Mission

by Camilla Chafer

  "Mom! I don't wanna wait!"

  I glanced behind me at the kid tugging on his mom's sleeve and smiled at her sympathetically when she let out an exasperated sigh.

  "As soon as we finish our business here, we'll go get ice cream. I promise. But you have to be patient, honey," she told him, ruffling his hair affectionately.

  The queue shuffled forwards and I eavesdropped into the conversation of the people in front of me. An older couple were discussing their vacation plans and the man ahead of them was talking on his phone about something to do with an IT system. Two tellers became available and the couple and the man set off. I stuck my phone in my pocket and slid the backpack under my arm, ready to hand it over. A customer moved away from the teller ahead of me and I was waved forwards.

  I stepped up and put the bag on the counter. "Hi, I'd like to..." I started.

  "Everybody down!" yelled a loud voice, the urgency ripping through the air.

  I turned, confused, and a gunshot exploded inside the room. I twisted the other way, wondering what the hell was going on when the teller caught my eye. Her eyes widened in alarm as she dropped out of sight. On instinct, I hit the floor too, rolling over to observe the commotion as I pressed my back against the wooden panel of the teller cage.

  Four people clad totally in black, wearing identical fatigues, zip-up jackets, gloves, and masks that covered their entire faces, fanned across the room. They began pushing anyone onto the floor that hadn't already dived for cover. Two other masked people wielded control of the heavy wooden doors, forcing them closed, and standing with their backs to the glass doors, sealing us in.

  Crouched beside the teller’s station, I took a moment to calm my breathing and slow my rapid heartbeat before trying to assess the interlopers properly. There wasn't much to note. My initial impression that their clothes covered their bodies entirely was correct; I couldn't see an inch of skin, nor a wisp of hair. Much more noticeable were their weapons. Each held a semi-automatic rifle, and handguns were suspended at their waists. Some even carried military-grade knives. I could identify the weapons because I'd seen Solomon's before. They were clearly here to rob the bank.

  I glanced up. The backpack sat on the wooden lip of the counter, unopened, waiting for me to feed it through the deposit tray. I could kiss goodbye to that cash. It would disappear, untraceably, into the hands of criminals. Solomon would be so pissed!

  I held back the smile that nearly curled my lips. These bank robbers picked the wrong guy to mess with! Then I realized I was directly in their path and unfortunately, Solomon wasn't anywhere in sight.

  Glancing to my left and right, several other people who dropped to the floor like me were also caught between the bank robbers and the tellers.

  "Everyone over here, now!" shouted the same male voice that prompted the first panic. He stood at the center of the room, holding his weapon high while jabbing one finger toward the ground. "Any of you employees who might be thinking about pressing the buzzer for help will be directly responsible for the subsequent deaths of your customers. Is that crystal clear?"

  "Move! Move!" shouted someone else as the robbers fanned out, herding us into the central area. Cautiously, I scooted forwards into a half crouch, making myself smaller and ostensibly, a harder target to hit. The thought of that made me gulp. When we reached the middle of the room, the robbers pushed us down onto our stomachs, forcing our hands over our heads.

  "Mommy," whispered the kid behind me in line.

  "Stay calm, honey. Extra big ice cream after this is all over."

  "But, Mommy."

  "Shhh, honey," she whispered. "Just lie there and pretend to sleep for a short time. Remember our sleepytime game when you were little? Let’s play it now."

  I nodded at her with a small, tight smile, and she gave me a worried nod back. There was nothing else we could do.

  "No talking! Everyone stay down and be quiet, and no one gets hurt."

  Stillness spread through the room. No one coughed. No one muttered. I thought I heard a soft, muffled sob but when I checked the kid lying between me and his mom, it wasn't coming from him. I lay there, feeling utterly useless. What else could I do? I wasn't armed, and even if I were, there were six of them and just one of me. I didn't like those odds.

  The only thing I could do was stay calm and observe what unfolded.

