BATTLE STATIONS
by Warren H. Gore
A person stands beside a closed door. Their work vest is folded nearby, its identifying details concealed. They check the time, then listen.
There's a hush. Every station is manned.
I keep telling myself: keep your distance. Don't be a hero.
They gave us these vests. Somehow, I don't think they'll be enough protection.
Glances toward the folded vest.
While we were preparing for the onslaught, James said, "Remember, we're a family."
He had tears in his eyes. I've never seen James cry.
Looks toward the door.
When I was younger, I wanted a job where I could help people. Now that I'm older, I understand the dangers. I guess it's in my blood. Both my brothers have served. Even my elderly father still keeps watch at the door. Not this door. Not tonight.
Looks back into the room.
Just look at our rations. That's supposed to last us all night? I've got a knot in my gut. But I can handle it. We learned the cheer in training. Tonight, we did it together. I think I'm ready.
Checks the time.
If I survive this, maybe somebody will stop me on the street and say, "Thank you for your service." But I don't do this for the recognition.
A pause.
It would be nice, though.
Listens at the door.
Right now, it's quiet on all fronts. But any minute now, it'll be a hive of activity.
BATTLE STATIONS 1I'll admit it. I'm scared. But I've got a job to do, and damn it, I'm gonna do it right. I've trained all year for this. And now it's time.
Picks up the vest.
There's no turning back.
Calls to the others.
Please man your battle stations!
Checks the time once more.
The doors open in five... four... three... two... one. Midnight.
Puts on the vest, revealing the Walmart identification. Takes a breath, opens the door, and produces a bright customer-service smile.
Welcome to Walmart. Happy Black Friday!
Blackout.
END