by Leo Sullivan
It was going down!
CHAPTER TWO: THE METHOD TO THE MADNESS
As we entered the bank, soft classical music played through the speakers. The air conditioner felt cool on my damp skin, it was only then that I realized that I was sweating profusely. The plush ambience if the bank’s decor seemed to heighten my senses. My anxiety was strung tight as a fat lady walking a tight rope. I counted six female tellers. One of them was a black woman. The bank vault door was wide open.
To my right, next to a desk, was an office. Apparently, no one was inside the office. No one had paid us the slightest attention when we walked in. Two black men armed to the teeth, wearing President Obama masks. The chatter of the teller’s voices filled the bank. They were oblivious to us. Someone must have told a joke because they all began to laugh in merriment. That was until Ray went into action. He casually strolled up to the counter and waved the AK-47 at the tellers and shouted “Alright everybody this is a hold up, don’t make it a homicide! Everybody on the fuckin' floor NOW!”
A couple of the women shrieked in fear as they did as instructed and got down on the floor, everybody but the black woman. She took her time and only got down on her knees. Ray didn't notice her as he ran through the side door with the AK-47 in one hand and the duffle slung over his shoulder. He was moving fast, but not fast as my heart was beating as he scooped up large bundles of cash. He moved with the adroit agility of a skilled bank robber as he dashed from teller to teller. Then he disappeared inside the bank vault. I could hear the squeaky traction of his Air Force Ones streaking across the waxed linoleum floor.
I looked up at the clock on the wall; 9:04 am. I just happened to look over at the black female teller and saw her hands moving, she had pushed a button underneath the counter.
“Get the fuck on the floor!” I barked at her. She looked at me with a hint of defiance. That’s when I noticed that the right side of her hair had been shaved completely.
Then I saw something else move in my peripheral vision and turned to see the elderly white woman we had seen earlier getting out her car. She was about to enter the bank through the door where I stood wearing an Obama mask with a twelve gauge sawed off shotgun in my hands. I tried to conceal it as she opened the door. The old lady stopped, squinted at me like she was looking up at a bright sun. Her long gnarly eyebrows formed a tight line across her forehead.
Just then, Ray ran out the vault and tossed the duffle bag full of money over the counter as he jumped over it. Things suddenly took a terrible turn for the worse. I heard a booming voice yell, “Hey! You! Stop!”
Out of the office, walked the security guard. He was a large rotund man with a potbelly and a receding hairline. He looked to be in his late thirties. He reached for the gun inside his holster, a .357 Magnum. His eyes flashed deadly intent.
Right then, right there everything began to move in slow, surreal motion. Ray turned with a quickness; there was a fusillade of gun fire exchange. The women in the bank screamed their terror. The little old lady at the door took off running across the parking lot as I ducked and dodged. Panic driven, I didn't know what to do. I saw Uncle Ray get shot, the bullet lifted him backwards. Falling, he miraculously managed to let off a barrage of bullets, hitting the security guard in the head. His entire face exploded like a grapefruit. Large chunks of brain matter painted the wall.
At that point, I didn't know if I should run out the door or go help my Uncle lying on the floor.
He never prepared me for what to do if he got shot.
“Youngin’! Youngin'!” He called my name. The sound of his voice helped bring me back to my senses. I ran over to him and was shocked at what I saw. I wanted to turn my head. If there would have been a stop button to replay this entire episode of my life, I would have pushed it and rewrote the scene with me and my Uncle out of it. But that wasn't the case. Ray was lying on the floor in a puddle of blood with a gaping hole in his neck.
“Oh, fuck!” I gasped. The whole time, the black chick was watching us intently. In the distance I heard sirens blaring.
I reached down to pick him up. “Nigga, don't fuckin' worry about me! Get the fuckin duffle bag and let's go!”
Without thinking, I picked up the duffle bag. Bundles of hundred dollar bills fell out as I reached down to help my Uncle up. He struggled, using the AK-47 as a crutch. Leaning against me, we made it to the door, all the while, the siren was blaring in my head. Unc was leaking blood like he had been attacked by a Great White shark. The black chick continued to stare.
