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Part III: The Heist
"Oh, you old dog," Sarah laughed wryly for the 500th time at the 500th instance of that joke, "Actually, I figured it was better for me to get this advice from someone who, er, isn't my husband, you know. For a nonpartial perspective. And you've always been very reliable."
She'd rehearsed this banal question so many times on the way over here. She was pretty sure it had replaced the part of her brain that knew her social security number. And yet now that she had to say it, her courage was wavering.
"I've been hoping to get into investments!" Sarah declared brightly, "And I was wondering if maybe you could advise me on, er, well..." she gestured vaguely with her hand, "How to go about it."
-Sarah
Recovering from his bronchial episode, Mr. Werner raised his bushy eyebrows. "Investments, eh? Hiding something from the husband, hm? Perhaps a secret Bahamas account, hm? Heh heh heh..." His laughter devolved yet again into a coughing fit. The old dog couldn't help himself.
"Ha, ha," Sarah laughed flatly, "Fiji, actually. Someday. We, er, want to make a trip of it. Which is one of the reasons I want to have a little put away. For a rainy day," she cleared her throat, "As it were."
-Sarah
"And it rains often in Fiji, eh? Heh heh..." Mr. Werner began to shuffle for Sarah's papers. "So how's the family? I keep losing track of you Teagues, with your sisters and your pop--or as we joke with your husband, 'Stu's crazy father-in-law.' Heh heh heh..."
"Well, it...it is a tropical island..." Sarah began lamely, as if she somehow had to justify Fiji to this dotty senior; as if the relative moisture of Fiji was at all the point.
"Oh, everyone's doing very well," she seized on this next question at once, "Jamie is starting out at community college, now. She wants to..." at which point, Sarah realized she didn't know what, if anything, Jamie wanted to do with her life, "And Anne is enjoying her religious service," she hadn't spoken to her big sister in five months, but this seemed a reasonable assumption, "As for my, er, my 'Pop..."
He'll kill you and use your skin for garnish if it ever gets out what the hell you're doing.
"He has his own adventures," she settled on eventually, "But, yes, I was wondering what options you think I should pursue. A safe, and stable investment...the kind of thing that'll be making money forever."
-Sarah
"Well, you know what they say," Mr. Werner smiled feebly, placing his hand on hers. "There is nothing more important than family." Resuming his business, he looked down at his files. "Now, about your investments..."
A crash through trough the front doors! Two masked people armed with assault rifles charged in, causing the crowd cry in terror.
"GET DOWN!" The woman of the two shouted. "THIS IS A ROBBERY!"
Both workers and clients complied, getting down on their knees.
"Saints preserve me!" Mr. Werner cried, falling to the floor, clutching his chest. Never before has there been a robbery at Williamson Community Bank in all his decades here! Now the time had finally come! The world had really changed...
"Over there, over there, c'mon!" The male robber hustled the crowd together into one corner with the convincing help of his rifle.
So far, so good, Clarissa reasoned as she watched Clyde corner the bystanders. We just need some insurance before they fully understand the odds here... Eying Sarah, Clarissa gave her accomplice the cue to "try" to escape.
-Mr. Werner, Clarissa, and Clyde
The thing about all this prepping was that Sarah had gotten very interested in investments. It was something she and Stu had talked about before, but never in much detail. The thing is, 22-year-olds generally didn't have investments. Most people her age were lucky to make rent. But her father having had the life he had was very adamant she figure out good places to put her money, just in case. And it seemed like a conventional wisdom that investing one's money was simply the healthy thing to do financially, as long as the economy was in good shape, which it more or less had been during the Obama years...
The door was kicked in, and two armed gunmen charged into the bank.
"Oh my God, it's a robbery!" Sarah shrieked, having momentarily forgotten this was her robbery.
Realizing she'd gotten to her feet in her shock, Sarah was left to look cluelessly around the room.
You're supposed to try to escape, she remembered, Convincingly.
"I'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!" she bellowed, knocking over the chair (which was out of her way in the first place) as she bolted for the door.
