Burnington Gaol

F I V E | Billy

A golden glow swept through the northern streets and the crisp air smelled of sugar and salt, coffee and sunshine. Billy grinned, sauntered down the beachfront as he slipped on a jumper to hide his school uniform. He then ditched his schoolbag in a bush as a woman pushed her sugar-chinned toddler past in a stroller. He smirked. In the chaotic aftermath of Jimmy Dawson's prison escape, nobody would notice a fifteen year old truant.

His friends, Georgie and Sal, stood with their backs to Sully's Diner, sipping on enormous chocolate milkshakes They spotted him and waved as Billy darted across the road, narrowly missing the traffic.

"What took you so damn long, boy?" Sal beamed, grabbing his hand in their secret handshake. Billy shrugged.

"Had to pretend I was going to class to get my sister off my trail," he said, following Georgie inside.

The diner was alive with customers, dozens of them sitting in booths and chatting away like windup toys. The three truants strolled up to the counter, laughing and pushing each other out of the way, until Sal and George broke away to find an empty booth. Billy kept on, locked eyes with the pretty girl behind the counter.

"What can I get you?"

She had the deepest blue eyes Billy had ever seen, with fair, freckled skin and exotic, curly dark hair.

"Uh, chocolate milkshake, please," he stammered.

"Sure thing," she said, taking his money with an innocent smile.

Billy eyed her good looks as she sorted through the register.

"Anything else?"

"What? Uh, no thanks." He said, taking his change.

"I'll bring it to your booth when it's ready."

Billy broke away from the gathering line and slid into the booth beside Sal. Georgie was on some rant about his overprotective father, but Billy was still watching the pretty waitress.

"Billy!" Georgie demanded.

Billy looked at him.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at?"

Georgie turned and saw the girl, who was serving another customer.

"Oh," he said, as if realising the obvious. "Sarah. No wonder. Hot as hell, that one."

"The things I would do to her," Sal drooled.

"Like you'd ever get the chance," Georgie laughed.

Sarah came wandering out from behind the counter with a milkshake in hand, her smile beaming as she approached the booth.

"One chocolate milkshake for Mr...?"

Fifteen-year-old Billy felt entirely too young to be addressed as mister, but he smiled anyway.

"Billy," he said.

"Sarah," she replied, eyeing him up and down for a long moment. "Enjoy your milkshake, Billy."

With that, she trotted away, her heels tapping against the vinyl floor.

"Ooh, Billy!" George laughed. "Looks like neither of us are getting a shot, thanks to Mr Billy over here."

"Too bad," Sal said. "Let me know when you're done with her, yeah?"

"Shut up," Billy laughed, elbowing him in the side.

From behind them, the diner door swung open and the jarred hinges groaned in protest. Billy, with a mouthful of chocolate milkshake, glanced up instinctively. He saw a man. About thirty. Dark hair. Normal looking. That was, until Billy glanced down and saw the AK47 he had gripped in his hand.

His muscles tensed and the milkshake caught in his throat, before coming up and spilling down his chin.

"Hey, what the hell, Billy!" Sal exclaimed, his left arm now covered in milk and spit.

The man raised the weapon to the ceiling and let out a handful of ear-splitting shots. Everybody in the room jerked their heads towards the noise and the woman behind Billy let out an almighty scream. Instinctively, he jumped from the booth, heading for the side exit without another thought.

"Nobody move!" He screamed, letting out a few more rounds.

Billy paused, knowing he couldn't make it to the door without being shot down, and so he slowly turned to face the man, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Okay," he said. "Everybody listen up. I don't want to hurt anybody in here, but all of you need to do as I say or I will shoot you. Are we clear?"

Every set of eyes were locked onto the gunman, and after a moment of weeping and silence, people began to nod in agreement.

"Good," he said. "Now, somebody call the police. Tell them I'm here and I'll kill everyone inside if they don't co-operate. You," he said, pointing at Sarah. "Can you do that for me, Miss?"

Sarah, frozen in fear with her hands raised, managed a nod. Billy's white-hot fear began to dissolve, making way for something else: confusion. After all, why would an armed gunman want the police called?

"Everybody else, find a seat." The gunman said.

A dark, looming silence filled the diner as the gunman began to walk the aisles. Billy, near-paralysed with fear, nervously slid back into the booth and rested his arms on the table. He kept his head down and shoulders tense, the question bouncing around in his mind. All that could be heard was the faint weeping of a mother holding her child close and Sarah's trembling voice speaking into the telephone.

"Yes," she said. "There's a man here. He's got a gun and he says that he'll kill everyone inside if you don't co-operate. Please, Mister. Come quick."

Sarah hung up the phone, mascara tears painting her lovely face.

"What's your name, Miss?" The gunman asked, coming up to the counter.

"S-Sarah," she stuttered.

"My name's Jimmy. Please, don't be afraid. I told you. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just need something from the police and then you can go."

He was the nicest gunman Billy had ever heard of, and it made his skin crawl. What kind of a gunman comforts his hostages and demands to have the police called? Billy's jaw clenched, throat closing over.

"What do you want from the police?" He blurted out.

Jimmy turned to face him. First, his brow furrowed, but then a small smile tugged at his lips – a look of admiration, courage. The smile vanished, and he tilted his head like a curious puppy.

"I need to speak to somebody," he said slowly, as if solving a puzzle in his mind. "And I can't visit her, so I must have her come here."

Sirens began to wail on the horizon, drifting closer and becoming louder every second. Jimmy looked out into the street, a look of expectancy on his face. The phone suddenly rang. Sarah almost jumped out of her skin, then looked to Jimmy, who nodded.

"Hello?" She whimpered.

After a long second, she looked to the gunman.

"It's for you," she said.

Jimmy took the phone and held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

A mumbled voice replied across the line.

"Yes, I am he."

More mumbling.

"Well, here's the deal. I'll be more than happy to let all of them go – hell, I'll even let two of them go now as a sign of good faith – but I need you to bring somebody here for me. Send her in, have the negotiator talk her through it, whatever you need to do. I just want to talk to her."

Billy eyed Jimmy, brow furrowed, mind racing as his confusion grew more troublesome.

"Yeah sure," he went. "Her name is, uh, hang on. I've got it here somewhere."

He checked his pockets, the gun under his arm and the phone between his ear and shoulder. Soon, he pulled out a piece of paper, and what he said next made Billy's stomach turn.

"Adeline Wilson."

© A.G. Travers 2018