasts out when the cooler door creaks open. He's not stealthy, you can feel his stare.

Your right hand slowly slides under your jacket to the back of your jeans. Your fingers curl around the smooth handle of your gun. The beat of your heart is quickening.

Flip has his left hand on the cooler door, eyeing you through the glass. Now he's sure you're who he saw on the tape. He hasn't forgotten that face.

A loud bang makes his whole body flinch. His hands go to cover his ears. "Shit!" He didn't see you pull the gun. The bullet rushes past his face and hits the shelf of soup cans on the opposite wall. They splatter on the wall and a dozen roll off onto the ground.

You're running down the aisle towards the front. He pulls his gun from his chest holster and cocks it. His breathing has picked up. You're out of his sight. He can't let you get away again.

You're at a good height to hide behind the aisles. The gun is hanging by your side, tightly held in your hand. Chip bags are crinkling against your back. You count to five to slow your breathing.

Flip knows you're still in here. He stalks down the aisle, gun held in his outstretched arms. He's looking for you over the shelves.

When you hear him get close, you leap out from your position at the end cap. Your right elbow collides with his ribs. He doubles over. Your other hand relieves him of his gun and skids it across the ground behind you.

His right fist cracks into your side. Your leg twists and your chin connects to the back of his knees. His chin is knocked by your left forearm. He lets out a groan. His left fist then cracks into your thigh. You let out a yelp and slam the heel of your palm to his nose.

You turn to try and run out the front door. He grabs a fistful of your hair and your head whips backward. Low blow detective, you think. Your whole body follows and your back cracks into the tile. He steps around and his boot thuds into the same thigh he punched. You grit your teeth in annoyance. That hurt.

He leans down to grab his gun about a foot away on the floor. Your hand tightens around yours. You point it at his face from your position on the ground.