Bonds of Love

like she would’ve blended in with the college-aged girlson Brown’s Island, with her blonde ponytail and the tight T-shirtshe wore beneath her work smock. Despite the store’s full parkinglot, there didn’t seem to be many customers inside—an older womanstacked numerous cans of cat food in her arms, a man Vic took to beher husband picked over candy, a couple of young men lingered infront of the beer case with the freezer door propped open as theydebated what to buy.
As Matt fussed with his Slurpee, Vic pushed away fromthe counter and wandered over to the potato chips. He grabbed a bagat random, opened it, and began to snack. “Some time tonight,” hecalled back to Matt. If his lover was right about the Slurpee, Viccouldn’t wait to get home. Here he was with the munchies alreadyand they hadn’t even had sex yet. He felt like a disapprovingfather when he scolded, “Matty, come on.”
“In a minute,” his lover muttered.
Vic didn’t think it mattered much what flavors theyused. But let Matt have his fun—Vic would have his soon enough.Rummaging through the chips, Vic picked out the largest ones andpopped them in his mouth, well aware of his grumbling stomach afternot eating anything substantial all day. It was almost painful, theway his abdomen cramped, and it seemed no amount of chips wouldfill it. Then the bell above the front door tinkled, a prissy soundannouncing another customer. And Vic realized the cramps weren’thunger at all.
He’d felt it before, many times, a wary sense ofpremonition caused by his powers that still caught him by surprise.Vic turned to see three guys enter the convenience store—they worebaseball caps tugged down low over their faces, and thick hoodiesweatshirts that might have been fashionable on the shore butlooked out of place in downtown Richmond in the middle of August.They looked young, all three of them—two scrawny white boys and onebig black brother. A myriad of thoughts filled Vic’s mind, none ofthem his own—the other customers registering the guys, labelingthem, and trying their best to look unafraid. The lady with the catfood stepped up to the register, ready to leave. Her husbandfollowed suit. Even the men at the beer case seemed uneasy.
One image flashed in Vic’s head, undeniable—a gun,crammed down the front of the black guy’s jeans, the safety off. Atleast one of his friends had a knife, folded in the fist balled inhis pocket. Crossing to stand behind his lover, Vic lowered hisvoice so no one else would overhear. “Come on, Matty. Time togo.”
His lover started, “I’m—”
Vic quieted him with a hand on his back. “Now.”
Matt glanced around the store, confusion on his face.Opening the mental connection they shared, Vic pointed out the gunand knife. “Shit,” Matt whispered. As he reached for the Slurpeelids, his hand hit a stack of the cups and they clattered to thetiled floor.
The noise set the gunman into action. “You fuckers onthe ground!” he hollered, waving the pistol in the air. The cashierscreamed and dropped behind the counter, out of sight. Cat foodcans went rolling, and the freezer door slammed shut as thecustomers hurried to obey. The cat food lady sobbed. Matt sank tohis knees and tried to gather up the offending cups.
“On the floor,” the gunman barked. He turned fullcircle, gun leveled, looking for a reason to shoot. When he sawVic, the gun swung to a stop between them. “You, asshole. Didn’tyou hear me?”
Vic stared at the barrel, unperturbed. A strangefeeling of calm descended over him and he stepped in front of Mattto block his lover from the gun’s aim. “I heard you.”
His low voice infuriated the gunman. “Then get thefuck on the floor!” When Vic didn’t move, the guy shook hishead in disbelief. “Motherfucker.”
“Get on the floor, man!” one of guy’s friendspleaded, the one with the knife. “We ain’t gonna kill you, dude.Just get down and no one gets hurt.”
Somehow, Vic didn’t believe that. “Change of plans,”he said, popping another chip in his mouth. He took a moment tochew it—in the silence of the store, broken only by quiet sobs andMatt fiddling with the cups, the sound that the chip made as heground it between his teeth seemed unnaturally loud to his ownears. Choosing his words, Vic announced, “Give me the gun. And you,the knife.”
The kid gaped, surprised Vic knew of his weapon.::I know,:: Vic added mentally.
The kid’s jaw dropped. “Who the hell areyou?”
“Hand them over,” Vic replied, ignoring the question.“And no one gets hurt. How’s that sound?”
For a breathless second, he almost hoped it hadworked. The kid with the knife had it out now, but he held it bythe blade, ready to drop it and run. The third friend stayed by thedoor, waiting for the signal to bolt. But this was the gunman’sshow, and he wasn’t ready to call it quits just yet. “What’re yougonna do?”
Vic took a step to close the distance betweenthem.
“You stay right there!” the gunman warned, his voiceratcheting up a notch. “You hear me?”
As if he didn’t, Vic moved closer. If he could justreach the guy, he knew he could bring him down—the strength thatflooded his system ran like adrenaline through his veins,energizing him. If he could just get close enough to tacklehim…
The gun went off. Vic saw a lick of flame, smelledthe acrid odor of gunpowder and smoke, and heard the deafeningrapport a second before something small and hard and metal punchedhim in the center of his chest. The energy in his body flared tolife—the gun shots rang out, two, three, each accompanied byanother hard knock that rattled him down through his core. Theenergy swirled through him, in him, around him, dazzling likebright light. Far away he heard Matt cry out for him, the sound ofhis name like anguish in his lover’s voice.
Then the light washed over him like the tide, andeverything disappeared.
* * * *

Chapter 3
As the energy receded, leaving shattered pain in itswake, Vic didn’t know what hurt more—his head or his chest. Asteady throb behind his left eye promised a splitting migrainelater; for now, the pain pooled at the back of his head, where hemust’ve