I carefully rolled over on my back and slowly backstroked my way out to the end of the nearest row of cases. I got there just as the guy with the shotgun did. I lay motionless on the floor on the backside of the display case as he turned and walked back the other way.
As soon as I heard his retreating footsteps, I crawled around the end of the case and peeked around it with my head pressed to the floor. Everything was as I expected. The hostages were sitting in a row, bunched together at the feet of the knife-waver. They all looked scared to death. The women customers held their children to them with a grip that was more desperation than comforting. I could see that the kids were two little girls, both about seven years old. Their faces were so screwed up with fear that it was painful to look at them. I fought back my emotional reaction as hard as I could. I tried not to think about them and that they were only eleven years younger than me. I put out of my mind that they looked just like I had at that age and that they had mothers that loved them very much. Sure I did.
When I heard the robber approach, I eased up into a crouch at the end of the case. I leaned onto it, put my head down and waited for him to walk past me. When he was two steps by, I stepped out behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around and the barrel of the gun slapped right into my waiting hand. With my other hand I brushed his hand off the stock and I bent down and slid the shotgun across the floor toward the storeroom door. It slid halfway through and stopped.
That was good enough, I thought. The first robber was no longer a problem. If he went for the gun, he would run right into Murphy and without the gun, he was no longer number one on my list of priorities.
I spun around and took one step toward his buddy with the knife, when I saw the shiny handgun stuck in his waistband. That changed things. He was at least twenty feet away. I might be able to get to him before he dropped the knife and pulled the gun or I might not. In the split-second while I was trying to make up my mind, the first robber made up his. Instead of going after the shotgun, he grabbed my arms.
I was about to yank free, when I saw the guy with the knife smile and start toward me with the knife held at the ready. He thought his friend had me under control, so he felt secure enough to rely on the blade, rather than switching to the gun. The blade couldn't hurt me much, and the further he got from the hostages, the better I liked it. I faked struggling and waited for him to come to me.
When he was just a couple of steps out of my reach, I heard Murphy shout, "Drop the knife! Now!"
He had been watching from the door, and must have seen the first guy grab me and the second go after me with the knife. He didn't know about the gun, which the second robber was pulling from his waistband as I watched.
I leaned back and elbowed the guy holding my arms. He let out an "Oof!" and let go of me. I flexed my legs and leaped for the robber with the pistol with my left arm outstretched. I aimed my jump so I would pass through the gap between the cases, trying to put as much of me between the gun and Officer Murphy as I could.
I didn't have a good angle, but it was good enough. I saw the gun fire and a streak flew toward my outstretched hand. The bullet hit exactly in the palm of my left hand, driving the material of the glove into my palm with terrific force. The impact threw my arm back and forced my hand closed around the bullet as the impact broke every bone in my hand.
When I landed, I managed to keep my feet. I had a second or two before the shock and pain set in and I used it. I leaned over the refrigerated case and with my right hand I snatched the gun away just as the robber was bringing it to bear on me.
I dropped the gun into the stacks of ground round and grabbed the robber by the shirt and yanked his sorry ass over the case and threw him to the floor at the feet of Officer Murphy, who was staring at me.
I was about to say something about covering the first robber, but one look told me that he wouldn't be coming out of his tuck without medical assistance. I hadn't pulled my punch when I hit him with my elbow and he probably had some internal injuries from the blow.
The second robber wasn't moving either. He had hit the floor pretty hard and he was lying in a good imitation of a rag-doll, so he wasn't going to be a problem either.
Murphy took all this in at the same time as I did. He holstered his weapon and cuffed the guy at his feet, just for the heck of it.
While he did that, I got busy sending the "HEAL!" message to my poor demolished hand. The pain was terrible, but I knew it for an old friend. I stood with my fingers up and my forearm parallel to the floor while I waited for the intense wave of agony to wash over me and the healing to get enough of a start in my hand to let me move my fingers again. While I waited, I dropped the Dragon from my face and pushed my cowl back with my working hand.
When Murphy came over to check on me, he looked at my face and my hand and misunderstood the situation. He held out his hand next to mine with his palm up.
Rather than go into an explanation, I rolled my arm over and held my hand over his. The bullet fell from my limp fingers into his palm.
"Ow!" He said, flinching. "It's still hot!"
I dropped my arm to my side and breathed deeply as the pain began to subside. It was still pretty bad, but I had had worse and liked it, so this wasn't hard to deal with.
Murphy looked at the bullet and then looked at me. "You caught it," he said. "You caught the bullet." It then dawned on him what the consequences would have been if I hadn't got my hand in the way in time. "You saved my life. Damn! You caught the bullet."
"Keep it for a souvenir," I told him. "Maybe it will remind you to chill next time."
Rosario burst into the room with his gun drawn. It seemed comically anticlimactic and I had to suppress a giggle.
"Put it away, Rosario." I said. "Show's over."
I was about to ask Neeka if the EMTs had arrived, when I heard the sound of the siren approaching. I took one look toward the former hostages, still sitting on the floor, but no longer terrified, and I walked out of the store back the way I had come in.
I went back around the corner and over to the command post. The afternoon breeze played with my hair and I put my nose into it and inhaled deeply. The pain in my hand was down to a dull roar by now and I could twitch my fingers again. I smiled to myself and then put on a professional face as the ambulance rolled past me.
I walked up to Foster, Grogan, and Neeka and said to the Sheriff, "Two crooks, sunny side down. That was your order, wasn't it?"
Foster nodded. "Yes, that was exactly right. Thank you very much."
"The second one had a gun in his belt in addition to the knife," I told Grogan. "He got a shot off before I could get it away from him, but no one was hurt. Oh, Murphy has the bullet, in case you want it. He saw it all go down."
I figured I'd let Murphy tell any story he wanted to. His intentions had been good, even if his timing stunk. He hadn't known about the second gun, but neither did I when I went into the store.
"And now, we had better be going before we attract too much attention. Be seeing you, gentlemen."
"Wait!" Grogan said. "The media will want to interview you. Don't you want the credit. Don't you want to be on TV?"
"NO!" I said, maybe a little too sharply. "No thank you," I said, more politely. "No publicity, please. Give Murphy and Rosario any credit that's due."