We walked out the bank and things got worse!
CHAPTER THREE: MURDER WAS THE CASE
Out in the bank parking lot, the ardent sun was bright as it rained lightly. My grandma had once told me this was called the devil beating his wife. A small cluster of people had gathered outside the bank. Amongst them was the little old lady. She gestured and pointed animatedly as people gawked at us wide eyed as we made it to our get-away-car. I'll never forget the horror I saw etched on their faces. Live or die, it would be indelibly imbedded in my mind.
I half-carried Unc with a sawed off shotgun in one hand, the duffle bag slung over my shoulder, and wearing a Obama mask. Whatever the case, people continued to scatter while getting the fuck out the way.
Ray was starting to feel like dead weight. The scent of his blood was heavy in my nostrils as we moved across the parking lot. The stolen Chevy was only about thirty yards away, yet it felt like thirty miles.
We were moving like snails in a fish tank, but we were moving...
Thirty yards to go... sirens blared. They were getting closer.
I just needed to get home, to get away safe with my uncle. I needed to get to Sierra.
Ten yards to go... The devil was beating his wife harder, the ardent sun seemed brighter. Eerily, an incandescent rainbow appeared over the horizon. I blinked the sweat from my eyes. Then it happened, as we crossed the parking lot; the violent screech of tires coming to a halt. Sirens in caustic stereo shrilled in my ears loudly.
The POLICE!
They had nearly blocked our path! Ensconced in the police car, I could vaguely make out the silhouette of two white faces in the windshield’s reflection that was hindered by the bright sun and pouring rain. To my utter astonishment, Ray reacted with haunting precision; as if he had been preparing for this moment his entire life.
As if he was prepared to never go back to prison!
Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom!
He let loose on the police car, shattering the windshield. The passenger cop was instantly killed, his partner was wounded badly, but somehow managed to make it out the driver’s door and assume position barely above the hood of the police car. He fired a round of shots with his 9 mm.
Blacka! Blacka! Blacka!
Bullets whistled past my head as I ducked, walking backwards. All hell had erupted around us like we were in a war zone. Ray continued to stand his ground as the AK-47 roared bullets, dismantling the police car. His weaponry was superior and he knew it. He was keeping the cop at bay as we moved backwards like two people in a synchronized death dance.
“Youngin’ go get the car and bring it over here.” He shouted as he continued to fire on the police car. The cop had ducked and disappeared. I ran over, tossed the duffle bag in the car, and hopped in. As soon as I started the car up with my slippery, blood coated hands, I looked up and screamed to my uncle.
“Look out!!!”
Too late! The cop had outmaneuvered my uncle. Maybe it was his police tactical training, maybe it was just his good luck. From the rear of the badly damaged police car, the cop popped up like a Jack N' The Box and just starting firing on my uncle. He was a sitting duck. I felt a crushing hurt, deep in my heart, as I watched his body jerk, riddled with bullets, as gaping holes opened up in his chest. I heard him grunt as he embraced his pain, but he kept moving, kept firing and staggering as if in a drunken slumber.
The cop’s gun jammed, he was also badly wounded. He slumped on the ground to reload his wea
pon. Miraculously, Ray walked to the back of the cop car, this time it was the cop that was caught by surprise. At point blank range, Ray shot him in the head. The swell of voices, like one prolonged, protracted sigh was loud as the crowd gasped at the grisly horror. Most began running as pandemonium continued like hell on earth.
“OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN!” Someone shouted.
I put the Chevy in gear. I couldn't just leave my uncle as he staggered around. I burned rubber, fishtailed slamming into the side of the police car as I made it over to him. Meanwhile, the blatant shrill of police sirens were getting louder. More police were coming, in response to the bank robbery and shoot out in progress.
I flung the passenger door open, my uncle keeled over inside the car. As soon as I took my mask off, I looked up to see the black chick that worked in the bank. She had her fuckin' cellphone camera out, running up to the car and taking pictures. I punched the gas and ran over the grassy embankment. I barely missed a head on collision with an eighteen wheeler as I took off down Tennessee Street. I peered in the rear view window. I didn't see any cops, but I could hear their sirens following me.
