Doctor Ralph barreled through the
door of the restaurant. A teenaged boy with visibly pulsing zits from behind
the register started to say, “Hello, and welcome to –” but Doctor Ralph was
around the counter before he could finish, headed for the back office.
The
manager, this time an elderly-looking gentleman who had clipped a bowtie to his
uniform (which was, strictly speaking, against the dress code, but since nobody
ever came to inspect this branch, nobody had ever noticed), attempted to greet
Doctor Ralph, saying, “Well I just gotta say what an honor it is to finally
have someone from corporate here in our little store.” He stuck out a hand
while scuttling along in Doctor Ralph’s wake, and was ignored. At the back of
the restaurant the hallway came to a T and Doctor Ralph paused.
Every
branch of the restaurant was built according to one of eight layouts. It had
been corporate policy for a decade and the layouts were designed by a team of
efficiency experts to get the most usable workspace out of various square
footages with minimal consideration given to employee comfort and safety. The
plans definitely worked, as productivity was 4% higher in the new stores than
in the old ones, and the incorporation of safety signs into the designs saved
on lawsuits (instead of artwork or inspirational posters, every restaurant had
“Caution, Wet Floor” and “Danger: HOT!” signs framed and hung so no employee
could ever file a lawsuit for injuries because, with the signs there, they were
considered properly warned).
This
particular franchise, however, was twelve years old.
Doctor
Ralph didn’t know where to go.
Rolling
his eyes and whispering a curse in his mind, he turned to the store manager and
said, “And what a pleasure it is for me as well! You know, we’ve been watching
your numbers for quite some time, and the big guys up at the top sure are
impressed, which is why they sent me today!”
“R-really?”
asked the manager. “I mean, I-I…well, we didn’t know you were coming, is all,
and…” He looked Doctor Ralph up and down and finally took in his appearance.
His
white lab coat was coated in dirt and brick dust, and spattered in blood. It
was torn in several places, and his pants (a pair of black slacks that cost
more than the manager earned in four months) were similarly ripped. He hadn’t
taken his right hand out of his pocket yet (because he was using it to hold his
remaining gun under his coat), but his left hand was a mix of cuts, scrapes,
and road rash. His hair was askew and there were several bruises starting to
turn purple on his face and forehead.
Doctor
Ralph noticed the man taking this all in and cut him off before he could ask
any questions.
“Now
then,” he said as he put his left hand on the manager’s shoulder and turning
him back towards the front of the restaurant. “I’m gonna need a few things from
you, mister...”
“Taurus,”
finished the manager. “But you can call me Mike.”
“Mike,”
said Doctor Ralph, “I’m just here to check in and let the big guys up top know
that I made it, so I need you to help me find a couple of things and then I’ll
be out of your hair.”
“You-you
aren’t here for an inspection?”
“I
am, Mike, yes. But we want to get a good idea of how things are ‘on the
ground,’ so to speak. I’m going to dive right in and actually work the floor,
like everybody else, because we believe in the power of our employees – from
the very top, to every level in the organization.”
“Oh!
Well, gee, sir, that’s just dandy! We’d love to show you some of what we’ve
been working on right here in our little store, so if you’d like…”
There
was a commotion at the front of the store and both men looked up to see several
of the employees backing away from the counter. Someone was shouting at the kid
working the register about an order – something about a secret menu – but Doctor
Ralph tightened his grip on Mike’s shoulder, stopping him.
“I’m
gonna have to cut you off right there, Mike.” Doctor Ralph steered Mike back
towards the rear of the store. “See, we like our inspections to be spontaneous,
so I’m gonna need you to get me a uniform out of your stash of backups, and I
will just drop in at some point in the next few days.” They’d reached the T
junction again at the back wall of the store and Doctor Ralph waited for Mike
to point him in the right direction.
“So
which way do we go, Mike?”
Mimi
and Walter walked towards the restaurant, with Adam following.
“Wait
here!” said Mimi.
“For
what?” asked Adam. “I burn shit, remember? What do you want me to do, hang out
and melt an ambulance?”
