Terminal

THIRTEEN

We sat in silence for a long time. Sherm finished cleaning out the vault, emptying the cash into his bag. Eventually, through Sheila’s timid pleading and my logical prodding, Sherm agreed to let me escort Benjy to the bathroom. Sheila begged to come along with us, but Sherm refused, making her stay behind.

I led Benjy out into the hallway. I actually felt nervous about leaving John and the hostages behind. Keith’s office, with his name emblazoned on the door, was directly across the hall from the vault. There were four more closed doors to the right, plus a fire door and a skinnier door at the end of the hall that had to be the janitor’s closet. The fourth door had a sign marked RESTROOM.

“How you holding up, little man?”

“I’m okay, Mr. Tommy”—he looked up at me and gave his crotch a squeeze—“but I’ve got to pee really, really bad.”

I suppressed a smile. “Well then, we better get you taken care of.”

I walked him to the door and pushed it open, making sure there were no windows inside. There weren’t, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can you—do this by yourself?”

“Yes. Like I tell Mommy, I’m not a little kid anymore, Mr. Tommy. I’m in kindergarten now, not day care. I’m a big kid.”

“Kindergarten! I guess you are.” Despite the situation, I stifled a laugh. “Okay, I’ll wait for you out here then.”

He went inside and closed the door behind him. A few moments later, I heard the seat go up and then the sound of him peeing into the bowl. I leaned back against the door to the janitor’s closet and closed my eyes, letting out a heavy sigh and craving a cigarette. Cracking my neck, I bumped the door with my head.

Inside the closet, something bumped back.

I was instantly alert, my headache forgotten. Raising the pistol, I put my ear to the door. There was a stifled electronic beep, like a cell phone or a video game with the volume turned down low.

In the bathroom, Benjy flushed the toilet. I cursed. The noise drowned out everything else. Cautiously, I reached for the closet doorknob with one trembling hand. I heard a rush of water as Benjy began washing his hands. He was singing another song from a kid’s show, but I didn’t recognize this one.

I counted to three and twisted the knob and flung the door open, shoving the handgun forward.

“Freeze motherfucker! Don’t you fucking move!”

It was dark inside, but I could make out a shape. It was human and it was alone.

“Don’t shoot! Oh Jesus, please don’t shoot me.”

“Get the fuck out of there, right now. Come here!”

A middle-aged black man in a blue delivery uniform stumbled out into the hall. Trembling, he waved his hands above his head, clutching a cell phone in one of them.

“Mr. Tommy,” Benjy called from behind the closed door, “what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Benjy, you stay in there, buddy. It’s okay. Just don’t come out yet.”

Down the hall, I heard Sheila yelp inside the vault and Sherm telling her to shut up. The black man’s lip quivered. A patch over his left pocket said LUCAS and over the right was another that said DROVERS WATER.

“Who the fuck are you, man? How’d you get in there? What were you doing in the closet?

Answer me!”

“I-I’m Lucas. I’m the d-deliveryman.”

Sherm stuck his pistol out of the vault, followed by his head.

“What the hell is going on, Tommy? Who the fuck is that?”

“He says his name is Lucas. Apparently, he delivers the water bottles for the cooler. I just found him hiding in the janitor’s closet.”

“Oh fuck me running! Bring that son of a bitch here. Now!”

“Benjy,” I called, trying to keep my voice calm, “come on out now, buddy.”

Timidly, he opened the door and peered outside. His little hands were still dripping soapy water. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Lucas, and he started to shut the door again.

“It’s okay, Benjy. Go on back to your mom and let Sherm tie you up again.”

“But Mr. Tommy—”

“Listen to me now, Benjy. Just do it. I promise that everything will be all right.”

“Okay, Mr. Tommy.”

He trotted off toward the vault, with Sherm keeping an eye on him the whole way down the hall. I waved my pistol, indicating to Lucas that he should follow.

“Keep your fucking hands up where I can see them.”

“It’s cool, man. It’s cool. Just don’t shoot me, you hear? I didn’t mean any harm. I was just scared, man. I was real fucking scared.”

“Who did you call on that cell phone?” I asked.

He flinched.

“N-nobody!”

Keeping the pistol trained on him, I snatched the cell phone from his grasp. The lights on the keypad were still lit up and the screen showed the last number dialed. 911

“Oh shit. You called the cops?”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t shoot me, mister.”

“What were you doing in there anyway? How did you get inside the bank?”

“I was just doing my job. That’s all. I deliver the water and pick up the empty bottles every Thursday. Finished up the bank’s delivery and I was in the bathroom washing my hands when I heard the shooting start, so I hid inside the closet. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I figured it was a robbery of some kind.”

“Guess you were right.”

I followed him down the hall and shoved him into the vault ahead of me. Sherm appraised him with a grim smile.

“Well, well, well. Check this shit out. What do we have here? A late guest to the party?”

A look of recognition flashed between Lucas and Sharon and Kim. Sherm and I both caught it immediately.

“Oh, I see you’ve already met the ladies?” Sherm pulled out the duct tape. “Sit your ass down, now.”

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Sharon said.

“Shut up!” Sherm pulled off a strip and began to bind the driver’s hands behind his back. Lucas began to shake.

“Look, I-I got a wife and two kids at home, and another one in college. Please don’t kill me. I’m begging you here, man. I’ll do anything you guys want.”

“What I want is for you to shut up,” Sherm snapped.

He turned to glare at Kim and Sharon and they shrank back against the wall, straining against their duct tape bonds.

“When exactly were you going to tell me that this guy was in the bank with us?”

The menace in Sherm’s voice was almost palpable.

“We didn’t know,” Sharon protested. “Honestly, Sherm. When you rounded us up, I figured that he must have gotten out. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to everything that was going on when the shooting started.”

