The Highwaymen: Chapter One

by Julian Davis

“So I said to him, never mind the second date, what are we gonna do tonight?” Joanna laconically replied, chucking a pack of macaroni cheese into the trolley, as she surveyed the supermarket. Her friend, Marisa, hurried along behind, also chucking a macaroni and cheese, as she eagerly absorbed the devilish tale.

“So, what did you do next?”

“Well skip a few hours ahead and I had sent him on his way, gawking to his car, almost caused an accident,” she cheekily winked, “as I always say, darling, always leave them wanting more.” 
Marisa giggled at this exhilarating climax. “Wow, you really are something Joanna, I wish I was single like you; my husband's terribly dull.”

As Joanna began to reply, a loud shot split the air as two masked robbers burst through the door. The store erupted in panic, as one announced himself, “Right, everyone get on the ground, and there'll be no trouble. We are robbing this store, we are taking all your wallets, we are taking all the money, and if everyone stays calm, it will all be all right.” 
The speaker moved into view, appearing as if a warrior from hell. He was clad in darkness, black leather snaking round his obsidian body, black gloves and strong black boots. Of his fearsome face, his eyes were covered by dark shades, resting below an enormous bright crimson bandana. He seemed a modern pirate, come to pillage their humble utopia.

His companion, dressed almost identically, now hurtled towards the people, herding the whimpering, quivering crowd like cattle, lining them up against the wall before demanding their wallets and prized possessions. The speaker strode nonchalantly around the supermarket, twirling his shotgun and whistling a jaunty tune. 

The silent one then moved on to the register, meticulously emptying it before signaling the speaker, who turned to the line of people, soaking in the plethora of different emotions, a poignant mix of fear and hostility. 

Suddenly, one man burst from the line, surging towards the speaker. Without blinking, the speaker moved to the side, bringing the shotgun round to smash the side of the man's head, as the hero crumpled to the floor. 
“Whoa, we have a live one there,” crowed the speaker “Did you see him go down like a right honourable sack of potatoes? It just never gets old. Wooohooo!” he whooped, standing over the man as if he was a hunter admiring his kill. 

He turned back to stare at the tremulous crowd as he advanced menacingly towards them, “Now for the coup de grace.” The silent one chucked a spray can, which the first man caught, leaning forward to spray something on the man’s jacket. He then turned swiftly towards the hostages, before spraying something on the wall. 

And then they were gone. The store was silent in shock, save for the groaning of the wounded hero. 

Joanna turned slowly to look up at the symbol sprayed on the wall. 

A bright red H.