  I turned to look the other way, glancing toward the tellers. I couldn't see any of them now so I figured they were all huddling behind their bulletproof glass. I wondered if any of them pressed the alarm buzzer. If they did, I couldn't see or hear any evidence of it. No alarms blasted. None of the small offices or internal doors seemed to lock either and there was no wail of a police car siren.

  "Head down!" A hand on the back of my head pushed my forehead onto the cold floor. It wasn't hard enough to hurt me but I blinked in surprise and froze. Now, with my eyesight restricted to the back of someone's head, I could only listen to the footsteps moving around the group. Somewhere behind me, close to my knees, I decided, I could hear two men talking.

  "I'm an off-duty cop," said the low, male voice in little more than a whisper. "I have my weapon on me."

  "Keep it holstered," said the other voice, coming from another man. "There's too many people in here. The casualty risk is much too high!"

  "We can't do nothing, man. You're a security guard!"

  "I'm a security guard on minimum wage. The most security I can provide is to swiftly escort irate people out when they see their overdraft charges."

  "It's our duty to protect these innocent people!"

  "Right now, everyone is good. No one is hurt."

  "Yeah, but for how long?" The voice paused. "What if they starting using the customers as human shields? I can take out the two at my twelve and three. You take the other two on your six and seven. The guys by the door will run as soon as they realize the rest of their gang is out of commission. This could be over in a matter of a few seconds."

  "Really? With six of them carrying semi-automatic weapons? There's just two of us and I'm guessing not a whole lot of ammunition between us."

  "Shut up," hissed a woman at my right. "Do you want them to shoot us?"

  "Quiet!" yelled a bank robber.

  The fierce whispering stopped abruptly and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had to agree with the security guard's assessment. Two against six were not good odds and considering the twenty-or-so people lying together on the floor, the chance of someone getting caught in the crossfire the moment the shooting started was too high to risk. I thought about what my brothers and Solomon, and all of my colleagues, would say. I was pretty sure they would advise me to stay quiet, avoid drawing attention to myself, and let the bank robbery play out.

  I glanced around again. Why wasn't anything happening? My bag full of cash remained on the teller’s station. None of the bank robbers demanded any money and instead, the bank remained quiet, and the atmosphere tense.

  Then I heard the rustle of someone jumping to his feet and yelling "Police! Don't move!"

  Bullets cracked and rapid fire followed. I threw one hand over my head and shuffled closer to the kid, using my hips to create enough momentum to close the gap as his mom and I sandwiched him between us and kept him safely covered.

  Then with a grunt, someone dropped across my legs.

  "Anyone else want to play the hero today?" asked the bank robber, the one who first spoke. He had to be the leader. I tucked my chin into my shoulder and gazed down my body, concern rising for the off-duty cop whose misguided act of derring-do lasted merely seconds. Was he dead? Jeaned legs stretched across mine, unmoving. I turned my head, gazing down the other side of my body and got a glimpse of the rest of him. His chest rose and fell heavily, his eyes appeared stunned, but he was still alive. Then I saw the blood seeping under his shoulder, pooling towards my legs. I wanted to wriggle out from where he partially lay over me but I didn't dare budge.

  The bank robber stepped past me, grabbing the gun out of
the cop's hand and reaching for his collar, yanking him upright. The cop screamed in pain as the robber wrestled his jacket from him. "It's a shoulder wound not a fatal shot, but the next one will be lethal," hissed the bank robber. He wedged the jacket into a ball and stuffed it against the cop's shoulder, planting the cop's hand over it to keep it in place. Running his hands over the cop's legs, he patted the cop’s waist and sides, then stepped back, apparently satisfied the cop didn't have any other concealed weapons. "Stay down," he said, shoving the cop to the ground, who slumped over my legs again before I had a chance to shuffle away.

  "You," he said.

  I waited breathlessly, wondering whom he meant.

  "Are you armed?" he asked.

  "Yes. sir," said a voice, the same one who spoke to the cop. "It's on my ankle."

