Mind Games

by Moore, TJ

  Inching downward, clinging to the inside portion of the vent with his special grip discs, Steve couldn’t move. All the blood rushed to his head, and he wouldn’t budge.

  Jeff yelled, “It’s a long way to the truck. Just drop!”

  “Fine, just let me do it…”

  Sucking in a shallow breath, Steve let go, dropped, and caught himself with his hands only before letting them slip across desktop papers.

  It looked like a circus act gone wrong.

  Steve’s legs flailed in the air and flipped over his head, but he saved his neck from breaking by doing a rather graceful tuck and roll onto the floor. In the process, he’d shattered a series of glass nesting dolls balancing next to the Bank Manager’s computer. The remains refracted the blue security light.

  Max clapped twice. “Great. Get up.”

  Steve clambered to his feet and Max crouched low again, turning the doorknob and making a hard left.

  The walkie-talkie crunched Stan’s voice as he spoke, “Max, we’ve got an issue with the fire escape on the west side. Cops are all over it like ants on a peach.”

  “Alright.” Max eyed each member of his team. “We have to get to the roof.”

  Alarmed, Steve turned his neck. “Wait, the roof? No, I can’t do that.”

  “Change of plans, Steve. We’re rolling with the punches here.”

  “Max is right,” Stan affirmed from the truck. “I’ll meet you on the East side with the truck. Get ready to jump.”

  “What?” Steve bladder pulsated. “Jumping? No! Max, you said there were going to be stairs.”

  “The cops are blocking that path, so the roof it is.” Max turned and ran down the second floor hallway.

  A railing overlooking the first floor lobby showed three policemen with flashlights, guns drawn.

  “Stay close to the wall,” Max whispered. “Out of the light.”

  The crew crawled again on the floor further down the hallway until they were out of view. The regular bank elevator dinged when they passed it, and someone was going to emerge from it…probably a cop.

  Max signaled the others to get up and run. The rest of the hallway flew by them as they turned the corner at the end.

  Jeff read directly from the Bank’s blueprint in his mind. “We need to go to the janitorial closet. We can access the roof from there.”

  Max wet his lips and nodded. “Right. This way.”

  Leading them three doors to the right, he paused for a moment to remember the code. This was one he could easily pull up from his mental hard drive: 2125

  “Nice, man.” Jeff was the last to enter the closet.

  “We really have to go up? Aren’t we high enough already?” Steve was dancing in a pouty stance.

  “Calm yourself. This is only the second floor.” Max pulled a string above him turning on a bare bulb.

  Even though they’d just been climbing for several minutes in almost total darkness, Sarah’s eyes adjusted quickly.

  “Up here.” Max climbed a permanent ladder another ten feet and unlocked the hatch to the roof.

  Atop the bank, thunder rumbled under their feet, shaking the trees. A mesh of lighting zapped across the dome above. The sight and sound happened together, and Max knew the sooner they could get off the roof, the better. He faced an unforgiving gust of wind head-on and stood on the rocks of the roof, clenching the loaded duffle bag.

  The rain let up, but only for a minute.

  East side. Okay. Where exactly was that?

  Among the complications he’d faced inside the bank, Max had become disoriented, but only momentarily.

  East. This way.

  He ran across the slippery rocks, and the rain started again.

  “We’re not jumping are we?” Steve slipped on some rocks and tumbled over himself, bruising his shoulders and bony hips.

  No one even looked back this time.

  As he saw the east edge of the building, Max slowed down to a jog and almost slipped on the rocks.

  The plump raindrops splattered the team. Their ski masks were now soaked, and the water pooled in the eyeholes making it even harder to see exactly where the ledge started or stopped. Max lifted his mask to remove a bit of cloth fuzz from his tongue.

  It was difficult to make out exactly what Stan was saying amidst the pounding thunder. “I’m…below…side…just…come…jump…”

  Max peered over the ledge and saw the milk truck approaching below. “You’re telling us to jump?”

