MUSICAroLina

by Daniel William Gunning

  “Thanks. That actually helps, amazingly enough, but I’m not sure this is,” she replied, sliding the flask back across the table.

  “Can I give you a friendly piece of advice, completely free of charge, my dear?”

  “Why not? It’s not like I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

  Mac brushed this reply off and said, “All too often in today’s society, people are so self-concerned with being part of a couple. It is an all-consuming, self-destructive obsession these days; from books, to magazines, to television shows, movies, and everything in between. They’re all telling you that you are nothing if you don’t have someone. Even the obviously wrong someone is supposed to be acceptable, just so long as you aren’t alone. So due to all those external pressures, combining and commingling with the ever-present already existing internal pressure, everyone let’s it define who they are. They never take the opportunity to learn who they are outside of it and what a truly miraculous person they are and could be. Otherwise, they wouldn’t spend one precious second on all the liars and the cheats that don’t measure up like our slimy bank manager friend over there.”

  Jamie interjected, “I see what you’re saying, and I can tell you that you’re not wrong. Which is somewhat surprising, but hey! As women, we unfortunately, especially, seem to fall right into that trap, that ugly lie that we need a man in our life to be truly whole. It’s not an excuse, but it’s something society tries to force on us at every turn, at every step of our life, from the media you mentioned to our closest friends, all pushing us to accept less than what we are worth. Maybe it’s all well-intentioned; maybe it’s just there to sell us beauty products. It doesn’t really matter. It’s all the same. It’s always there, everywhere you look, and everywhere you care to listen; it surrounds us. We all find ourselves stuck, mired in these dead end, meaningless relationships, and completely miserable and inconsolable as they coming crashing down to their inevitable bitter end, just like mine did.

  Sadly, for the entire time, in the deepest recesses of our hearts and in our minds, we know that it’s wrong all along; we just ignore it, push it out of our brain, drown out that little voice telling us to do better, that we deserve better because of the simple fact we are just too scared of being alone. Maybe it’s simply because of those societal pressures. Possibly it’s some deep seated, primordial fear of the unknown. Perhaps it’s just our own innate sense of needing other people, or maybe it’s just as simple as a bad habit we can’t kick now, after all these eons of making the same mistake over and over. I don’t rightly know, to be sure, but I do know that so many people won’t even leave a terrible, abusive relationship until they have the next Mr. Wrong lined up and all because we tell ourselves at least it’s better than nothing. We rush through all the stages of the relationship, trying to force our happy ending to magically appear and the whole while we tell ourselves that it’s really love because we wish it to be so, but it never really is.”

  Mac took this in and replied, “Unfortunately, you can never force your happy ending to be written; you can never just tack on some ending that doesn’t fit the tale you’ve told. All things lead to their logical conclusion; therefore, you’re just racing yourself to that same bitter end to find out that it was never love, it was a trap. That’s the sad comedy of it all, you see; that you alone are the author of your own story. You are the one with the pen and the power and yet you choose it to be a tragedy. So it goes then, on and on, passed on person to person, piling up scar after scar, victim after victim, like some kind of withering disease. If you ask me, you’re better off being alone for a while. Once you truly control your own life, dependent on only you, once you are truly happy with who you are and where you are going, to find the purest joy in who you are, only then can you find the person who isn’t just convenient, but is the perfect person who fits into your life and can take that journey with you hand in hand into your storybook sunset. By that point, you’ll know what your life really is, not just what you want it to be, or what others tell you it should be. You will see the grand and beautiful puzzle that you truly are and you shall finally see the one missing piece, the right missing piece, if there is one.

  Amazingly, we live in an age of wonders where everything that was once hidden away is now out in the light and we pat ourselves on the back for this knowledge, yet all the while we fail to use it. We continue to trumpet our knowledge while we allow STDs, teenage pregnancies, divorce, heartbreak, affairs, and pretty much anything else conceivably negatively affiliated with these relationships to explode as we all rush headlong to these unhappy endings.”

  “So what’s your friendly advice then, pal? What’s the point of all this? Should we all get thee to a nunnery, as Hamlet would say?”

