A Few Minutes of Chaos

Note: This story depicts a violent encounter and includes a few curse words appropriate to the context.



Route 95 in this part of North Carolina is very quiet at 2 am. Aside from the long haul trucks there aren’t many other cars on the two northbound lanes. With many hours before me, it was time to take a toilet break and refill the travel mug. A road side billboard read ‘Marty’s 24 hour gas and food 16 miles ahead’. Sounds good.

The exit approached and looked like one of the very rural interchanges with a local road just big enough to warrant an overpass and some ramps. No towering gas station signs hawking the price of gas, just a sleepy interchange. First thought was to keep going and find a busier location, but thinking about stopping made me realize I needed to pee, so off the exit ramp I went. No signs for Marty’s at all but sitting at the stop sign, I could see some light to the right down the road. It didn’t look too far so I figured to give it a try. Sure enough, just down the road by itself was a rundown gas station with convenience store. The sign promoting itself as Marty’s had seen better days, now displaying ‘arty’s’, but there was little doubt about where I was.

I had plenty of gas, but always notice the prices and saw Marty’s was higher than other gas available by about 6 cents. So no gas purchase here. The gas pumps were well lit and had a rather ramshackle Ford pickup parked at one of the pumps. There were a few other cars parked around the store but not all had plates on them. I parked in a spot away from the pumps and got out carrying my travel mug. On the way to the store I prepared for a refill by dumping the last of the coffee onto the pavement. Just like the sign, the entire place was rundown and in need of maintenance. Marty must be out of the picture, or just doesn’t care anymore.

Inside, there were a few people milling around which seemed strange for this hour of the morning. There was a heavily made up woman in her thirties with bleached blond hair herding two pre-teen kids, a boy and a girl. She was either trying to keep them from shoplifting or simply trying to keep them from getting caught shoplifting. The kid behind the counter, a skinny, tattooed young man with close cropped hair was trying to keep an eye on them while attending to the apparent Ford owner who was purchasing cigarettes and paying for gas. I went over to the coffee dispenser and took a whiff of the Green Mountain Blend carafe. Not good. So I called to the attendant “How old is this coffee?” Before he could answer the loud noise of a mufflerless car pulling up to the store diverted everyone’s attention. Out of that car, a faded Chevy Impala, jumped two people with black hoods over their heads. The motor was still running with the rumble of the exhaust echoing through the store. I was so intrigued by the anomaly of the masks I almost didn’t notice the shotgun one was carrying.

Oh crap, a robbery; my timing was perfect. As I was near the coffee, it placed me further from the door than the attendant and the Ford guy. I crouched and slid further back in the store before the door even chimed. What to do? There seemed to be another door behind the attendant, so that was not an immediate option. As soon as she saw the gun, the bleached blond started screaming. Good diversion. First things first: call for help. I took my cell phone from my pocket and dialed 911, turned down the volume and placed it on a shelf behind a box of candy. Hopefully that would draw some help but who knows how long it would take.

The gun holder immediately went to the attendant and started hollering about wanting the money. He was waving the gun around and ordered the Ford guy to his knees. The no-gun guy went to the blond and told her to shut up. She had gathered the two kids close and continued to scream. The attendant dropped behind the counter and came up with a revolver of some sort. Gun guy panicked and fired a shot.

The sound of a shotgun fired indoors is debilitating by itself. The blast shocks your ears so they might ring for a few minutes and make conversation difficult. Combine that with pumping adrenalin and who knows what will happen. As the blast reverberated through the store, blond lady stopped screaming with one last “Oh!” and started gasping for breath. Now the kids started crying and screaming. No-gun guy turned to his partner at the counter and simply said “What the fuck!?” Gun guy was in shock both from the sound of the blast and what he had just done. He had swung the gun just as the attendant appeared above the counter with the revolver. The shot caught the attendant fully in the face and at the range of only one foot, the attendant’s head was basically blown off. With the after affects of the blast, no one heard the revolver or the now dead attendant hitting the floor.