-Sarah
Jesus Christ. At least she was into it.
Having to chase her down, Clarissa snagged Sarah by the back of the collar. "Anyone tries to play hero, this one gets it!" Turning to Clyde, she commanded, "Start packing, C."
Clyde was still, though.
"C?" She looked over to his direction. The kid froze! "C!"
He shook his his head, snapping out of it. "Wha?" It was weird. Things had stopped feeling real for a moment. "Oh, right." Clearing his throat, he shouted, "Which one of you has the keys?!"
Clarissa scrunched up her face underneath her ski mask. "There are no keys! Backroom, safe deposit box! Go, C, go!"
"Right, C, right!" And so Clyde ran off to behind the counter, around the corner and through double doors into the room lined with safe deposit boxes brimming with savings. Dropping his duffel bags to the floor, he took a deep breath. Time to start packing.
***
Mr. Werner was sick to his stomach! This was preposterous. Working up the courage, he was the first to speak of the hostages. "You are what's wrong with America today."
Clarissa narrowed her eyes. "What?"
Clyde was quick. He had already come running by with one full bag in tow. Out the building to the back of the van and back. He didn't even leave Dom and Zoe with sly remark, he was so in the zone. He was back into the bank and in the safe deposit room packing like it was nothing.
"You heard me," Mr. Werner stood up, having nothing to fear at his age. "You don't want to try to achieve the American Dream. You cheat and scheme and hurt..." He stepped forward, though it was a small step considering how old he was.
Clarissa clenched her jaw. She wasn't expecting anybody to resist, not to mention an octogenarian who could barely string words together. She nudged Sarah, as if cuing her to do something to stop him.
-Clarissa, Clyde, and Mr. Werner
Sarah was terrified, petrified, and confident that at any moment her entire life would be ruined, so she was already better at this job than she'd thought.
This is going to be on the news! she realized belatedly, as Clarissa barked harsh orders right next to her ear, Oh my God.
It didn't feel at all appropriate that she start rehearsing what she was going to tell the neighbors when they inevitably turned up with PTSD Casserole tomorrow. Oh God, she was going to give a statement after this. To the police! Had she been prepping? All her flashcards had been for leading up to this moment. She hadn't counted on after. What was wrong with...
Mr. Werner was saying something, in that dolorous 'I was here before the stars' manner that he had. It took Sarah a moment or two to process what she was hearing, but she realized in due course that he was trying to be a hero.
They hadn't counted on heroes. Sarah looked around at the rest of the bank's clientele. A middle-aged couple cowering behind a desk, a pimply teller slumped against the wall. The security guard appeared to have fled through the back door at some point, possibly to call the police, though that may have been giving him too much credit.
Apparently, Werner was the only son of a bitch in this place willing to take one for the team. What a sweet guy. Damn him.
"Now...don't be a hero, Mr. Werner!" Sarah exclaimed. She realized this made her sound like Skeletor or somebody, and added, "It's not worth it!" to reaffirm her status as his fellow hostage.
-Sarah
"Don't fear, little lady," Mr. Werner assured the young Teague. "I've been old for most of my life, but I can afford to be a hero today!"
What the fuck does that even mean? Clarissa wasn't sure if it was visible but she rolled her eyes under the mask as Clyde was out and in with another bag in the van.
As for Clyde, he wasn't doing fine exactly. He didn't know how he was feeling because he operated like a machine, adrenaline pumping through his veins. It was like he was back on the court, driving back and forth, back and forth. He didn't need to be delicate, Clarissa granted him that much. Just force the boxes (sometimes with the help with the butt of his gun) and stuff the bag to its limits. He'd feel the weight only when he lifted it for a mere second, but it vanished when he got to running again. It was like clockwork.
Clarissa couldn't even take Clyde's efforts, in stride, though, as Mr. Werner took another step closer. "I'm serious! You take another step and it's a bullet in the head for her!" Clumsily, she attempted to press the rifle against Sarah's head, careful not to pull the trigger.
Clyde was again back to the van, tossing Zoe another bag in the back, and then back into the bank again for number #3.
