Mark Lukens: Ancient Enemy

The bank manager sat at his desk in the office right off the lobby. He shuffled through some paperwork, but there wasn’t much to do – he’d already announced that they were going to be closing early due to the snowstorm, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here, get home, and start his three-day weekend.

Moments later the quiet morning was shattered as the five men from the snowmobiles exploded through the front doors. They were dressed in dark coats, gloves, and ski masks; two of the men carried large metal briefcases and all of them carried guns. They moved like a military unit, fanning out in different directions. One of the masked men stayed back by the lobby doors, he locked the doors and stood guard in front of them.

Another masked man, the leader of the men, aimed his gun at the tellers as he approached them. “Nobody move!”

The tellers and customers let out short screams of shock, but they froze and watched the robbers with wide eyes.

“Open the money drawers and back away!” the leader barked at the tellers. “Don’t touch anything else!”

The tellers did as they were instructed. Both of the cash drawers popped open and the tellers raised their hands as they backed away from the counter.

Another masked man, a tall and lanky man, rushed over to the customers still in line, his semi-automatic pistol aimed at them. He herded the customers to the wall. “All of you down on the floor now!”

The Leader nodded at the two men with the metal briefcases.

One of the men hopped the teller counter with ease and began emptying the money from the teller drawers into his metal briefcase.

The other man with the case rushed to the bank manager’s desk, his gun trained on the man who already had his hands up, already surrendering.

“Was the alarm triggered?” the masked man yelled.

“No,” the bank manager answered, shaking his head almost violently. “I … I didn’t – ”

“Get up,” the masked man growled at the manager. “Open the vault.”

“It’s already open.”

“Take me there.”

The masked man followed the manager behind the teller counter, around a corner to a short hall where a metal door was wide open. The manager gestured at the door with a trembling hand. “There it is.”

The masked man pushed at the manager. “Get in there.”

The manager’s legs felt like jelly, his heart pounded so hard he thought he was going to have a heart attack. His mouth had gone so dry he could hardly spit out any words. “Please don’t.”

“I’m not going to kill you. Nobody’s going to get hurt, I swear. As long as everyone cooperates.”

The masked man’s words calmed the manager down a little. He nodded and entered the vault. The masked man held his metal case open. “Fill the case up. Take from different stacks.”

Back in the bank lobby, the Leader glanced down at his wristwatch. “Ninety seconds! Let’s move!”

The Leader looked over at the tall lanky man who held his gun on the customers; all of the customers were on the floor except one old man who stood his ground. “What’s going on over there?” The Leader growled.

The tall masked man stepped towards the old man and jabbed his weapon at him. “You hard of hearing, old man?”

The old man showed no fear of the gun pointed at his face. His ice-blue eyes had a blank look in them, like he was lost in a daydream. Or a trance. He stared at the tall masked man, but he seemed to stare right through him.

“Get down on the fucking floor!”

The old man made no move to get on the floor; he made no move of any kind. But he did smile at the masked man, his eyes still so far away, seeing something nobody else there could see. “You’d better get right with the Lord, boy,” the old man said in a low voice.

“What the fuck are you babbling about?”

“You better get right with the Lord, because something real bad is coming for you.”

In the vault, the bank manager stuffed stacks of cash into the masked man’s metal case. “Please,” the bank manager whispered. “I have a wife. Kids.”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” the masked man told the manager. “You’ll see your wife and kids again. I promise.”

The other masked man with the metal case entered the vault, there was money in his metal case from the cash drawers, but there was room for much more. The bank manager stuffed his case full of stacks of money. The masked man closed the full case and handed it to his partner. “Get back out to the lobby.”

The other masked man ran out of the vault with his metal case.

The masked man pointed his weapon at the bank manager who closed his eyes as tears slipped out. His lips whispered silent prayers.

“Open your eyes,” the masked man growled.

The bank manager did as he was told.

“Get out in the hall, get down on the floor and just stay there. Don’t follow me out, don’t make a sound. Got that?”

“Yes. Yes, thank you.” The bank manager hurried out of the vault and got down on the floor. He closed his eyes and he continued his whispered prayers to a God he hadn’t prayed to in a long time. But he felt okay. He believed the masked man’s words. Something in his voice told the manager that the man was telling the truth. He could hear the masked man walking away. “Thank you, God,” the bank manager whispered. But seconds later the manager would hear gunshots and his whispered prayers would be back on his lips.

Back in the lobby, the Leader watched the old man still standing his ground as the tall masked man pointed his gun at him. “What’s the problem over there?” the Leader growled.

“No problem,” the tall man spat out as he glanced at the Leader, and then he looked back at the old man. “I’m only going to tell you one more time – get down on the floor!”

“The devil himself is coming for you,” the old man whispered. “For all of you.”

The masked man jabbed his gun at the old man. “One last chance, old man.”

“I’ve seen what’s going to happen to you,” the old man whispered with a creepy smile still on his face. In a flash of movement, the old man grabbed the masked man’s arm.

Suddenly, the masked man could see what the old man could see. Images flashed through the masked man’s mind at lightning speed: a rustic cabin in the middle of a snowy field, puddles of blood in the snow, pieces of a dismembered body, a shadow moving down a wall.

The masked man pulled the trigger.

The back of the old man’s head exploded as the bullet tore through his head, knocking him back into the wall where he slid down, leaving behind a smear of blood, his eyes still wide open, still staring right at the masked man, a ghost of a smile still on his face.

The Leader rushed over to the masked man who stood frozen as he stared down at the old man’s dead body. The other customers on the floor screamed in horror and panic; they covered their heads in protection.

But the masked man only stood there, shocked by what he’d just done. He couldn’t even remember squeezing the trigger.

The Leader grabbed the man’s shoulder, turning him around to face him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The masked man’s eyes bulged with confusion behind the eyeholes of his ski mask, his mouth moved, trying to talk. “I … I don’t know…”

The other two masked men with the metal cases of money hurried out from behind the counters. “What the fuck happened?” one of them screamed.

The Leader turned and motioned towards the front doors where the last masked man was already unlocking them. “Let’s move!”

The masked men fled the bank and ran down the sidewalk towards an alley that led to the back of the building where their three snowmobiles waited, a field of snow beyond the bank, a line of trees in the distance. They strapped the briefcases down to the back of the Leader’s snowmobile, and then they hopped on the snowmobiles, two men each on two of the snowmobiles, and the Leader and briefcases on one snowmobile. They took off for the snowy field.