Believe it or not, when the bandits first hit the store Billy Pratt, the cashier, was more frightened of their makeup and clothes than he was of their guns. He"d been robbed before with weapons ranging, swear to God, from a ball bat to a chainsaw. He"d seen plenty of guns but he"d never seen anything like these people. Freaks, that"s what they were. Society discards pouring through the door, waving pistols. Billy didn"t mess with freaks.
“Fill it,” Falcon shouted, throwing an empty linen bag at him. “And don"t f**k around.”
Leather, tats, piercings, and paint, the woman meant business. At least Billy thought it was a female; some kind of jungle woman or cycle slut. Billy didn"t know much, but he knew when to do as he was told. He tapped a key on the cash register, ding, and the drawer sl