__________
I raced down the street doing a hundred and twenty miles an hour on a suicide mission trying to get away. I raced through red lights and stop signs. The whole time, Uncle Ray sat slouched in the passenger seat, smiling. His entire body looked like he had been drenched in blood. He took off his mask. His eyes where distant as if he was looking at some faraway place. When he spoke, a bubble of blood rose from his nose.
“W... we did it nephew... we...” He stopped talking and winced in pain. I made a hard right at a corner headed down Bama Street, the black section of town, and nearly ran over a woman pushing a baby carriage.
“You... gotta...g... get out and run...”
I peered over at him as I ran through another intersection. He was still clutching the chopper.
“What about you Unc?” I chocked back a sob at seeing him in that condition.
“I’ma... I'ma... good.... told you I was not going back,” He croaked painfully.
I looked back into my review window. I could see a caravan of streaming cop cars coming up fast behind me about two blocks away. I know then that I needed to bail out the car and fast. I bent a corner and gave myself some distance by driving like a mad-man down a one way in the wrong direction. Oncoming traffic parted for me like the Red Sea. I tried to turn on Malcome Street and lost control of the car. I slammed into a wooden fence, hitting my head on the windshield. I looked over at Unc. He had his eyes open, looking at that faraway place people go when they meet their maker. He was dead? I swallowed the dry lump in my throat as I reached for the duffle bag, siren blaring in my ears. I needed to go.
“Unc!? Unc!” I yelled for the sake of my loyalty to my favorite uncle. Then I took off running with the duffle bag slung over my shoulder. To my surprise, there stood a skinny old man. His skin was swarthy black, the color of burnt coffee. He had a lawn rake in his hand as he just calmly watched me as I ran by. I climbed a wooden picket fence and made my escape across the back yards of two homes. It wasn't thirty seconds later, when I heard the boisterous shrill of police sirens along with the sound of a helicopter. They were a lot closer than I had thought. The old black man must have told them which direction I ran. I glanced up to the East, blood and sweat stung my eyes as I looked up at the glaring sun. The helicopter was nearly directly overhead.
“Shit!!”
I looked to my right and saw a police officer not even thirty yards away, in the next yard. He was creeping, gun leveled in front of him. I froze stiff like a mannequin. My heart nearly exploded in my chest. All he had to do was look straight ahead and he would have seen me. He moved past a wooden fence. Momentarily concealed from his sight, I looked around, frantic for a place to hide. There was an old tool shed in the next yard, but there was a steel fence I would have to climb. I would be in full view of the helicopter if they looked in that direction.
A voice that sounded like it wasn't ten feet away, shouted. “He’s over here some place, call in the K9-Unit.”
That was all it took. In one motion, I jumped over the fence, rolled on my back with the duffle bag and ran under the shelter of the shed. With my heart racing, I stared at the old rusty door knob, and prayed it would open as I heard the cacophony of loud voices and sirens chirping. I turned the door knob slowly, just as a cop walked by the shed. The door was locked.
“Fuck!”
I scampered along the edge of the shed, careful to keep my body concealed from the helicopter that then hovered directly overhead. God, I was scared. My legs were shaking so bad, my whole body was trembling. I was trapped. Then I saw it, to my right, the tool shed window was partially opened, mired with spider webs and debris. I ran over to the window, it opened with a stubborn screeched that resonated in my ear. I tossed the duffle bag inside, just as I placed my leg inside I saw her standing at the clothes line hanging clothes. She just stared at me with chatoyant eyes that held mine as they sparkled like gems in the sunlight. Her amber complexion was sun kissed. She had on a white sundress that blew in the wind as she held the basket of clothes. We just stared for what felt like an infinite moment in time...
Then I heard it again, this time the voice was less than a few yards away. “Cordon off the entire block! What's the hold up with the damn K-9 Unit?”