-Mr. Werner, Clarissa and Clyde
"She means it!" cried Sarah hysterically, again not acting. She wouldn't it past the batshit superintendent to suddenly develop twitchy fingers or, hell, decide Sarah was a liability anyway and could afford to die for the sake of their dinner theater production of FBI's Most Wanted.
"Mr. Werner," Sarah plead, "It's money. What good is money next to man's life?"
That was very good. And also very hypocritical. Oh God. Watch how these idiots in the peanut gallery repeated that to the press, and she ended up being immortalized as the moron white lady who stared into the eye of urban crime and dispensed folksy wisdom.
-Sarah
Zoe smiled as she loaded the bags one by one into the bag. They were going to be rich! Filthy rich!
"It's not about money," Mr. Werner proclaimed, still slowly making his way to the robber. "As much as it is about principles." Looking over the attacker, he asked, "What principles do you have, young man?"
Clarissa coiled her head back. "I'm not a man!" She debated briefly whether or not she should keep the façade for the sake of protecting her identity if they got out of this, but she was convinced the only person who thought that was this senile goon.
Clyde was out with the third bag and then back in for the fourth.
"What?" Mr. Werner took off his glasses, spit on them and rubbed them. "Give me a second, let me get a better look."
"Jesus Christ, old man..." Clarissa muttered, whispering to Sarah. "Tell him I'm not a man and to sit down. We don't have time for this."
-Mr. Werner, Clarissa, and Clyde
"It wouldn't be convincing!" Sarah whispered back, "I have no way of knowing you're not a man! You have a very strong grip and big pants!"
Turning back to Werner, Sarah gasped, "He's too strong, Mr. Werner! It's no use!"
But the old man was nothing if not methodical. He was of that generation that believed you had to work your hardest no matter what kind of job you had, or how mercilessly it pounded you into dust everyday. If they'd gotten a disaffected 30-year-old they'd already be miles away and planning investments of their own.
-Sarah
As Zoe stacked the bags, she kept a sharp ear out on the police scanner.
They were on a very sharp deadline.
Clarissa audibly groaned as they both continued to misgender her. Meanwhile, Clyde was out with the fourth back and on his way back in for the fifth.
Mr. Werner put his glasses on, saying, "Back in the ivies, they call that a play action. Hyah!" And so the old man charged...only to collapse on them, clutching onto Sarah. This caused Clarissa to stagger back, and fire some stray shots behind her...
...almost clipping Clyde. "Yo, you good?"
"Fucking perfect!" Clarissa snapped back, ceasing her fire, and trying to shove (surprisingly heavy) old man off Sarah. "Get going!"
Clyde was back in action, and sooner rather than later, filling his fifth and penultimate bag.
-Clarissa, Clyde, and Mr. Werner
"Oh!" Sarah gasped, falling back against Werner's desk, the old man himself holding his protective hands out over her chest.
"Um..." she gently pried one of the old man's hands from one breast before starting on the other, "It's alright, Mr. Werner. You, uh, saved my life."
The entire bank burst into applause. Some troubadour started singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow'. Sarah had the distinct feeling she could start melting into the surface of the Earth any minute now.
-Sarah
Mr. Werner, feeling like a champion, got up with his arms in the air and started to do laps around the bank.
"Hey! Hey! I still have a gun! Hey! Stop that!" But it was no use. It was as if Clarissa were back at her day job, talking to uncooperative school principals.
Clyde would question what was going on right now, but it was of no use, as he was already back out with his fifth bag.
***
Meanwhile back in the van, the radio crackled to life. "Shots heard at Williamson Community Bank. I repeat, shots heard at Williamson Community. Requesting three squad cars to check in on the situation."
-Mr. Werner, Clarissa, Clyde, and Radio
Dom's eyes widened at the sound of the radio. After taking half a second to process what he was hearing, he slammed the dashboard with violent force, "Porca miseria! Fucking hell! Shit, fuck...dammit!" he turned to Zoe, "They're onto us. What the fuck is going on in there?"
