“Well, great, that’s very generous of you, ma’am. I guess we’ll take a couple of rooms then. We have a friend back at the bar, too, who’ll be joining us later on.”
“Well, ‘the more the merrier’ I always say, dearies. I’ll go fix those rooms up for you right away,” she said, bustling off upstairs.
“Look, I really don’t like this, but it looks like we’re stuck here for the night,” John said.
“All right. I guess I’ll go round up Mac before he’s too drunk to walk. I might have a drink or two myself, to forget all those hurtful things you said to me.”
“Yeah, that’s great, Kurt. Anyway, we’ll sleep here tonight; we’ll find my brother first thing in the morning, and then we are outta Weirdsville. I promise you that,” John said. With that, Kurt nodded and headed back out toward the bar to collect Mac.
Momentarily, Miss Bay came back down the stairs and said, “This way, my dear. I have the perfect little room for you. Where did your darling little friend go?”
“He went off to get our other darling little friend.”
“All right. Well, come on up; time’s a wasting. I personally picked out my favorite room for you.”
John followed her upstairs and down a short hallway until she finally led him to a small cozy bedroom. “Here you are, dearie. Now if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask,” she said, smiling sweetly. Then she closed the door softly behind him and he heard her moving off back down the hall. John took the pistol he had tucked in the back of his pants and slid it underneath the mattress, where he concealed it the best that he could within the bed frame. When he was at last confident that it wouldn’t be discovered, he looked around the room. It was small, but had a certain Old World charm to it. There was already a fire roaring in the old stone fireplace which gave the room a cozy warm feel, which, mixed with the day’s ordeals made John feel quite drowsy. He kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. He felt an eerie sense of déjà vu wash over him, that he couldn’t seem to shake as he stared up at the ceiling. It was something he couldn’t seem to pin down in his mind. He knew something was a bit off about this place, besides the obvious, of course, but he quickly put the thought out of his mind. He closed his eyes and gently drifted off to sleep, in the room his brother and girlfriend fled from on the night they died.
CHAPTER 4
THE BANK ROBBERY BEGINS: IN GLORIOUS FLASHBACK!
The mundane everyday routines and procedures proceeded along smoothly and normally, as they always did at the small town bank. For such an apparently unimportant bank, in such a quaint little town, one could not help but notice upon first glance how it was strangely, disproportionately decorated with a tremendous amount of extravagance. Row after row of plush, luxurious, leather chairs lined the main lobby. Expensive paintings adorned the walls in any direction a customer cared to look; in addition, several pricey statues and various pieces of artwork were prominently displayed on finely carved cabinets, or stood on stone display stands scattered all about the building. Lush green plants were placed at regular intervals about the interior, lending the whole place the vibe of being the world’s most expensive jungle.
Clearly, the whole effect gave the rather obvious appearance of being much too upscale for such a small town bank as this one was. It more closely resembled the main lobby of some expensive, big city, five star hotel, and was immediately disorienting to any stranger who happened to stumble through the front door. The sun shone brightly today and freely streamed through the shuttered windows, but customers could still see outside and watch as people bustled along with their everyday business, not giving this oddity nestled in the very center of their town a second thought as they passed by. Busy tellers dealt with the customers at their counters and the manager sat happily in his cushy office, which easily equaled—if it didn’t surpass—the luxuries of the rest of the building. He leaned back in his giant, leather chair; his eyes closed, his arms resting leisurely behind his head. The customers waited impatiently in line for their turn, as was the usual custom. Today, by all appearances, started as a day like any other that had come before it, but this time it was not destined to be like all the others.
Without any warning, a shotgun blast shattered the calm of the morning and brought their normal, idyllic day to an immediate halt. People instinctively ducked and looked around to see where the shot had originated from. As they did, they saw the shattered ceiling tiles tumbling to the ground. Through the newly-formed haze of dust and debris swirling through the air, they saw three men emerge. The three strolled confidently through the front door, ski masks concealing their faces, carrying shotguns which they now had leveled at the shocked and terrified crowd. Two of the robbers carried nothing other than a shotgun, while the third had a large bag slung over his shoulder.
“Attention, all kind and friendly bank patrons: I am thoroughly sorry for this abrupt and unannounced temporary interruption of your normal everyday transactions, but I’m afraid that we are here to announce a slight shift in bank’s business policy today. We will be doing things just a little bit differently than you are used to. However, take heart, my friends; if you will follow some simple instructions that we will lay out for you, then we can complete our business posthaste, without any undue unpleasantness, and be out of your hair by dinner time,” John announced loudly but in an almost jovial tone. He quickly surveyed the frightened crowd and then continued with his speech.