  “No, it’s not like that at all. Plus, if you’re talking about finding your happy ending, you really shouldn’t use Hamlet; that story didn’t end well for anybody. What I’m saying is that it’s like any other form of knowledge. There’s no sense in cramming all of this useful information into our brains if we’re not going to use it. In the end, each person has to decide what’s right for him or her. You have every right to choose your own beliefs, your own path, but don’t ever ignore what you know inside to be true and don’t ever lie to yourself to believe in something that isn’t ever going to make you truly happy. You deserve far better than that; we all do. Then again, I’m a kindly alcoholic bank robber; what do I know? What I can say that says the most about you and I in this shotgun parable we’re living out here, is that criminals like us—men like us—don’t carry these guns to look scary or intimidating. We carry them because, just like any other man, we’re afraid of you and your potential. We’re afraid of what you could do to us if given half a chance. So don’t ever sell yourself short, kiddo,” Mac said, taking a drink from his flask. He grimaced and said, “You know you’re probably right? This stuff doesn’t help. In fact, it is most likely going be the death of me.”

  Jamie looked at him, stunned by his sudden outpouring of compassion and concern as well as his just-as-sudden regression. She didn’t have long to analyze this, however, as she was snapped back into the present by the sudden sound of gunfire erupting from somewhere inside the bank.

  “Uh oh, seems like the boys are restless today,” Mac said. The phone on the conference table almost instantaneously began to ring urgently in response. “Oh, I am so sorry, but I’ve got to take this; it’s very important. Good talk, though. I think we really made some real progress today,” Mac said, winking at her, and then he answered the phone, “Hostage hotline, how may I direct your call?”

  ***

  John and Kurt, having finished dumping the last of the corpses, returned to the vault. They stood at the door and scanned the interior. Inside the vault were all the typical things that you would expect to see, but they weren’t interested in any of those hollow earthly possessions today. They didn’t waste one wayward glance toward the money or any of the other valuables inside. Instead they gazed in sorrow and horror upon the row after row of cots that lined the inside of the vault. On each of these cots lay a girl. The ages varied, but it was clear that some of them were barely even teenagers. They each had makeshift IVs stuck in their arms, keeping them well drugged and calmly sedated as they lay there, blissfully unaware of the graphic violence that had so recently occurred and the gore that now surrounded them and dripped from the walls. John walked up slowly to the nearest one; he reached down, lovingly and carefully, and tenderly wiped some blood away that had spattered on her face. John and Kurt looked back at each other. There they stood, for a moment, in the midst of that grim and bizarre spectacle, soaking it all in, and then they embraced.

  “We did it, brother,” Kurt said, releasing John.

  “Yeah, we did it, all right. Not bad for a day’s work, old friend.”

  “So, you ready to finish this?” Kurt said, trying his best not to cry, overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation.

  “Let’s do it,” John said. They then le
ft the vault and that peculiar, macabre scene behind them. They hurried back to the conference room, anxious to wrap up this affair. The phone was ringing again, loudly and insistently. John ordered, “Mac! Get out there and check the charges one more time. The last thing we want is for this whole thing to literally blow up in our faces now that we’ve got it all done. That would be anticlimactic, to say the least. Now, hostages, just hang in there; you’re almost home free. Kurt, you stall the cops on the phone for as long as you can. Give ‘em any excuse you can think of; just buy me a little more time. Last and certainly least, you and I are going to take that valuable time to have a little talk,” he said, pointing to Mr. Myers.

  John moved over and grabbed the sides of the chair that Mr. Myers was still secured in and wheeled him away, out the door, and down the hall. He gleefully took his time, allowing the bank manager to take in the hideous trail of blood that traveled down the once pristine hallway. He took a circuitous path so that they could pass the room where they had stored the dead bodies; he paused for a second there, making sure Mr. Myers had ample time to see them, in all their blood-soaked glory.