“You’re lying, bitch.”

“No, I’m not. I swear to you, it’s true.”

“Goddamn it, leave her alone,” Dugan yelled. “She’s telling you the truth.”

“You stay out of it, tough guy. I warned you all what was gonna happen if you tried playing us.”

Finished with binding Lucas, he stood over Sharon.

“We honestly didn’t know, Sherm,” Kim pleaded. “We didn’t try to play you or anything like that. Why would we? It’s like you said, you’re the man in charge. Please, you’ve got to believe us.”

“Yo, Sherm?”

“What, Tommy?” His eyes didn’t leave Sharon and Kim.

“I found this on him,” I held up the cell phone. “He’d dialed 911 on it. Guess he talked to the cops. I don’t know what he told them but it probably wasn’t good.”

Sherm bent down and grabbed Lucas’s face in his hands, pulling him close.

“What the fuck did you tell them?”

“N-nothing. I didn’t say—”

Sherm moved like a piranha. He flashed forward and bit down on Lucas’s nose with his teeth. Lucas screamed and blood began to well from the corners of Sherm’s mouth.

“Stop it,” Kim yelled. “Leave him alone.”

Sherm shook his head back and forth like a dog and then let go. Sharon and Kim were screaming. Lucas’s mangled nose dripped blood onto his blue uniform. He was crying.

“That’s for lying to me,” Sherm wiped his crimson mouth on his sleeve. “Do it again and I’ll bite one of your fucking fingers off. Or maybe I’ll munch on one of these pretty ladies instead. Bite their titties off and shit. How would you like that? Maybe go down on them and get that clit between my teeth and then—CHOMP! Hell, I might even chew off one of fat boy’s nipples over there. If you think I’m playing, you just try me.”

“No sir,” Lucas wheezed, “I don’t think you’re playing. I believe you’d do just that.”

“Good. Now, tell me everything, from the beginning. And remember, Lucas, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Lucas took a deep breath through his mouth. Bright red blood welled up from his nose and tears still ran from his eyes.

“I… I’d just finished delivering the bank’s weekly water supply, and picking up the empty bottles. My truck has been having trouble with the oil—got a leak in it. Been asking the maintenance department to fix it, but they couldn’t find their ass with both hands and a flashlight. So I checked the oil level before I went to the next stop. I got my hands dirty so I came back into the bank to wash them. Normally the bathroom is for employees only, but Keith said it was okay. I was in the bathroom washing my hands when I heard the shooting. I was scared and didn’t know what was going on, so I hid inside the janitor’s closet. I… I called the police on my cell phone, and then I called my dispatcher at work, and told them to call the police too. I tried calling my wife too, but she wasn’t at home. I’d just hung up with the police a second time when your partner caught me.”

“So you talked to five-oh twice? What did you tell them?”

“Not much, really. Just—”

“Careful,” Sherm warned. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, Lucas. I’m still hungry.”

The deliveryman glanced at Sharon and Kim, and swallowed nervously. Blood ran down his face. He licked his lips and continued.

“I-I t-told them that the bank was being robbed, that there was shooting and that there might be some people dead or hurt. I didn’t know how many of you there were or how many people were inside. That’s all. They asked me a bunch of questions but I couldn’t answer any of them because I was in that dark closet and couldn’t see anything. So they told me to sit tight. Said they’d get me out of here. The second time I talked to them, they told me that the Quick Response Team was on the way from York and that everything would be okay. Look, let’s be reasonable. What was I supposed to do, given the situation? I was scared.”

I needed another cigarette. Not sure what to do with the cell phone, I slipped it into my pocket.

“What do you think, Sherm?” I asked.

He exhaled and shook his head.

“No problem. We’re not going to sweat this. If they were going to rush us and try to take the bank based on what this asshole told them, they’d have tried it by now. We stick to the plan. We’re okay for now.”

“John’s not okay, Sherm.”

“I know that, dog. I meant other than him, we’re okay. That cool with you?”

I nodded.

Lucas looked at Sharon.

“Where’s Keith? A little while ago, when I was still in the utility closet, I thought I heard—”

“You’re not asking the fucking questions,” Sherm spat, “so sit back and shut the hell up. Don’t worry about Keith. He’s taken care of and he ain’t going nowhere.”

He lit up another cigarette, took a deep drag, and when he spoke again, it was with a much calmer tone.

“Tell me something, Lucas. Did your truck have oil in it?”

“W-what?”

“The engine? You know, that big thing under the hood that makes the truck run? You said that it had been burning up oil and that you’d been having trouble with it. So when you checked it this morning, was it okay? Does it work?”

“Yeah, it runs. Maintenance worked on it some. Burned about a half quart, but there’s still plenty of oil in it.”

“See? Now we’re getting somewhere. And it’s the one that’s parked out back, next to the Chinese restaurant’s garbage Dumpster?”

“Yes.”

I remembered seeing the truck when we’d rolled up in John’s car. It seemed like years ago now, rather than hours.

“Are the keys still in the truck, or do you have them on you?”

“I have them with me. They’re in my left pocket.”

“Good.” Sherm smiled. “Shit, this is perfect. Let’s go take a look and see what we got. You’re going to stick your head up to the back window and tell me how many cops are swarming around your truck and our car?”

“There is no window,” Sharon interrupted. “The only way to see out back is to open the fire door. But if you do that, you’ll set off the fire alarm.”

“Where do you guys go to smoke, then? I didn’t see an ashtray out on the front sidewalk.”

“No, there isn’t one. The girls go… out back.”

