Back on Solid Ground
Read Back on Solid Ground Online
Authors: Debra Trueman
BACK
ON SOLID GROUND
By
Debra Trueman
Copyright
© 2013 Debra Trueman
All
Rights Reserved
For
my boys.
It was a
perfect day for bank robbing. The driver eased the Suburban alongside the curb
and three men piled out. They were tall, dark and dangerous and loaded for
bear. Niki checked his watch. He could feel the adrenaline rush coming on and
he bounced on his feet a couple of times to channel the excitement.
Inside, the
payday rush had hit, and snatches of conversation echoed through the bank
lobby, bouncing off the marble walls like a boomerang. Stacy stood in line,
examining her manicured nails. As usual, they looked immaculate. But then,
there wasn’t much about Stacy Trent that wasn’t. The 28-year-old was a true
beauty, and whether she was dressed in jeans or Armani, heads turned wherever
she went.
She had a
perfectly proportioned frame, with red hair down to the middle of her back. She
wore lipstick and no other makeup. Her incredible green eyes, bordered by thick
lashes, were her most amazing feature. She was forthright with her friends,
no-nonsense when it came to business, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. Stacy
looked up from her nails to see if she recognized anyone in the bank, then she
pulled out her phone to check her messages.
Without
warning, she was body-slammed from behind and thrust into the woman in front of
her. Like dominoes, one by one, an entire row of bank customers was taken out,
bodies strewn left and right. A man wearing a ski mask and holding an assault
rifle remained standing where the rear of the line had just been.
“Get down!
Now!” he shouted.
In an
instant, the previous moment’s confusion turned to terror and panic. Screams
engulfed the room as people hit the floor. Two more masked men came out of
nowhere swinging guns in a sweeping motion around the room.
“Everybody
stay down and no one will get hurt,” the voice boomed through the structure.
Niki motioned
for his accomplices to get to work and the three men quickly stuffed cash from
the tellers’ drawers into burlap sacks. Having relieved the tellers of their
funds, the other two began quickly circulating through the bodies on the floor,
looking over their jewelry and watches. The terrified customers handed off
their valuables willingly, as if they were grateful to be rid of them.
Stacy tried
to make herself invisible. She was partially covered by the man who had fallen
on her, but her head and upper torso were exposed. From where she lay, she had
a clear view of two of the men. She watched one of them stop, then crouch
beside the clean cut young man who had held the door open for her minutes
earlier. The hooded man removed an envelope from the young man’s pocket, then,
getting back to his feet, he signaled to the leader. He was headed in her
direction.
Stacy covered
her head with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. She was sweating bullets, and
the floor felt unnaturally cold on her cheek. She was determined that she
would get out of this mess unscathed, when she felt movement. The buffoon on
top of her was squirming around, reaching for something. If he didn’t stay
still he was going to draw attention to her, so Stacy gave him a hard shove to
the gut with her elbow. He grunted with the jab, as he extracted a revolver
from his pant leg.
Oh great,
Stacy thought.
A wanna-be hero.
In one
motion, the buffoon was on his feet, his revolver pointed at the leader. He was
a big man and Stacy was surprised how quickly he’d been able to maneuver
himself up. The gun went off and she could hear the echo of the
zing
, as
the bullet ricocheted off the wall. In an instant, guns turned on him. The buffoon’s
gun went flying. He appeared to be doing some ancient tribal dance, his body
writhing left and right, arms and legs thrashing out in contorted movements,
trying to avoid the flying bullets. The noise was deafening and seemed to go
on forever. When the bullets stopped, the buffoon was crying like a baby, and
he dropped back to the ground next to Stacy. A wedding band danced before her,
spinning on the ground inches from her face, and the finger where it used to
reside plopped down beside it.
Stacy
screamed, instinctively flinging away the emancipated digit. She was covered
in the man’s blood. Without realizing it, she had gotten to her feet, all the
while screaming hysterically. The room started to spin and she vomited. Stacy
felt herself being lifted off of her feet. She was flung over someone’s
shoulder, and was being carried out of the bank. She continued screaming until
she passed out.
The men
rounded the corner just as the Suburban pulled up. Niki tossed Stacy’s limp
body onto the floor in the back, then climbed behind the wheel. Carlos moved to
the passenger seat, and Eli and Jason jumped in the back. It looked like a
Chinese fire drill.
