I lifted the fox hat from my eyes and looked towards the petrol station entrance. To my surprise there were at least half a dozen people within, with potential for more that were hidden behind the aisles.
Wind, strong and heavy after rolling in from the nearby shore, buffeted me. Knowing I could use my power to fend off the cold didn''t stop it from nipping at my face.
Xandra swayed into view to my left. She was playfully bobbing her head this way and that as if moving like a fish through water.
"What''s the matter?" she said, with a Cheshire cat smile, "Changed your mind?"
"What about you?" I said, "You coming in?"
Xandra shook her head.
"No," she said, "I''m going to watch from out here."
She nodded upwards to the petrol station.
"Go on," she said, playfully, "A bet is a bet, isn''t it?"
"Yeah," I said, grumbling.
The front of the petrol station was a lot busier but, at the very least, there weren''t any police vehicles parked up. There was always the potential for plain-clothes officers, but that was going to have to be a necessary risk.
I forced myself to remember how to walk and made my way towards the petrol station entrance.
Xandra waited behind with the carry bags, her smile fading more with each step I took.
All too quickly I was in the petrol station. A heater above the entrance provided a sudden rush of warmth. There were three people already in a queue at the cashier desk. A middle-aged woman wearing a white face mask that covered the lower half of her face jerked her gaze towards me and we locked eyes; hers were startlingly wide.
I cast aside my gaze and tried to walk as casually as I could muster. After a sharp left turn I found myself in the magazine aisle. I pretended to care about what was written on the covers.
The first which caught my eye read: Could the MICE threat be infectious?
And then another cover read: MICE spontaneous-combustion threat not over after all?
And then, one that made me double-take: Brave Mum of five makes ￡30,000 after turning over MICE fugitives squatting next door.
A tightness in my gut reminded me what I had come for. I stopped at the end of the aisle, finding myself in the front left corner of the petrol station beside the entrance to the unisex toilets.
There were roughly eight people - nine including the woman behind the counter - and it was then I noticed that everyone inside was at least thirty years old or older.
They were all minding their own business, that is, except for the woman wearing the mask. She was looking around, and then at me, and then, finally, down to her black basket filled with items.
It''s fine, I told myself, she might just be afraid. She might just buy her stuff and leave.
I kept moving and found myself in an aisle filled with crisps, and instant noodle pots. I started gathering them up in my arms paying no attention to how much any of it cost; I was just pretending to be a regular human being, so the noodles could have cost five billion pounds for all I cared.
Items in hand, I joined the back of the queue. There were three people ahead of me in the queue but, to my confusion, the woman wearing the mask was gone. I looked around the petrol station aisles. There was no sign of her. Had I heard the entrance to the petrol station chime around the same time I had scooped up all the crisps and instant noodle pots?
Ah, I thought, she probably got scared and left. Not great, since she''ll likely call the police, but maybe I can be out of here before that becomes a problem. Just got to pay for these.
I looked out towards the parking lot and couldn''t see Xandra anywhere. Where had she gone? Had she decided it was a good time to part ways?
My stuff in the carry bag, I thought.
Losing the carry bag stuff wouldn''t have been the worst thing in the world. Losing a new friend, albeit one with less scruples about stealing, was a much greater loss.
She''s probably just round the corner, I told myself, worry about where she is once you''re out.
The queue to pay was excruciatingly slow. I listened to the first exchange between the small Indian member of staff and the man paying for his petrol, and there was no mention of a Piper Pass. This gave me hope that the passes weren''t as regulated as I had first feared.
The next customer took their turn paying for their items and again there was no mention of a Piper Pass.
I breathed a small sigh of relief.
It''s okay, I thought, maybe if we were in London the regulation would be way more strict. But far off in Putsley Bay people just cared less. Given the woman had been wearing a face mask she might have been more afraid of germs than me.
I hardly believed any of these thoughts, my natural cynicism wouldn''t allow it, but I let the promise of everything being A-okay prance around inside my head if only to help keep myself from panicking more than I already was. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
It was my turn to pay for all the food. I dumped the armful of items onto the counter, which had a screen that separated customers from the members of staff.
The short middle-aged Indian woman looked tired and disinterested in her job.
"Piper Pass, please," she said.
"Sorry?" I said, as if I hadn''t heard her perfectly fine.
"Sir," she said, "I need to see your Piper Pass, please."
"Oh," I said, patting myself down, "I think I forgot it. I can still pay for this stuff, right?"
"I''m sorry, sir, but I cannot process these items until I see a Piper Pass."
I looked over my shoulder and quickly wished I hadn''t. The half dozen customers in the store were looking at me now, and not because I probably looked stupid in the fox hat and frog rucksack.
"F-fine," I stuttered, "Thanks anyway."
I wanted to get out. This had been a big mistake. I had tried to pay for the food and was denied service, which gave me the ''out'' I needed to just make a beeline out of the petrol station.
By the entrance however I saw something that made me flinch.
