The point is, what they want, what we want, what everyone wants is for these hostages to survive this rather harrowing ordeal and go home. That the police officers can finally return home to their loving families, and so, too, our gentle viewers at home can finally turn off their television sets and be reminded how fortunate they are to be safe and sound at home, at peace and to hold their families a little bit tighter tonight. It’s such a simple, fragile thing. Think about it, Mr. Myers, the whole world today is united by this one simple thing, this one lone ideal.
Why can’t they have that one simple thing that they all want so desperately and all-consumingly, Mr. Myers? Why can’t all of their prayers and their wishes be answered today? Simply put, all the messy details and intricacies of this endeavor aside, they can’t have what they truly want with all of their hearts and souls because you won’t open a bank vault. It’s such a small insignificant drop of water within this monumental tidal wave we find ourselves drowning in. Yet, look at all of the misery, the suffering, and strife that it has caused here today. Which, when you really think about it, you have to admit is pretty strange, right?
Feel free to explain it to me if I’m a little off here, but I believe that standard bank procedures, which I happen to be well versed in as crime and capering is my business and all, is that during any robbery, you are supposed to cooperate fully with the gunmen whenever it is at all even remotely possible. That way, those same gunmen don’t get all execute-y with the hostages, right? That is the overall goal, correct? To save lives at all costs? Especially since it’d be far more expensive for the bank to shell out for a bunch of wrongful death lawsuits and then there are the traumatized family suits. Where does it all end? I mean, I suppose that I could be wrong, but I highly doubt it, as I’ve previously stated this is my field of expertise, after all.”
John turned quickly back to the frightened hostages and said, “Oh, hey hold on, that’s totally my bad, people. That really didn’t mean what it sounded like. It’s not a threat; calm down. Don’t worry your pretty li’l heads over it, we’re not going to harm any of you. I promise.” He turned back to Mr. Myers and said, “Back to you, on the other hand; so, why won’t you open the vault and make everyone’s dreams come true, Mr. Myers? That, as I see it, is the most perplexing question which faces us here today. We are completely surrounded by the police here inside your lovely bank. So none of your precious bank’s money will ever leave this place even if we get our hot little hands on it. In fact, for your own peace of mind, we won’t even take anything out of it, not one teeny li’l thing. I will promise you; I will give you my most sincere and honorable word as a fellow gentleman of business that all you have to do is open that vault door, just a miniscule crack, and I will set all of these poor innocent people free. It’s just that easy, Mr. Myers. That’s all you have to do.” Mr. Myers said nothing; he just hung his head in shame and sobbed some more.
John looked disgustedly at him and said, “Well, that’s less than a manly response. Fine. I’ll be the bigger man, if that’s how you really want to play this. I’ll give these people some truth at last,” John said, and turned once again to face the frightened, huddled group of hostages. John said, “Let me tell you why our dear friend the bank manager here won’t open the vault, even to save your precious lives. The real, ugly truth here is that he is a small, petty, greedy and repulsive excuse for a man. Here he sits, with lives delicately cradled in his hands and yet, somehow, he is still concerned solely with himself. It’s that same obsessive, self-conceit and greed that has put you in harm’s way here today. You see, though it’s considered poor form in this situation, as I may be showing our hand a bit here, I think that you have earned the right to know why this is all happening to you.
The truth is that, incredibly, it isn’t even for the bank’s money that he won’t open the vault and let us bandits in. No, it’s not about the money at all, although it is still the root of evil here, as it always is. No, it’s something far worse than that he’s protecting. Yeah, you see it’s his own skin that he’s really looking out for, that he’s so willing to sacrifice yours to protect. Mr. Myers here doesn’t want to open the vault because, once that vault has been opened, they’ll have to check inside it. All of those authorities outside, the TV and newspaper reporters, and the people from his home office will gaze inside that vault to make sure that nothing has been stolen. They will have to check inside that open vault, and he doesn’t want anyone knowing what he has stashed in that vault today. No matter what though, I assure you that door will be opened and they will look upon his sins laid bare and he will find himself thoroughly, completely and utterly undone. That careful façade he has spent all these rotten years building up, of the caring, upstanding citizen he wants you to see will slowly melt away and everyone will finally see his true face. They will finally see him for the monster he truly is, the same cowardly monster I see before me now. Isn’t that the real truth here today, Mr. Myers?”
Mr. Myers slowly raised his gaze to meet John’s. He sat there, unable to move, looking up at John in fear, realization beginning to gradually dawn across his terrified face. “Oh, that’s right, Mr. Myers; you see it now, don’t you? My friends and I know all about your dirty little secret. We know what you have been hiding inside that vault of yours. We know all of your sins, Mr. Myers, and we want to show them to the rest of the world, so that they too may marvel and revel in the depths of your wickedness.”
Mr. Myers, finally, verbally lashed out. “I’ll never open that vault. I can wait you out. The police will get tired of waiting out there; they’ll storm the bank eventually and they’ll shoot you down like the dogs you are, or the snipers will blow your head clean off, but either way you’re not getting into that vault. No matter what you do, you’re going to die here today,” Mr. Meyers said, trying his best to appear threatening, but he just came off sounding wild and desperate.