  "Take it out slowly and put it on the floor." Something clattered on the floor and a moment later, the bank robber's feet moved past my view. "I told you to check everyone," he said to the other nearest bank robber, his voice barely audible.

  "Yes, boss," said the second bank robber. "I took the gun from his waist holster!"

  "But not from his ankle, idiot," hissed the first. "Which one of you is the manager?" he then called out. The footsteps stopped a few feet to my left. "Stand up, if you are. You have until I count to five or I'll shoot one of these innocent folks and that will be solely on your conscience. Five... four... three... good man."

  "Please don't shoot anyone," said a quavering voice. "I'll do whatever you ask."

  "Come with me."

  The bank robbers returned to my line of sight, along with a man dressed in a navy suit and exceptionally nice, brown leather shoes. A third bank robber joined them before they moved off to the far corner of the room. I watched one of them holding a gun to the poor man's head. He swiped his keycard and punched in a number. The door swung open and the group disappeared from view. With three bank robbers gone, the other three remained in the room. I could hear footsteps circling the group and if I shifted my head to the other side again, I could see the other two robbers by the door. Not that it mattered. Armed with the weapons they held, there was no way to overcome them even at this reduced number. Plus, the element of surprise was long gone.

  I realized my feet were getting numb under the shot officer's weight, so I shuffled slightly and he cried out in pain.

  "Shut up!" grunted the bank robber, circling us.

  "I'm a nurse," I blurted out. "I can stop the bleeding."

  "You're a nurse?" Black, booted feet stopped in front of me. "You don’t look like a nurse."

  "Yeah. Montgomery General. I just finished my shift on the ICU," I lied. "I can slow down the bleeding. With so much blood loss, he can't hold the wound closed."

  The pause was so long, I thought I said something stupid until the voice replied, "Do it. But move slowly."

  I wriggled my feet from under the cop and shuffled into a seated position. "Stay down," commanded the man. "Do not get on your feet." Butt-sliding over to the cop, I turned him from where he slumped but struggled with his bulk. His face was pale and his teeth were chattering. His hand, clutching his jacket over the fresh wound, was white at the knuckles.

  I peeled back the jacket and inspected the damage. The bank robber was right. It was a shoulder wound that looked like the bullet went straight through and exited the other side. The bleeding wasn't exorbitant so no major arteries could have been damaged. A wallet fell onto the ground at the cop's feet so I grabbed it.

  "Stop!"

  I froze. "I need to stop the bleeding. A credit card is good for that since it's small, hard, and if pressed against the wound, it can seal it. You don't want this man to bleed out. That's the same as murder."

  "I didn't shoot him," grunted the bank robber.

  "It doesn't matter. It's felony murder. You're all liable for murder if you get caught," I said, trying not to stare at him in case he spooked. "May I proceed?"

  "Yes."

  I plucked two cards from the wallet and tore the bloody shirt further open where the bullet ripped through his shoulder. I pressed the cards over the wound and hoped for the best. I didn't think the cop would die from his injury but since I didn't know how long it would take for him to receive any medical treatment, I had to rely primarily on hope.

  "Thanks," whispered the cop, gulping hard, his face still pale.

  "Hang in there, buddy," I encouraged him. From my new upright position, I could see more, but I kept my head tucked down. I didn’t want the robbers to notice me obviously watching my surroundings as I clamped my hand over the cop's wound. I took my time observing each one of the remaining three bank robbers. As I initially thought, their clothes were all identical but I spotted something a little different about one of the robbers guarding the door. That one was a little shorter in height, maybe by only three or four inches, and a little less bulky than the others. I had the other two pegged at six feet or a little bit under, with blocky torsos.

  My interest returned to the guy walking around the group. From his movement, I wondered if he were ex-military. A glance back at the other two, standing alert and ready, seemed to confirm that. They appeared confident and self-assured. Even the brief gunfight didn't rattle them. I wondered if the two by the doors ever left their guard positions.