“So I’ll bet the alarm is disengaged during the day, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted. “Keith turns it off so Kim and some of the other girls can smoke outside. He doesn’t want them doing it in front of the bank. The company that owns the mall doesn’t allow it, and Keith worries that it might offend some of the customers.”

“Well, no problem then, as long as the alarm is off.” He grabbed Lucas by the arm and dragged him to his feet. “Come on, man. Let’s go check out the situation with your truck.”

I was confused, so I spoke up before he could leave.

“Sherm, what the hell are we gonna do with his truck?”

He shoved Lucas toward the vault door and turned to answer me.

“I told you that I’d find us a way out of here, right? Well this is it, dog. This is our ticket home. We use a few hostages as human shields, slip out the back door, and make our getaway. If we can’t make it to our car, we use his truck. Then the cops come in and get Carpet Dick some help. Sound like a plan to you?”

I shrugged.

“You’re running the show right now, so whatever you say goes, I guess.”

“Well, it’s what I say. Any more questions?”

“No.”

“Okay. Watch them till we get back.”

As they walked down the hall, I heard Sherm ask Lucas how much a bottled water delivery driver made in a week. His laughter echoed off the walls.

In my arms, John was still dying.

Martha paused in her prayers.

“Oh my.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more, Martha.” I sighed. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

And John was still dying when my pocket began to vibrate.

I gasped, in spite of myself, and the hostages jumped with me, unsure of what I was up to. Oscar’s man breasts jiggled in fright. They eyed me warily while I slapped at my pocket. Then I calmed down, remembering that I’d stuffed Lucas’s cell phone inside my pants.

“It’s okay,” I assured them, “the delivery driver’s cell phone is buzzing. He must have it on silent ring or something. Everything is cool. Just scared me for a second, that’s all.”

I let out a nervous laugh and they relaxed—as much as they could given the circumstances.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the phone. The display screen was lit up, glowing green under the fluorescents. It identified the incoming call as VERA . I wondered who Vera was. Probably his wife. Lucas said that he’d tried calling her but that she hadn’t been home. Maybe now she was returning the call, or maybe news of the bank robbery was on the air, and she was calling to make sure he wasn’t still at the bank.

His worried wife was calling him to make sure he was okay. Somehow, I knew that was it. The bank was on his route, and Vera wanted to make sure that he wasn’t still there. Michelle would have done the same thing. For a brief second, I thought about answering it and letting Vera know that Lucas was okay, that his truck was still working fine and that he couldn’t come to the phone right now, but pretty soon, we’d all be home safe because Sherm had promised it. But I didn’t. Instead, I wondered what my own wife was doing. If I had been in Lucas’s shoes, Michelle would have been worried sick about me. Of course, she had no reason to think I was here at this bank, one at which we didn’t even have an account. I was supposed to be at work. Still, I wondered if she’d heard about the hostage situation yet. I wondered how much the cops really knew about us and how much had made it out onto the airwaves. If she didn’t know yet, she would soon. A customer would tell her or they’d have the radio on or she’d find out when she got home. I searched my brain but for some reason I couldn’t remember what time Michelle got off work.

The phone quit vibrating and the screen went black again.

Without thinking, I pressed the TALK button and dialed home. There was a static whir, then the phone began to ring.

“Who are you calling?” Sheila asked.

Ring…

I ignored the question.

“He’s calling the police,” Roy said. “I just knew that you’d do the right thing, Tommy. And we’ll make sure we tell them too. We’ll tell them that it was Sherm that killed those people. Right, everyone?”

Ring…

“Sure we will,” Sharon agreed.

Ring…

“Tommy?” Sheila tapped her foot, trying to get my attention.

Ring…

And then our answering machine picked up and my own voice said, “Hi. You’ve reached the O’Briens: Tommy, Michelle, and T.J. Please leave your digits after the tone. Peace out.”

My mouth was parched.

“Michelle, it’s me. Are you there, babe? If so, pick up.”

They were all watching me now, silent. There was no sign of Sherm or Lucas. Outside the bank, there was a muffled electronic shriek, as if somebody was testing a microphone or a radio.

“Michelle? You there?”

No answer. I hung up and stared at the phone. Then I dialed again, calling her at the convenience store. It rang twice, then she picked up.

“Thank you for calling Minit-Mart. This is Michelle. How can I help you?”

I opened my mouth but the words didn’t want to come out. Her voice was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, but at that moment, it filled me with dread. I had to force myself to speak.

“Hello?” she said again. “Is there somebody there?”

“I—”

“If this is another crank call, we don’t appreciate it. I’m hanging up now.”

“Hey, babe,” I croaked, “It’s me.”

“Tommy? God, you don’t sound good at all. I didn’t recognize your voice at first. How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, I’ve had better days.”

“Are you still at work?”

“No,” I lied, “I went home sick.”

“Well then, I hope you’re resting.”

“Yeah,” I said, omitting the details, “you could say that. I guess I am. Just sitting here.”

“How about this? I get off at twelve-thirty. I’ll come home, fix you some chicken soup, and then we can watch Days of Our Lives together before I go pick T.J. up at day care.”

I coughed a small amount of blood and swallowed it back down so the hostages wouldn’t see it.

“Sounds good, except for watching Days. You know I hate that soap opera crap.”

“But it’s getting good again. Stefano is back from the dead.”

“Stefano is always back from the dead,” I rasped. “Anytime they need the ratings, they figure out a way to bring him back.”

“Hang on a second, babe.”

“Okay.”

I heard her in the background, ringing up a customer. While she was gone, I wished I had the powers of a soap opera character. They cheated death every fall when it was time for the ratings sweeps. Then Michelle came back on the line.

“Sorry about that, babe. Some jackass wanted to pay for lottery tickets with his food stamps. Anyway, I’ll be home soon, if the traffic isn’t snarled too bad.”

