Brian Keene - Terminal

“How about this? I get off at twelve-thirty. I’ll come home, fix you some chicken soup, and then we can watch Days of Our Lives together before I go pick T.J. up at day care.”

I coughed a small amount of blood and swallowed it back down so the hostages wouldn’t see it.

“Sounds good, except for watching Days. You know I hate that soap opera crap.”

“But it’s getting good again. Stefano is back from the dead.”

“Stefano is always back from the dead,” I rasped. “Anytime they need the ratings, they figure out a way to bring him back.”

“Hang on a second, babe.”

“Okay.”

I heard her in the background, ringing up a customer. While she was gone, I wished I had the powers of a soap opera character. They cheated death every fall when it was time for the ratings sweeps. Then Michelle came back on the line.

“Sorry about that, babe. Some jackass wanted to pay for lottery tickets with his food stamps. Anyway, I’ll be home soon, if the traffic isn’t snarled too bad.”

“Traffic? What are you talking about? Was there an accident or something?”

“You mean that you haven’t heard? A bunch of guys tried robbing the bank in that little strip mall on the edge of town. It’s all over the news. Apparently, they botched the job and now the cops have it surrounded. There’s hostages and everything. A couple of people are dead already. I guess you didn’t have the TV or radio on, huh?”

“No. No, I hadn’t heard. I must have missed that.”

“Hang on again, okay, sweetie?”

She rang up another customer and came back.

“Anyway, they held up the bank and traffic is screwed up all over town because of the police roadblocks.”

“Wow. How about that…”

“Tommy, what’s wrong? Tell me. I know you’re not just sick. I can hear it in your voice. Look—

I am your wife and I want you to be honest with me. That’s what our entire marriage is based on. Trust. You’ve never lied to me before, and I don’t want you to start now.”

And there it was.

I paused, unsure of how to proceed. Then I plunged ahead.

“Michelle”—I took a deep breath—“I’m in the bank.”

There was a moment of shocked silence, then she gasped.

“What?”

“I’m in the bank, Michelle. The one that’s getting robbed.”

“Oh my God! Tommy! Oh, baby, are you okay? Are you hurt? How did you get to a phone?

What were you doing in the bank? That’s not our bank. What’s going on?”

“I-I’m sorry,” I broke down. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Tommy, what are you talking about? Did you try to stop them or something? Did they take you hostage? Are you hurt?”

“No, but John is. John’s hurt really, really bad. He’s dying, Michelle, and it’s all my fault. This whole fucked-up mess is my fault. It’s always my fault, all the time.”

“John is with you? Tommy, I don’t understand any of this. Why is John there? Is he okay? What’s going on?”

“We…” I couldn’t finish. I was aware that all of the hostages were staring at me.

“Tommy? Talk to me, baby! Why were you guys at that bank?”

“Michelle,” I sobbed, “I just wanted you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry. Okay? I love you and T.J. and I only did this for you.”

“Tommy, you’re scaring me! What is going on?”

“We were the ones—the ones on TV. We’re the guys that robbed the bank.”

She paused.

“Where’s Sherm?” I heard the suspicion in her voice.

“Sherm’s here too, Michelle. All three of us are. We’re the ones that did it. I lied to you about getting laid off. Jenny was right. They canned us.”

She paused again and then exploded.

“Goddamn it, Tommy, you asshole. That is so not funny. Do you think that’s funny? It’s not. Quit screwing around! You scared the shit out of me, you son of a bitch. If you’re feeling good enough to play phone pranks, then maybe you’re well enough to go to work. What if T.J. had been with me right now? He’d be freaking out. Bastard! I can’t believe you—”

“Michelle… Michelle, listen to me. Listen very carefully. I’m not playing here, baby. This isn’t a joke. I’m serious. I’ve never been more serious in my fucking life. John, Sherm, and I decided to rob the bank. I did it for you and T.J. To take care of you after… after I’m gone. Michelle, you were right when you said that whatever I had wasn’t getting better. I lied to you about that too, honey. I lied to you about everything and I’m sorry. I’m not just sick. I’ve got—”

The words were stuck in my throat.

“Tommy?” I could hear the shocked fear in her voice and it broke my heart. Cancer. I’ve got cancer. It’s growing at an alarming rate. I’m afraid it’s terminal. Life’s a bitch, then I die. Later my niggaz! Peace out!

But the words would not come. I still couldn’t tell her. Not even then, when I was confessing to everything else. I still wanted to protect her from that most awful knowledge.

“Tommy? Are you still there? Tommy?”

“What I did, I did for you guys. I just wanted you and T.J. to have a better life, better than the one I’ve given you. You both deserve it. When I got sick, it didn’t seem like anything else mattered anymore. So we robbed the bank. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Michelle. I swear to God, it wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Sherm said that there wouldn’t be any shooting. He promised me. But it got out of my control. He’s taken over the whole thing. You’ve got to tell them that, okay? Tell the police that Sherm said there wouldn’t be any shooting. And tell T.J. that Daddy never meant for this to happen. Tell him that I’m sorry and that I love him very, very much and that I’m proud of him.”

“Stop it, Tommy! Just stop it, right now! You’re scaring me. I don’t understand any of this. Please tell me what’s—”

Then I heard footsteps coming down the hall, accompanied by Sherm whistling an old Public Enemy song.

“Michelle,” I whispered, “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go right now. I love you, baby. I need you to know that. I love you so much. I’m sorry—for everything.”

“Tommy! TOMMY!”

I pressed END and shoved the phone back in my pocket just as Sherm walked back into the vault.

“What’s up, yo? Did I miss anything good?”

I shook my head. So did the others.

“Then why are you crying, Tommy?” he asked.

“I’m just worried about John. That’s all. He’s fucking dying, Sherm. Do I have to remind you of that every minute?”

“You think I don’t know that, Tommy? For fuck’s sake, quit bringing it up.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. We’re all just a little hyped right now.”

“This duct tape is hurting my wrists,” Kim complained.

“Get used to it, sweetheart. Maybe if you promise to be nice to me, I’ll cut you loose a little later on.”

I kept the pressure on the gunshot in John’s stomach. At this point, I wasn’t even sure if it was doing any good. I kept forgetting, like while I was on the cell phone. And Sherm had neglected to do it when I took Benjy to the bathroom. I tried to take my mind off of it again.

“So what’s up with Lucas and the truck?”

“I taped him up and put him in the bathroom. Figured we were getting too many people in here to watch all at once, and there’s no way in hell he’s getting out of there anytime soon. I found some glue in the janitor’s closet and squirted it in the lock. Only way that door is getting opened is if somebody busts it down.”

“Great. So now what do we do if we have to take a shit?”

“Go on the floor.”

“Nice. I hope you got his keys first.”