“Now, first of all, I will require the guard over there to place his firearm slowly, carefully, and gently on the floor. He will then kick it over to me, unless we want to see some rather unnecessary, more than a little messy, and slightly fatal fireworks,” John instructed, motioning toward the uniformed man in the corner. The shaking guard promptly complied. Slowly, using just two fingers, he drew his gun out of his holster, and quickly, so there could be no possible doubt of his peaceful intentions, he dropped it on the floor; all while simultaneously flinging his hands in the air to signal his complete and total surrender. The guard then clumsily kicked at the gun; his hands still raised high above his head. He missed it entirely, kicking wildly at the air and almost toppling over in the attempt. He blushed, gave a thoroughly embarrassed and desperately nervous forced grin as he regained his balance, and then hastily, but more carefully this time, kicked at it again. This time the guard connected, sending the gun sliding across the floor to come to a rest at John’s feet. John reached down, picked up the pistol and tucked it into the back of his pants.
“Very good, thank you. All right, we are off to a great start here, people. See how easy that was? Now, next I will need everyone to move in an orderly fashion into the conference room in the back,” he said, pointing in the direction he wanted them to go. Then piping up even louder he said, “And that includes the manager over there, who is rather cowardly, hiding under the desk in his office while everyone else suffers out here. Yeah, that’s right, pansy man; I see you hiding down there. Come on out and join all your friends and customers out here. Come on now, don’t be shy, I won’t bite. Although, cards on the table, I may shoot ya if you stay in there,” John said wryly, staring daggers into the manager’s office. The bank manager crawled out from under his desk, the whole time shuffling forward on his knees, holding his hands in the air as he sheepishly joined the crowd.
The newly assembled group of hostages, terrified, but obedient, began moving down the hallway, toward the conference room as John had instructed them. John and Kurt followed on either side of the group, while Mac tailed just a few steps behind. “Lock it down,” he whispered to Mac. Mac nodded somberly, shrugged the bag off his shoulder and produced several explosive charges from within. He then proceeded to scramble about the bank, locking all the doors and closing the blinds on all the windows. When this was fully completed, he began the task of rigging the explosives to the doors and windows. “Well, so far, so good,” John said to Kurt as they proceeded down the hall, herding their hostages toward the conference room.
***
They ushered the frightened hostages into the conference room and signaled for them to gather on one side of the room. Once there, the hostages either slumped down against the wall and huddled together, shaking and crying, or just stood there in shock, not knowing what to do or how to react to this sudden, unpleasant twist of fate. Mothers held their children tightly to their bodies, while husbands clasped their hands for dear life, trying to offer some measure of comfort. They awaited further instructions, afraid of all the horrible possibilities that now ran rampant through their minds. John and Kurt took up guard positions on the opposite end of the room.
“Next, I will require that everyone throw their cell phones up onto the table, if you please,” John commanded, motioning to the large table in the center of the room. The hostages quickly complied, producing their phones and tossing them in a heap on the table. Kurt rounded all the cell phones up and placed them in a nearby filing cabinet. “All right everyone, not to fear, I assure you that if you play nicely, you can all get those back at the end of the day. Next up,” he pulled a chair out from the conference table, patted the seat invitingly, and continued, “I’ll need our most valuable hostage, the manager, to take the seat of honor here.” The manager came forward tentatively and sat in the chair. Kurt produced some zip ties from his pocket and secured his ankles and wrists to the chair.
“You’ll never get away with this!” The manager yelled desperately as he was secured to the chair.
“Oh, well, I am awfully disappointed to hear that, and I was so dearly hoping to get away with this. Whatever shall I do? Why, I know, I suppose I should just surrender now and come out with my hands up; save myself a lot of trouble, hm? Tell ya what, Chief, that wasn’t exactly the most original line in the book and this is a pretty big moment in your life, perhaps truthfully the biggest, so I’m gonna be the bigger man here and give you the exceptionally rare gift of a second chance. So how ‘bout it, would you care to take another crack at it?”
The manager looked at John, more than a little bit confused by his affable demeanor. He finally told John, “I pressed the silent alarm in my office and the police are already on the way. I promise you, if you just walk away now and let us all go, you still have time to escape!”
“No, no, no. Clearly, you were not listening to me. To think, after I even gave you a second chance. Now, this time, pay closer attention to my words my friend, because this is your big shot. When they make the TV movie out of this ordeal of yours, they are going to want to put in the incredibly brave speech that you gave in the face of such truly terrifying bank robbers as us. I know that you are going to want to make this memorable, for posterity’s sake and all. Now, I specifically asked you for something original. That was right out of a bad TV movie and I won’t have a bad TV movie made out of my life, got it? I want a quality actor to want this role, not have it go to some talentless reality show star, or some forgotten member of an eighties band. I just could not stomach that and you want me to be happy, right? So please try again, for my sake. We’ve got to do this thing right, both of us doing our part, totally simpatico. So think: original, exciting, thrilling—aaaaaand go!”
The manager’s look now was a mixture of both fear and confusion; he sputtered helplessly, “You have no idea who you’re robbing.”
“Wow, that’s truly amazing! Do you know every cliché in the book? How many hours of bad TV and soap operas do you watch a day, anyway? I must say, on one hand, I am rather impressed with your dedication to your overall theme here. You have just latched onto this concept and are really running with it; bravo, Captain Cliché!”
“Look, please; just let us go and I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Incredible. I was only kidding there, buddy; but you really do know them all, don’t you? That’s uncanny! Do one more, c’mon; just one more for the kiddies over there!” John said, pointing to the sobbing children in the corner.
