Bloody Bank Heist

Bloody Bank Heist

Tim Miller

Tim Miller

Bloody Bank Heist
© 2014, Tim Miller
Tim Miller Publishing
San Antonio, TX 78221
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. 

Cover designed from stock image.

Edited by A.P Editing

Thank you to my sweetie Lori for being by my side while I pursue my crazy dream

Reviews of Tim Miller’s work

 Mr. Miller knows and embraces his specific audience, and he spoils them with offerings like this one. I highly recommend his works to all EXTREME horror fans, he will not disappoint.

---Heather Omen,
Thehorrornation.net

Tim's victims have a believable balance of being tough at the start and succumbing to their fate at the end. It’s scarily realistic...and are what nightmares are made of!

--Gadget Girl Reviews

The descriptiveness laid out on paper is so precise it feels as if you're watching a movie of what you're reading.
 

--Necro Stein,
Texas Terror Entertainment

Chapter 1

June 10, 2013
   

“Everyone get on the ground! Nobody fucking move!” Darren Smith yelled as he waved the shotgun at the terrified customers. They had no idea who he was of course. He had on a ski mask and black clothing. The bank was on the north side of San Antonio. Darren’s girlfriend
, Jenny, was over by the counter handing the bag to one of the cashiers.

     “Put the money from each drawer in here!” Jenny yelled. “If I see anyone hit an alarm, you’re fucking dead! Do it!”

     One of the terrified tellers, a young girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two grabbed the bag and filled it with money. She went down the row emptying each drawer of cash. Darren kept his eyes on the crowd on the floor to make sure no one tried anything. Jenny’s brother, Michael, was parked just down the street in the getaway car. He just got out of prison for robbery. Darren wanted him more hands on in the robbery, but Michael insisted on being the driver.

     There was movement out of the corner of his eye. Darren turned to his right and someone was pointing a gun at him. It was an old man with a pistol. Darren ducked just in time as the shot whizzed past his head. The gun made a loud “pop!” It was a small caliber revolver, but he still didn’t want to be shot with it. Without thinking, Darren stood again, aimed and fired at the old man. The guy wasn’t even six feet away as the buckshot struck him in the head. The man’s head exploded, spraying the other hostages with brains, blood and skull. The man’s body collapse
d to the floor, with only his bottom teeth and lower jaw left of his head.

     “What did you do?” Jenny screamed from behind the counter.

      “He shot at me! Just get the money!”

     “We weren’t supposed to kill anybody!”

     “Just get the money and let’s get the fuck out of here!” Darren yelled.

     Sirens were blaring in the distance. They had already been there for two minutes
; they were supposed to be out already. It was taking too long. Finally, Jenny hoisted the bag over her shoulder and climbed over the counter. She looked top heavy carrying the large bag of cash with her tiny frame, but she managed it well enough.

     “Let’s go.” Jenny said as they backed toward the front door and outside.
When they looked in the street, the car was gone. Michael, her brother and their driver had bailed.

     “That motherfucker,” Darren said.

     “The sirens must have spooked him off,” Jenny said.

     “Well he just fucked us both. Come one.”

     They ran back inside as he waved the gun at the crowd again.

     “Who is the manager? Step forward!” Darren yelled.

     They scanned the crowd, but no one responded.

     “I’m gonna count to three. If the manager hasn’t come forward, I will shoot someone every three seconds until you do!”
He looked around and saw the rest of the customers and employees just stared at each other. “One, two..”

     “All right, all right!”
a man in a suit yelled. “I’m the manager here. Don’t shoot anyone else, please!” The man was a little pudgy, with dark brown hair with some flecks of gray. He was a little shorter than Darren.

      “You’re the manager?” Darren asked.

     “Yes sir. I’m Duncan Kincaid, branch manager.”

     “Well Duncan, come with us. Where is the back way out of here?”

     “Right this way,” Duncan said as he started walking. They followed him through a door that read “Employees only.” Down a hallway and through a back door that led to the parking lot.

     “Where is your car Duncan?” Darren asked.

     “Right over here.” He walked them over to a white Cadillac CTS.

     “Keys?”

     Duncan handed Darren the keys. Darren opened the car and threw the money in the back seat. He then popped the trunk and looked at Duncan.

     “Ok buddy, in the trunk.”

     “What? Why?”

     “Because I said so, now get in there.”

     “You don’t want to take me hostage. Please! I’m of no use to you,” Duncan protested. Instead Darren struck him in the face with the butt of the shotgun. Blood sprayed from his nose as he toppled backward into the trunk. Darren slammed it shut and looked at Jenny.

     “Get in
! Let’s get out of here,” he said. The sirens were even louder, maybe less than a minute away.

     She ran around the passenger side and climbed in as he got in the driver’s side. He started the car and peeled out of the parking lot.

     “Why did you kidnap that guy?” Jenny asked.

     “In case we need him, if the cops stop us or something. I don’t know. Why did your asshole brother leave?”

     “I don’t know. I can call him.”

     “Later
,” Darren said as they sped out onto the access road and onto IH-10 headed west. By the time the police reached the bank, they were several miles down the road.

     “We’ll need to ditch the car
. They’ll be looking for it,” Darren said as he pulled his mask off. Jenny pulled hers off as well, letting her long, blonde hair fall to her shoulders.

     They pulled off the highway and onto a small side road.
After a few miles, they turned onto a dirt road and down a long lane.

     “Are you sure this is the right way?” Jenny asked.

