An Unlikely Hero

by Tayman International Ventures LLC

rattled in my brain.

  A woman screamed, and then another shot.

  "Everybody on the ground, now!" came the muffled command from the leader.

  I peeked around my hiding place and saw the body of the guard, a pool of blood forming on his chest and underneath his lifeless body.

  I pulled my head back and made myself as small as possible.

  After a few seconds, the same voice commanded everyone to put their backs against the glass wall, which was one-way, thick glass that allowed those inside the bank to see out, but blocked bystanders from seeing in. Then, an indistinct exchange with the leader and someone else, possibly the branch manager.

  I stayed in place, and when no one challenged me to move against the wall, I realized that they didn't know that I was there.

  I had to make a decision. I could move from my hiding place with my hands in the air and join my fellow hostages.

  Or I could stay where I was and see how everything played out.

  Maybe I was frozen with fear, or a maybe I was feeling a bit rebellious against authority, but at that moment, I chose to stay hidden.

  Seconds later, doubt crept in, but it was too late to change my mind. I might have been shot if I moved now.

  The acrid smell of gunpowder hit me so strongly that I almost lost my lunch. I swallowed a few times to calm my stomach, and then I closed my eyes and willed myself to breathe in slowly.

  I became aware of how quiet it was. Except for some quiet whimpering from a couple of the hostages, I couldn't hear any other movement. From where I hid, I could see beyond the guard's body to the entrance, which was manned by a gunman, whose attention was divided equally between being the lookout and the activities of his other comrades. I thought I heard him mutter to himself, but I wasn't too sure. He shifted around nervously, but did not wander from his post.

  My mind was immediately flooded with images of every movie or TV show that I had ever seen about bank robberies. In the end it never seemed to work out for the bad guys, but that gave me little solace as I remembered that there was always someone in bank that acted stupidly who always got shot.

  It was starting to look a lot like the role that I was about to play.

  I poked my head around my hiding spot and counted the number of gunmen, just to make sure. There were two others with the hostages, and they were demanding that the hostages give up their cell phones. I didn't see the leader, who I assumed was getting the money out of the safe in the back.

  I didn't think that I could sneak out without being seen, so I slowly pulled my cell phone from my pocket and started texting to the only person I knew would accept my brief explanation of what was happening without any questions. My father.

  Dad was an ex-cop, since retired from the Trenton Police Department, and he would know that I was not joking if I sent him a message about being in the middle of a bank robbery. We didn't have that kind of relationship.

  Keeping an eye on the gunmen and texting at the same time took some effort. I almost dropped my phone a few times, which would have certainly given me away, but I managed to say:

  dad, i'm in FNBNY bank, being robbed. NW cornr of 5th ave 24th st. 4-5 hostiles in black w abt 12 friendlies. send help asap.

  I prayed that he would have his phone with him, and then I sent another message:

  i luv u and mom.

  My muscles started to ache from the crouched position I was in, so I shifted my feet. In doing so, the sole of my shoe skidded on the tile floor, causing a slight squeak.

  I froze in place.

  The lookout must have heard the squeak, because I heard footsteps coming towards me.

  I was just about to rise from my position with my hands in the air when I heard a tiny, electric voice coming from an earpiece, no more than 15 feet away. While I couldn't decipher what was said, the gunman retreated from investigating the sound that I had just made. His footsteps headed towards the back of the bank.

  A silent whoosh of air escaped my lips. That was close!

  Now that I was on my knees, I could crawl from one end of the planter to the next without being seen. I turned and made my way slowly and noiselessly to the other end, which gave me a better view of the bank manager's office and the corridor that led to the bank safe. I saw the same gunman who had almost discovered me disappear around the corner and out of sight.

  I heard a commotion coming from the same hallway where the gunman disappeared to seconds earlier, and then Bam! Bam! Two more shots rang out, the muted reflection of the muzzle flashes appearing on the wall.

  That set the hostages off. Some cried, others pled for their lives to be spared. The darkly dressed gunmen both shouted obscenities to keep quiet. They pointed their machine guns and threatened to shoot them if they didn't shut up, every one of them.