“Traffic? What are you talking about? Was there an accident or something?”

“You mean that you haven’t heard? A bunch of guys tried robbing the bank in that little strip mall on the edge of town. It’s all over the news. Apparently, they botched the job and now the cops have it surrounded. There’s hostages and everything. A couple of people are dead already. I guess you didn’t have the TV or radio on, huh?”

“No. No, I hadn’t heard. I must have missed that.”

“Hang on again, okay, sweetie?”

She rang up another customer and came back.

“Anyway, they held up the bank and traffic is screwed up all over town because of the police roadblocks.”

“Wow. How about that…”

“Tommy, what’s wrong? Tell me. I know you’re not just sick. I can hear it in your voice. Look—

I am your wife and I want you to be honest with me. That’s what our entire marriage is based on. Trust. You’ve never lied to me before, and I don’t want you to start now.”

And there it was.

I paused, unsure of how to proceed. Then I plunged ahead.

“Michelle”—I took a deep breath—“I’m in the bank.”

There was a moment of shocked silence, then she gasped.

“What?”

“I’m in the bank, Michelle. The one that’s getting robbed.”

“Oh my God! Tommy! Oh, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt? How did you get to a phone?

What were you doing in the bank? That’s not our bank. What’s going on?”

“I-I’m sorry,” I broke down. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Tommy, what are you talking about? Did you try to stop them or something? Did they take you hostage? Are you hurt?”

“No, but John is. John’s hurt really, really bad. He’s dying, Michelle, and it’s all my fault. This whole fucked-up mess is my fault. It’s always my fault, all the time.”

“John is with you? Tommy, I don’t understand any of this. Why is John there? Is he okay? What’s going on?”

“We…” I couldn’t finish. I was aware that all of the hostages were staring at me.

“Tommy? Talk to me, baby! Why were you guys at that bank?”

“Michelle,” I sobbed, “I just wanted you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry. Okay? I love you and T.J. and I only did this for you.”

“Tommy, you’re scaring me! What is going on?”

“We were the ones—the ones on TV. We’re the guys that robbed the bank.”

She paused.

“Where’s Sherm?” I heard the suspicion in her voice.

“Sherm’s here too, Michelle. All three of us are. We’re the ones that did it. I lied to you about getting laid off. Jenny was right. They canned us.”

She paused again and then exploded.

“Goddamn it, Tommy, you asshole. That is so not funny. Do you think that’s funny? It’s not. Quit screwing around! You scared the shit out of me, you son of a bitch. If you’re feeling good enough to play phone pranks, then maybe you’re well enough to go to work. What if T.J. had been with me right now? He’d be freaking out. Bastard! I can’t believe you—”

“Michelle… Michelle, listen to me. Listen very carefully. I’m not playing here, baby. This isn’t a joke. I’m serious. I’ve never been more serious in my fucking life. John, Sherm, and I decided to rob the bank. I did it for you and T.J. To take care of you after… after I’m gone. Michelle, you were right when you said that whatever I had wasn’t getting better. I lied to you about that too, honey. I lied to you about everything and I’m sorry. I’m not just sick. I’ve got—”

The words were stuck in my throat.

“Tommy?” I could hear the shocked fear in her voice and it broke my heart. Cancer. I’ve got cancer. It’s growing at an alarming rate. I’m afraid it’s terminal. Life’s a bitch, then I die. Later my niggaz! Peace out!

But the words would not come. I still couldn’t tell her. Not even then, when I was confessing to everything else. I still wanted to protect her from that most awful knowledge.

“Tommy? Are you still there? Tommy?”

“What I did, I did for you guys. I just wanted you and T.J. to have a better life, better than the one I’ve given you. You both deserve it. When I got sick, it didn’t seem like anything else mattered anymore. So we robbed the bank. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Michelle. I swear to God, it wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Sherm said that there wouldn’t be any shooting. He promised me. But it got out of my control. He’s taken over the whole thing. You’ve got to tell them that, okay? Tell the police that Sherm said there wouldn’t be any shooting. And tell T.J. that Daddy never meant for this to happen. Tell him that I’m sorry and that I love him very, very much and that I’m proud of him.”

“Stop it, Tommy! Just stop it, right now! You’re scaring me. I don’t understand any of this. Please tell me what’s—”

Then I heard footsteps coming down the hall, accompanied by Sherm whistling an old Public Enemy song.

“Michelle,” I whispered, “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go right now. I love you, baby. I need you to know that. I love you so much. I’m sorry—for everything.”

“Tommy! TOMMY!”

I pressed END and shoved the phone back in my pocket just as Sherm walked back into the vault.

“What’s up, yo? Did I miss anything good?”

I shook my head. So did the others.

“Then why are you crying, Tommy?” he asked.

“I’m just worried about John. That’s all. He’s fucking dying, Sherm. Do I have to remind you of that every minute?”

“You think I don’t know that, Tommy? For fuck’s sake, quit bringing it up.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. We’re all just a little hyped right now.”

“This duct tape is hurting my wrists,” Kim complained.

“Get used to it, sweetheart. Maybe if you promise to be nice to me, I’ll cut you loose a little later on.”

I kept the pressure on the gunshot in John’s stomach. At this point, I wasn’t even sure if it was doing any good. I kept forgetting, like while I was on the cell phone. And Sherm had neglected to do it when I took Benjy to the bathroom. I tried to take my mind off of it again.

“So what’s up with Lucas and the truck?”

“I taped him up and put him in the bathroom. Figured we were getting too many people in here to watch all at once, and there’s no way in hell he’s getting out of there anytime soon. I found some glue in the janitor’s closet and squirted it in the lock. Only way that door is getting opened is if somebody busts it down.”