“Please, just tell me what you want!” the manager cried hopelessly, sweat beginning to roll down his panic-stricken face.
“And he sticks the landing! Well, I suppose for that, you deserve a little reward. So I’ll give you exactly what you asked for. I’ll tell you precisely what I want, hack TV writer dude. I want a pony!”
“Excuse me! A what?” the bewildered and exasperated manager replied, on pure impulse.
“A pony. You know, a baby horsey thingy with the four little hooves and the ‘why such a long face’. You know, a pony. I want it to be brown and not just plain old, boring brown, but deep chestnut brown, with just a spot of white over the left eye. I want his name to be Sir Runnington the Fourth. Oh yeah, and it should have huge wings and a rocket launcher and maybe a supermodel that cares for him during the day, and me during those long, lonely nights.”
“Are you completely insane?”
“Well, I guess, probably. My therapist never really did have time to finish his full analysis before I chopped him up into little bits and fed him to my pet goldfish Mister Bubbles; in fairness, he had this really hideous couch that I had to lie on during my sessions and, I mean, a guy has to have some standards, right?”
“I don’t get it; is this some sort of game?”
“No, it most certainly is not a game, but fine; I’ll play.”
“What?” the manager was now far beyond mystified.
Flustered, the manager now merely watched helplessly as John continued to ramble on, “Let’s see here; what do I want? Well, I’ll tell ya true; I want a good job where I can show up on time, put in a hard day’s work, get paid fairly for it and be shown the respect I so richly deserve for being such a loyal, hard-working, and dedicated employee. I’d like a girlfriend who didn’t seem to enjoy the company of other men quite so much. Oh, and I’d like a house. Nothing fancy, you know; just a little two bedroom in a quiet suburb somewhere and not whatever cheap fleabag motel or rundown trailer I can afford at the time. Most of all, I’d like a dog that didn’t so fatally love to play in traffic. That was a bad day, I tell you what. Kersplat. Am I right? Unfortunately for all of us gathered here today, my life is a country music song; so I hold up banks. Fortunately for you, however, it turns out that this is the intersection of the rich and of the poor. At this particular intersection, you and I finally begin to find some common ground. So let me tell you what I really want here today and I’m going to make it super simple. I’ll even use really small words so even a rich, degenerate, greedy, conniving excuse for a member of the human race like you can understand it.
I merely wish to roll you and this lovely chair of yours back down that short little hallway to your bank vault. Once there, I’m going to have you open your precious vault and then, well that’s it, that’s all you need to do. Then, bonus, all of these nice people who were just innocently going about their day and have, let’s face it, been horribly inconvenienced not to mention quite possibly traumatized for life—” John stopped, waving at the hostages. “Sorry about that folks, my bad! Well, they can go right back to their lives and try to put this whole unpleasant little ordeal clear in their rearview mirror. I’d offer them all the number to my personal therapist to help, but you know, little bits, Mister Bubbles.”
“I can’t open the vault,” the manager replied, frightened and dejected.
“Well, that’s certainly strange and why is that, do you suppose? You are the almighty bank manager here, am I not correct? Would I be safe in making the assumption that the main benefits to a life in bank managering are hiring extremely attractive secretaries and the ability to open the bank vault any ol’ time you please and roll around buck-naked in piles and piles of filthy money?”
“I can’t open the vault,” he said, looking increasingly terrified.
“Well, you see, that’s just simply a lie and a poor one at that. You are trying to avoid your problem here by hiding behind grammar. You should know I liked my English teacher far less than I liked my therapist and you and I both know that the issue isn’t that you ca
n’t open the vault. The issue here seems to be that you won’t open the vault, is that not correct?”
“Yes.”
“Aw, come on now mister... Hm, well I’ll be. Where are my manners? Here I am, robbing your fine establishment and bless me if I haven’t gone and forgot to make the proper introductions. My most sincere apologies! I’ll rectify that mistake right now. You may call me Sir, or if you are feeling up to it, Almighty Supreme Leader of the Universe. Now, what is your name sir?”
“Mister Myers.”
“Well, I am certainly pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Myers. I’m actually lying, of course, to observe the proper social niceties. I actually simultaneously both loathe and despise you on an almost molecular level. Frankly, just the sight of you makes me want to vomit violently for days and days, but that’s not a productive topic right now, or even remotely a healthy thing for me to do, so I digress. With that out of the way and us now being the best of friends, come on, Mr. Myers; these nice folks here need to get home and sort through the very serious issues they’ve developed here today. That jittery one over there is going to probably develop serious bed-wetting problems at night after all this drama and trauma, and judging by your crack security guard’s pants, he didn’t even wait ‘til he was asleep,” John said, pointing to the guard. The guard blushed and tried in vain to cover the wet spot running down his uniform pant leg. “Sorry, pal; I’m sure Mr. Myers here will be happy to replace your uniform on his own dime when we’re done,” John said to the guard, winking at him reassuringly, and then he turned back to Mr. Myers.
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