Fail Safe Written by Kenneth Roberson 11:52:47 Men dont wear pantyhose, Davey Grit complained.

He was slouching in the passenger seat of a rustic Ford Coup and looking ready to throw a hissy fit. Hed turn twenty-three next month, but still he hadn't outgrown his diapers. Shoot, I've worn them, Lucas Wright replied. I've worn them anytime I was on a job. So what if women have them on their pretty legs. Dont matter. Forget about a ski mask. You either wear the pantyhose, or you aint goin nowhere. You got that? Lucas, fifty, had been involved in felonious activities for three decades, so he knew what he was talking about. Do I have to wear it? Davey asked, squirming and miserable. If you dont, Ill begin disguising you with my bare knuckles. It was around ten in the evening and freezing cold. Most everything in Lucas ancient four-door coup was broken, including the heater. The coup was parked in the lot of Harky Mells, a friendly neighborhood grocery store. Parked three spaces over and idling was a white Chevrolet van. Lucas saw foggy windows and exhaust, but not any the occupants. His coupe and the van were the only vehicles on the lot. Well, Lucas wasnt taking any chances, not tonight, not with a new partner in crime. Armed robbery took smarts. Last night, while eating a bowl of Cocoapebbles, Lucas had suggested to Davey they should hold-up Harky Mells together. Its perfect, he said wiping his mouth. Harky Mells doesnt have a security guard. Most city groceries nowadays have one. But not Harky Mells. They must be run by a penny pincher. I say we prove the pincher wrong. We could score three hundred. No problem. Money could always perk Davey up. Really? His voice was cherry. We could do that? Davey was not the brightest bulb in the pack, but Lucas had a sort of paternal kinship for his friend of three years. Maybe it was because he reminded him of his younger brother, who had been struck and killed by a lightning bolt while playing golf during a thunderstorm. Both brains were similar in that they should've undergone a

mental tune-up at birth. And like his deceased brother, his friend sure could act like a pain in the butt sometimes. In the Ford coup, Lucas turned to Davey, his irritation mild but building. You gonna do as I ask, or aint ya? Davey pulled the pantyhose over his head grudgingly. There ya go, Lucas said, his chapped lips cracking with a smile. It makes you lookoh, whats the word...gothic. Oh yes, thats it, gothic. Like Scarecrow in the Batman comics. Whatever. "You wear the hose," Lucas said, "and I'll see about gettin you a woman. How's that?" Davey was a virgin. Lucas, now, Lucas was the babe-attractor of the two. He was tall and bustling with muscles. Face wasnt too shabby either. Lucas patted his friend on the shoulder and donned his pantyhose. There was a minor tremble taking place in his fingers. Arms and legs felt a little weak. Nervousness was setting in. Lucas hadnt robbed a joint in years. There was also the wet-behind-the-ears Davey. He had never robbed anything in his life. Lucas hoped it wasnt a mistake having him tag him along. Lucas glanced at his accomplice, rather apprentice, and asked, You ready? Davey nodded. Then lets do this. The parking lot was clean and bright. A bloated moon glared overhead, that and an army of florescent lamps. Within throwing distance were a Circuit City and a Rack Room Shoes, both closed for the night. Presently, no one was about. That was good, since the two men creeping towards the grocery store didn't look like typical shoppers. They passed the Chevrolet van, took a peek. Lucas couldnt make out anyone inside. Crossing the lot, they spotted a giant carnival tent. Stored inside were empty wooden crates and bales of straw. Next to the tent, cinched between two poles, was a banner with the words PUMPKIN PATCH. Harky Mells had a small bike rack. It was near the front doors. Chained and locked to the rack were half a dozen ten-speed bikes. Next to the bike rack was a large storage container housing full

