Angel Shot

The chill of snow flew past my face as I rushed inside the only building still open, pressing my back tightly against the glass door, holding it shut. A bell dinged above my head. The fear coursing through my veins was colder than the snow melting on my jacket.

The building now providing me solace was an old bar, the walls all but leaking during the blizzard. There was next to no heat, only the bodies occupying space making the room slightly warmer than the outside. The difference might have been more drastic had there been more people inside, but the half-dozen patrons scattered around tables and barstools was not doing a whole lot against the weather.

Behind the bar, a beautiful woman cleaning a glass with a rag glanced up at me with a perfect smile. “We’re closing in ten minutes,” she said.

Hesitantly, I stepped away from the door and up to the bar. Leaning on the edge, I tried to get as close to the bartender as I could with the bar still between us, glancing backwards at the door every few seconds. “Good evening, or morning, I guess.” Words were not coming easily to my mind. “Is there any way, perchance, I could get an Angel shot?”

She smiled. “We’re closing in ten minutes,” she repeated.

“I know that, you said it already.” I could hear the crunch of boots in the fresh snow outside over the sound of idle conversation. “All I want is to order an Angel Shot, please.”

“We don’t accept any new orders thirty minutes before close.” Her smile never faltered. “And we’re closing in ten minutes.”

“I’m not asking you to make me a complicated drink. I just want an Angel Shot. Don’t you know what that means?” I had known what an Angel Shot was back when I worked as a server at a restaurant. I never had one ordered from me, but our bartender did and he often had me meet the girls in the bathroom to help call the police or walk her to her car, depending on what she needed.

Sure, I wasn’t back home in the big city, but I also wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. I was almost certain that I had just gotten out of a fairly large town when I stumbled into this bar. They couldn’t be that out of touch.

“Whatever it is, I can’t make you a drink. Not a cocktail, not a beer, and not a shot. We’re closing in nine minutes.” The bartender no longer wanted to smile, I could hear it in her voice. Yet, her smile remained as she wiped the same glass a little harder.

A man further down the bar caught her attention, credit card in hand, wanting to pay his tab. She put the glass down and went over to help him.

The bell above the door rang as the door clicked open. The same boots that had been crunching the snow outside were stomping on the ground towards me. The scent of smoke clouded around me as a gloved hand found its place on my shoulder.

“There you are, darling,” the man hissed, squeezing my shoulder. “I thought I lost you in those trees.”

The bartender glanced over from the till. “Sorry sir, we’re closing in eight minutes. I can’t take your order.”

“That’s alright.” He sounded so cheerful when speaking with her. “I was just looking for my wife. She ran off a little bit ago. Are you ready to go, darling?”

I smiled up at him. “I was just looking for the bathroom. This nice lady was just telling me where it was.” I sent her a knowing look, glancing between her and the bathroom sign behind her, hoping she would understand what I was asking for.

She shrugged. “They are right over there,” she said, pointing over your shoulder. “Try not to make a mess, they’ve already been cleaned tonight.”

“Of course, thank you,” I groaned through gritted teeth, shrugging the man’s arm off my shoulder. “I will be right back.”

The bathroom was even colder than the rest of the bar, but that didn’t stop the sweat from dripping down my face. I had been so hopeful finding a single place that was open so late. I needed someone, anyone, to register that I needed help and then do something, anything, to help me.

But no. Instead, I had found the most dense bartender in the world who was probably happily chatting along with the man who planned to kill me. The man who I had never met before yet claimed I was his wife.

I couldn’t go back out. I needed to find help, but I couldn’t with that man standing out there. My phone died an hour ago. I had been walking blind through town trying to find the hostel I had been staying at when he found me. He seemed so nice at first, until he didn’t. And then I ran.

I scanned every inch of the bathroom for anything I could use to help me. A window to crawl out of, a weapon left in the hygiene bins, a discarded phone charger, anything. But there wasn’t anything. My only way out was the way I came in.

There was a knock on the door. “Ma’am, we’re closing in three minutes. I need you to hurry up and get out so I can lock up.” The bartender was not smiling anymore.

I slowly pulled the door open to find her standing there, arms crossed, and glaring at me. Her face seemed to ask what I was doing in her bar in the first place.

“You and your husband are the last two people here. I need you to leave so I can get home before the storm gets worse.” Her voice reminded me of his when he shouted after me as I ran into the woods. “If you don’t leave now, I am going to call the cops and have you trespassed.”

All at once, I was filled with desperation, fear, and cold. My legs buckled underneath me and I collapsed on the floor. I grabbed the bartender’s ankle and looked up at her.

“Help me, please.”

She shook me off. “No. We’re closing in two minutes.”