“Great. So now what do we do if we have to take a shit?”

“Go on the floor.”

“Nice. I hope you got his keys first.”

“Yeah, I got the keys, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to use them or not.”

“How come?”

“There’s five-oh all deep between us and the truck. When they call again, I’ll negotiate—see if I can get them to pull back so that we can get to it.”

“Do you really think the cops are gonna go for that, Sherm?

“They will if we start killing hostages and throwing them out the fucking door.”

Upon hearing this, Oscar’s and Kim’s eyes widened. Sheila shuddered. Roy shifted against the wall. Dugan stroked Sharon’s foot with his own and silently mouthed assurances. Martha prayed under her breath.

Benjy stared at me.

I stared back, and for a split second, an image of Sherm placing his pistol to the back of Benjy’s head flashed through my mind. A crystal-clear flash sparked as Sherm squeezed the trigger, and I heard Sheila screaming. No. There was no way that I was going to let that happen. Enough people had died already. I didn’t want any more deaths on my conscience, especially not that little boy’s.

I tried to keep my voice calm and level.

“Quit playing, dog. It’s not gonna come to that. Right?”

“Sure it could,” Sherm disagreed. “If I don’t start getting some cooperation from those cops, if shit doesn’t start going my way, then I’ve got no problem capping a few of these fuckers to get some attention.”

“You don’t mean that,” Roy replied. “Surely you understand that they’d give you the death penalty for something so heinous.”

“Old man, I’ve already qualified for the death penalty today. The way I see it, a few more bodies ain’t gonna make a whole lot of difference at this point. In fact, it may just hurry the whole thing along.”

“Sherm,” I reasoned with him, “if you start killing hostages and throwing them out the door, the cops will bum rush this place. Soon as they hear the first gunshot, they’ll be in here. They’ll have tear gas and pepper spray and automatic rifles and Kevlar body armor and laser sights; all kinds of other shit. We’ll be outgunned and outnumbered. You kill any more of these people and you might as well be committing suicide for all of us.”

“Signing our death warrants?”

“Fuck yes!”

“Isn’t that better than sitting on death row, Tommy?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but a loud electronic squawk cut me off.

“SHADY! SHADY, THIS IS DETECTIVE RAMIREZ! WE ARE STILL WORKING ON YOUR ORIGINAL DEMANDS. IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, I’M GOING TO CALL YOU AGAIN ON THE BANK’S TELEPHONE AND GIVE YOU AN UPDATE! I CAN’T STRESS ENOUGH HOW IMPERATIVE IT IS THAT YOU PICK UP THAT PHONE WHEN I DO. THERE’S NO NEED TO MAKE THIS ANY WORSE THAN IT ALREADY IS. NOBODY ELSE HAS TO GET HURT, SHADY. IF YOU PICK UP THE PHONE, WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!”

“Oh look”—Sherm grinned—“the police finally figured out how to make their bullhorn work. The batteries must have been dead before.”

“Is this Ramirez the same guy that you talked to before?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a real weasel. Let me tell you, I’d like to take a shot at him too before this is all over. Fucking police negotiators…”

The voice on the bullhorn continued to bellow.

“Who the hell is Shady?” Roy asked, confused.

“I am,” Sherm said proudly, “I’m the real Slim Shady. So won’t you please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Forget it,” I said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Can one of you tell me who Shady is?” Roy insisted.

I stayed silent.

“Is that Sherm’s nickname or something?”

“No,” Oscar told him, “it’s the nickname of a rapper.”

“Oh. I must admit that I’m not familiar with most rap music.”

“You’re not missing anything,” Sharon said. “A lot of juvenile, thuggish, masochistic dick-swinging, if you ask me.”

“Which we didn’t,” Sherm growled.

“All they rap about,” Sharon countered, “is their drugs, their cars, their guns, their bitches, their bling-bling, and who has done the most jail time.”

“What’s bling-bling?” Roy whispered to Sheila.

“Money. Gold jewelry. Stuff like that. Flashy things.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not all they rap about,” I protested. “They tell stories about the streets. It’s just street life from their perspective. And not all of that is negative either.”

Roy bent his legs, frowning in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Sheila asked him.

“Arthritis is acting up a bit. But my ticker still feels fine.”

He gave Benjy a warm smile and turned to Sharon.

“So you’re saying Tommy, John, and Sherm robbed this bank in part because of the type of music they listen to?”

“I’m saying it’s got to factor in, sure.”

“Sorry, Sharon, but I’ve got to call bullshit on that,” I interrupted. “That’s like blaming the fucking Columbine shootings on The Matrix. I mean, no offense, but I know who the real me is, versus any image I might pick up from a song.”

Sherm slowly turned.

“Let me tell you something, all of you. I don’t know you and you don’t know anything about the real me, other than I’m the son of a bitch who’s holding a gun. That’s all you need to know too. None of you know the real me. And you ain’t gonna either. So stop fucking caring and asking questions.”

“Well,” Roy countered, “maybe we will know you before this is over.”

At first, I didn’t think Sherm was going to respond, but then he did.

“You better hope not.”

What do you guys think happens to us when we die?” Kim asked.

We’d sat in silence for a long time, and I think the question surprised us all. For the last half hour, our only conversation had taken place when Sherm finally took over for me and kept the pressure on John’s wound. I’d planned on using the opportunity to finish emptying the cash drawers in the lobby, but as I inched my way down the hall, I realized the cops would be able to see me behind the counter from outside in the parking lot. It pissed me off. Somehow, Sherm had ended up running things, and when I finally did decide on a course of action, I couldn’t follow through on it.

“Seriously,” Kim insisted. “We could all die in here today. What do you guys think happens to us after we’re gone?”

