Alan Dean Foster Read Online Free
Author: Alien Nation
advance toward the brightly lit convenience store.
Two minutes later they were near enough to see the interior through the dirty plate glass and burglar bars. Porter's minimart was unimpressive, the shelves sloppily
16
stocked, with none of the neatness familiar from Circle K's or 7-Elevens.
The ceiling lights hung from naked chains, the harsh fluorescents illuminating dirt and dust.
They could also clearly see the aged alien proprietor. He was standing behind the counter conversing animatedly with one of the two aliens who'd just entered. He stopped talking when the taller Newcomer reached into his coat and withdrew a blunt, combat-grade pump-action shotgun and aimed it at his chest. Raincoat extracted a similar weapon from the depths of his black slicker and whirled to confront the deserted doorway. It was hard to make out the Newcomer expressions at a distance and through the glass, but Sykes thought Raincoat looked nervous. The one facing down the proprietor was relaxed and all business.
"Christ, you see what they're carrying?"
"Yeah." Tuggle's expression had gone grim. "Backup better get here quick.
Don't do anything stupid. Or brave."
"Who, me? You got your vest?"
Tuggle winced as he was reminded of his bulletproof che st protector. "Of course. Nice and safe according to regulation, tight next to the spare in the trunk."
"Yeah, that's comforting, ain't it? Mine too."
They were both tense because of the unexpected heavy firepower the two aliens had produced. Combat shotguns hardly seemed required for holding up mom-and-pop groceries. Maybe the thieves were insecure.
The larger alien was gesturing sharply with the powerful weapon. Though they couldn't hear anything out in the street, they could see the Newcomer's lips working rapidly, could see the tenor that came into the old proprietor's eyes. He started filling a brown paper sack with cash from the register.
Tuggle nodded tensely. "Back of the room, rear right." Flicking his eyes past the pantomime being played out before them, Sykes saw that the proprietor's wife was standing frozen-faced near a back portal. Out front, Raincoat was hopping from foot to foot to relieve the tension. No human being would have moved in quite that fashion, could have managed quite so perfect a succession of cross-steps without preplanning. The emotions, if not the dance steps,
17
were the same. It only served to remind the two detectives crouched across the street that none of the people inside the grocery were human.
The proprietor continued shoveling money into the bag. It was taking a long time because his hands were shaking and he kept dropping bills. This only made his tormentor angrier, which in turn made the old fellow more nervous still.
Raincoat wasn't the only participant in the nighttime drama who was getting antsy. Tuggle nodded at a car parked near the market.
"Watch the driver. I'm going for a better angle on the door. "
Sykes glanced down the street, back at his partner. "Thought you wanted to wait for a backup?"
"They'll be here in a minute. Got to make a move now. The driver. "
Sykes turned back to the street, leveling his pistol. "I got him. Don't get pinned going in."
His partner nodded curtly, then took off like a scared crab, running crosswise across the intersection. Sykes waited until his partner was under cover once more before returning his attention to the store.
The larger alien was grabbing up the sack of cash and shoving it into his coat pocket. Bills tumbled to the floor. The thief ignored them. Sykes frowned at that but had no time to work it out. The hair on his neck stiffened as it began. He felt like a man watching a slow-motion strip-tease, unable to react, unable to interact. It was insane. It made no sense.
Madness.
Without any warning of any kind, the robber whipped the shotgun up and fired. At close range the twelve-gauge shell opened up the old proprietor's chest like a demolition charge, slamming him backward into shelves
Two minutes later they were near enough to see the interior through the dirty plate glass and burglar bars. Porter's minimart was unimpressive, the shelves sloppily
16
stocked, with none of the neatness familiar from Circle K's or 7-Elevens.
The ceiling lights hung from naked chains, the harsh fluorescents illuminating dirt and dust.
They could also clearly see the aged alien proprietor. He was standing behind the counter conversing animatedly with one of the two aliens who'd just entered. He stopped talking when the taller Newcomer reached into his coat and withdrew a blunt, combat-grade pump-action shotgun and aimed it at his chest. Raincoat extracted a similar weapon from the depths of his black slicker and whirled to confront the deserted doorway. It was hard to make out the Newcomer expressions at a distance and through the glass, but Sykes thought Raincoat looked nervous. The one facing down the proprietor was relaxed and all business.
"Christ, you see what they're carrying?"
"Yeah." Tuggle's expression had gone grim. "Backup better get here quick.
Don't do anything stupid. Or brave."
"Who, me? You got your vest?"
Tuggle winced as he was reminded of his bulletproof che st protector. "Of course. Nice and safe according to regulation, tight next to the spare in the trunk."
"Yeah, that's comforting, ain't it? Mine too."
They were both tense because of the unexpected heavy firepower the two aliens had produced. Combat shotguns hardly seemed required for holding up mom-and-pop groceries. Maybe the thieves were insecure.
The larger alien was gesturing sharply with the powerful weapon. Though they couldn't hear anything out in the street, they could see the Newcomer's lips working rapidly, could see the tenor that came into the old proprietor's eyes. He started filling a brown paper sack with cash from the register.
Tuggle nodded tensely. "Back of the room, rear right." Flicking his eyes past the pantomime being played out before them, Sykes saw that the proprietor's wife was standing frozen-faced near a back portal. Out front, Raincoat was hopping from foot to foot to relieve the tension. No human being would have moved in quite that fashion, could have managed quite so perfect a succession of cross-steps without preplanning. The emotions, if not the dance steps,
17
were the same. It only served to remind the two detectives crouched across the street that none of the people inside the grocery were human.
The proprietor continued shoveling money into the bag. It was taking a long time because his hands were shaking and he kept dropping bills. This only made his tormentor angrier, which in turn made the old fellow more nervous still.
Raincoat wasn't the only participant in the nighttime drama who was getting antsy. Tuggle nodded at a car parked near the market.
"Watch the driver. I'm going for a better angle on the door. "
Sykes glanced down the street, back at his partner. "Thought you wanted to wait for a backup?"
"They'll be here in a minute. Got to make a move now. The driver. "
Sykes turned back to the street, leveling his pistol. "I got him. Don't get pinned going in."
His partner nodded curtly, then took off like a scared crab, running crosswise across the intersection. Sykes waited until his partner was under cover once more before returning his attention to the store.
The larger alien was grabbing up the sack of cash and shoving it into his coat pocket. Bills tumbled to the floor. The thief ignored them. Sykes frowned at that but had no time to work it out. The hair on his neck stiffened as it began. He felt like a man watching a slow-motion strip-tease, unable to react, unable to interact. It was insane. It made no sense.
Madness.
Without any warning of any kind, the robber whipped the shotgun up and fired. At close range the twelve-gauge shell opened up the old proprietor's chest like a demolition charge, slamming him backward into shelves
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