The Deposit

As much as he tried to convince himself that he was a hopeless romantic at heart, the truth was that he was as skeptical as anyone else. Having suffered through his share of failed relationships, he knew fully well that the fairy tale was nothing more than just that – a tale. A story to be told to sooth the souls of those longing for love with the false hope that even they would find their Prince Charming or Cinderella.

"Damn Disney," he said aloud. Then he chuckled. He couldn't blame Disney. He couldn't blame anyone but himself for what was missing in his life. Perhaps he tried too hard. Or maybe he tried too little. Whatever the reason, love had eluded him, and he'd decided to stop chasing it.

These were the thoughts that filled his mind as he stood in line at the bank waiting to deposit the check his grandmother had written to him for his birthday. Every year, like clockwork, he received a card with a check for twenty-five dollars from his eighty-nine year old spitfire of a nana. He was almost forty years old. Once, once he'd tried not cashing the check. After the tongue lashing he'd received, he knew better than to try that again. So there he stood, on a lazy Saturday morning, yawning as he waited to approach the teller.

*BANG BANG*

At first he couldn't believe what he'd heard, but he'd heard it just the same. The rapport of a gun, sounding twice in quick succession, and then the screaming. A loud, deep man's voice, yelling. The scene was surreal. A quick glance around revealed three men, all in black, all in ski masks, all with guns.  One stood at each door while the third, the ring leader, approached the counter demanding cash.

Everyone did as commanded and dropped to their knees on the floor as the nervous teller fumbled with her drawer. She hadn't moved quickly enough, so the gunman leaped over the counter and pulled her aside, forcing another teller to complete the task. He watched the whole thing in horror. Suddenly, as the thief put the gun to her head, his eyes locked with hers. In that moment, he knew.

She was short and slender, her hair a light brown with blonde highlights. Her deep brown eyes pleaded with him, a man she'd never met, for help. Something in him snapped, and he stood.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I said on your knees!" her captor yelled.

"No," he replied simply.

"I'll kill her!"

"No, you won't."

"What's your malfunction man? Can't you see I have a gun?" With that the gunman pushed the barrel into the teller's temple, causing her to let out a fearful wail.

Calmly, he spoke to the gunman again. "Look pal, take the money and leave. Just let her go."

"You got a set of stones, man! I'm in charge here! Maybe I just plug her now, huh?"

"Let her go, or I swear to you, you won't leave this bank under your own power."

"Dude, we don't have time for this!" one of the other robbers yelled. "We gotta go, man!"

The ringleader stared at his adversary. It was clear he was nervous and twitchy, and he turned the gun on the would-be hero. "You have three seconds to get on your knees or I do you both!"

He didn't flinch. He just stood, stoically, and stared into the young woman's eyes as if to assure her he'd let no harm come to her. "Let her go. Now."

"I'm done with your shit, man! Dude, put him on the ground!"

The conspirator that had been manning the door behind him stepped forward and shoved a gun into his back. What happened next would be a blur from his memory. He turned his body and swung his arm backwards, catching the assailant in the throat with his forearm. At the same time, he swept his left foot behind the gunman's right leg and forced him backwards. Violently, the back of the assailant's head struck the table behind them, knocking him unconscious. Before either of the other two bank robbers could react, he had reached down, picked up the gun, turned and fired.

The other door guard stumbled two steps forward and collapsed. Then he turned the gun back to the ringleader.

"I said to let her go."

"Holy shit! Holy shit! You're crazy man! I'll kill her! I swear I'll kill her! I'll kill you both!"

"You think because you wave a gun and stomp your foot we're just going to lay down and die? No. Now let her go."

The moments that followed were tense to say the least. The two men stared each other down until he spoke again. "Go ahead. Stomp your foot and see where it gets you." Then he locked eyes with the young woman. Though he spoke the same words, she knew he was speaking them to her. "Go ahead, stomp your foot."

She brought her heel upwards and then dropped it as hard as she could onto the top of her captor's foot. The shock and pain distracted him just long enough for her to break free from his grip and duck. No one really knew who fired first, or how many shots were fired in total, but at the end of it the ringleader was on the ground, gasping.

He walked over to the man, kneeled down, and pulled off the ski mask. The man's face was full of fright. "I told you if you didn't let her go that you weren't walking out of here under your own power," he said coldly. Sensing the man was no longer a threat, he turned and walked towards the young woman whose life he'd just save. She ran to him and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you! Thank you," she kept whispering. He tried to hold her, but soon his strength left him and he collapsed to his knees. It was then, for the first time, that he felt the stinging pain in his side. He touched it, and his fingers came away covered in crimson blood. He looked up at her pleadingly.

"Oh my God! Someone get an ambulance!" She yelled. Everyone else had been so shell-shocked that no one had moved. Finally a bank manager ran and unlocked the doors. Lights and sirens from outside filled the bank lobby. Chaos enveloped the scene as police rushed in. People screamed and ran. And there, in the middle of it all, he lay on the ground with a beautiful woman holding him in her arms.

"Hang on!" she said to him, tears streaming down from her eyes.

He smiled. "I love you," he whispered. "I don't know you, but I love you. You're safe." After that his eyes closed and he drifted into blackness….

© J.J. Goodman 2014. All rights reserved.