A police vehicle had just finished easing into a parking space right beside the petrol station entrance. The officer that had been driving got out of the car, and the officer who had been in the passenger seat got out as well. My immediate impression of their demeanor was that they weren''t ready for trouble; instead they moved and chatted casually to each other.
I took a step forward with the intention to leave the petrol station. I managed all of three steps before losing my nerve.
I stopped by the entrance just in time to spot the woman wearing the face mask hurriedly approaching the two officers. I couldn''t hear what was being said but it was clear she was pointing into the petrol station; pointing at me.
Ah crap, I thought, I need to get out. Now.
I turned around, figuring I would find another exit; perhaps going through the back of the petrol station. When I turned around however I saw the half dozen people that had been dotted around the aisles, including the woman behind the counter, were looking at me.
"Well?" said a man in his fifties with a venomous look on his face, "Clear off!"
"I-I-I''m," I stammered, "I''m just–"
A woman in a faux fur coat began to panic, putting her hands to her face.
"I''m sorry," I said, "I''m going, I just need-"
The woman broke into a hysteric scream that made my blood run cold. My confusion changed to a sense of indignation.
"I haven''t done anything for crying out loud!" I said, sternly.
The Indian woman was running towards the end of the counter closest to the entrance to the petrol station, from which there was a gap that could be used to take payment from customers when the main part of the petrol station was closed.
"Help! Help!" she cried, "There''s a MICE in here! Help us please!"
I moved an inch forward, and the frightened customers all moved an inch away in unison as if I were some kind of escaped wild animal that might kill them as soon as look at them.
I looked round and saw the police officers were hurrying inside the petrol station, their hands moving to the guns at their hips.
Before I could think to do anything one of the officers shouted.
"Put your hands above your head now!"
"No!" I shouted back, with a sudden indignation that surprised me. I wasn''t so much as afraid as angry at the officers and all the people inside the petrol station losing their minds.
Pop!
The officer fired their gun. A sudden stinging sensation hit my right leg followed swiftly by an excruciating pain.
A long strand of wire connected the tip of whatever it was that was still stuck into my right leg just above the knee to the gun one of the officers was holding.
The pain coursing through my body had reached a peak that remained steady for several seconds before stopping. I yanked the thing stuck into my leg out, ceasing the pain in an instant.
With the pain stopped I just looked perplexedly at the officer that had shot me with her taser gun.
Pop!
The other officer, also female, shot me with her taser gun too. This time the tip of the needle or whatever it was stuck into my neck.
The pain returned and I found myself falling backwards, having lost control of my body that spasmed from the shot. It hurt a heck of a lot, but it was the loss of control of myself that was the greatest worry on my mind. The petrol station tumbled ahead of me and the next thing I knew I could see the ceiling of the station and the harsh florescent light shining bright.
My body had become rigid all over. A second could have passed, or twenty, because the pain in my body had reached a point where I could hardly think or see anything going on around me.
It was only when the pain coming from the taser stopped that my ability to think returned.
My eyes struggled to focus on anything around me. The next thing I knew I was on my stomach – someone must have rolled me over – and my hands were behind my back and being handcuffed. An officer had their knee on my neck, keeping me pinned down. I could hardly breathe save for strained rasping gasps for air.
My eyes hadn''t focused yet. My oxygen deprived brain was barely able to make sense of all the muffled noise bouncing around.
There was something green in front of me.
My rucksack, I thought, they must have yanked it off when cuffing me.
But that couldn''t have been true because I could still feel the tightness of the straps over my new puffy black coat.
Bit by bit my vision returned and focused on the green thing directly in front of me. My left cheek hurt something fierce from being pressed down hard with all the strength one of the officers could muster.
With the one eye available to me I finally saw what it was in front of me on the ground.
It was a small. Puppet. Frog. Its stitched-in eyes were fixed on me.
"Jump," said the Puppet Frog.
The puppet frog had its hands behind its back and seemed to give off an aura of confidence, but also a very calming sense of understanding and patience.
"What?" I said, garbling out the word.
"Jump, Burgess," said the Puppet Frog.
It nodded at me as if to give the final go ahead I needed.
I let my body coil up. The force with which the two female officers were holding me down increased even more.
"Help us here!" shouted one of the officers.
Two of the men from the customers that had been standing away from me afraid of what I might do sprang into action. They pushed down on my arms and my back to keep me still.
But I had already begun to coil up.
Could burn them, could bulb up, I thought, that would show them.
But I opted to do what the puppet frog, that was still looking at me with unblinking eyes, recommended.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk-thunk!
Muscle bulged out across my body, giving me the benefit of years of working out that I hadn''t actually earned. Whilst the strength with which the four of them held me down remained the same, my own strength climbed.
Climbed enough for me to rise up off the ground enough to be stuck in a squat position.
"Jump!" shouted the frog, looking up at me now from the floor.
So that''s what I did. I jumped.