“Can’t
you just…I dunno, turn it down?” asked Walter.
“Right,
like I know how this shit works,” said Adam.
“Well,
you look like Officer Hobo just getting out of the shower,” said Mimi, “So you
can’t come in with us.”
“The
fuck do you expect me to do, then?!”
Mimi
said nothing for several steps, then, just as she was opening her mouth to
respond, Walter spoke up with “Go around back and watch the door in case he
tries to get away.”
“What,
by the dumpster?”
Mimi
and Walter shared a look, and Mimi caught on. “Yes, by the dumpster,” she said.
“But
it stinks back there!”
They
had reached the sidewalk that went in front of the restaurant, and Mimi stopped
up short, causing Adam to bump into her and Walter (who had taken several steps
past before realizing she’d stopped) to have to jog back.
“Look,
you can’t control…this. This thing. This power. Whatever. But you can’t control
it and you look like shit. So go stand at the back door where nobody will see
you, nobody will smell you, and if you blow anything up you’ll do the least
amount of property damage, all right?”
Adam
wanted to retort, but couldn’t think of anything, so he shook his head and
walked to the back of the restaurant. When he got there he found several
half-smoked cigarettes and a pair of plastic deck chairs around an ashtray. He
sat down, felt the chair start to collapse and melt underneath him, then stood
back up and started looking through the discarded cigarettes. There was half a
pack stashed behind the lock on the dumpster, so he took one out and put it in
his mouth. He started to look for a lighter, then paused…
Checking
to see if anybody was around, he took the cigarette back out of his mouth and
pinched the end with his fingertips. He concentrated, hard, trying to will heat
into his fingertips, but it just wasn’t happening.
Frustrated,
he sighed and released the tension.
The
end of the cigarette glowed to life.
Back
around the building at the front door, Walter and Mimi were talking.
“So
what do we do?” asked Walter.
“We
go in there and arrest him. If he tries to get out, hopefully Adam will slow
him down.”
“What
do you want me to do?”
“Stop
any bullets he shoots at me.”
“Fuck
you!”
“What
do you want me to say? I’m not bulletproof and you’re not a cop, so you’re
lucky I’m even letting you tag along!”
“Well…Fine!”
Walter
had hoped he could say something cooler than that, but nothing occurred to him.
He yanked the door open and shoved his way to the counter. Several other
patrons started complaining immediately, but Mimi waved her badge around once
and everybody fell silent. When he got to the register, the teenager said
“Welcome to—” but Walter waved him off.
“Skip
it, kid. Just gimme a Suicidal Rodeo Clown.”
“A
what?”
“Suicidal
Rodeo Clown? The burger?”
“I’m
sorry, sir, we don’t have anything like that on the menu. You can find our
specials on the board behind me.” The kid gestured above and behind him towards
the menus.
“No,
dumbass!” shouted Walter. “That’s not what I want to order!”
Mimi nudged him
and whispered “Hurry up!”
Walter sighed and
pinched the bridge of his nose, then lowered his voice again. “Sorry, but…look,
do you have a secret menu?”
The kid behind the
counter looked terrified, and several of the other employees had started doing
a nervous shuffle – meandering back and forth to look busy but not actually
going anywhere because they didn’t want to miss the show. The kid swallowed
hard and said, “Look, dude, I’ve only been here two weeks. Please just order
off the board, I don’t know anything about a secret menu and the buttons are
just here on the screen.”
“Fine,” said
Walter. “Gimme a…” His mind raced as he tried to think of something that would
be useful in this situation.
Then he
remembered.
“Gimme a
cheeseburger cheerful meal with a cola. Sub mustard instead of ketchup.”
The
kid behind the counter punched in the order and the line cooks behind him
started putting it together, but kept watch at the front of the store in case
something exciting happened. “That’ll be $4.85,” said the order-taker. Walter
slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and popped the change into the
donation bucket next to the register.
Then
they waited.
