Midnight Snack

Garth was on till midnight. The Store was dead. He'd snuck one of the romance novels off the shelves and was reading it rather hungrily. It was past 11, so it was only the manager now. It was supposed to be only head cashiers who stayed this late, but both Kevin and Tavvy had had to deal with Mrs. Richards this week. She'd come twice, suggesting that she wasn't a ghost like some thought she was. Ghosts were supposed to stick to patterned hauntings, as if they were bound to schedules just as the cashiers were. Management had been forgiving to them because they were heads and gave them an hour off their week. Consequently, Garth had to fill in. But he'd gladly done it because he'd cashiered for Richards once and she had nearly killed him. Metaphorically, of course. No one had tried anything physical yet.

It was strange. He felt as if they only had him in early in the morning or late at night, when the majority of his shift was spent without any other cashiers nearby. He wasn't exactly the most social of persons but he did like company. And the company seemed intent on denying him company.

He winced. One of his headaches again. The aisle went blurry for a second. He'd go to a doctor but it said in his contract he wasn't to see any doctors. Just as it said he wasn't to see anyone else outside of work. And there was no outside of work. He wasn't even supposed to see his family—

No. No, that wasn't right. He could see his family. He could see them now. He had been with them last night, he was sure of that. He could see his mom's smile, her curly brown hair—though she'd had it straightened—and she was a redhead—

“Hello?”

Ah, a customer. An older lady—his heart stopped for a moment, because he thought she was Mrs. Richards for a moment. But not even she would be crazy enough to come at midnight. He smiled broadly at her, sincerely thankful. “Hello,” he said. “How are you?”

“Just come for a midnight snack,” she said.

#

There was no extraordinary story behind how Minerva had come to Garth's line. She had always lived just a few blocks from the old Sun Valley. She remembered when it was a Cub, before the owner had pulled what the younger folks called an exit scam. She couldn't quite remember what that was, but she knew she had to be careful of scams. There were hackers, hackers everywhere, who could get into your credit cards and things. They could even hide things in their wallets to steal the credit card info out of your purse. She bought one of the card-guards, like they had on TV, to hide her card in. Hal hadn't wanted her to spend the money so she'd done it secretly.

But no, it wasn't a long walk to the Store. Just a few blocks. She could make it, even with her walker. She'd done it before, lots of times. Why, she used to shop here when this place used to be a Cub, if you can remember when it was that.

They didn't change their shelves much, so she just got her stuff, which was just soaps and chips and a little candy bar that she slipped into her purse, even though that was cheating. (Hal would yell at her if he ever saw her eating chocolate.) She saw there was only one lane open, though it took her a little while to find it. And what an odd coincidence—the lane that was being used was the only one with a working bulb in those little number signs they had over them. They must have given it to this young man because it was the best-looking.

“Hello?” she called, in a joking voice. That always cracked her up—pretending they were asleep when they weren't. There was no response. There was no indication the cashier saw her at all.

Oh well. Maybe he was just hard of hearing. She had been awfully quiet. She grinned. “Just come for a midnight snack,” she said.

Again, no response. The young blond just stared at her like she was from Mars or something. He even made three little shapes with his mouth like he was blowing kisses at her.

“Well, there's no need to be shy,” she said with a chuckle. Now he looked up at her more urgently, even as she remembered there was something else she was supposed to get. Something small, and round. Not food—but something important.

What was he saying now?”

“Lamb, her beer ring ay-zow.”

“What?” she asked.

“Her beer ring ay. HER BEER RING AY!”

The cashier was waving its hands around now, with an unreadable expression on its face. She frowned and rolled her eyes. Then she saw out of the corner of her vision that her hearing aid had fallen out. She sighed. Rude boy. Why hadn't he told her?

She looked down then, pinching her lips so he knew she was mad. But if he asked, she was happy as could be—to be otherwise would be impolite, and we wouldn't want that, would we?

“Your total comes to $7.56.”

“It says $7.65,” she said, her eyes hunter-locked on the screen.

He looked at her, a little shocked. What, did he think she couldn't read it?

“Sorry, I'm a bit dyslexic,” he said.

“Mm.”

She took out her card and looked down. “So much glare on the screen,” she said. She set the card on top of the machine and pushed down. She didn't know if it had a chip or not. There was no way of knowing these things. He once more did that silly thing with his hands.

“Oh, uh, it's gonna be on the bottom.” He pointed and so she knew it was a chip. She was tired of having to insert only for someone to lecture her on how the chip wasn't working. She put it in and looked down at the screen. Couldn't see a damn thing because of that glare. She looked up at him and waited for him to prompt her.

“Does your card have a chip?”

She felt her hands sweat against the steel of her walker.

“Does your card have a chip?”

“What?”

“Does your card have a chip on it?”

She blinked. What was it saying? She just wanted to get out of here. This was just supposed to be her midnight snack, and nothing more.

Where was she? This was Cub, right? She reached for her keychain, to give it her Cub card.

“Here, hang on, I'll just run the card for you...”

The hands at her card oh no OH NO WHO WAS THIS WHO WAS THIS REACHING FOR HER

IT WAS GOING TO STEAL ALL OF HER MONEY!

She screamed and raised her walker high over her head. Then, she brought it down on the thief.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

WUNCE.

She looked at it with wide eyes once she put her walker down. Was it—was it over? Oh, she could see it now, a split along its brain-case...

Where was she again?

Was this Cub?

Oh, yes, her Cub card. She'd left it on the counter. That meant they'd scanned it. Her keys were next to a bottle of soap and a family-size bag of chips. “Uh-oh,” she said without looking. “Looks like someone forgot their groceries here!”

They'd know what to do with it. They had a lost and found for that stuff. People were so forgetful these days.

She walked away from the counter into the night, with gray-violet brains trailing from the leg of her walker, and her slide card left beeping in the chip slot.