There was a stunned silence punctuated by the sound of the two crying kids over the rumble of the car idling outside. Ford guy recovered from the blast and went for the gun. It was a single barrel shotgun and the shooter had not pumped a new shell into the chamber. Ford guy was on his feet now with two hands on the gun near the pump slide wrestling with gun guy who also had two hands on the gun back by the trigger and stock. No-gun guy jumped into the fray to help his partner. In the commotion, the pump slid back and forth so there was now a fresh cartridge in the chamber. Blond lady saw her chance and ran with both kids for the door. No-gun guy reached out and grabbed the boy’s backpack just in time to keep him in the store. Blond lady now stood out by the pumps clutching her girl and started screaming again.

I saw the fight for the gun and struggling with the boy as an opportunity to run behind the counter. Either the back door or the pistol would be my goal. You do not realize how much blood comes out of a body with its head blown off. I slipped in a pool of blood and crashed into the wall behind the counter. Fortunately, I landed right on top of the pistol. In fact, my shoulder was now contributing to the blood on the floor from landing full force on that gun. Good thing it didn’t fire. For the moment, I was out of sight behind the counter and could only hear the struggle for the shotgun and the tussle with the crying boy. The two robbers are now aware of my presence, but are right now dealing with other things.

Suddenly, another shot rings out. Over the counter I caught sight of the mussel flash awfully close to Ford guy’s face. While he was not shot, the sound and heat from the blast would certainly debilitate him for a while. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Ford guy hit the floor. The pistol I landed on turned out to be a .38 special revolver. A quick flip showed bullets in all the chambers. I was not eager to let the bad guys know what I had so kept it close to the floor. My first choice was to get to that back door which was only a few feet away over some very slippery floor. I had not heard the pump of the shotgun being reloaded so I decided to take a chance on getting to the door. That was cancelled by no-gun guy coming around the counter dragging the boy. He was going for the cash register but slipped on the blood and crashed to the floor with the boy on top of him. The three of us were tangled amid the poor attendant’s body. I was able to extract myself to lurch forward and put the pistol right to no-gun guy’s head. “Don’t Move!”, I growled, “Let go of the boy”. With that, the boy was released and ran around the counter heading for the front door. The door chime sounded as it was opened and was followed by gun guy pumping the shotgun and firing another loud blast toward the front door. The boy was apparently safe outside as the sound of the blond screaming changed tone to less strident and then silence under the still rumbling of the Chevy outside.

As this latest blast reverberated through the store, I instructed no-gun guy to tell his partner to stay cool and put down the gun. As he was staring at the business end of the .38, he had no choice and did as I asked. A we rose above the level of the counter and he saw the .38 pointed at his partner’s head. It was gun guy’s turn to say “What the fuck!?” “Do Not pump that shotgun!”, I commanded gun guy as he swung it in my direction. There was a sort of Mexican stand-off for a few moments .I heard Ford guy stirring on the floor. He took in the scene and stood up unsteadily to take the shotgun from the robber. The side of his face was a mess from the burning shot wad that came so close to his head. I saw him pump the shotgun thinking I could relax a bit as it was now in friendly hands.

Friendly hands they may have been, but Ford guy was anything but friendly. He was totally steamed at gun guy and proceeded to level the shotgun at his chest. Ford guy was apparently not fully recovered because gun-guy slapped the shotgun muzzle out of the way and the fight was on once again between the two of them over the shotgun. No-gun guy looked toward me as if to assess his situation, but I tapped him with the pistol and shook my head. He got the hint and we watched to see how this new battle on the other side of the counter would come out. I pulled no-gun guy in front of me as there was a loaded shotgun swinging around not far away. One more blast reverberated through the store and gun guy yelped in pain; took one limping step toward the exit and fell. He was clutching his foot which appeared to be missing the front half of the shoe. That was enough for me. I released no-gun guy, carefully stepped toward the back door and let myself out still clutching the pistol. I ran into the woods behind the store to wait out the situation where the parking lot lights cast few shadows.

It was just as well, within a few minutes I heard the approach of police with sirens wailing and lights flashing. I guess Ford guy was able to hold his own until they arrived. The last thing I wanted now was to be somebody holding a gun in there when the police showed up. All of a sudden I had to pee like crazy.

It turned out to be a very long night with all the investigation going on, but you probably read about that in the papers. I still feel bad for the tattooed attendant, poor kid.