  John ignored the bank manager’s various sobs and protests as he methodically pushed him through the various scenes of violence and death, finally taking him back around to the lobby where this whole messy business had begun and bringing him to the very door of his office. John pushed him inside and there he concluded the manager’s tour, coming to a stop inside Mr. Myers office, next to his desk. “Here ya go, home sweet home!” John said to him smiling.

  ***

  “What did you do?” Mr. Myers asked, as his chair finally rolled to a stop against his desk, on which John was gleefully perched.

  “What did I do? What did I do? I think the better question here is ‘what have you done’. I’m sorry, but it seems that you have missed the main point entirely and have focused an awful lot on the negatives here. Incredibly, you are acting like the important thing here is all the unsightly blood and bodies, but that’s just the set decoration in this sick scene. What about all those innocent girls back there, huh? I’ll tell you what we did. What we did here today was we killed the bad guys and we saved the innocents, and just in the nick of time, I might add. Why, I’d say that makes us heroes, of the big damn variety.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t really matter who I am, Mr. Myers; what really matters in this life is who we are. I’ll freely admit to you: I’m a liar. I’m a thief. And yes, as you’ve seen so graphically demonstrated for you today, when I need be, I’m a stone cold killer. But you sir, you truly disgust me. What does that really say about you and who you are?”

  “Why are you doing all of this?”

  John reached into his pocket, produced a small roll of tape, hopped up, and strapped some over Mr. Myers’ mouth. Mr. Myers struggled against the tape furiously; John smiled broadly at his obvious discomfort. He sat back down on Mr. Myer’s desk, haphazardly sliding all of the bank manager’s belongs onto the floor with one swift sweep of the arm and said, “Shhhh, that’s enough talking for you today and for quite a while longer for that matter, I’m afraid.” He waited until Mr. Myers calmed down somewhat, or had at least tired himself out from the pointless struggling and then John continued, “Let’s see, why am I doing this, you ask? Let me turn it around and ask you. Why wouldn’t I do this? I’d like to think that anyone who knew what I knew would’ve done exactly this, or something very much like it. You sit there playing the respectable citizen, the big shot around the town, the playboy at the office, and the dutiful husband and father at home; all the while, you secretly traffic in the sale of underage girls to the highest bidder, and for what? I told you; I did my research on you and do you know what I found out? You already make a good six figures a year and that’s just in base salary; that doesn’t even begin to include a ridiculous multitude of bonuses and benefits. You have a beautiful house, a summer and winter home as well. You are blessed with a trophy wife with legs that just won’t quit and the best body all that filthy money could buy. You even had a beautiful woman on the side, although I have the feeling that’s all over with now. You’ll find that most women aren’t very forgiving about the whole ‘being willing to let them die’ thing. That’s kind of a deal breaker for them, sorry; they’re a funny gender like that. Lucky for you though, none of that matters now anyway,” John said, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out a small explosive device.

  He used the roll of tape he still held and attached it to Mr. Myer’s chest, directly over his heart. He noticed the fear beginning to shift into panic in the bank manager’s eyes. He began once again to struggle fiercely against his bonds. John ignored his futile efforts and continued, “Now here’s what’s going to happen, scum. We have finally arrived at the endgame now. We’ve rigged most of the windows and doors and some of the front walls to blow. Nothing that’ll topple your precious bank, I assure you, but enough to cause quite a bit of confusion and chaos outside. Plus, bonus, it’s gonna be a really pretty light show for all those that ain’t terrified of it. Think of it as our little gift to the crowd assembled out there that’s waited so patiently for something to happen. We’re gonna give ‘em some fireworks to truly remember! It’s really a shame that you’ll be too dead to see it, it really is. After our little display, they’ll have to send in the bomb squad and the firemen to make absolutely sure the building is safe to enter and doesn’t have more explosive surprises waiting inside for them.

  Since I am both a cautious and considerate bandit, and just to make doubly certain that they’re all safe, we’re going to store the hostages in the safety of the vault. That way they can ride out the blast in well-protected comfort and, who knows, maybe even grab a little compensation for all the pain and suffering they’ve endured while they’re in there. Lord knows, it’s not up to me to judge them; frankly, I think they deserve a little something for all their troubles. Anyway, we’ll store them in there with the real valuables here, the women you were going to sell for the money you didn’t even need.