I dived into the shed and landed on an old lawn mower. A huge rat ran across my leg. I got up and closed the window. I looked around; the shed was barren except for a rusty washing machine, old lawnmower and a barrel. I hid behind the washing machine and placed the duffle bag in front of me for concealment. I could hear the constant clamor of police banter along with the crackling of their radios. Then I heard a cop ask, “Ma’am, have you seen a black male run through here?” He was talking to the lady I'd seen at the clothes line. I unconsciously held my breath as I waited for her response. For some reason, I thought about Sierra and closed my eyes, pinched them tight just as I heard the woman reply.
“Yea, I just saw him! He went in there!”
That was it for me. I was trapped in a shed. I drew my body up tight, hugging my knees and waited for them to come get me, but praying that they wouldn't.
CHAPTER FOUR: COP KILLER ON THE LOOSE
The shed door opened with a stubborn screech, instantly, luminous light bathed the tiny space as willowy shadows danced against the wall. I continued to huddle against the old washing machine balled up tight in the fetal position. I was doomed to a fate of the worse kind.
Then I heard it, perhaps it was my imagination, perhaps I was dreaming. It was a feminine voice, a whisper.
“Hey! Hey! Come out!!”
I didn't move, I just lay perfectly still. Then I heard the patter of feet moving towards me. Then someone moved the washing machine. Startled, I looked up to see the woman that had been standing at the clothes line. She still had the clothes basket in her hands. Her angelic face was full with desperation.
“Hurry! Hurry! I sent them to an abandoned building across the street”
I looked around uncertain, unsure, this couldn't real.
“I have an idea, but you gotta hurry! I'ma sneak you into my house, hurry!”
Her voice held a falsetto of fear as she reached down and pulled me up by my shirt with surprising strength. I stood; my bloody shirt was filled with dirt and dust from the dirty floor. I stole a glance at the cracked door. I could still hear the sound of a helicopter hovering outside as I looked around desperately.
“Thank you!” I muttered. Hesitantly, I walked towards the door. She pulled my arm.
“You can't walk out like dat!” She scoffed. Her beautiful eyes fulgurated terror that mirrored my own. In the distance, we both heard it at the same time, dogs barking. The K-9 Unit was on to my scent. We both stilled, staring at each other, listening. Then she did something that truly baffled me.
She took off her dress and stood before me completely nude. Her body was curvac
eous with pendulous breasts. I saw a small swollen belly. I wondered if she was pregnant. She snatched her wig off, which I thought was her original hair. “Take that shirt off!” She said tossing me the dress with the wig. With the sound of the dogs fast approaching, I didn't argue with her. I quickly took off the shirt and passed it to her. I put on the wig and dress. I glanced down at my gym shoes apprehensively. The woman must have read my thoughts,
“ HURRY!”
She shoved me. I picked up the duffle bag. She asked,
“What’s in the bag?”
“Money,” I replied as I watched her dig in the clothes basket. She removed a chic pink dress, it was wet. Her mouth formed an incredulous O as she gasped. She wrapped my bloody clothes up in a sheet.
“Whaat!?
I placed the duffle bag full of money on top of the clothes basket as she squeezed into the tiny dress. She watched me. Just as I picked up the basket, prepared to walk out the door nerves made of steel, she ran over, adjusted the wig on my head then admonished sternly,
“Walk slow, the back door is open. Once you make it inside, lock the door.”
All I could do was nod my head.
She whispered, “you’re shocking.”
No answer.
I walked out the door.
__________
When I walked out the shed, there were not one, but two helicopters circling low overhead, searching for me. With my head bowed low, I continued walking. Up ahead, I saw the back door. I walked with the laundry basket full with the duffle bag on top of it. With each footstep forward, I was filled with trepidation like I was walking before a firing squad. My own torturous demise. Two houses away, I saw police searching for me with dogs. I continued to walk a slow trudge, I prayed a litany of invocations that God had made me invisible; indomitable against capture. The clothes basket with the money on top felt like it weighed a ton. I continued walking, continued moving, and then I heard something,