Oscar flinched. “That’s a pretty morbid question, don’t you think?”

Kim shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess, maybe. All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about it. I miss my mom and dad, and my little brother. I wish I could talk to them one more time, you know? I don’t want to die. I’m too young. I want to get married and have kids and—”

“Nobody is going to die, sweetheart,” Sherm said, “as long as you all follow orders, and as long as those fucking cops out there don’t piss me off.”

Kim pointedly ignored him.

“My family and I used to go to church when I was a little girl, but it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to God. I still believe in Him, I guess. But I wonder if I’d go to heaven if we don’t make it out of here?”

“I don’t think God cares how often you go to church,” Roy commented. “He’s probably more concerned with how you lived your life. That’s what guarantees you a place in Heaven.”

“Ha!” Martha spat on the floor.

“What the hell is your problem, bitch?” Sherm was twitching again, slapping the barrel of the handgun against his leg.

“Hell is not my problem,” she answered. “It is your problem.”

“How many times did you see The Passion, Martha? I bet it was the only movie you’ve seen in the last twenty years.”

“None of you know anything about how to get into Heaven. As it says in the New Testament, ye must be born again! You must know Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior. You must ask him to forgive your sins and let him into your heart. Then, and only then, can you enter into Heaven.”

“Well shit,” Sherm snorted, “that sounds simple enough. I had no idea it was that easy. I’ll get right on that. Nothing like a little insurance, right?”

Laying the gun on the floor, he got down on his knees, raised his head up to the ceiling, and clasped his hands together in prayer.

“Please God, please don’t let me go to hell; especially if they don’t have any cigarettes there. That would really suck. All that fire and nothing to smoke. Or worse yet, if the only thing they have is Ultra Lights. But if you do decide to send me there, could I get a room next to Tupac and Biggie? That would work. Or maybe between Sam Kinison and Bill Hicks? That would be great because at least I’d have something to laugh about. Oh, and before I forget it, God, I’d be honored if you could be my personal savior and assistant or whatever this crazy bitch just said I needed to ask you to be. Amen.”

He started to stand up, then paused.

“P.S., good food, good meat, good God let’s eat!”

He picked up the gun again and grinned at Martha.

“How was that? You think I can get in through the gates now?”

“Mock the Lord all you want,” Martha replied, “but when the hour comes your prayers will be real. You will beg. You will wail and gnash your teeth and pull out your hair in your sincerity. But He will not hear you because you have the Devil inside you already. And He will not hear your friend either because your friend has committed the ultimate sin. He has blasphemed against the Holy Spirit. All of you have! Scripture tells us that there is no pardon or forgiveness for that. The Imp has been loosed upon the earth, and it makes a mockery of the healing gifts of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Only he can heal!”

“What the hell is she talking about now?” Sherm asked me.

Martha was about to spill Benjy’s secret. I threw up my hands in annoyance.

“I have no fucking idea. Does it really matter, Sherm? It’s all bullshit anyway. Bullshit for the masses. There is no God, plain and simple. God is nothing more than Dog spelled backward. You really want to know what happens when we die, Kim? Nothing. That’s what happens. Nothing at all. We get burned to a crisp or thrown in a box and put in the ground, while the dirt slowly presses in on us a little bit more each year.”

“That’s pretty fatalistic,” Sheila said.

“Is it? I don’t know about you, Sheila, but the way my life has turned out, it doesn’t sound like a bad choice at all. Sleep is okay. Death might be better. You don’t have to think anymore or feel anymore—or even be anymore. You’re just blank, empty. An afterlife where you had to experience all of those things again would just suck.”

Even though I said it, and even though I believed it, I still didn’t want to find out if it was true. I’d proven to myself that God didn’t exist (or maybe He’d proven it to me), but I was still afraid of dying, afraid of taking that final breath and not being able to take another. Afraid of closing my eyes and not opening them again. I thought of John, shot in the stomach and stumbling into the bank, pleading with me to save him because he was afraid of dying. I’m scared of hell, Tommy!

“Well, though I’m not quite as vocal or strident as Martha, I am a believer,” Roy said. “I believe in God and I also believe that Jesus died for our sins. I try to be a good Christian, but nobody is perfect and we all make mistakes. I guess the point is just that you atone for your sins and try to live right, the way God would want you to.”

“I used to believe,” Sharon said, “but these days, I just don’t know. I really don’t. With all that’s going on in the world, it’s hard to believe in a supreme being that would just let it all happen.”

“Word,” I agreed. “The Arabs think that only they are right, and so they hate the Christians and the Jews. The Jews think the same way, and so they hate the Arabs and the Christians. The Christians? Same thing. Their way is the right way so they hate the Arabs and the Jews. And you know why they hate each other? Because God told them to. They kill each other because He said so. They worship the same guy—they just call Him by different names! Religion has fucked this planet up from day one.”

“I don’t know about that,” Roy countered. “Some of the so-called religious leaders, perhaps, but not religion itself.”

“Osama bin Laden ordered his followers to fly airplanes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, right?”

“Correct. And he was a religious leader—”

“Who was acting on what God told him to do,” I finished.

“Allah is just another name for Satan,” Martha shrilled. “Thou shall have no other gods before Me!”

“Actually,” Oscar tried correcting her, “Tommy and Mr. Kirby are both right. The Arabs, Jews, and Christians all believe in the same God. He just has different names. It’s his prophets that they disagree with.”

Martha glared at him with eyes like razors, and Oscar got quiet again. Sherm jumped to his feet, head cocked and listening.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Thought I heard something,” he mouthed. “Voices. Quiet, soft. Check the hall and the lobby.”

I opened my mouth to protest and Sherm cut me off.

