2.d.x
Tanya dodged
another patron-fisted attack as she made her way to Mr. Jones. The impact with the body builder had nearly
taken his head off and he was rolling around defenseless. She dove over a swinging tentacle and ducked
as a mustachioed man whipped overhead.
The Greed was
cackling and shouting words of triumph as his customer capped fists grew ever
redder.
Tanya tried to
tug Mr. Jones to his feet, but he flinched and rolled away from her. He was clutching his chest. Was he having a heart attack? Or was he holding on to something? Tanya grabbed him again and rolled him
over. His hands, knuckles completely white,
were clenched around a plastic donation jug full of loose change and small
bills.
“Jones! Are you okay?
Jones! Hey Jonesy. What’s with the donation jar? Is it part of your plan to take out The
Greed? And what about these baggies?”
Tanya lunged to
the side, narrowly avoiding a bloodied up Price Killers customer. Mr. Jones was not so lucky and received a
shoulder and an elbow to the upper abdomen and crotch, respectively.
Mr. Jones
gasped and moaned and groped for his injured parts.
“Sorry, Jones. Let’s get you out of the line of fire,” Tanya
said, dragging him under a cash register.
“What’s with the jar, Jonesy?”
The sounds
that came out of Mr. Jones’s mouth were nothing close to intelligible; not even
close to English. The confused look in his
eyes was enough to convince Tanya that her partner had taken too much of a
pounding to recall what, if any, significance the donation jar actually held.
One glance at
the sad little girl pictured on the jar left Tanya with a pang of guilt;
ashamed that material goods were more important to most people these days than
they well being of a fellow human. At
least some had cared enough to donate.
Tanya’s eyes flared briefly. Then
she wrestled the jar from Mr. Jones and charged out into the chaos of the superstore.
