Terminal

“Nothing much. Just chilling out, keeping this pressure on this bullet hole in John’s stomach, trying to keep him from bleeding to death.”

He ignored my sarcastic tone.

“What about you?” I asked. “What’d you tell the cops?”

“Made sure they understand who the fuck is in charge around here.”

“And who is in charge?” I asked.

“We are, dog. What’s up with that tone in your voice?”

“Just seems like you’re the one that’s suddenly making all the decisions. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yo, I’m just trying to get us out of here, Tommy. Feel free to jump in anytime.”

“Don’t sweat it.” I sighed. “What else did you tell the cops?”

“They’re supposed to call back in half an hour for our list of demands. All they know right now is that there’s six of us, armed to the teeth, and that we’ve got a dozen or so hostages.”

“Your math’s a little fuzzy, isn’t it, son?” Roy asked.

“Shut the fuck up, you old fart. Who asked you? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Where’s the manager?” I prodded.

“Keith? He’s in the other room. Don’t worry— he ain’t going nowhere. I got him taped up good and tight.”

He stalked around the vault like a caged animal.

“I’m hungry. Kim, you ladies got an employee refrigerator or something like that?”

“No. We go out during our lunch breaks. All we have is a watercooler.”

“Shit. It figures.” He pulled out his smokes, shook one out of the pack, and snapped his lighter open. The click echoed in the silence. He inhaled, tapping his foot nervously. Then he snapped the lighter shut. Then open again. Then shut. He repeated it over and over, seeming mesmerized. All the time, his restless twitching increased.

“I tell you, it’s the work of the Devil,” Martha spoke up. “Satan is among us. Just as the pastor at my church said he would be. The Imp is alive and well and his acolytes walk our very streets. They hold us in bondage. These are the end times.”

“Be quiet,” Sharon admonished her. “We don’t need that kind of talk right now. It’s not doing anybody any good, so just be quiet.”

“I will not be quiet! These men, that boy— they are evil. Their unholy influence is spreading amongst you. Already you are tainted. It will all end in blood. Only blood can wash it clean, just as it did in the Old Testament. The blood of the innocent is required. The blood of the lamb.”

“I think I liked you better when you were just saying ‘Oh my,’ ” I groaned.

“What the hell’s she calling the kid evil for, Tommy?” Sherm asked. “You and me I can see. We’re the bad guys, the bank robbers. But why the kid? What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know. She’s fucking snapped, man.”

I held my breath, waiting to see if the others would give away Benjy’s secret, but they didn’t. I could tell that Sheila was relieved too.

“Mister?” Benjy looked up at Sherm. “Mister, you’re sick. You know that, right? It’s in your head, like bees. The darkness. The monster people are inside it and they’re eating at you.”

“The Devil,” Martha squawked. “The Devil is in his head. All of them. They’re name is Legion for they are many, and they gnash and bite with their sharp little teeth and claws . . .”

Dugan, Sharon, Sheila, Kim, and I all told her to shut up at the same time. Sherm began to fidget again.

“How’s Carpet Dick? And why is fat boy half-naked? And why does the kid think I have a beehive in my head?”

“John’s— not good. He’s alive, that’s about it. Oscar’s shirt is what’s keeping him from bleeding to death, and I’m about to need another one.”

“Well then, Kim can donate hers.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“You keep offering, baby, and I’m gonna take you up on that. Besides, what are you worried about? You got a bra on, right? Or maybe, on second thought, you better donate that too.”

“It will take your friend a while to die,” Dugan said. “A gut shot is painful as hell, which is why he’s passed out, but unless he goes into circulatory shock or if there’s a lot of internal bleeding, then there’s still time to get him to a hospital. His own shit will eventually poison him to death, but it takes a while. If circulatory shock sets in, or if he loses much more blood, he’s probably going to slip into a coma. You need to get him some help before that happens. At least let some paramedics come in here and work on him. If he goes into a coma, chances are that he won’t come back out.”

I shifted my grip on the bloody shirt. My hands were beginning to cramp up.

“Did you ask the cops to get an ambulance for him?”

“Nope. You think they’ll really do it?”

“Jesus Christ, dude— it’s worth a shot. He’s fucking dying, Sherm. Tell them we’ve got a wounded hostage or something. Then they can take John to the hospital, and maybe they won’t even find out he was with us.”

“Oh get real, Tommy. What the fuck have you been smoking? They’ll tag him as one of the robbers as soon as he wakes up. You really think that idiot could hold up under questioning?

They’d sniff him out in a second; and then he’ll drop dime on us.”