All he wanted was aspirin.
He would be in and out of the drugstore in two minutes flat and he'd park his car in the fire lane for a quick getaway. He figured he could get away with it.
Steve Chadwick drove his Jeep up and over the curb of the drugstore,barely missing the newspaper stand and coming to a stop two inches from the fire hydrant. He hadn't ment to end up on the sidewalk, but his fever was climbing steadily and his depth perception was a little off. Also his eyes were watering, his muscles were quivering, and his headache was so painful, that it hurt to think. For a man caught down in his prime from a nasty flu bug, he thought he'd done an admirable job of parking.
He tugged his baseball cap low over his eyes and pulled his collar up. Somewhere in the back of his stewed brain, flashed the image of Humphery Bogart pulling up his trenchcoat to be inconspicuous. The colorful rugby shirt Steve wore was less effective,but every little bit helped. He got out of the car and walked into the store, trying to look nonchalant. The air conditioning hit his feverish skin like a subzero hurricane, and the chills intensified. He noticed a middle-aged woman in a neon pink jogging suit looking at him with a peculiar expression, and he forced himself to walk faster. He speed-wobbled to the cold remedies aisle and grabbed a thing of aspirin, then to the icee machine for a grape icee. He realized that he was being followed at a discreet distance by the woman in neon pink, and he made a beeline for the counter as fast as his spaghettilegs could carry him. There were two people in front of him in line, just his bad luck, he thought. Persperation began to breakout on his brow, and he leaned against the magazine stand for support. Lately the most uncomfortable things had been happening to him in checkout lines.