Adam
finished his cigarette and started another. As he paced the back patio near the
dumpster he noticed a peephole in the back door of the restaurant. They’d been
installed so employees could see who was ringing the doorbell and buzz them in
as well as make sure there weren’t people loitering near the dumpster when they
took the trash out, lest someone sneak in and rob the place.
Like
the vast majority of the human race, when he saw the peephole he went over and
looked into it. As he leaned in and peered, one of his hands came to rest on
the doorknob.
When
he discovered that the peephole, like all peepholes, was only one-way (and,
thus, he couldn’t see inside), he pushed himself away from the door and went
back to pacing the trash area.
He
didn’t notice the half-melted doorknob.
Doctor
Ralph exited the storage closet and immediately went to the bathroom, where he
cleaned himself up as best he could. The bruising was leading to swelling, but
he was able to wash off the blood and dirt and dust and wet his hair down to
give it some semblance of order, and when he was finished he could honestly say
he didn’t look worse than anybody else working at the restaurant.
He’d
get Mike’s keys and borrow his car (or “borrow” his car, whichever it needed to
be) and go to the airport and buy a plane ticket to Indiana. Next to gate B7
was an amenities center with lockers. Locker number 33039 contained a wallet
with an ID, matching credit card, and $200 cash. He could use that to get a
plane ticket back to Chicago, and once he was safely ensconced in the corporate
offices and laboratories of the fast food chain, he’d be untouchable.
He
shifted the gun in his pocket, trying to make it as nondescript as possible,
then exited the bathroom. Mike was waiting and opened his mouth to speak, but
Doctor Ralph cut him off, saying, “Mike, I’m gonna need just one more favor
from you.”
“Oh!”
said Mike. “S-sure! Um, I hope you don’t think too poorly of us for that little
outburst earlier. I’m sure you guys know that even the best restaurants
sometimes get unruly customers.” He chuckled, but stopped almost immediately
when Doctor Ralph failed to chuckle with him. “So, uh, what was it you needed,
sir?”
“I’m
gonna need your keys, Mike.” Doctor Ralph started walking back towards the
front of the restaurant, one arm around Mike, pulling him along. “See, I got a
ride here from the app on my phone but, wouldn’t you know it, the dang battery’s
dead. So I’m gonna need to borrow…”
He
trailed off as they came into view of the front of the restaurant.
Walter
and Mimi were standing at the counter.
They
were looking to the side, not forward, so they didn’t see him.
One
of the line cooks walked to the counter with a flimsy Technicolor cardboard box
and dropped it in front of the pair. Doctor Ralph heard the worker say, “Here
you go, one cheeseburger cheerful meal, sub mustard.” Walter looked up as his
order was delivered.
And
locked eyes with Doctor Ralph.
Without
looking away, Doctor Ralph said, “Gimme your keys, Mike”
“I-I-I’m
sorry, sir?”
Walter
kept his eyes locked on Doctor Ralph as well as he said, “Mimi?”
“What?”
she said.
“Get
ready.”
Mimi
looked up and followed Walter’s gaze.
Doctor Ralph said,
“Mike, gimme your goddamned keys. Now.”
“I
beg your pardon!?” said Mike.
Doctor
Ralph took the gun out of his pocket, holding it slightly in front of him to
ensure Mike saw it, but hoped it was still out of sight of Walter and Mimi.
“Give. Me. Your. Keys.”
“But…but…but
sir? I-I-I don’t drive. I take the bus.”
Mimi
reached for her gun.
Doctor
Ralph said, “Fuck” and raised his own.
Walter
shoved Mimi out of the way as Doctor Ralph pulled the trigger. He fired three
shots and didn’t wait to see where they landed, he just spun and ran for the
back door of the restaurant.
The
impact knocked Walter to the floor and the restaurant exploded into chaos.
People screamed and ran, some took out cell phones and started recording,
others took out cell phones and called 911.
Mimi
popped up and grabbed Walter’s shoulder to haul him upright and he screamed.
She recoiled from him and saw her hand coated in blood.
“I
don’t think I’m bulletproof anymore,” said Walter.
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