Twisted Shift

The bell chimed when I opened the door to the lowly gas station off route 49. That bell echoed in my head as if it were mocking me. There is no job that is too good for you. At least, that's what I told myself when my student loan reminders came in. Working a full-time job just out of school was simply not enough to cover my bills, so I needed a part-time job in addition to that.

The storefront was as expected, covered in advertising posters and flashing neon signs showcasing various beers. I wouldn't have been able to see the building if it weren't for the neon signs. The snowstorm was growing quickly, but work waited for me without pause. As I opened the door, the wind was so strong that it took both of my hands and a strong stance to keep it open long enough for me to enter. Once the door slammed shut behind me, the warmth of the store wrapped around my body, and the lights nearly blinded me. My first shift was set to start at exactly 8:15 pm, and it was only five minutes till then. I couldn't take the chance of getting fired on my first day at Eazy Mart. Sorry, but anything with a Z in place of an S really shouldn't exist.

"Hi there! Welcome to Eazy Mart!" A woman slightly taller than me was sitting on the counter, facing away but turned to greet me. She held a can of beer... is that beer?

The look on my face didn't convey excitement, but I figured I should at least be nice.

"Hey, I'm Avery Collins. I'm here for my first day." I took off my coat and hung it from my arm. She swung her legs so hard that she turned her entire body on the counter and hopped off.

"Oh, really? Management never told me... I guess I could train you. It'll be fun!"

The smell of beer wafted towards my face, and I nearly gagged. I'll drink wine and ale, but I haven't had beer since I was twenty-one, and I do not miss the stench.

"Alright, sorry I didn't catch your name?" I looked for a name tag but unsurprisingly couldn't find one.

"Oh, I didn't give it. You can call me Slush! I've always wanted a nickname," she pointed at the back door, which had a sign that said "Staff Only."

"It should be in there!"

I pushed the door and walked into the back. I could tell this wasn't going to be a productive night, but as long as I got paid, I didn't care. I finally found the clock-in system, but there was no way I could use it. The manager would need to set me up, and I doubted drunk-skunk Slush could help me. Oh well, I'll write down my hours and email it to the manager when my shift is over at 3 in the morning. When I came back to the front, Slush had several scratch-off tickets on the counter and was going for gold.

"Should you be doing that?" I looked around. Not a soul had entered, and I doubted anyone would with the storm rolling in the way it was. Music from the nineties played in the background, always reminding me of my childhood when things were much simpler. I would go to school, which I remembered nothing of, and then I would come home to play outside until the streetlights came on. It was bliss. When did things change? The sound of another beer can being opened brought me back to reality.

"Eh, who cares? No one is here, and this place kind of sucks. Do you want one?" She grabbed a can from the box behind the counter and handed it to me. I placed it down on the counter.

"Maybe later," I said. At this point, maybe she's right. Who gets fired from a convenience store anyway? I looked around. The place desperately needed cleaning. The lights were white, and the floors looked decent, but the shelves needed restocking, and the doors had fingerprints all over them. There were keys hanging off a hook by the bottom of the register—a Mustang keychain. I loved those cars, though I could never afford one now. It was on my bucket list.

"What kind of Mustang do you have?" I nodded towards the keys. Slush's head tilted a bit, and she followed my gaze to the keys. She started laughing and grabbed them, tossing them in the air with pure satisfaction. I assumed she loved the car as much as I would.

"Oh, nothing special. Just something I've had for a while," she said, thrusting the keys into her pocket. She was nice, but maybe she didn't trust me. It made sense, actually. I was a perfect stranger to her, even though she was clearly the odd one in the room.

"Cool, well, it seems dead here, so I guess I'll just clean up the place a bit. Unless you want me to do something else?" She shook her head as she chugged down another beer. Got it. How had she made it past day one? I went through each aisle and looked for items that needed restocking, tidying up the others. Was this even worth the ten bucks an hour? Probably not. The music died down, and I heard the click of a TV. I was quite surprised to see a convenience store with a flat-screen. That was just asking for trouble, but what did I know?

The gas pumps outside were covered in snow, and all the lights worked except one, which kept flickering. I definitely wasn't fixing that. I could leave it to Slush or whoever worked the morning shift. Slush flipped through several channels before settling on a news report.

"Breaking News. Another couple has been found murdered in Bloomington. Details on the murders will be released as soon as the police have more information. The suspect is said to be a five-foot-three Caucasian woman with brownish hair. Lock your doors and stay safe." The character description was side by side with a drawing of the suspect. Shit. This is not good. I glanced over at Slush, and she backed up a bit, avoiding my gaze. It was clear only one of us was going to make it out of here alive. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with. Here I was, trying to change my life and turn a new leaf, and now this happens. I continued to stock the shelf, side-eyeing her. I needed to get out of here as soon as possible. My keys were in the back with my coat. Maybe I could make it back there without her trying anything.

I grabbed an empty box from the floor and headed to the back. Slush sipped on her beer, so I suspected she would try something. I tossed the box down and grabbed my keys. Maybe the drunk wouldn't try anything, unless she was one of those linebacker drunks who get surges of adrenaline. Should I try walking to the door, or should I run for it? I opened the door, and she stood quietly behind the counter.

"Where are you going?" Sweat dripped down the left side of her face.

"This isn't for me. I think I'll just head home. Thank you for your help tonight."

As if in slow motion, she grabbed a shotgun and aimed it at me. It didn't seem to fit her right. I threw myself over the counter and punched her in the face, causing the shotgun to fall to the floor. The safety was still on, so she definitely had never used it before. I reached under my jeans and pulled out the strapped knife from my leg.

"You really should have just let me walk out of here."

The knife plunged deep into her abdomen, and blood rushed out quickly as I stabbed her four more times. I really did not want this kind of night. I glanced back up at the TV where my picture still sat and shook my head. Damn it, I didn't think I left any witnesses. I grabbed the money from the register and a bag of snacks for the road. Checking out the Mustang, as much as I wanted it, they would find me quickly. Before leaving, I checked the tapes. The recorder was broken. How convenient.