Clarissa's orders reverbed in the back of his mind: Drive away, if he had to. An order, complete with a Teacher Voice.
Dom had dropped out for a reason: he wasn't very good at listening to teachers.
-Dom
Zoe immediately pushed a finger to her headset.
"C, the cops are onto us! Get out of there now!"
Clarissa tightened up when Zoe radioed in. Of course the cops were on the way, after that old coot attempted to play the hero and caused her to fire away. "Alright, we're cleaning up," she radioed in back, before tagging Clyde by the shoulder. "We're on our way out. How many bags we have left to fill?"
Clyde was panting with exhaustion, his sprint getting unexpectedly cut off. "One."
"One, okay..." Clarissa paused, actually somewhat impressed. "One? What the hell are you on?"
Clyde slurred some joke about juicing, still pumped up and ready to go.
"Look, just take what you can get and head out," Clarissa instructed him quickly. "I'll handle the mob here." Which she did promptly, firing some shots into the air to tame the rowdy crowd. "Hey! I still have a gun here! SIT DOWN!"
And they did, with mixed results. But those would do for now, as Clyde made his break for the safe deposit room.
The athlete had done an efficient job of raiding the place, executing brute force when he needed to. Since they were on limited time here, though, Clyde just picked up some stray bills here and there...
A box caught his eye in one of the open slots on the side wall, studded with...rhinestones, rubies, and diamonds, laced with floral artwork? That's an important-looking box. Clyde did a double-take between the box and the exit, calculating how much time he had left. Aw, hell, it should be worth it.
Clyde tugged the box out of the wall, threw it in the duffel bag, zipped it up, and headed back to where Clarissa was holding the masses. "Alright, we're done."
"OK, let's head out." Clarissa and Clyde began to jog out when...
"You won't get away with this!" Mr. Werner proclaimed, shaking his fist. "JUSTICE WILL CATCH UP TO YOU! Heh heh heh..." His righteous laughter burst into another coughing fit.
"Yeah, yeah, go retire, old man. LET'S GO!" Clarissa led the way out of the bank, bolting for the passenger seat while Clyde threw the last bag and himself into the back.
"Alright, drive, drive!" Clarissa urged Dom, just as...the blaring sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.
This was going to be tighter than she wanted.
-Clarissa, Clyde, and Mr. Werner
Zoe hopped in the van and yelled, "Go, go, go!"
Dom tried not to betray his relief at being spared the ugly decision of leaving the rest of them behind. He gave Clyde a curt nod, and Clarissa a lingering look, "You okay? Did the shit hit in there or what?"
He didn't want to admit it, but for a fleeting moment, he'd been worried. He didn't like that.
-Dom
"Yeah, an old man tackled me NOW STEP ON IT!" Clarissa commanded, those sirens getting louder.
"He did what?" Dom demanded, but he heard the sirens too and decided this was a question for the road. He floored the accelerator, sending them tearing off down the road away from the bank.
"Now, when you say he 'tackled you'...you're still decent, right? Like, he didn't take no libertines, eh?"
-Dom
"For God's sake, it was over in a second. Could you just drive?! How we doing back there?" Clarissa glanced over to the backseat, only to be stunned to find Clyde blacking out from exhaustion. "Oh, crap, he's passed out!" Thinking quickly, she asked Dom, "Water. Do you have water in here?"
-Clarissa and Clyde
"Yeah, there's some in the glove compartment," with one hand, he opened aforementioned compartment, tossing Clarissa a Monster Energy Drink.
-Dom
Clarissa scowled at the tall can thrown into her hand. "What the fuck is this?! This isn't water!"
"Water's one of the ingredients!" said Dom helpfully, "Read the little box on the side! They got it next to 'fructose'."
-Dom
"You fucking kids and you're unhealthy eating habits..." Clarissa tossed the energy drink to Zoe. "Give this to him, quick!"
Clyde murmured something intelligible, fading in and out of consciousness.
Clarissa turned to face the front, only to find a construction site in their path! "Brake brake BRAKE!" She commanded Dom, clutching to her seat.
-Clarissa and Clyde