Morning all and welcome to the middle of the week. This week seems to have lasted much longer than other weeks. But that could just be me. Anyway, we are here now, so let’s set those timers and see what we can come up with for today’s prompt.
I really like this as a story start. No idea where it is going but I may take some time at lunch to play with it. I kind of like Kevin.
Thursday, November 6th: A low moan came from the back room.
A low moan came from the back room. Jason looked to Kevin. Kevin nodded. He heard it too. He reached behind the bar to get the baseball bat. It was a hold over from when the neighborhood was less up and coming, less gentrified. Kevin’s father and grandfather only occasionally used the bat to restore order. Actually, each had used it exactly once. Kevin too used it once. After seeing that they were willing to use the bat, it was just enough to bring it out onto the bar and set it down while looking at the miscreants. Things generally settled down then.
And the Louisville Slugger went back under the bar.
No harm done.
Now with people coming in more for fancier cocktails and high end bottles, Kevin couldn’t remember the last time the bat came out. Truthfully some of the new bartenders teased him about it. They suggested he take it home. Only the few old timers made no comment.
It felt comforting in his hand as he and Jason made their way towards the back room. Kevin looked to Jason and saw he had armed himself with a half full bottle of wine. He was amused that Jason checked the label, making sure it was the least expensive bottle they carried before choosing it as a weapon.
‘Always an accountant,’ he thought as the two of them approached the door leading to the back. The moaning was soft, low. There was the occasional gasp for breath as though whoever was injured was having a hard time breathing. They reached the door to the stock room. The door was partially open. Kevin frowned. When he finished for the night he closed all of the inner doors before leaving. It was his own mental signal to himself, assuring his brain that the room was checked, no one was there and the inventory inside was exactly as it should be.
He knew he had a touch of what others might call OCD with certain things. These doors were one of them. If they weren’t closed then he hadn’t checked and needed to go back through. Brian, once played a prank on him by sneaking back and opening one of the doors after he checked it. Kevin ended up checking the room five times before the ‘joke’ ended.
He and Brian were no longer friends.
He would not have left the door open the night before.
He went to one side of the door and Jason to the other. Jason counted to three and then pushed the door open making sure it went flat against the wall. There was only one person in the room. He was sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from more than a dozen places.
“Help me,” the man wheezed.
“Call the ambulance,” Kevin said. “I’ll get the first aide kit.”
Kevin marched to the office and opened the door. This was not the time for the small first aide kit. It was time for the large scale emergency one. Like the doors, he couldn’t not have the kit on site. That he blamed on his time serving as in the military as a medic before returning home to take over the family business. He always kept it on hand, just in case the day called for it. ‘And today calls for it,’ he thought grabbing the handle and setting the baseball bat down.
Ten til Midnight 