"A phone call!" The pharmacist cried.
Devin halted, pressing the blade's tip against the pharmacist's neck. "A phone call?"
"Yes! The facilitator, he—he can help you. Let me call him," the pharmacist stuttered, pleading with Devin.
Devin pondered for a moment. "Okay." He withdrew the knife from the old man's neck.
The old man stood up, drawing attention to the wet stain on his pants. Paying no mind to it, he frantically rummaged through his pockets. 'Where is it, where is it, where is it…there!' The pharmacist beamed, finding a tiny phone in his inner pocket.
The pocket sized phone had a small display and an array of numbered buttons. The pharmacist moved his thumb to the call button.
"Interesting phone. Hopefully, you're not wasting your time calling the police," Devin said, his utterance a veiled threat. The pharmacist shuddered before tapping the button.
The phone vibrated five times before it stopped. "He's coming," the old man breathed a sigh of relief.
"Hm." Devin grabbed his neck and forced him against the counter. "He's coming? Stop playing with me, old man! I'll gut you if you think this is a game!"
"No!" The pharmacist emptied more of his bladder, looking into the wrathful teenager's eyes. "That's how it works! He's part of an organization. Five rings mean the order has been accepted. Please, please don't kill me." The pharmacist pleaded. "If you kill me, they'll kill you—"
"Is that a threat?" Devin asked, his eyes gleaming.
"No!" He continued. "They can help you. Didn't you say you wanted to save someone precious to you?"
"Haah." Devin sighed, releasing him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to release the tension, and simply said, "You have thirty minutes." Devin set the timer on his phone.
The pharmacist swallowed hard, a gulp escaping his throat…
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The relentless ticking of the pharmacy's wall clock echoed in the silence as five minutes went by…
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. After ten minutes, Devin began pacing around the counter. The clock's ticking grew louder in his ears…
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. At the fifteen-minute mark, he ground his teeth, staring a hole through the pharmacist's head. The ticking almost maddening…
Throughout this time, the pharmacist shivered uncontrollably, making sure not to meet the delinquent's eyes. He prayed to God as the time went by. He prayed for mercy for his poor soul. He's been nothing but a good, faithful Christian man. A loving husband and good father to his two daughters with a grandchild on the way.
'I don't deserve this.' The old man bit hard on his lip, indignant to this whole situation. What right did this ruffian have to just march into his store and threaten his life? He's not the only one with people precious to him. He should fight back, and show this bastard what happens when you play with people's lives, but alas.
'I can't die today.' He sighed. For the sake of his wife and children, he held back his indignation. The cold sweat trickled down his back, and the sterile smell of antiseptics filled his nostrils. The sound of Devin's footsteps and the clock's ticking echoed through the silent pharmacy, making the air feel heavy and oppressive…
Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring… Devin's phone chimed, thirty minutes having gone by. He silenced his timer and turned his attention to the pharmacist.
"Wait, wait, give me more time—" The pharmacist hurriedly stepped back before tripping to the ground. Devin got closer with the knife in hand, his reflection appeared monstrous through the pharmacist's eyes. Devin raised the knife above his head…
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
Knocking on the door grabbed his attention, interrupting his reaping. The silhouette of a tall man in a light brown trench coat could be seen from the inside.
"He's here!" The pharmacist sighed in relief.
"Get up." Devin felt something amiss and forced the pharmacist up. Grabbing him from behind, Devin held the knife to the pharmacist's neck and walked him to the door.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Devin's heart raced as he tightened his grip on the knife. "Open it." He ordered the pharmacist to open the door.
Click. The pharmacist unlocked the door, letting the man inside. Stepping through the doorway, Devin finally got a good look at the tall man.
He looked impeccably clean, tanned, his chestnut-coloured hair styled in a sleek and classic cut that perfectly framed his face. He smiled, his warm chestnut eyes calmly surveying the room.
His eyes then fell upon the two.
"Evans, my brother, this is not protocol," the tall man sighed. He spoke in a certain African accent, as he reached into his trench coat.
"Mr. H, he has a knife, he threatened my life!" the pharmacist Evans pleaded.
"He has a knife? I have a gun." Mr. H took out his handgun and grabbed the silencer from another pocket, before slowly attaching it to the gun.
Devin and Evans stood opposite Mr. H, both agitated by the sight of the gun. Evans' legs wobbled, his voice trembling as he pleaded his case to the facilitator. "Please sir, I've been nothing but faithful to the organisation." Devin's heart raced as the memory of being riddled by bullets resurfaced. He could see it in the man's eyes, this psychopath had no qualms about pulling the trigger. Devin gritted his teeth and said, "I have money, just give me the medicine, please."
"You have money?" Mr. H stopped fixing his silencer and looked at him.
Devin tightened his grip on the blade, sweat forming atop his forehead. "Yes, over R9000."
"Hm." Mr. H pondered, looking Devin up and down. He glanced at his gun and chuckled. "That can work." He turned back to Devin and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Pfft. Thud. Evan's body fell to the floor, blood oozing from his head, forming a puddle beneath him. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, mixing with the sterile smell of the pharmacy. Devin stood in shock, the cold sweat on his forehead mixing with the warm blood on his face, trickling down his temple.
"Come with me brother." Mr. H took out his silencer, putting his gun back into his pocket, and walked to the door.
"Uh…" Devin uttered, his heart pounding in his chest.
Mr. H turned back to him. "What's holding you? You need medicine, right?"
End of Chapter 9