Terminal

“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.”

“Yeah, I got the keys, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to use them or not.”

“How come?”

“There’s five-oh all deep between us and the truck. When they call again, I’ll negotiate— see if I can get them to pull back so that we can get to it.”

“Do you really think the cops are gonna go for that, Sherm?

“They will if we start killing hostages and throwing them out the fucking door.”

Upon hearing this, Oscar’s and Kim’s eyes widened. Sheila shuddered. Roy shifted against the wall. Dugan stroked Sharon’s foot with his own and silently mouthed assurances. Martha prayed under her breath.

Benjy stared at me.

I stared back, and for a split second, an image of Sherm placing his pistol to the back of Benjy’s head flashed through my mind. A crystal-clear flash sparked as Sherm squeezed the trigger, and I heard Sheila screaming. No. There was no way that I was going to let that happen. Enough people had died already. I didn’t want any more deaths on my conscience, especially not that little boy’s.

I tried to keep my voice calm and level.

“Quit playing, dog. It’s not gonna come to that. Right?”

“Sure it could,” Sherm disagreed. “If I don’t start getting some cooperation from those cops, if shit doesn’t start going my way, then I’ve got no problem capping a few of these fuckers to get some attention.”

“You don’t mean that,” Roy replied. “Surely you understand that they’d give you the death penalty for something so heinous.”

“Old man, I’ve already qualified for the death penalty today. The way I see it, a few more bodies ain’t gonna make a whole lot of difference at this point. In fact, it may just hurry the whole thing along.”

“Sherm,” I reasoned with him, “if you start killing hostages and throwing them out the door, the cops will bum rush this place. Soon as they hear the first gunshot, they’ll be in here. They’ll have tear gas and pepper spray and automatic rifles and Kevlar body armor and laser sights; all kinds of other shit. We’ll be outgunned and outnumbered. You kill any more of these people and you might as well be committing suicide for all of us.”

“Signing our death warrants?”

“Fuck yes!”

“Isn’t that better than sitting on death row, Tommy?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but a loud electronic squawk cut me off.

“SHADY! SHADY, THIS IS DETECTIVE RAMIREZ! WE ARE STILL WORKING ON

YOUR ORIGINAL DEMANDS. IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, I’M GOING TO CALL YOU

AGAIN ON THE BANK’S TELEPHONE AND GIVE YOU AN UPDATE! I CAN’T