propane tanks. The entrance was equipped with automatic sliding doors. They parted when Lucas and Davey sidled up alongside the front of the building. Craning his neck, Lucas took a gander at the store's interior. It was soulless inside, no one visible. He turned to Davey, now brandishing a Heckler & Koch handgun. Follow me. Do not wander off. I wont. Lucas pulled his own Colt .45 from his waistband. Watch and learn my friend, he said. Watch and learn. Teacher and student went to school. 12:05:14 Davey was gone. Lucas realized this fact when he was halfway down the cereal aisle. My god, he had thought, a pillar of smoke couldnt have disappeared quicker. One moment Lucas had company, the next he was alone. Lucas was getting agitated. He didnt much care for disappearing acts, especially since he told Davey to stick to him like glue. "Davey?" Lucas didn't want to take the chance of sounding the alarms, so he kept his voice volume on low, barely above a whisper. "Davey?" Damn it! There was no response. Lucas, growling like a bear, made his way back towards the front of the store. He cut through the unoccupied checkout islands. "Davey?" Lucas breathed deeply. He could feel his anger mounting. That was not good. Bad things happened when his anger was in stir. Near the checkout lanes were four doors. One was the entrance to an office. Two belonged to bathrooms. The fourth led into a stairwell. Lucas guessed the stairwell took you to the small second floor. He jingled the locked office doorknocked on the glass. Lucas heard nothing. He figured the mens bathroom was where he'd find his friend. Davey's prolly releasing a load, he thought. He has no idea he's about to catch all hell. Lucas then shot into the bathroom. 12:07:06

There was a problem. Lucas lowered his Colt. How close he'd come to committing murder he didn't know. He'd slipped into the men's bathroom expecting to find Davey, instead he found a problem. Problem was young, gangly, and foaming at the mouth. Problem was also frightened. Eyes like flying saucers were practically lifting off from their sockets. It mustve been the sight of the pantyhose that caused a panic, or just the pointed gun and its wide tunnel for a bore. Lucas would have to decide which later; right now the status quo demanded more important answer. Lucas asked problem, "You work here?" Problem shook his head. "Shopping?" There was another shake of the head. "Well...tell me, why you here?" Problem dropped the toothbrush into the sink. He'd been brushing his teeth when the hulking stranger with the large gun had come barging in the bathroom. "Working, uh...not here, on the streets. I patrol a nearby neighborhood." "Uh-huh." The word "patrol" put the fear of God in Lucas. He was scared of the cops. Anyone involved with the law actually. Problem wasn't armed, and neither was he wearing a uniform of any typejust a polo shirt and a pair of tan cargo pantsbut that didn't slow Lucas' precipitating heart rate. "You with the police?" "No. Just civic patrol. I volunteer." Problem paused. "You going to kill me?" "Don't gimme any trouble and death won't become you. You got that?" Problem gave Lucas a weak nod.

Lucas stepped a little closer. "Listen. You see someone else in the store, someone like me?" "L-like you?" "Yeah. Like me. Anyone wearin pantyhose." "Oh no sir. No one fitting that description." Lucas nodded. Where was Davey? Problem grabbed the edge of the sink for support; his knees were on the verge of buckling. "Hey, look...can I leave now?" "You'll leave after I'm through here. No sooner." "After you rob this place?" Lucas smiled candidly. "How'd you guess?" Problem shrugged. On Lucas' left were two stall doors. Both were closed. He checked them for occupants. "Hey, would you do me a favor?" Problem asked, "What's that?" "Can you drop to your knees for me?" "Why?" "Get on your knees and face the wall." "Wait!" Problem shrieked, stumbling backwards with his hands thrown up in a warding-off gesture. "Wait! You said you wouldnt kill me?" "And I wont," Lucas placated the man. "I just wanna knock you out. Put you to sleep." "Why?"

"So you won't run and tell that's why." "I won't! I swear!" "On your knees, now." Problem burst into tears. "Please don't hurt me," he pleaded sorrowfully. "Please." Lucas sighed. This was a problem, he surmised. But it always was when they begged. Moments later, Lucas solved the problem. 12:09:35 Davey was running hog-wild. Lucas had spied him joyriding inside an electric cart up and down the frozen-food aisles, waving his Heckler & Koch in the air and stuffing an assemblage of random goods into the front-mounted basket. TV dinners, pints of ice creamwhatever he could grab with one hand. "Why'd you run off?" Lucas yelled at him. Davey shrugged. And where'd you get that stupid mask? His friend no longer wore the pantyhose; he'd replaced with it a skull Halloween mask. On the aisle. Davey reached into the cart's basket and removed a Star Wars Chewbacca mask. "Look. I got you one, too." He lifted the mask into the air. Lucas sighed. What aisle? The aisle with the Halloween stuff." "And the pantyhose?" "Left it on the aisle. You want me to go and get it?