“Stuff her
into one of those bags,” Niki told Eli. He took off his mask and tossed it on
the seat, then he ran his hand through his hair trying to tame the mass of loose
curls. Droplets of sweat fell onto the back of his seat. Niki maneuvered the
Suburban over a lane and immediately blended into afternoon traffic. Two turns
and they were on the highway headed towards the airport. The plane would be
fueled and waiting, and they would be in the air within 20 minutes of leaving
the bank. The four didn’t speak; there would be plenty of time for words once
they were in the air. Each knew that this was the most critical part of the
job.
They were
almost to the airport when Stacy came to. She was sticky all over, and could
feel where the dirty burlap sack had become glued to parts of her body and face
with the buffoon’s blood and her own vomit and sweat. She had a stabbing pain
in her side and felt like she could throw up again.
“Help,” Stacy
moaned.
“She’s
awake,” said Eli. “What do you want me to do with her?” he asked Niki.
“Nothing.
We’re almost to the airport,” Niki said.
“Please, let
me go.” Her voice was weak and her breathing was labored. “I can’t breathe,”
she said. “Please help me.”
“There’s no
one here to help you right now, Miss Trent,” Niki laughed, directing his voice
over the back seat so she could hear him over the blasting air conditioner.
Holy crap.
He knows my name,
she thought with horror. Stacy had assumed she was taken
at random. If that wasn’t the case, she was in big trouble. She had to think
but her head was not clear; her brain was foggy.
“We’ll be on
a plane shortly, and then we’ll remove you from that unpleasant bag,” said
Carlos. “You’ll feel much better then,” he added.
An
airplane
?
she thought. She wasn’t about to let these goons take her away to some
god-forsaken place on an airplane.
“Please,
don’t take me with you,” Stacy pleaded. “You don’t need me,” she reasoned. “I
haven’t seen your faces. I can’t identify you.” Her voice cracked. “Taking me
with you would only get you into more trouble than you’re already in.” She
could feel herself beginning to panic and willed herself to be calm, but she
had started to hyperventilate. Stacy was about to say something else, when the
stabbing pain shot through her side again and instead she curled up and groaned
in pain. When the realization hit her, Stacy was livid.
“One of you
assholes shot me!” And with that, she lost consciousness.
“
Shit
,”
Niki said under his breath.
“You hear
that?” Eli asked.
“ I heard.”
“We gonna
leave her at the airport?” Eli asked.
“Nope,” Niki
said. “She comes with us.”
“Right,” Eli
said, looking down at the lump in the burlap sack. “I think she’s out.” He
opened the sack, reached in and found Stacy’s neck, caked with grime from the
dirty sack. He felt for a pulse. “She’s alive,” he said, and cinched up the
sack.
They were at
the airport exit, and there was no sign of police. Niki turned on the radio.
It had been 15 minutes since they left the bank, and the story should be
hitting the airwaves.
“ . . .
there were dozens of people in the bank at the time,”
the announcer stated
in a somber tone.
“We are told that anywhere from 3 to 6 armed men entered
the bank with machine guns. The gunmen opened fire in the bank, and we have
confirmation that at least one person is wounded. We have been informed that
hostages were taken. At this time, we have no information on the identity of
any of the hostages, or how many there are. We are told that the gunmen fled
the scene in a white vehicle, maybe a van or Suburban, and that they are still
at large. Of course, this is a very critical situation; we have very few
details, as this story is just unfolding. Stay tuned as we provide continuous
coverage of an event that is unprecedented in San Antonio’s history.”
Niki turned
off the radio. “That should stir up the anti-gun faction,” he said. He breathed
deeply, taking in the moment. He loved the adrenaline rush that he got with the
last few minutes of the getaway. The feeling never got old. He circled
around the airport to the private landing strip, and pulled the Suburban up
beside the plane. Niki got out of the Suburban and exchanged greetings with
the pilot.
“It’s been a
long time,” Niki said with a genuine smile, clasping the man’s hand with both
of his.
“Everything’s
ready sir,” the pilot told him. “The car will be taken care of.”
Niki nodded
in acknowledgment. While the three loaded gear into the plane, Niki scooped up
their hostage. He carried the girl onto the plane, and propping up her
passed-out body as best he could, buckled her into one of the seats. The plane
started to move and minutes later they were airborne. Niki took a deep breath,
unclenched his fists and looked over at Eli.