Bubbles clouded the view of the laundry as it cycled through the machine. A rhythmic whir with each toss, and the faint reflection of my face in the glass.
Clink.
My muscles seized and, looking over, I realized someone else had entered the laundromat, standing before the metal washers and entering quarters. Most of the machines were empty, and, aside from them, an older woman sat in a yellow chair in front of the windows, watching the news on the television. Everything here was outdated. From the lovely orange-painted dryers to the yellow-tinged washers that formed aisles atop the cheap white linoleum. The light above me flickered, its glow faltering for a few seconds before going out completely.
The woman didn’t seem to notice. She changed the channel, grinding nuts between her teeth. “Today there was yet another person apprehended who was discovered to have the genetic mutation responsible for…”
”What a load of bull.”
I turned away, looking out the large windows that revealed a scarlet sun surrounded by blue. It had just rained, and the damp road looked pink in the light as cars drove by, their tires splashing water onto the sidewalks. Just next door was an ice cream shop, a tall yellow sign declaring ‘2 for $4 treat nite’.
“…most recent incidents included a young boy going to class and using his abilities to assault both classmates and…”
A long, jarring noise. The laundry was done. Opening the door, I pulled the warm laundry from the large dryer and let it fall into the basket, making sure to grab every sock I could find. The folding can wait, Ethan can’t. I pushed the door open and sat the basket down on the ground, unlocking the car. I locked the door once more once the laundry was inside and made my way across the street. The familiar scent of wet pavement filled the air, which was no longer as humid as earlier. The ice cream shop was also relatively slow, with only a few workers milling about behind the counter. I walked up to the counter and smiled gently. “Can I have a small pineapple sundae and a small chocolate dipped cone?”
“Do you want that cone with chocolate or vanilla ice cream?”
“Vanilla, please.”
“That’ll be four dollars.”
I stood waiting for the ice cream, and as it was sat on the counter, someone else entered the restaurant. He had his hood drawn up, and I immediately took notice of the dark metal he was drawing out from his pocket. The workers didn’t notice, but he drew out a gun and pointed it towards the turned away cashier. “Open the register.”
An employee who had been washing tables behind me tried to step forward, hands raised, and the man cocked the gun. “Don’t move! Him! He opens the register!”
I looked at the cashier, who began fumbling with the register. I was just in front of him, and the man with the gun pointed it at me. “No one calls the cops, or she gets shot in the head. Do you understand?” The cashier nodded, and I watched calmly as the cashier began grabbing money from the drawer. The man watched his hands closely, making sure there was no button to be pressed at the edge of the counter that would call for the police. The employee behind me glanced at me and made a gesture for me to step back. I could feel sweat forming along my brows, trying to give the man a look that told him, ‘No. Don’t do it.’
The employee didn’t seem to understand, and he leaped on the man, tugging at the gun. The barrel pointed in the direction of the cashier, but I rushed in between the two just as he pulled the trigger. People screamed, and I let out a shaky breath as he lowered the gun away from my body, looking down to where the bullet had gone into my waist.
“Oh, god…” The man reached up, grabbing his head, and then turned and took off out of the store.
“I’ll call 911-!”
“I already pressed the button they should be on their way!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I managed, turning to grab the ice cream from them. They looked at me in horror, but I shuffled out of the restaurant, ice cream in hand, and made it to my car. The people in the laundromat were staring at me, and I didn’t hesitate to get inside and drive off.
Eventually, I came to a dark alleyway. I pulled in and got out of the car, removing my bloodied shirt. My body was working to repair itself, and I could feel a mixture of pain and ease as it did so. The bullet. I needed to get the bullet. Reaching in, I dug around my flesh until I finally found the roundish piece of metal. I grit my teeth to hold back a scream as I pulled it out and dropped it in the grass. Grabbing my shirt, I used the fabric to wipe the rest of the blood off of my body. Reaching down towards a puddle, I washed myself off as best I could before grabbing a clean black shirt from the laundry.
Now, to get Ethan.
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