Casey's Time

His heart was on fire. A burning beating mass inside his body that was loud enough that he could hear it and wondered if someone else was sitting in the car would they hear it too. His mind raced over every detail of what was about to happen. He tried playing it forward in his mind. Taking every opportunity to overthink and imagine the worst possibly outcome, weaving a spiders web of nightmare scenarios. All the outcomes, best to the worst, were then set aside. His mind was made. He was going to rob the corner store.

Just a year ago Casey would have never considered this. He felt a pang of guilt anytime he sped through a yellow light. But the whole world was a different place now. Super humans existed. Well at least one did. Captain Damocles had only been in the public eye for six months but it felt like a lifetime. Every headline. Every news station. Every social media post. It was all about him. Who he really was? Where he was from? What were his intentions? He had rescued trapped Guatemalan miners one week. The next week he saved a runaway train in Germany. After that he prevented a mass shooter at an awards ceremony in New York. He was everywhere at once. He’d pop in save the day and pop out. His appearance sparked a weird wave in crime. Some experts said it was going down some were say he was inspiring more crime to happen. At the end of the day none of that mattered. His presence didn’t stop Casey from getting fired from his job. Captain Damocles existence didn’t destroy the job market. Things were just the way they were. It wasn’t like he was planning a bank heist or killing a senator. He was going to knock over one corner store. Just to keep him from going under.

              Casey had taken every imaginable precaution. He was wearing shoes that were a size too large. He was dressed in bulky clothes to disguise his true build. He had a 38 revolver so as to not leave any shells in case he had to use it. He had a full face mask sitting in the passenger seat. He had even parked half a block away and blacked out his plates. Everything was ready. He played another scenario. He was getting shot. Getting caught, assaulted, arrested, convicted, imprisoned, raped and dying in the dirtiest prison cell. A bleak existence in some imaginary gulag. All the dark thoughts couldn’t drown out the fact that he needed money.

              He knew the shop owner would be alone. He knew the shop owner would be unarmed. He knew the shop owners name. And the fact that he had kids. And he was an immigrant. The guilt bubbled inside him. Casey shook his head. He had kids too. They were hungry. The car was in danger of being repossessed. The house note was two months late and close to foreclosure. He snapped to the ever real present. He was sitting in the car. He was ready. He was going to do this. Events had been set into motion and if he was sure enough to be sitting there in the dark in an idling car he was sure enough to see it through to the end.

              He inhaled sharply, grabbed the mask, and slipped it on as he stepped out of the car. His nerves were so electric he didn’t even feel himself walk but he could see that he was moving quickly. The soft glow of the corner shop became brighter as he got closer. The shop was empty, only the owner was inside. He made his approach quickening his steps to a near run.

              He got to the door and threw it open bringing the gun up automatically. He rolled his head around to the shop owner and dropped his voice a pitch as he spoke.

              “Be cool this is a robbery!”

              The owner’s eyes went from surprise to panic in a snap.

              “Put the money in the bag!”

              The owner shook as he went to the register.

              It popped open with a ding and Casey slid the bag across the counter.

              The old man moved quick and cautious.

              When the till was empty he slid the bag back towards Casey.

              Casey was sure the old man saw him shake as he reached for the bag.

              He turned around and was headed towards the door.

              Something was wrong. It was quiet. The air was dense. Then a sound that cracked the silence. A thundering ear-shattering sound, shredding the air like thunder. Then the impact, like hot rocks in his skin. The buckshot from a 12 gauge. The shop owner had bought a gun due to the recent uptick in crime. The pain was tremendous. He could feel every bit of it. Every single pellet now stuck in his flesh, the warm wet blood now running from his body. His adrenaline made every move he made feel like an earthquake, racking him to his soul.

              He could still walk and that was all he needed to know. He made his way out the door and made a beeline to the hedges that bordered the shop on one side. He could feel the blood coming fast now and his head was spinning. The adrenaline was mixing with the loss of the blood and he was coming undone. He fell to the ground. First on one knee then on all fours. He tried to keep moving towards his car but he wasn’t going to make it. The pain was too much.

              Casey looked at his surrounding, taking in every detail, looking for anything. His breath was getting shallow.

              “Oh god” he thought “am I gonna die?”

              He tried to focus on staying awake and moving. He just needed to make it to his car. He could manage if he got to the car. He could figure something out then. Drive to the hospital, the police, his kids, a friend. Anywhere that could keep him from bleeding out. All he needed to do was get to the car. He was sure it wasn’t but another 300 yards but it might as well be 300 miles. He was determined but it wasn’t working.

              That’s when he felt a presence. Casey turned to look and there he was. The costume, the massive body, the jet black eyes glinting in the night light from behind his iconic mask, it was Captain Damocles. What the hell was he doing in BFE? This was a side alley in a shit town in the middle of nowhere. There was no conceivable reason for him to be there. Did he have some kind of secret police scanner type brain power, could he pick up on misdemeanors as well as felonies? Why was he here instead of a million other places? Surely there problems in California or Scotland or Timbuktu. Anywhere but this ally. Too many questions that were not being answered by his almost statue like stillness.

              “I’m dying” Casey spat out.

              It just came out. He wasn’t expecting sympathy or a magical unheard of healing touch but he didn’t know what else to say so his brain spat out the obvious.

              Captain Damocles looked at him with indifference. It was an alien look. Not out of fear or anger. It was a look like the two of them in that alley weren’t the same species. They were different creatures. There was no indignation in it, no hate. He was just watching Casey die.

              “Please” Casey begged.

              He was begging now. The tear arising out of pain and fear. He would die and his kids would be put into child services. They would grow up and live their lives with the knowledge that their dad was a thief. A bad thief who couldn’t even make one job without being killed. Their imaginary adulthood played out in his mind as he panicked and made fevered grasps to keep his life from slipping between his fingers.

              “Please” It was a sob now.

              The blood was slowing. His vision was tunneling. But he kept looking at Damocles who stood there emotionless. Taking no actions to help or hinder the natural process of death as it played before him.

              Casey was blinking hard. Tears streaming down his face. He was forcing his eyes wide as he was forcing life to continue. But it was all too little. His breath was shaking and slow. His eyelids were heavy. He was tired. The whole of his life and every mistake he’d ever made pressed on him. Squeezing the last bits out of him. All the tension was easing now. His muscles were loose. He was done. As he closed his eyes he noticed Damocles bending to him.

              In the darkness of his own mind. In the last flickering moments of consciousness he heard the soft voice of Damocles speaking to him, answering his pleas. So close and loud it filled his head and echoed him into oblivion.

              “No”