“Oh great, some spirit out of you at last, fantastic. That’s right, Mr. Myers. I hate to say it, but the unavoidable truth is that someone is going to die here today, but the question really is who. Unfortunately for you though, we hold all of the cards in this particular poker game. You see, I guess if you’re not willing to open the vault then I’ll just have to call my new friend, the police negotiator, and I’ll make one single, solitary demand of him. Just one thing and I’ll set all of the captives free for him; let him be today’s valiant, conquering hero. What is that one magical thing, you ask yourself? Easy, that he send someone in to open the vault for me. Now I put it to you, can you really afford to take that chance, to gamble that much? How far does your little conspiracy go? I know that some of the police force out there is undoubtedly in your back pocket, but when they come storming in after we lay down our arms and surrender, what are the odds that no one will see what it is you’ve tried to hide, or at least no one that didn’t know about it already? You see it now; do you see that you’re done, Mr. Myers? No matter what happens here today, by the end of this day, people will truly know who the good guys really were. Not that any of us are particularly good, but some of us have been way naughtier than others, haven’t they?”
“You honestly expect that people will believe that you’re the good guys? You’re holding people hostage!”
“Yes, that may be true, but at least we’re doing it for a good cause. You, on the other hand, you’re just as guilty of holding them hostage by not doing the one simple thing that we asked of you; the very thing you are required to do in this very situation in your own job description. So, what is your great cause then, Mr. Myers? Can you look me in the eye, or better yet, look them in the eye and tell them that your cause is just and noble?” John said, again motioning to the other hostages, who stared at the two men locked in this bizarre exchange, thoroughly confused. Mr. Myers said nothing he just stared defiantly back at John.
“All right I’ll bite. Fine, you’re the good guy, okay. Let’s put that theory to the test, shall we?” John turned to Kurt and said, “He
y, bring me the secretary that he’s been having the hot, steamy affair with.” He then turned back to Mr. Myers, winked, and said with a knowing grin, “Oh, that’s right. We know about that too, and heads up; someone may have even sent some incriminating videos of it to your wife before we came here today, sorry. So, you’ve got that to look forward to at home. I did my homework, and I did it thoroughly. I’m not just another pretty face, you know, which I know you can’t see right now because of this pesky mask I’m wearing, but trust me, I truly am a dashing bandit.”
Kurt brought Mr. Myer’s secretary over, having removed her from the group. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat her next to the frightened bank manager. She looked at Mr. Myers for comfort and support. He however dropped his eyes and didn’t return her gaze. John addressed the woman, “Let me ask you something and please be completely honest with me. I think we’ve had enough lies today to last us a lifetime. Do you know what’s really in the vault?”
“No, I have no idea; I don’t know what you want.”
“Well, oh I’m sorry; where are my manners today? I forgot to get your name.”
“Jamie,” she said, nervously.
“Well, Jamie, it is truly a pleasure to meet you and may I say that’s a lovely name, by the way. Jamie, what I want right now, more than anything in the world, is finally, for once on this darkest of days, for there to be the smallest speck of the faintest glimmer of truth from Mr. Good Guy over here. Let me ask you, during this rather ill-advised affair, did he tell you that he loved you and that he’d do anything for you?”
“Yes.”
“And do you really believe him when he tells you that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ain’t that special, although I’m sure he tells that pretty li’l wife of his the same thing every night before he goes to bed. The cliché really is true, my dear; men are pigs. Take it from a genuine swine.”
“Okay, good guy,” John said, putting the gun to the secretary’s head, “Let’s see who’s really good.” He cocked the gun, readying to fire; the secretary looked over at Mr. Myers, panicked, as John said, “Let’s forget the rest of the hostages for right now. I want you to put them clean out of your teeny, tiny filthy little mind. They don’t exist anymore. This right here, this gun, this girl, this is the entire universe to you right now. Which she honestly should’ve been all along, she seems great really, beautiful, brave. A tad naïve I suppose, but she loves you and that’s a rare thing in this life. Here’s your genuine chance to save one life that loves you and the one life that you claim to love as well, no less. You have exactly three seconds to tell me the combination to the vault, or I will pull this trigger. I promise you that. What’s it going to be, Mr. Good Guy? Are you going to be good, or are you going to force me to be very, very bad?”
Jamie looked up into John’s eyes. She saw no hope for her there, nothing but steeled determination and commitment and she began to weep. Then she looked once again over at Mr. Myers imploringly. She said, “William, please.”
“One.”
“You don’t have to do this. It won’t do you any good,” Mr. Myers pleaded.
“Two.”
“You’re lying,” he said to John. Then he turned to face the hostages who stared at him, looking horrified and said desperately, pleadingly, “He’s lying. If I tell him, he’ll kill us all anyway; you know that.”
He never looked again at Jamie’s distraught face as John said, “Three,” and pulled the trigger. The gun’s hammer clicked, but the gun didn’t fire. The secretary breathed out a profound sigh of relief. Mr. Myers, knowing in this moment that he had been bested, blew out a deep breath as well, lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut. His knuckles were white from gripping his chair so tightly and the sweat rolled down his face. John smiled victoriously and said, “There see; some truth for us all at last. I told you I wouldn’t hurt any of the hostages, and I meant it. I keep my promises. Now, as for you young lady—”
“Yes,” she replied, panting, heart pounding.