  “No! No!” More static. “I said…DON’T…JUMP. I repeat. DON’T JUMP!”

  “Want me to sling a web or what?” Max wiped rain from his eyes.

  Stan stopped the truck behind the tall bushes on the east side, and he could now see the crew on the roof.

  The other three team members who had stayed around the perimeter of the bank fled back to the truck where they were really of no use whatsoever.

  They were supposed to reconvene under the fire escape upon Stan’s cue, but the presence of the police had put a wrench in the plan. Instead, they spent the ten minutes of the heist drinking coffee and goofing off. Of course, no one wanted the cops to show up, but the three bums were nevertheless relieved to sit this one out.

  “Drain pipe.” Stan bellowed. “There’s a drain pipe to your left.”

  “Ok, sweet.” Max spotted it, tightened the strap on his duffle bag and mounted the pipe, ready for descent.

  As Stan watched Max shimmy down the drainpipe, his stomach suddenly dropped.

  Sarah.

  He spun around in his chair and rapidly flicked his eyes over the remaining supplies in the truck.

  They needed a net.

  Stan stood covering his mouthpiece, now addressing the three men in the truck. “Guys, put down your coffee and grab that tarp. We’re not bringing that girl back with any broken bones.”

  Meanwhile, Max spoke to Sarah with respect…like she was an adult. “Are you comfortable with this?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

  Sarah was scared, but Steve was petrified.

  Trembling and wet, Steve said, “Here, take my cash bag. I guess I’m going to jail.”

  “No you’re not.” Jeff grabbed his arms, shaking him. “Steve, just pretend you’re a fireman.” He looked over the ledge to see three of his teammates emerging from the truck with a large black piece of reinforced plastic. They were originally going to use it to cover the truck, but reconsidered after realizing it would only breed more suspicion. Max was already below, and he helped them unfold the tarp.

  The trees swayed in a chaotic rave.

  Jeff waved over the men with the tarp and they repositioned it, ready to catch whoever jumped.

  “Okay, Sarah what about you?” Max asked.

  “Let’s do it.”

  He helped her near the ledge and spoke calmly. “Just imagine you’re on the top of the diving board.”

  This coaching actually was of great aid to Sarah since she was used to using her imagination to overcome other fears.

  “Alright, but you go first,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” Her hair covered her face as the wind whipped it around.

  Max gave Sarah thumbs up.

  Sarah closed her eyes and pictured herself standing above a giant pool of water. She straightened her back, took a deep breath, and raised her arms in front of her.

  Biting her lip, she imagined the deep pool, ready to wrap around her. She watched in her mind’s eye the moment where she would impact the water, creating a big splash.

  Sarah had more courage than Steve. She bent her legs and jumped.

  Steve never jumped.

  Max pushed him.

  After a mad dash from the outside of the bank, Max and the others rushed back to the milk truck and latched the back door.

  Stan shifted the truck into drive.

  With sirens behind him, he drove over the curb of the bank parking lot, and headed for the park.

  Jo
stled by the bumpy lawn, the truck bounced, causing tools to fall from the shelves. A set of crowbars dropped from the top shelf and nearly bonked Steve on the head, but Max pulled him out of the way. Sarah removed her gloves and wrung a steady stream of water from the cloth fingertips.

  Max climbed up to the passenger seat of the truck and saw Stan steering them towards a pair of swing sets.

  “Turn!” Max yelled.

  Stan stepped harder on the gas pedal and turned a hard left, hitting the back of the truck on the rigid post of the second swing set.

  “Don’t you see that slide?”

  This time, Stan slammed on the breaks, but the momentum of the truck pushed them through the plastic slide. With a thud and a crash, the slide flipped over the top of the truck and rolled in the grass.

  Max heard sirens behind them. He glanced to the rearview mirror to see two police cars right on their tail.

  “Stan, you have to speed up!”