     “Yeah, this is the house I was telling you about. I guess we’ll keep the car for now. There’s a garage here we can park it in. We’ll lie low here for a few weeks and then move on.”

     “What about that manager guy?”

     “I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”

Chapter 2

Three weeks earlier

    
Darren Smith sat on his knees scrubbing the toilet. It wasn’t his favorite task at work, but one he had to do daily. The porcelain was shining brightly as he stood. One stall down, three more to go. This job was a far cry from his last job as an account executive at an advertising agency. In the current state of the economy, it was all about production and he wasn’t producing, so he was let go.

     After being out of work almost a year, he found this job at The Rib Farm. His job was maintenance, but most of what he did was clean
. He cleaned tables, floors, toilets, and pretty much everything else in the place. He never imagined that by forty years old, he’d be scrubbing toilets for minimum wage, but there he was. Life sure sucked, and it was sucking for him big time.

     The minimum wage job wasn’t nearly enough to cover bills though. It took him a year to find this job. In the meantime, he and his wife Jenny had lost their home and both th
eir cars. Now they shared a 1999 Chevy Cavalier Jenny’s dad bought for them for $1500.00. While he was grateful to have a car, each time he started it, he prayed it got him to work. Jenny still hadn’t found work.

    
She stayed at home and made jewelry by hand to sell online. Some weeks she made more with that than he did at work, but it was hit or miss. Darren actually envied her. He hated this job. It was a job and it paid, but he loathed going in every day. Some days he almost felt physically ill having to go and do it. It wasn’t that he was against doing work or working hard. He just felt like he could do so much more besides scrub toilets.

     “Darren!”
a man yelled, it was his shift supervisor, Troy. “Jim wants to see you in his office.”

     “Ok,” Darren called back. “I’m almost done.”

     “No, he said he wanted to see you now.”

     “Ok,” Darren said and stood, dropping the scrub brush into the bucket and pulling his rubber gloves off. Well shit. This couldn’t be good. Jim Runyon was the owner of The Rib Farm. He onl
y stopped in on occasion. He stepped out of the bathroom and headed to Jim’s office. Jim was sitting at his desk doing something on his computer. He was a good sized man, tall and stocky with almost white hair. He looked up when he saw Darren standing there.

     “Darren! Come on in boss. Close the door,” Jim said.

     Darren swallowed hard as he shut the door and took a seat across from Jim’s desk.

     “How you doing Darren? Things going well for you?” Jim asked.

     “Going ok I guess. Just working as usual.”

     “Ok, good. Darren, I want you to know this isn’t easy. When I hired you here, it was to help you and Jenny out. I’ve known your dad for a long time, and he said you could really use the work. I had hoped it would just get you through until you found something else. But now it’s been six months, and frankly, I just can’t afford to keep you on.”

     “I don’t understand. When you hired me you said you were in serious need of help,” Darren said.

     “I was at the time. But since then, things have slowed way down here. I just need to cut any help that isn’t essential.”

     “I make $7.50 an hour. How is that breaking you? You drive a fucking Escalade and vacation in Italy twice a year.”

     “Ok, I’m not going to argue with you about my personal finances. That’s not your business. I’m very sorry.”

     “So that’s it then? I’m fired? Just like that?” Darren asked.

     “I’m afraid so Darren. I’m sorry.”

     “Yeah, me too.” Darren stood and walked out. As he walked to the car his cell phone started to ring. He pulled the flip phone out of his pocket. Another sacrifice they’d had to make. No more iPhone, he now had a prepaid flip phone.

     “Hello?”
he said.

     “Darren? Did you pay the electric bill?” Jenny said from the other end.

     “I thought you paid it.”

     “Fuck. No, I told you to, remember?”

     “I don’t remember, why?”

     “It’s shut off. I called them, its $700.00 to turn it back on plus a reconnect fee.”

     “Goddamn it. I just got fired today,” he said.

     “What? Why?”

      “Jim says things are slow and he can’t afford to keep me around anymore.”

     “That’s such bullshit! That guy has more money than God.”

     “Yeah. I know.”

     “Darren, we don’t have $700.00. We don’t even have a hundred. What do we do? It’s over a hundred degrees outside.”

     “I know. We’ll think of something.”

    
“I don’t know what,” she said as she began crying. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

     “I know baby, I know. This isn’t what I planned for us at all. I’ll be home in a bit
,” he said as he hung up.

    
Fuck. What else could go wrong? He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that swept over him. It didn’t come often, but when it did it was hard to pull out of it. The feeling of hopelessness and despair. When those feelings hit, he felt like Jenny and everyone would be better off without him.

     He’d never been suicidal, but the thought of jumping off a building, or eating the barrel of a gun to just put an end to this constant despair sometimes sounded nice. Darren wasn’t superstitious or religious in any
way. To him, the only thing that waited after death was sleep. Sleeping was nice. The idea of going to sleep and never waking up, never having to deal with bills, debts, asshole bosses, or any other of life’s hassles sometimes felt appealing. The only thing that stopped him was Jenny. She needed him, and without her, he would have eaten a bullet a long time ago.

     He started up the Chevy
and began the drive home. There had to be a way. If they only could just get a windfall of some cash. It didn’t have to be a lot. Well it did, but not in the millions. If they could just get their hands on some money and get out of this hole. He had no idea how though. Their credit was shot, so they couldn’t get a loan or credit cards. His dad had already loaned them anything he could. It was up to him to find a way. There had to be a way.