Brian Keene - Terminal

Dugan and Kim rolled their eyes at the same time.

“It wasn’t anything like that,” Sheila said. “It wasn’t empowerment. It was fucking pathetic. I was a slut.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself down like that,” Oscar admonished her.

“Look,” Sheila frowned. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not going to be sleeping with you while we’re hostages in this goddamned bank vault, so you can stop the bullshit.”

“You should be ashamed,” Martha crowed. “You admit to promiscuity. You are blaspheming against the Holy Spirit—taking Our Lord’s name in vain. That is the ultimate sin, and one that cannot be forgiven, no matter how much you might beg. You will regret this before the day’s end.”

“Wait a minute.” Ignoring Martha, I held up my free hand, keeping pressure on John’s wound with the other. “So what happened after you got knocked up? You couldn’t figure out which guy it was?”

“No. By the time I figured out I was pregnant, it was too late. It was near the beginning of my senior year. I missed two periods in a row, and started getting sick in the morning. I was throwing up all the time and didn’t know what was wrong with me. I finally went to the doctor and he told me that I was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it, but it was true. My main boyfriend got so pissed off. He called me a whore and dumped me, then my parents kicked me out. There was no way I could afford a paternity test, and back then, the laws in Pennsylvania were different, so I couldn’t get an abortion. I ended up dropping out of school. Actually, that’s why I was depositing money in my savings account this morning when you guys came in. I’ve been saving enough to take some classes and get my GED It’s hard, because I can only put a little away at a time, but I can’t find a job without one.”

Benjy seemed oblivious as we talked. He fidgeted, uncomfortable with having his arms tied behind him, and kept watching John.

I don’t think any of us knew how to respond to Sheila’s story. It was just so unbelievable that she would open up and admit something like that to a bunch of strangers, especially given our situation. But she told it with such openness and sincerity. We all just sat there, silently mulling it over. I noticed that none of us would look directly at her or Benjy. Finally, Roy cleared his throat.

“Your son is special, isn’t he, Sheila?”

“Well yeah, he’s special. He’s everything to me. Benjy is all I’ve got.”

Roy smiled, nodding his head.

“I’m sure he is, and it’s easy to see that he’s a wonderful boy. But that’s not quite what I meant. Benjy can—do things, can’t he? Special things, perhaps?”

Sheila turned away from his questioning stare. A small vein in her throat fluttered and I could tell that she was scared. Not scared of being a hostage. This was something more. Something primal.

“What are you getting at, Mr. Kirby?” Sharon asked.

“Before Tommy’s friend here was shot”—he cocked his head toward John—“I was dying. Plain and simple fact, my friends—I was dying. I lied to Tommy and Sherm, and said that it was just angina to protect the boy, but the truth is that I was having a massive heart attack. It would have been my third, so trust me when I tell you that I’m a bit of an expert on the subject. It feels like nothing else. Heart bypass surgery is no picnic. My wife Nora, God rest her soul, died of ovarian cancer three years ago. Her heart was healthy as a horse. But mine—I’d always had trouble with my ticker. It’s hereditary. My father had it and his father before him.”

“So why aren’t you dead, then?” Dugan asked. “I was watching. The kid didn’t perform CPR or anything like that. He just placed his hands on your chest.”

“Yes. Yes he did. That was all. He just put his hands on my chest. I was scared for him, worried that he’d get shot, but I was too weak to resist. I didn’t have any breath to speak with. He kept his hands there. My chest felt warm at first, then the pain vanished. By the time Sherm shot that second man with the gun, the one that seemed high on drugs, I was fine. Better than fine, in fact. Despite our circumstances, I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Dugan snorted. “He’s not the new Messiah. You heard Sheila’s story. I’d hardly call that an Immaculate Conception. No offense.”

“None taken,” Sheila murmured.

“I’m not suggesting that,” Roy insisted. “I’m just saying that Benjy has a gift. A healing touch.”

“Maybe you were mistaken,” Kim said. “Maybe it was just stress. I know that I was scared and it felt like I was going to have a heart attack too.”

“No young lady, I’d like to think so, but I wasn’t mistaken. Of this I am absolutely sure. This little boy—Benjy—healed me. I truly believe it. That’s why I offered myself to Sherm if he’d at least let Benjy go free. He’s a remarkable young man.”

Blushing, Sheila smiled. “Thank you. I never told anybody before. I’m not even sure why I’m admitting it now.”

“That’s easy,” Dugan grunted. “It’s a case of Stockholm Syndrome.”

“What’s that?” Kim asked.

“It’s when you bond to your captor—in our case, Tommy. It’s sort of a survival strategy for victims in hostage situations. They call it that because of a hostage situation during a bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden, in 1973. When it was all over, one of the women became engaged to one of her captors, and another hostage started a defense fund for the robbers.”

“That usually takes a while to happen,” Oscar said. “We’ve only been in here for like an hour or so.”

Through the walls, Sherm was shouting into the telephone.

“We’ve got plenty of C-4 and we’re not afraid to use it. Anybody so much as peeks their head through that door and we’ll blow the whole goddamn building up!”

There was another sound too—a muffled, frantic thumping that punctuated his words. I wondered what it was and decided that I didn’t want to know. It was probably Sherm roughing Keith up.

Roy spoke up. “Regardless of how much time has passed, I think we can all see who’s bad here and who’s good. You’re not one of the bad guys, Tommy. Not at heart. That much is plain, despite what you may have done so far today. And there is still time for you to make amends.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Mr. Kirby.”

“I know that you don’t want to see anybody else get hurt. And I know that you love your wife and son and that you want to see them again. That’s all I need to know, Tommy.”

“You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know what you’re playing? You’re just sucking up to me, hoping I’ll slip up or go easy on you.”

“No, I’m being genuine.”

“Whatever.”

Dugan stretched his foot out and touched Sharon’s shoe with his own. She smiled, and inched closer to him. For a moment, I wished their hands were free, just so he could slide an arm around her and comfort her.

“This is some heavy shit,” Oscar breathed. “I’m supposed to be at work right now. Jeez, I hope I don’t get fired. That would suck. I’m already behind on my student loan.”

Kim muttered, “I’m already at work. And I guess I’ll miss class tonight too.”

Across the hall, the thumping continued but now Sherm was quiet. It was growing weaker, slower.

We waited.

Finally, the thumping stopped and never started again.

John was fading quickly. I tried hard to take my mind off of it.

“So,” I said to Sheila, “let’s recap. You got knocked up and had Benjy. You don’t know who his father was. And Benjy can heal people by touching them. Did I get it right?”