Yeah, I do. All right. Davey pressed the FORWARD button on his electric cart. Be right back." The cart began a slow crawl off. Lucas grabbed ahold the front basket. "These carts are meant for the physically handicapped, not the mentally. Get off. Why? Cause I said so. Can I at least take it back where I found it? No. Get off. Davey tossed the Chewbacca mask back into the basket and climbed from the cart. Sternly, Lucas said, Stay with me. I aint gonna tell you again. Davey said nothing. "Move," Lucas ordered. "We have work to do." 12:13:56 Davey was watching television. The second disappearing act had occurred after they'd both swung by the Halloween aisle. Lucas had checked the frozen food aisle, the dairy and meat sections and even the bathroom again. He was about to give up when he stumbled into the Harky Mells' break room at the back of the store. He never wouldve found the room if the television set inside hadn't led the way. It was blaring on full volume. When Lucas saw Davey and a store employee sitting in front of the tube together, Davey with his gun and skull mask, the employee confused and a little more than worried, Lucas had almost fainted dead away. "What do you think you're doin?" he asked.

"Watching a movie." "I can see that!" The employee, a small, pudgy-skinned man in his late thirties, began eyeballing Lucas' gun immediately. The sight of Lucas had frozen him stiff. He resembled tooth-brusher in the bathroom. His expression said: I'm going to die. Lucas felt his anger dissipate. At least now I know someone works here. He pointed his Colt .45 at the employee and thumbed back the hammer. "You what's your name?" "Sam." "Hi ya Sam. Anyone else workin tonight except you?" "No. I mean yes. They're upstairs." "Upstairs? What are they doin up there?" "Its Poker night." "People are playing cards? Here?" Sam nodded. That's weird, Lucas thought. Whatever, didn't matter. "You a manager Sam?" "Yes." "Then I'm guessin you know where the safe is, correct?" Sam swallowed hard. "Uh...safe?" "Yeah. The box that usually holds cash and valuables. Where is it?" "It's up front."

"Take us there if you please." Sam complied immediately. He stood and moved towards the door. Davey followed. Feigning good humor, Lucas said, "Oh, and Davey?" "Yeah?" He jabbed a finger at the television, on screen, a knife-wielding boogeyman was chasing a teenage girl. "Turn that shit off." "Okay." "And take off that stupid mask why you're at it." Davey replied, "But I like my mask." 12:15:21 "You have a choice," Lucas said. "The safe or your skull. Which one do we have to crack open tonight?" "But I can't get inside," Sam whined. I promise. Lucas was nearing hysterical. He had to restrain from violent urges, such as strangling the manager until the neck bone grated to a powdery substance. Sam had taken his sweet time locking the front doors, keying open the office door, and fiddling with the safes rotary knob before the explanation came why the safe couldn't be breached. It was the timelock kind, and that meant they couldn't get to the contents until the timer reached zerowhich was a long time from now. Was Sam doing the unthinkable? Was he actually stalling? "I'm sorry," Sam apologized sincerely. "I wish I could" "Up," Lucas growled. "Off the floor."

Sam took a seat in a rolling chair. Lucas thought, What to do now? Sam reached into one of his slacks back pocket. Lucas pointed his gun at Sams chest. Whatre you up to? Im getting my wallet. Who said you could do that? Do you want my personal cash or not? Sure I do.

Sam retrieved his wallet and asked, You need money bad, huh? He handed Lucas a wad of bills.

Lucas took the wad. You hire felons here at Harky Mells?

No.

Lucas chuckled. Neither does most respectable places. Of course I need the money. You spoke of a poker game upstairs?"