  You see, that’s really why we needed it opened, so we could put them in there. That way, we have peace of mind knowing they are safe and the police are guaranteed to open the vault and to see all your rather dastardly handiwork. It’s gratifying to know that, after all these years, after all the untold numbers of lives that you have so callously destroyed for your own selfish gain, your sins have finally found you out. Soon, very soon, those sins will be on full display for the entire world to see. I just wish you could be alive to see it, too, to see the realization of what you are as it dawns on people’s faces. Don’t worry; I’ll watch and I will relish it for the both of us.

  By the time anyone even realizes what’s happened, we’ll be long gone from here. Ironically enough, we’ll be using the very tunnel that you used to smuggle the girls in. Thank you for that, by the way. It was most considerate of you to leave us such a handy escape path. We originally thought about just using it to break in and rescue the girls, but that was just a stopgap solution at best. Plus, funny story: none of us have ever robbed a bank before, which is weird, because we’ve committed a lot of crimes. We don’t know the first thing about breaking into a bank vault, and attempting to blast our way in seemed too risky so that was out. We knew we couldn’t just report it to the police because we didn’t know how many were on your payroll. So we thought we’d try something a little more showy and elegant. We brought every possible police officer we could here to us, and every possible news crew has come along for the ride, just to keep them honest.

  By the time they sift through the rubble of the bank and the remains of your best laid plans, everyone involved will finally get what they truly deserve. You’re actually quite fortunate, if you think about it. You will be getting yours well before they get theirs, and yours at least will be quick and relatively painless. Like I said earlier, I know all too well that people like you can lie, bribe, or weasel your way out of anything they so richly deserve, so
I’m not going to give you that chance. You’re going to die here today. You’re going to die in the same place as all the lives you’ve ruined and all the dreams you’ve destroyed. See, Mr. Myers, the truth is that we all eventually pay up for the things that we do in this life. One day, someone will come along to collect my rather sizeable debt too. Don’t feel too bad about it, it was just your time is all.

  Now, I know that you are going to try to make a big ol’ fuss and struggle to say something through that pesky tape about me saying that you could live. We can sit here and argue about all the subtle nuances of everything I told you for days. Sadly, we simply don’t have that kind of time, well you don’t at least. Just try to remember, whether it was the truth or a lie, it doesn’t make an ounce of difference either way. I was never the good guy here, but I’m better than you.” With that, John left him there in his office, explosive strapped to his chest, struggling in vain against the tape, thrashing against the ties that held him to that chair, fighting uselessly against his inevitable and well-deserved fate.

  ***

  John walked back down the bloodied hall, a slight smirk of victory hovering on his face, and he sat down in the back room, in front of the bodies. He took a moment, looking down at the corpses. He thought about what they had done, about all the horrors it had taken to get them to this very point. Sitting there in front of those grisly corpses, he balanced the lives that they had saved against the numerous lives they had taken. As John rested his shotgun in his lap, he could still feel some of the residual heat from the barrel. He continued to gaze down at the bodies, even as he heard footsteps approaching him down the hall.

  Kurt entered the room and said, “John, the negotiator is still on the line and we can’t just stall him anymore. He seems more than a little antsy, which I guess, given the circumstances, is understandable. I would strongly suggest that if we don’t give some sort of reasonable explanation for all the shooting sometime very soon, I’d be willing to bet they’ll storm the bank any minute for sure. Which is handy, because I’ve got a vault full of money to bet. That’s neither here nor there. So, come on man, we’re this close to finishing this thing. Let’s not mess it all up now in the homestretch. You know we did what we had to do. The last thing I want right now is to shoot it out with the entire city’s police force over it. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think they brought a few other cities’ forces with them for moral and tactical support as well. Don’t get me wrong, buddy; it’d be epic shooting it out with them and their overly-armed and agitated amigos, but quite frankly, I ain’t feeling it,” Kurt stated calmly.