“You wanted to be in charge, Tommy.”

Gripping the pistol in my sweaty hand, I crept out into the hall. It was silent and empty. I tilted my head and listened. Nothing. Outside, there was the distant squawk of police radios and the buzz of voices, but inside, there was nothing. I tiptoed toward the lobby and peeked around the corner. It was empty, except for Mac Davis and Kelvin. The dead cop’s eyes stared back at me. A fly crawled across his face.

I ducked back into the vault.

“Anything?” Sherm asked.

“Nothing”—I shook my head—“except for Kelvin and that cop. Their bodies are still lying on the floor.”

Sherm frowned.

“I could have sworn I fucking heard something.”

We grew quiet again, and I replaced Sherm at John’s side.

“So you don’t believe in an afterlife of any kind, I take it?” Roy asked me.

“No, I don’t. There’s no heaven or hell. When we die, we turn into worm food. That’s all. Even worms got to eat.”

“I heard that,” Sherm agreed.

“But what about the soul, Tommy?” Roy continued. “That has to go somewhere, doesn’t it?”

“There’s no such thing as a soul, Mr. Kirby.”

I was surprised to see Dugan nodding in agreement with me.

“I’ve seen men die,” he said slowly, “but I never saw what happened to their souls after. I never saw any leave their bodies, that much I know.”

“Where have you seen men die?” Sherm sneered.

“You must be born again,” Martha broke in before Dugan could answer. “You must be washed in the blood of the lamb! Only blood can do it—blood and sacrifice! The blood of the innocent! The blood of the lamb!”

She stared at Benjy, and Sheila stared back in alarm. None of us responded and she fell silent again.

Blood of the innocent lamb. I didn’t like the sound of that, or the way she’d looked at Benjy when she said it.

“What about ghosts?” Sharon asked.

Sherm snickered. “What about them?”

“Aren’t they proof of some kind of an afterlife?”

“Have you ever seen a ghost?”

“No, but just because I haven’t seen one doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in them. I’ve never seen a polar bear either, but I know that they exist. Why can’t the same thing be true for ghosts?

There are enough eyewitness accounts, photographs, even video footage.”

I thought about it for a moment.

“John thought he saw a ghost once, back when we were kids. Or at least he thought he did. Down at the old quarry between Spring Grove and Hanover. We used to go swimming there. Supposedly there’s a town at the bottom of it. The dam burst back in the twenties and the town was just left standing when the waters flooded the mine. A few kids have drowned there over the years too. It’s supposed to be haunted. People say they see white, human-looking shapes down under the water. But I never saw anything.”

“So you don’t believe in them?”

I shook my head.

“No, I guess I don’t. Ghosts or God. It’s all the same thing, isn’t it? Don’t they call him the holy ghost?”

Nobody responded, and I figured they’d finally shut up and quit asking questions. I found myself wondering again if they’d be this nice to me if I wasn’t one of the guys with a gun. After a few minutes, Oscar stirred. His bare chest had goose bumps.

“Personally, I’ve always believed in reincarnation.”

“What’s that?” Sheila asked.

“Reincarnation? It’s the belief that we’ve all had previous lives before this current one we’re living. It’s commonly accepted in many religions—not Christianity of course, or Judaism, but many others.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Sherm said. “It means like I could have been Billy the Kid or D. B. Cooper in a past life. Wouldn’t that be the bomb?”

“No doubt,” Oscar said with a straight face. If Sherm noticed the underlying sarcasm in his voice, he didn’t let on.

“Edgar Cayce believed in it,” Oscar continued. “He was a great healer, died in 1945. Back then, they called him a ‘psychic healer,’ but today I guess he’d just be considered a homeopathic practitioner. Whatever you want to call him, he definitely left his mark on the world. He used to do readings and stuff and tell people who they were in their past lives. The transcripts of the readings are all on file at the Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia. There must be thousands of them.”

“Sounds like New Age crap to me,” Dugan grunted. “I never bought in to all that worshipping crystals and singing to the whales crap.”

“Some of that is a little far-fetched,” Oscar admitted, “but a lot more of it has been proven outside the mainstream scientific community.”

“So what were you in a previous life?” Sherm scoffed. “A frog or a slug or some shit like that?”

Oscar’s ears and neck turned red.

“Wait,” Sherm continued, “I know! You were a fucking tapeworm, right? A tapeworm hanging out of a dog’s ass?”

“You can laugh all you want, but I believe in it. I really do. You guys ever hear of Joan Grant?”

We shook our heads in unison.

“Her first book, Winged Pharaoh, came out back in 1937. It took place in ancient Egypt and at the time, the critics hailed it as a brilliant historical novel, because she so realistically captured what it must have been like to live back then. People couldn’t believe how accurate the descriptions were. It was like you were walking through Egypt; the sights, the sounds, the smells. But the thing is, it wasn’t her imagination. Joan Grant had lived it before, as Sekeeta, the daughter of the pharaoh and later on, a priestess-pharaoh herself. She also lived in Egypt decades later as a man named Ra-ab Hotep, and as Ramses II. Besides all of that, she also remembered previous lives in Greece from the second century B.C., in medieval England and in sixteenth-century Italy. She went on to write seven more historical novels, though she called them posthumous autobiographies.”

“And do you really believe in that nonsense?” Dugan arched his eyebrow.

“It’s not nonsense. It’s no more far-fetched than believing in ghosts or in God and the Holy Trinity, is it?”

“Blasphemer!” Martha pointed a crooked finger at him. “See how their evil influence has corrupted you? Now you commit the ultimate sin as well. You blaspheme against the Holy Spirit. Oh, the pits yawn wide for you, young man—for all of you. There must be blood, now. Great quantities of blood. Torrents and rivers and oceans of it. Only blood can wash…”

Sherm pointed his gun at her and pulled the hammer back.