Sam nodded. "How many?" "Many?" "How many around the table?" "Five," he answered, but sounded unsure. "Five huh?" Sam stood up. "My wife is up there," he barked. "Don't hurt her." "Sit down," Lucas commanded, suppressing a smile. Was this guy for real or what? At least he's amusing. Eventually, Sam had a seat. "I ain't partial to hurtin women," Lucas confessed. "Not unless they start in with their tongues." Sam looked down at his shoes. Lucas asked, "They dealin in actual dough, or is it just...you know...kiddy stuff?" "No, no, the money's real. There should be enough. Can you just take it and leave, and not kill anyone?" Lucas replied, "You said 'enough?' Enough ain't in my personal dictionary." He scratched his stubbled chin through the pantyhose. "Hey, uh, Davey?" No answer. "Get in here Davey." Seconds later, Davey appeared in the office doorway. "Yeah?"

"Stay with this guy, will ya. If his britches lift from that seat, I want you to weigh em down with hot lead." "My pleasure." Davey's sly response wasn't lost on Lucas. "No funny business neither," he stated. "Just watch him." "I will." Naturally, Lucas was dubious. Davey asked Lucas, "Where you going?" "Upstairs. There's a stake I need to claim." "Huh?" "Just do as I asked." Lucas stood in the small office a moment longer before heading for the stairwell. 12:22:05 The employees were wasted. Lucas had smoked them all. He was standing just inside a dimly-lit office, and eyeing the scene with complete clarity, but was as clueless and daunted as a hungry buzzard getting ravaged by its reanimated dinner. What had just transpired he couldn't say. Lucas exchanged the spent clip on his Colt .45 for another. "Anyone alive?" No, he wasn't expecting an answer. One needed a working hole for that, and he'd plug them all. He hadn't meant to kill anyone. That was the honest truth, too. He'd strolled into the office with the intention of freeloading, but had unloaded freely instead. But after the hammer had sailed past his head, he didn't have a choice. "Gimme all the money on the " Lucas' demand for cash was cut short when the employees began throwing tools his way. Lucas had dodged a wrench, hammer, a box of nails...an electric drill even. The air had hummed with a barrage of deadly objects. Why tools were so near hands involved with a game of Poker Lucas

could only guess. The Poker card table was lying on its side. Littered around it were chips and cards, loose tools and a toolbox, bills and coins, and five dead bodiesone being female. With a shake of his head, Lucas thought, That aint good. He wouldve dropped down on his hands and knees and gathered up the money right then, despite all the death surrounding it, but decided against it. Sam was downstairs, and Sam was probably crazier than a nuthatch fired from a bazooka right about now. Gunshots in close proximity to your wife didnt exactly keep the nerves strung like a finely tuned Gibson. While taking the stairs, Lucas figured he was now ready for just about anything. But he had no idea. 12:24:39 Davey had plans to blow the place sky-high, and he would do it with propane tanks. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Lucas yelled, utterly flabbergasted. He'd hit the first floor expecting to find Davey and a frothy-mouthed grocery manager, instead he'd spotted them both hovering over a shopping basket loaded down with propane tanks: eight of them. Davey was actually removing a tank from the basket when Lucas rounded the corner. Sounding surprised, Davey asked, "What do you mean?" "The tankswhy are they here...inside?" Davey went outside. Was he trying to get us caught? "They explode don't they?" Lucas didn't reply. His brain couldn't tackle what the ears were running. "I thought we could cover our tracks," Davey explained. "Like they do in the movies." Sam gave him a quizzical expression. Do what? The expression said. Lucas noticed the manager's demeanor had settled in the calm zone. He must've not heard the gunshots, he thought. Not when he was outside unlocking the propane storage container for Davey. Lucas shook his head.