“Jamie, I think that you need to choose your boyfriends more carefully in the future. Here’s a helpful hint; if he’s married, stay away. Now please, go back and join the others,” John said to her, winking. She got up, looking now somehow more embarrassed than frightened and rejoined the other hostages, but not before stopping and slapping Mr. Myers as hard as she could, directly in the face.
John laughed at the sight. “Ah, I’ve wanted to do that all day. You beat me to it; good for you. You see folks, I think I know what the problem with my little experiment really was,” he said. He produced the bullets that he had removed while out in the hall from his pocket, loaded them back into the clip and shoved it back into the gun. John then continued, “The problem was that I was never pointing the gun at the person he truly loved. The only person in this cold, unforgiving world that he truly is capable of loving is right here.” Upon saying this, he cocked the gun and pointed it squarely at the bank manager’s head.
Mr. Myers lifted his head, stared into the barrel, and said, “Go ahead and shoot me. If I tell you the combination, I’m dead already.”
“Not necessarily, scum bucket, we all know what happens in the so-called justice system we have with rich weasels like you. You could turn state’s evidence, you could hire a private plane and flee the country, or you could hire some fancy big city, scum-sucking lawyer who’ll get you off on some minor technicality. If there is but one constant in this universe it’s that vile, despicable creatures like you can always find a way out of the punishment they so richly deserve. It’s one of the many things that makes the modern world such an unsavory place to live. So here’s the deal, Mr. Weasel, and it’s the last offer you’re going to get. If you give us the combination, you can make a deal when the police rush in, if you are able. If not, I can guarantee one thing with absolute certainty; you will die right now, in your little roll-y chair.”
Mr. Myers, knowing he was completely out of options, spat, “Fine, but you’re already dead.”
“Right back at ya, big guy,” John said, smirking at him and lowering the gun.
***
John and Kurt called for Mac to come in and guard the hostages. Once Mac arrived, they took the combination that Mr. Myers had supplied them and then began the slow walk to the vault. When they arrived, John said, “Well here we go,” and nervously typed in the combination. It accepted the code. “Are you ready?” he asked Kurt.
“I was born ready,” Kurt replied. They both checked their shotguns to be certain they were ready for action. John then spun the handle until the door cracked open. He nodded to Kurt, who grabbed the door, gave it pull with all his might, and John led the charge as they ran through the opening, shotguns raised, into the bank vault.
CHAPTER 17
A MUSICAROLINA SHOWDOWN!
Morning had not yet dawned in Musicarolina. The moon had faded somewhat, but it was still in full control of the night sky and the moonlight that poured through the wooden shutters of the church gave the room a soft, comforting glow. This peaceful scene unfortunately, was not fated to last long. As if such beauty and serenity could not be tolerated in this town, the blissful calm and silence of the night was rudely shattered by the deafening boom of the mayor’s voice. John and Kurt were startled, suddenly awakened by the alarming sound which intruded into the very core of the church and rattled off the walls, violently shaking the shutters and knocking over one or two of the pews. They shot up off of the pews they had been sleeping on and their eyes darted anxiously about the room searching for the source of the threat. They both half expected to see him standing there, in all his vile glory, hulking, towering in the center of the room looking down on them with those endless rows of eyes burning with the fires of hell itself, his very presence defiling this humble house of God. To their rather mild and hollow relief, they eventually realized that his voice emanated from well outside the church’s protective walls. They saw the preacher, standing in the doorway, the door w
ide open.
The light from the sky, mixed with that of the torches still burning in the churchyard, illuminated his outline as he stood guard, staring rebelliously into the pre-dawn. He seemed to have no fear, no worry; he was an unflappable pillar of bravery and daring who would block anything from crossing the threshold, daring them to even try. They left the area where they had been resting and walked over, somewhat cautiously, to join him. They stood beside him and looked outside to see where the voice had originated from.
The mayor stood, boldly and defiantly at the front gate, leaning on his cane, glaring at them with a face mixed with anger and annoyance, but it was obvious he was still trying to put forth at least the faintest mask of civility. The rest of the townspeople had drawn closer to the fence than they had ever dared to come before, perhaps emboldened by the presence of their demon king. They now stood just a short distance behind the mayor, encircling the entire circumference of the church, anxious for the show to start. Their faces looked distorted, angry, and cruel by the flickering torchlight. The reflection of the flames in their pupils gave their eyes the supernatural appearance of literally burning with their hatred for those who had taken refuge within the sanctuary of the church. Some of the crowd snarled and bared their teeth, much like the wolves that guarded the forest.
Upon seeing them appear in the doorway, the mayor had now managed to regain some control of himself and rein in his conflicted emotions, for now he bore a more placid and even understanding look. In fact, he even began outright grinning as he saw them standing there in the doorway, looking intently at him and his assembled minions. It was a lopsided, cocky grin; the infuriating, confident look, befitting a man who already knew that he had won the battle and had no notion of being a good sport about it.
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