  “I’m trying!” Stan turned the truck to the right to avoid a rusted jungle gym, and the tires bounced over a cement guardrail.

  “What are you aiming for?”

  Stan turned to Max. “I’m just trying to get us out of the park.”

  “Well, you’re doing a pretty awful job.” Max grabbed hold of the steering wheel and spun it left.

  The truck flew past a set of water fountains.

  “Move over,” Max said. “Let me drive. He pulled Stan’s arm, guiding him out of the driver’s seat. “Switch with me. Now!”

  Red and blue lights danced across the park trees. The cop cars behind them split off and positioned themselves on opposite sides of the milk truck, matching its speed. Looking from left to right, Max was momentarily blinded by the flashing lights. The sirens were louder now, too. Gritting his teeth, Max yanked the steering wheel from side to side, bashing the two cop cars.

  Then, he saw a picnic shelter just ahead. Max looked closer to see a large, cement grill stationed next to the shelter. He pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and drove in between the two obstacles, causing one of the cop cars to crash into the grill. The other car curved around the shelter and gained speed again towards the tail of the truck.

  The team of robbers neared the edge of the park. Max saw a gap in the chain link fence ahead. He shifted the truck to a higher gear and floored it towards the opening. The lone cop car behind them pulled out in front of the truck, but Max maneuvered around it and plowed through the chain link fence. Only partial sections of the fence broke off, but most of them buckled under the truck’s tires.

  Max steered the milk truck into a narrow side alley, smashing through trashcans. With every hit, the blasts of garbage littered the street, and some of it stuck to the truck’s windshield. Max tilted his head as the wipers cleared the splatters.

  After winding through a few more alleys, Max lost the cops back.

  With a newfound sense of determination, he headed south of the city.

  MONSTERS

  When the milk truck pulled into the underground garage at the compound, Dallas stood in between the rows of vehicles. He walked up to the battered truck and motioned for Max to roll down the windows.

  “Open the back.”

  “Did you see what I just did?”

  “What?”

  “My badass driving skills!”

  “No, the video feed cut out after you pulled from the bank parking lot. You must have hit a bump or something.”

  Max looked away. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Nobody saw that?”

  “Just open the back. I need to see the cash.”

  Max pulled the keys from the truck and walked towards the back.

  Stan exited the passenger side and spoke to Dallas. “That was one crazy ride.”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “No thanks to you.” He unlatched the back door.

  “Let me see it,” Dallas said.

  Max handed over the duffle bags. “It’s all here. Ten million dollars.”

  Dallas unzipped one of the bags and riffled through a few wads of the money. “Right. I’ll bring these up to the library. I’m sure the big guy will want to see it for himself.” Then he nodded to Stan.

  Just as Sarah jumped out the back of the truck, Stan grabbed her by the arms and shoved her towards the steel door at the end of the underground garage. Max watched with distain as Stan closed the steel door.

  Dallas stacked the duffle bags against a totaled Mazda across from the milk truck.

  He removed his pocket lighter and flicked a fresh flame. Holding the flame over the bags of money, Dallas clicked his tongue. He released all but two of his fingers and rotated the lighter with his wrist, lowering it towards the bags.

  Max took a step towards him. “Dallas, what are you doing?”

  Kicking the pile of the duffle bags with his spurred boots, Dallas continued to close the gap between the flame and the bags

  “Wouldn’t it be funny? Wouldn’t it just be grand if there were no money? You know, if all of this phony control that’s all around us in the tunnels, in the cottage just went away. Just think, Max.” He pinched out a hundred dollar bill and lit the corner of it.

  “Dallas...”

  The edge of the bill smoked at first, then caught flame, burning from corner to corner in only a few seconds. Dallas held the bill, letting the fading flame reflect in his eyes. Then he brushed the ashes onto the ground. “Without this money, there’s no reason for The Leader to keep us anymore.”

  “Stop it, Dallas. I’m serious. We’ve worked too hard for this.”