  Even more curious was knowing where the other three went. I shifted slightly so I could see. They had to pass through an internal security door but there wasn't any movement behind the tellers’ station so they didn't go there to empty the cash registers. Were they committing some kind of cashless crime? I'd heard of hackers who could gain control of banking systems and simply empty all the money into accounts that were then emptied into other accounts just a few moments later. That created a hard-to-follow route, enabling the money to disappear quickly and later get withdrawn as “clean” cash. Could that be the plan in play here? If so, why bring an armed crew of six to take over the bank? Surely, that kind of crime could be committed on a laptop anywhere in the world? Why did they choose to break in?

  Someone sneezed, pulling me back to the moment. I checked the cop's wound, thankful that his blood seemed to stop flowing so readily. He was still horribly pale. The sooner he got into capable EMT hands, the better. Just as I thought that, I was reminded again of the lack of any emergency vehicle noises. Even if the tellers didn't activate the emergency buzzers, surely someone outside must have noticed the unusual occurrence of closing the big wooden doors during banking hours? Then I sighed. Of course, they didn't. The bank was only minutes away from closing time when I reached the teller. A casual passerby probably didn't even question the closed doors.

  I glanced around, looking for the other half of the gang to return but saw no movement. They were gone for what felt like hours. Surely, they would come storming through any moment to make their escape?

  A boom sounded in the bank and the whole floor shook. Several people cried out and I ducked down. The cop yelped as I pressed harder against his wound than I intended to. A second, smaller blast shook the floor again and someone began to cry.

  "Let's go," yelled a voice from across the room. The two bank robbers guarding the door ran toward the group, their weapons drawn. The shorter of the trio slipped, his hand hitting the ground near the little boy, only to recover a moment later. I threw my free hand uselessly over my head, preparing for my final moment and mentally saying goodbye to everyone I loved.

  Chapter Four

  "I think they're gone," whispered the little boy, tugging on my sleeve.

  I peeled my head off the floor, noticing his mother did the same as the boy blinked before going wide-eyed. As I looked around cautiously, I knew he was right. The robbers were gone. The door they took the bank manager through was tightly closed behind them. I took a few more cautious glances before I risked sitting up fully.

  "They're gone," I called out to everyone before I checked the injured cop. My hand slipped off his shoulder but he managed to cover the wound with one of his pal
e hands. He was conscious, his breathing somewhat stable, and he gave me a feeble smile.

  "Where is everyone?" he asked, a frown spreading across his damp forehead. I knew he meant the emergency services. No sirens wailed, no one yelled through a loudspeaker for the robbers to give themselves up, and no phones rang. No one rushed into the bank with their weapons drawn either.

  "That's a good question," I asked. With my free hand, I pulled out my phone, dialing 911 as some of the group darted toward the main entry doors.

  "911, what's your emergency?" came the voice on the line.

  "This is Lexi Graves. I'm at First Eastern Bank. There's been a robbery."

  "A what now?"

  "A bank robbery. Send all the first responders! And put a rush on an ambulance. There's an officer down!" I said in disbelief. How could the dispatcher not know? Surely someone must have seen the robbers entering or leaving? I expected someone must have pressed the security buzzer by now. The dispatch control room had to be humming with the news.

  "We have no reports of any robbery in progress," said the operator. "I do have confirmation of an alarm test being conducted at the bank with a note not to respond."

  "Are you kidding me?" I frowned hard, utterly perplexed. "I'm in the bank now and I'm telling you a robbery was just committed. The robbers just escaped and I fear they took the bank manager as a hostage. Make sure to inform Lieutenant Garrett Graves too. I'm his sister."

  "Is this a... okay, I have some other reports coming in now," she said, her voice just as confused as mine. I glanced around. Yes, other people were on their phones and the tellers were starting to rise on the other side of the glass screen. "Help is on the way, ma'am."

  I disconnected my call to concentrate on keeping pressure on the cop's wound as his hand began to falter. "You're Lieutenant Graves's sister?" he asked, pushing his head up to get a better look at me.

  "I am," I confirmed.

  "The Graves are practically a police dynasty in Montgomery."