He'd just have to deal with Davey some other time. Now, how to do this... "Hey Sam?" "Yeah?" "I have some bad news for you. I don't think you're going to like it." "What...?" Sam paused. "Where's my wife?" "She, uh..." Could he tell him? Realization in Sam's mind dawned. His mouth fell agape. Face blanched with white horror. "No." "I'm sorry," Lucas said. "Shetheyattacked me. I was defending my life." "What? Oh God!" Sam was hysterical. "Oh no! Oh God no!" He swept past Lucas and bolted for the stairwell. Flustered, Davey asked, "What're we supposed to do with all these propane tanks? Leave them here or what?" "Stay here," Lucas said. "Don't move a muscle." Lucas headed upstairs. 12:29:03 Davey was dead. Lucas had been stuffing coins and bills into his pockets maddeningly when a booming concussion resounded on the bottom floor. At first Lucas assumed Davey had fired off a round accidently, or a propane tank had blown, but when he peered through one of the windows, he saw neither was the case. Davey was face-down in a pool of blood. He had suffered a gunshot in the back of the head. Behind his sprawled-out, lifeless body was an elderly security guard armed with the biggest gun Lucas had ever seen. No, not a gun, cannon. The weapon was huge, and the palsied hands holding it echoed its enormity. Lucas could barely breathe. Shock had overwhelmed him.

Shock not just at the sight of his dead friend, but shock because it had actually happened on his watch. This has turned into a real nightmare, he thought. His best friend was a bloody mess. The cops were probably on the way. Plus, Lucas had to get past the geriatric Barney Fife, him and the weapon that would've looked more appropriate bolted to a tripod. "Oh God! How I will I ever live without you!" Sam was mourning over his deceased wife, who he had cradled limply in both arms. Panicking, Lucas lifted Sam by his shirt collar. "Get up." "What?" "You're coming with" "Is he gone?" Someone was screaming downstairs. "Is he?" Lucas' heart leapt into his throat and he rushed back to the window. Ah crap! It was the civic patrol guy from the bathroom. He must've regained consciousness in a disoriented frenzy, because he had the movements of someone who assumed another hulking blackout was just around the corner. "Is he here?" he shouted. "Tell me!" Lucas asked Sam, "Did you call security?" Sam didn't answer. "Did you?" "No." Sam wiped a shirt-sleeve across his eyes. "We have a security guard, but he sleeps in his van mostly." Lucas realized he should've spent more time casing the grocery store. Not that he would've ever spotted the old fogie passed out in the van. Well, what now? How could he get past the guard? Hed most certainly try. Lucas grabbed Sam by the wrist. "We're leaving." Enraged, Sam jerked from the bigger man's grip. "Leave me alone murderer. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Can't do that. You're needed." "No!" "I said get up!" "Why? What for?" Lucas prodded Sam with his gun. "A human shield." 12:35:59 Lucas was a loser. This didn't cause him shock or dismay, but only pain, pain at not seeing the odds when they were stacked so high against him. All his life, Lucas Wright had never won anything. Not a scholarship, not even a pink fuzzy bunny rabbit at the county fair. Like the rest of his family, he was a loser, born and bred. If he had streak in his hair, it was a losing one. So it didn't surprise him when he lost the gunfight with the elderly security guard. Lucas was now losing something else, and that was consciousness. And that was going fast. But before he lost one last time, before the snapping black maw of oblivion claimed him as prize, he managed a skewed look at his friend Davey, who lay not two feet away. Davey, Davey, Davey. What we've gotten ourselves into this time. He remembered the night him and Davey had met. They had shared a bottle of whiskey together while spilling the guts of their dead-beat lives. It was warm back then, warm and full of promise and adventure. Lucas found Davey in a summer breeze, wandering alone and aloof on a wharf, selling rub-on tattoos to surly sailors as they disembarked drunk and weary from the holds of ships. Roses and dragons, skulls and crossbonesDavey had had them all. "Want one?" he would tell them in his high-pitched voice. "They're only a buck. Two if I get it stuck." He'd referred to himself as a "tattoo salesman," which had cracked Lucas up. But that was Davey. What Lucas remembered most that night was the smile the young chap had given him after explaining to Lucas he had started up the tattoo business himself, but was always on the lookout for a partner. The pleasure the sight had given him. Lucas was thinking of Davey's smile, and then he was thinking no more. The End