to try something. Maybe he’d figured out a way to escape and he didn’t want to tell us because he was worried we might let it slip.”
Jeff and Jared were seated in the middle of the cage again. The temperature had grown even colder, so they’d used old video game system boxes to sit on, rather than sitting on the chilly concrete floor.
“Maybe he was faking the chest pains,” Jeff continued. “Make Simon think he was weak—not a threat. And then he was going to rush him or something. Run out the door. Simon locked the door behind him after he shot Alan, but if Roy was quick, I bet he could smash through the glass. And did you notice? Simon had a fat fucking lip. Scott or somebody punched him in the mouth. So he’s not infallible.”
Jared didn’t respond.
“Or maybe,” Jeff continued, “he was going to do something with that book of matches. Maybe he was going to light the fucking store on fire. Get the firemen and police here.”
“Jeff?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think happens to us when we die?”
Jared sounded tired. Jeff knew how he felt. He was exhausted, too. Maybe the adrenalin was leaving his system, or maybe it was some kind of delayed shock. Whatever the reason, Jeff wanted nothing more at that moment than to lie down on the floor, close his eyes, and go to sleep. He would dream of April and his parents and friends he’d known in high school and college, and in the dream, they would all be happy and smiling, and he and his friends would have never grown up and had to get jobs and he wouldn’t be here. He’d be somewhere safe and warm.
“Do you think there’s a Heaven?” Jared asked. “A God? And if so, do you have to go through all that born again stuff, or is it okay if you just tried to live a good life?”
“I don’t know,” Jeff yawned. “My parents took me to Golgotha Lutheran Church every week when I was a little kid, but I never really paid attention. We quit going there after a while.”
“How come you stopped going?”
“There was some kind of scandal. I don’t remember what, exactly. I was just a little kid. The caretaker raped some girls in the cemetery or something like that. Whatever it was, my parents seemed to lose interest in God after that.”
“I never went,” Jared said. “I thought about it sometimes. My Grandma was Catholic, but my parents never let her take me to church.”
“Why not?”
“They were atheists. My Dad said that he didn’t want me getting indoctrinated.”
“I think you have to be born again. You’ve got to ask Jesus to come into your heart or something, and forgive you for your sins.”
“That’s all?”
Jeff shrugged. “I think so. Like I said, it’s been a long time.”
They fell quiet for a while. Jeff blinked. His eyelids felt heavy. The air ducts rattled. The air grew colder. The strange noise from out in the store grew louder. Occasionally, he felt it throb in his chest, like the bass notes from a subwoofer did if you turned the volume up high. Jeff yawned again, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand. Jared glanced up at him.
“How can you be sleepy?”
“I’m usually in bed by now.”
“On a Wednesday night?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jared said. “I figured you’d be going out on dates or something. I was always jealous of you and Scott and Ray and Clint. You guys seemed to have exciting lives.”
“Not on a work night. Not for me, at least. I just go home and crash. There’s nothing good on television on Wednesday nights.”
“Sure there is. I watch Castaways .”
“Castaways jumped the shark a long time ago, dude. And besides, it’s off by the time I get home. You know what sucks? Working in this place and selling TiVo and DVR shit all day, and then not having them when I go home.”
Jared nodded. They both fell silent for a few minutes.
“Jeff?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry about earlier. For the way I acted and what I said.”
“It’s okay, Jared. I’m
Jeff and Jared were seated in the middle of the cage again. The temperature had grown even colder, so they’d used old video game system boxes to sit on, rather than sitting on the chilly concrete floor.
“Maybe he was faking the chest pains,” Jeff continued. “Make Simon think he was weak—not a threat. And then he was going to rush him or something. Run out the door. Simon locked the door behind him after he shot Alan, but if Roy was quick, I bet he could smash through the glass. And did you notice? Simon had a fat fucking lip. Scott or somebody punched him in the mouth. So he’s not infallible.”
Jared didn’t respond.
“Or maybe,” Jeff continued, “he was going to do something with that book of matches. Maybe he was going to light the fucking store on fire. Get the firemen and police here.”
“Jeff?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think happens to us when we die?”
Jared sounded tired. Jeff knew how he felt. He was exhausted, too. Maybe the adrenalin was leaving his system, or maybe it was some kind of delayed shock. Whatever the reason, Jeff wanted nothing more at that moment than to lie down on the floor, close his eyes, and go to sleep. He would dream of April and his parents and friends he’d known in high school and college, and in the dream, they would all be happy and smiling, and he and his friends would have never grown up and had to get jobs and he wouldn’t be here. He’d be somewhere safe and warm.
“Do you think there’s a Heaven?” Jared asked. “A God? And if so, do you have to go through all that born again stuff, or is it okay if you just tried to live a good life?”
“I don’t know,” Jeff yawned. “My parents took me to Golgotha Lutheran Church every week when I was a little kid, but I never really paid attention. We quit going there after a while.”
“How come you stopped going?”
“There was some kind of scandal. I don’t remember what, exactly. I was just a little kid. The caretaker raped some girls in the cemetery or something like that. Whatever it was, my parents seemed to lose interest in God after that.”
“I never went,” Jared said. “I thought about it sometimes. My Grandma was Catholic, but my parents never let her take me to church.”
“Why not?”
“They were atheists. My Dad said that he didn’t want me getting indoctrinated.”
“I think you have to be born again. You’ve got to ask Jesus to come into your heart or something, and forgive you for your sins.”
“That’s all?”
Jeff shrugged. “I think so. Like I said, it’s been a long time.”
They fell quiet for a while. Jeff blinked. His eyelids felt heavy. The air ducts rattled. The air grew colder. The strange noise from out in the store grew louder. Occasionally, he felt it throb in his chest, like the bass notes from a subwoofer did if you turned the volume up high. Jeff yawned again, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand. Jared glanced up at him.
“How can you be sleepy?”
“I’m usually in bed by now.”
“On a Wednesday night?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jared said. “I figured you’d be going out on dates or something. I was always jealous of you and Scott and Ray and Clint. You guys seemed to have exciting lives.”
“Not on a work night. Not for me, at least. I just go home and crash. There’s nothing good on television on Wednesday nights.”
“Sure there is. I watch Castaways .”
“Castaways jumped the shark a long time ago, dude. And besides, it’s off by the time I get home. You know what sucks? Working in this place and selling TiVo and DVR shit all day, and then not having them when I go home.”
Jared nodded. They both fell silent for a few minutes.
“Jeff?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry about earlier. For the way I acted and what I said.”
“It’s okay, Jared. I’m
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