Too Late

The standoff entered its eighth hour as the original sense of urgency waned to be replaced by the monotony of negotiations that were clearly going nowhere but forward in time.

Nolan could feel the sweat running down his back as he looked out the window. Barricades lined the street; pedestrians, packed behind them, straining to get a look at the action as if they were watching a parade rather than a bank robbery gone horribly wrong. The piece of cake bank job had become a nationwide spectacle, complete with hostages and overly attractive news reporters. If only I could go back in time, he thought. It was too late now, the die had been cast.

The telephone rang for the millionth time in the last few hours. Brandon, their leader, could be heard yelling into it from his perch behind the bank manager’s desk. “No! You listen to me! I am giving you one more hour. After that, we start sending out bodies.”

Nolan watched as his boss slammed the receiver down and stormed out into the lobby area. The recklessness in Brandon’s eyes sent a chill through every fiber of Nolan’s being. Things were starting to unravel creating a minefield ripe with potentially dangerous events, events that Nolan had not signed up for.

“Boss, the food is here,” said Roscoe from a nearby window.

Through the window an officer could be seen walking slowly across the street towards the bank, his arms filled with bags of food. He set everything just outside of the door and then walked slowly back to his place behind a patrol car on the far side of the street.

“Nolan, get over here! Take that stuff back to the hostages. I want you to watch them eat. Look for any signs that the food has been drugged. If everything looks okay, bring some burgers out for us.”

Nolan, the youngest and least experienced member of the team nodded his understanding. He opened the door, terrified that some sniper’s itchy finger would take him out, frustrated that there was no clear way for him to minimize his involvement. He was all in, there being no way of separating hostage taking from bank robbing. Not now; it was too late for that. With his body half exposed out the front door, Nolan considered pulling out his gun and rushing out into the street. That would end this nightmare in a hurry; Death by cop. Why not? His future was becoming bleaker by the hour. Might as well end it here, he thought before quickly rejecting the idea, his fear of prison a distant second to his fear of death.

The smell of damp sweat filled the vault. Fifteen bank employees and customers had been crammed into the small space since events had begun to unfold several hours ago. They looked up at Nolan with a mixture of fear and disgust. He could read their thoughts as if they hung over their head in thought bubbles supported by the dank air. How dare he and his compatriots do this to them? Who were they to threaten to take innocent lives to satisfy their own selfish needs? Friendships and family trees across the country were shaking from this singular selfish event.

Nolan passed out the food quickly; too ashamed to make eye contact as he did so. There was even a Happy Meal for a small girl unfortunate enough to be caught up in this very adult situation. He watched as the young girl anxiously opened her cardboard boxed meal. Going straight for the toy inside, she pulled out a small doll in a ballerina costume. She held it up for Nolan’s inspection; her entire face, a smile of excitement. Look what I have, she seemed to be saying.

Nolan was unprepared for the feeling of Déjà vu that nearly brought tears to his eyes. That smile; he had seen it before. It was more than just upturned corners. He could see the brightness in her eyes and the innocence behind them. What did a little girl know of robberies and desperate men with guns? That was for adults to think about. She was truly in the moment; with her toy in hand, all was well with the world.

His mind flipped backwards through the events of his life to the exact moment chosen by the little girl’s smile.

She walked shyly up to the front of the class to be introduced. Her name was Trish. To most of the other third graders, she was just another new curiosity to be absorbed by the tribe; her place in the hierarchy would be established with unconscious precision. As she walked back to her desk, she briefly locked eyes with Nolan … and smiled.

That was the smile; the one filled with so much potential it could reach into the future and save him.

To Nolan, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Still years away from the hormonal drive that would steer him through most of his life, he fell in love.

The next several years found the two orbiting seemingly different planets. She had her world and he had his. It wasn’t until high school that things between them began to change. He was paired up with her in Biology lab. She still had that smile that somehow seemed to captivate him. Why no one else seemed to notice it was beyond Nolan’s understanding. It was as if she and he shared that one secret…and it was more than enough.

He looked forward to seeing that smile five days a week. It meant that she was there with him. He basked in her attention, even if it was only for an hour.

Familiarity bred familiarity. They began greeting each other on campus and even sharing a table for lunch from time to time. Eventually, they had a date. This was quickly followed by several more. Time flew by.