  "Tackle them."

  I wildly swung my head around. Who said that?

  "Tackle them, now."

  I shook my head to clear it. The bratwurst was doing a number on me. I peered over the edge of the planter. Both gunmen were standing within a foot or two of each other, about 40 to 50 feet away. They were getting more and more agitated with the hostages, and I feared for their safety.

  "Tackle them. I will protect you. Do it!"

  The voice was more insistent this time.

  Suddenly, I felt what can only be described as a surge of energy that filled every fiber of my soul. It was a glowing sensation that gave me the confidence that I would be protected, but only if I acted immediately. This is crazy!

  I saw that if I timed my leap just right, I could take down both of them. What happened after that, I wasn't sure.

  But I knew that I had to do this.

  "Tackle them! NOW!"

  What happened next is burned in my memory. Somehow I rose up from my hiding spot, and then I crouched down as I sprinted towards them. Bearing in mind that I haven't tackled anyone in a couple of decades, it was clear exactly what I needed to do.

  As I approached them, my arms somehow opened wide. I was still 30 feet away when one of the hostages saw me and put their hand to their mouth, eyes wide open.

  At 20 feet, the furthest gunman turned towards me, but with the gun still pointed away. I was going full speed at this point and couldn't have stopped if I wanted to.

  At 10 feet, the closer gunman started to turn as well.

  That was when I launched myself from my crouched position.

  With a feral roar, I cold cocked the first black figure with my right forearm, which caught him right under the chin. He slumped down without a sound.

  My momentum carried me to the second figure, who swung his gun around too late. I took him down like a linebacker does to an unsuspecting quarterback, positioning myself so that my entire weight drilled him into the tile floor. I heard his head hit the ground with a sickening thunk, and then he was still.

  The whole episode occurred in less than ten seconds, but it felt a lot longer than that.

  I hurriedly disarmed the two unconscious bodies, and one of the hostages came to help.

  "Dude, that was textbook tackling!"

  I smiled at him. "I'm Lenny."

  "My name's George."

  The energy that filled my body was not gone yet, but I felt it subsiding. "George, do you know how to shoot a gun?"

  "Yessir! Second Brigade, Third Infantry Division. We took Baghdad in 2003.”

  "Impressive. I want you to go over there and position yourself to shoot anyone that comes around that corner. Got that?" I pointed to the back end of the teller counter, which had a clear line-of-sight to the hallway that lead to the back. Anyone coming through that hallway would not see him immediately as he would be positioned on their flank, 90 degrees to their left.

  George took the gun without any hesitation and moved into position.

  I pointed to two men and two women. "I need you four to drag these bodies," I pointed to the far corner in the same direction as George, "out of sight. Just grab them by the legs and pull."

&nbs
p; The four of them leaped into action.

  I didn't think it wise to have the remaining hostages exit the bank as it would have exposed them to harm if the two gunmen in the back came out, so I turned to them. "I want each of you to head towards that far office and get behind the desk. OK? Don't come out until the coast is clear. Got it?"

  They nodded in agreement, and silently hustled towards the empty office. A mother, with her younger son, whispered "Thank you!" as she passed by. Only when they were safely in the office did I take my position back behind the planter boxes, the other machine gun in tow. Mine was the only spot within sight of anyone coming from the back.

  I poked the gun barrel out between the large rubber leaves and aimed directly at the spot where the two thieves would have to exit. My thinking was that the earlier shots had taken out the branch manager, possibly because he had been uncooperative or unnecessary once the vault was opened. The only people that would emerge from the back would be the leader and the lookout.

  Looking over at George, I gave him the thumbs up.

  I was counting on the element of surprise.

  I was not disappointed.

  The two dark figures emerged, weighed down with bags that were bursting at the seams. The bags were so full that they were being dragged along the ground. No doubt the thieves thought that the other two gunmen would be there to help carry the money away.

  I lined up a shot at the first of the two figures and pulled the trigger.

  Bam!

  I got off two more shots. Bam! Bam!

  The first figure went down, and then I heard gunshots from across the room. George opened fire, hitting