Terminal (18 page)

* * *

And John was still dying when my pocket began to vibrate.

I gasped, in spite of myself, and the hostages jumped with me, unsure of what I was up to. Oscar’s man breasts jiggled in fright. They eyed me warily while I slapped at my pocket. Then I calmed down, remembering that I’d stuffed Lucas’s cell phone inside my pants.

“It’s okay,” I assured them, “the delivery driver’s cell phone is buzzing. He must have it on silent ring or something. Everything is cool. Just scared me for a second, that’s all.”

I let out a nervous laugh and they relaxed— as much as they could given the circumstances.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the phone. The display screen was lit up, glowing green under the fluorescents. It identified the incoming call as VERA . I wondered who Vera was. Probably his wife. Lucas said that he’d tried calling her but that she hadn’t been home. Maybe now she was returning the call, or maybe news of the bank robbery was on the air, and she was calling to make sure he wasn’t still at the bank.

His worried wife was calling him to make sure he was okay. Somehow, I knew that was it. The bank was on his route, and Vera wanted to make sure that he wasn’t still there. Michelle would have done the same thing. For a brief second, I thought about answering it and letting Vera know that Lucas was okay, that his truck was still working fine and that he couldn’t come to the phone right now, but pretty soon, we’d all be home safe because Sherm had promised it.

But I didn’t. Instead, I wondered what my own wife was doing. If I had been in Lucas’s shoes, Michelle would have been worried sick about me. Of course, she had no reason to think I was here at this bank, one at which we didn’t even have an account. I was supposed to be at work. Still, I wondered if she’d heard about the hostage situation yet. I wondered how much the cops really knew about us and how much had made it out onto the airwaves. If she didn’t know yet, she would soon. A customer would tell her or they’d have the radio on or she’d find out when she got home. I searched my brain but for some reason I couldn’t remember what time Michelle got off work.

The phone quit vibrating and the screen went black again.

Without thinking, I pressed the TALK button and dialed home. There was a static whir, then the phone began to ring.

“Who are you calling?” Sheila asked.

Ring . . .

I ignored the question.

“He’s calling the police,” Roy said. “I just knew that you’d do the right thing, Tommy. And we’ll make sure we tell them too. We’ll tell them that it was Sherm that killed those people. Right, everyone?”

Ring . . .

“Sure we will,” Sharon agreed.

Ring . . .

“Tommy?” Sheila tapped her foot, trying to get my attention.

Ring . . .

And then our answering machine picked up and my own voice said, “Hi. You’ve reached the O’Briens: Tommy, Michelle, and T. J. Please leave your digits after the tone. Peace out.”

My mouth was parched.

“Michelle, it’s me. Are you there, babe? If so, pick up.”

They were all watching me now, silent. There was no sign of Sherm or Lucas. Outside the bank, there was a muffled electronic shriek, as if somebody was testing a microphone or a radio.

“Michelle? You there?”

No answer. I hung up and stared at the phone. Then I dialed again, calling her at the convenience store. It rang twice, then she picked up.

“Thank you for calling Minit-Mart. This is Michelle. How can I help you?”

I opened my mouth but the words didn’t want to come out. Her voice was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, but at that moment, it filled me with dread. I had to force myself to speak.

“Hello?” she said again. “Is there somebody there?”

“I—”

“If this is another crank call, we don’t appreciate it. I’m hanging up now.”

“Hey, babe,” I croaked, “It’s me.”

“Tommy? God, you don’t sound good at all. I didn’t recognize your voice at first. How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, I’ve had better days.”

“Are you still at work?”

“No,” I lied, “I went home sick.”

“Well then, I hope you’re resting.”

“Yeah,” I said, omitting the details, “you could say that. I guess I am. Just sitting here.”

“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.”

“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 STRESS ENOUGH HOW IMPERATIVE IT IS THAT YOU PICK UP THAT PHONE WHEN I DO. THERE’S NO NEED TO MAKE THIS ANY WORSE THAN IT ALREADY IS. NOBODY ELSE HAS TO GET HURT, SHADY. IF YOU PICK UP THE PHONE, WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!”