The news that she was moving to the east coast had been devastating. Her dad had a new job and she had no choice in the matter. They had cried and made promises to each other; they would stay in touch and meet again when they both went to college. Finally, the day came and he found himself waving to the back of an over packed mini-van as it headed off to what might as well have been the other end of the universe.

Nolan never saw her again. That had been over ten years ago.

The moment passed and Nolan was surprised to find himself still staring down at the little girl holding the doll up to him. He smiled back and knelt down beside her. A protective mother pulled the girl a little closer.

“What do you have there?” he asked the little girl.

“She's a dancer. Her name is Hanna,” she replied calmly, clearly oblivious to the dangers of the situation she was in. Her mom was right there so everything must be just fine.

He looked up at the mom and could see the fear painted on her face, a fear not born from the awareness of personal vulnerability, rather the fear of a mother whose child was in danger, a child she had cared for, loved and raised in anticipation of the brightest of futures, a child she was helpless to save from what may be coming.

The shame washed over Nolan. He had put that fear there. They had not brought this on themselves. They were simply victims of the classic error ... wrong place - wrong time.

What the hell am I doing? he thought, shaking off his momentarily lapse. Standing up quickly, he walked from person to person looking for signs such as grogginess, anything that would indicate the food may have been tampered with. Satisfied, he gathered up the few remaining hamburgers and took them out to Brandon and Roscoe.

Nolan took up a position by the window as the others ate. He had no appetite. Try as he might, he couldn't let go of the little girl’s smile and the mixed feelings it invoked. The love from his past mixed with the guilt of the day formed a potent emotional cocktail. He felt lost.

Maybe if he had stayed in touch with Trish, his life may have taken a different path.

It was too late to do anything about that now.

The ringing of the telephone jerked him back to the desperation of the moment. Nolan heard Brandon saying with utter calmness, “That’s it. In five minutes, you will have caused the first death of the day.” He hung up the phone and looked at his two accomplices before motioning for Roscoe to follow him into the vault. A few moments later, screaming and a brief scuffle could be heard coming from within followed shortly after by Brandon walking out with his selection.

Her smile was long gone.

He held the girl by her upper right arm as he pulled her roughly towards the front door.

Roscoe had followed him out of the vault. There was something different about him now. His eyes were on the floor and his entire body seemed to slump. The reality of Brandon’s actions was starting to sink in.

“Nolan, get the door,” Brandon ordered. His own hands were full, one with a child, the other a gun.

Nolan obeyed mechanically. He didn’t know what to do. This had suddenly gone to a place that he had never imagined. The little girl looked up at him pleadingly as she was dragged by; the doll was still clutched tightly in her little hand.

Nolan let the door swing closed behind them. He could hear Brandon begin making wild allegations and threats. The media was eating this up. He looked over at Roscoe who refused to meet his gaze. The giant thug with a history of violence to his credit was ashamed. His shoulders began to shake as he started sobbing into his hands. Roscoe was no longer a factor in this operation. It didn’t matter. Brandon had made up his mind and now it was too late to go back and put things right.

Nolan sulked for a moment longer. He was in danger of completely losing himself to the hopelessness of the situation. Death by Cop started to sound pretty good. He was ready to give it up, to stop living, if that meant he could get out of this impossible reality. He mentally tried that on for a moment, death, and was surprised by the uplifting sense of freedom he felt.

Like a bolt of lightning, it occurred to him with crystal clarity; it was not too late to fix this!

Opening the front door, he could see Brandon a few feet in front of him. He had cocked the gun and was now holding it to the little girl's head. She looked back over her shoulder at the sound of the bank door opening. Nolan could see the pleading in her eyes. She was looking to him for help.

Without a word, Nolan walked up behind Brandon and put his gun to the back of the large man’s head. The sound of the trigger being cocked echoed down the street.

No one said a thing for nearly a minute. No one moved. From somewhere, a white tissue appeared, floating silently though the scene.

The bank door opened abruptly and Roscoe lumbered out. He walked past the men and the girl without as much as a glance. In the middle of the street, he set his gun down and then, a short distance away, lay face-down and placed his hands behind his head.

That was the end of it for Brandon. He lowered his gun and let the girl go. She immediately spun around and hid behind Nolan, her protector. He placed a protective hand on her head and was rewarded with a smile. THE smile.

Word count 2,000