“Martha. I’ll say this nice and slowly and I’m only going to say it one more time, so make sure you pay attention. Shut! The! Fuck! Up!”

Her mouth clamped shut and she did as she was told.

“I know what happens when we die,” Benjy piped up.

“Quiet down, baby,” Sheila shushed him.

“No,” Sherm shrugged, “might as well let him go. Shit, everybody else has made a contribution. Let’s hear his.”

Sheila eyed him carefully.

“Seriously,” Sherm said, “I want to hear this. It’s gotta be good, better than fat boy’s or Martha’s ideas at least.”

“Go ahead, Benjy,” I encouraged him.

He nodded.

“When people die, they go into a bright place that leads to another, bigger bright place. The first bright place is supposed to make you feel safe, but it isn’t, because it’s full of the monster people. The monster people are made out of darkness, but they can hide in the light and when they do, you can’t see them. They turn invisible in the light. All you can hear is their voices.”

Sherm jumped, and I wondered what was bothering him.

“If you’ve been bad,” Benjy continued, “the monster people won’t let you go on to the bigger bright place. Instead, they take you with them, to a dark place, and then you can see them. They’re scary-looking and they’re mean. They smell icky and they…”

Benjy shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them and went on.

“That’s what happens if you’ve been bad. You don’t get to go to the bright place. You stay in the darkness with the monster people. But if you’ve been good, then Jesus comes, and he rescues you from the monster people, and he takes you to live with him in the bright place. It’s very nice there, and you get to see everybody else who’s died.”

When he’d finished, our reactions were mixed. Sheila and I smiled at each other. Roy, Kim, Sharon, and even Dugan grinned. Sherm clapped his hands in a slow, sarcastic way. Martha stared at Benjy.

“Blood of the lamb,” she muttered over and over again. “Blood of the lamb…”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Sheila snapped. “Why can’t you just shut up?”

“I keep saying it because it is true. Only blood will wash this clean now. Innocent blood. As the Lord instructed Abraham, saying to him to make an offering of his son, Isaac, so shall He command us now. The lamb for the offering.”

“I don’t understand what you’re going on about. What are you saying? What do you mean?”

The word started in Martha’s throat as a moan and increased to a sirenlike wail.

“Expiation! Expiation is what I’m talking about. Great sin has happened here today, and only expiation will set things right again in the eyes of God. We must offer up your lamb.”

Sherm lashed out with his foot, and his boot crashed across her mouth. Her dentures flew across the vault, landing next to Mr. Kirby, and blood spurted from between her crushed lips. Martha cried out more in anger than from pain.

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” Sherm screamed. He slammed the end of the pistol barrel against her forehead and thumbed the hammer back. The soft click sounded deafening.

“Sherm”—I held out my hands in protest—“hold up. Wait a second! Think about this, man.”

“Fuck that. Ain’t nothing to think about, Tommy. I’ve had it with this old cunt.”

“I hear you, dog. I hear you. We’re all sick of her shit. But think, man. If you shoot her now, the cops will rush this place. You know that. We talked about it already. They’ll be on us like white on rice, just like they would have been if you’d shot Lucas or Keith.”

At the mention of the delivery driver and the manager, he jumped. His muscles were coiled, like a snake ready to spring forward and strike its victim.

“Don’t do it, son,” Roy chimed in. “Things are bad enough already.”

“I am not afraid,” Martha spat, blood running down her chin.

Before Sherm could reply, we were all suddenly distracted by a new sound. A low, sonorous thrumming that seemed to come from overhead. As we turned our eyes to the ceiling, the noise grew louder, rapidly approaching.

THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA

“What the fuck is that?” Oscar shouted. His eyes were wild and scared. It was right over our heads and it sounded like the ceiling was going to collapse, like a construction crew had decided to drive a bulldozer on top of the roof or something. The bank felt like it was shaking. The steel walls vibrated against our back as the sound rocked the building to its foundation.

“Finally!” Dugan’s shout was one of joy and relief, but his face was apprehensive.

“They’re coming in,” I hollered, leaping to my feet and pointing the pistol at everything and nothing.

“Is that a tank?” Oscar shouted. “Do they have a tank?”

“Oh God,” Kim whimpered, shutting her eyes. “This is it. We’re going to die…”

The noise increased, exploding around us, making speech next to impossible.

“This is it… This is it… This is it… We’re really going to die…”

Benjy tried to put his shoulders up over his ears, to shelter them from the thunder. Even in my panic, I found myself wishing that his hands were free. He was just a little boy. I was terrified and I could only imagine how he felt.

“Sherm,” I yelled over the deafening roar, “what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“What?”

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? THEY’RE COMING IN.”

“Relax, yo. It’s just a helicopter.”

“What?” I cupped my hand to my ear and gripped the gun tighter. My palms were sweaty.

“A HELICOPTER. IT’S A FUCKING HELICOPTER.”

I gaped at him, my heart racing in my chest, then the noise started to subside. The speed and rhythm decreased, and then stopped altogether. Finally, all we could hear was the distant, muffled whine of an engine, then even that stopped.

“They’ve landed.” Sherm grinned. The look on his face was very close to joy.

“Who landed? What the fuck are you talking about, Sherm? That was a goddamned helicopter. Who was in it?”

“The York County Quick Response Unit,” he said with obvious pride. “They finally arrived. Sounds like they landed in the parking lot.”

“Oh great,” I sighed sarcastically.

“Damn straight,” he replied. “Now things should get really interesting around here.”

His laughter seemed almost as loud as the chopper’s blades had been, and just as sharp.