  “This isn’t your money, Max. It doesn’t belong to any of us.”

  “I know that. I just stole it.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I burn your share...”

  Dallas dropped the lighter, and Max flung himself towards the money. “Don’t!”

  The lighter bounced against the side of one of the duffel bags.

  Dallas started to laugh and picked it up. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. Then he stepped forward and blew mouthful of smoke into Max’s face. “I was testing you, Max. You do care about the money. I knew it. You’re invested in this as much as any of us.” He took a step back and flung the duffle bags over his shoulder.

  Jeff and Steve began to unload the shelves inside the truck, but Dallas stopped them.

  “Why don’t you guys wait on that. You need to get upstairs. The Leader is about to make an announcement.”

  As promised, Sheri baked cherry pies to feed the workers during the celebration. Max ran through the cottage kitchen and grabbed a warm cookie from the counter. Sheri closed the oven and shoved him into the dining room.

  “I can’t have you eating all the cookies. The other workers are hungry too. You see that bowl of popcorn in there? Bring it over to the counter. We’re gonna mix it with some chocolate-covered almonds.”

  Max finished helping Sheri in the kitchen and carried the snacks out to the living room. All workers from both units were present. Max and Sheri set out the cherry pies, and the workers formed a line to get a slice.

  Cameron took this opportunity to check in with Max.

  “Well, buddy. You did it. You actually pulled it off.”

  “Geez, Frosty. Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “Wasn’t as smooth as we practiced.”

  “You don’t understand,” Max said. “We had some complications.”

  “Yeah, I could see that.” Cameron pointed to Max’s burnt spot of hair. “I see those flames came close.”

  Max covered the top of his head. “You could say that.”

  “So I’ve seen Jeff and Steve and the rest, but where’s the girl?”

  “Sarah? She’s...” Max didn’t finish his answer. He looked towards the staircase.

  Cameron looked too.

  Stan slowly sauntered down the steps. Alone. No Sarah.

  Max handed Cameron a piece of pie. “Have some dessert. We’re celebrating.”

  “Alright, everyone.” Dallas unrolled a projection s
creen next to the hollowed-out fireplace. “The following is a message from The Leader.” Walking behind the couch, Dallas waited for a few people to sit down before he turned on the projector.

  A bright light flickered on the screen as the projector warmed up.

  “Let’s go sit down,” Max said. “Even heroes have to rest.”

  The Leader’s voice crackled through a set of speakers before the picture came on the screen. The electronic voice moved through the living room in a wall of sound.

  “Greetings, everyone. Unit Two, excellent work tonight.” Then, as if part of the screen fell away, a fat shadow faded into view. The Leader sat behind a white curtain, staged with a harsh light behind him. The setup revealed no level of detail but a sharp silhouette of The Leader’s figure. He wore a cowboy hat and spoke in a droning cadence.

  “We’re about to embark on a new chapter in our quest towards justice. Like our mantra suggests, this goal is only achievable if we work together.”The raspy, electronic voice sounded rough as sandpaper.

  “I regret to inform you that there simply isn’t enough money from tonight’s earnings to pay all of you individually.”

  A wave of groans moved over the workers.

  Max stood up. “Not enough? It’s ten million dollars. How much would it take?”

  “Sit down, Max,” Dallas said.

  “No. I think we deserve to know.”

  “Max...”

  “What is all that money for?”

  “He can’t hear you.” Dallas said. “This is one-way.”

  The Leader’s wide shadow shifted behind the white curtain.

  “The preparation stage of our operation has been completed. We now have the funding to move forward. I know most of you don’t respect Stan. But really, you should.”

  The projector flickered, displaying a grid of black and white security footage. The array of tiny screens included about fifty moving images. Only one or two people occupied each video frame. And the activities the people engaged in varied as widely as the angles of the secret views. Some of them sat at computers while other brushed their teeth. Some slept while others ate with their families. No video square was empty.