Marshall: A Short Story, Page 4

Chapter 4

 

  Desolate. That was how it felt as Marshall and Lamarr walked, the only sound was the thuds of their footsteps on the hard ground and the quiet humming of the car that they would get away in, a humming that soften as they loomed further away from it, a humming that they would never return to. Marshall saw the security camera through the glass of the small building, he turned back to see Dominic through the glass of the car, Dominic gave a small almost unnoticeable nod and the green LED light of the security camera flashed to red. Lamarr was the first one in, the cashier was tall and skinny and he looked to be in his late teens. “Hello, how may I help you today?” The cashier asked politely. Lamarr smiled and pulled out his gun. The cashier was pale to begin with but at the first sight of the gun his skin turned paper white. Only then did it occur to Marshall that this was really happening, he was really doing this. He felt sick to his stomach, he didn’t know why. Marshall had robbed places before but it felt different this time, this time it felt like if he made a mistake his life would be over. The cashier’s fingers shook as he slowly reached behind the counter. “Press the alarm button as many times as you want kid you’ll just be wasting time.” Lamarr warned. The cashier’s eyes lit up. He had pressed it, there was no doubt about that, but he was shocked to find out that it didn’t work. “Now you’re getting the picture.” Lamarr laughed as he pointed the gun closer. The cashier opened the cash register. “No. Open the back vault.” Lamarr ordered. “If I do that I’ll be fired.” The cashier squeaked. “Open the back vault!” Marshall commanded loudly, his voice was ballistic and intimidating. Four minutes. The cashier walked to the back room. When he came back he was struggling to lift a small but heavy black vault. He put it atop the counter with a low bang. “Open it.” Lamarr ordered. “I don’t know the combination, only the manager knows the combination.” The cashier cried. “There’s a keyhole.” Marshall pointed out. Lamarr raised the gun higher “Open it.” He ordered once again. The cashier went from pale to bright red; he turned around to face the shelves of scratch cards and cigarettes that loomed behind him. He stood on the tips of his toes and felt around the top shelf searching for something “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen my boss put something up here a couple of times.” He explained. Three minutes. “I’m running out of patience.” Lamarr said as he moved the gun so that it followed the cashier like a homing missile. The scratch cards that occupied the top shelves started to rain down. Out of the corner of his eye Marshall saw Lamarr’s finger itching closer to the trigger. The cashier flaunted his hands around once more and this time when he took them away they held a bright yellow key. Lamarr didn’t have to tell him what to do because right away the cashier went to work on the vault. He pushed they key into the socket and turned, the result was a satisfying click that told all three that it was open. Lamarr unzipped his jacket; medium sized pockets lined the inside of it. Marshall’s was similar and he unzipped his too. Two minutes. They wasted no time as they swept bundles upon bundles of cash into their pockets. Each tightly folded stack of money felt heavy in their hands, heavy enough to tell Marshall that what Lamarr had said would reign true; he wouldn’t have to worry about money for a long time. In a matter of seconds Marshall and Lamarr’s jackets were nearly too heavy for their shoulders to hold up. Marshall looked up at the security camera once more and was relieved to see the red dot still shone, they were still concealed from view and safe, but for how long? One minute. Lamarr turned towards the door which was the only signal Marshall needed to know that it was time to leave. It was over and more importantly it was a success. The only sound Marshall could hear was that of the automatic sliding doors opening as if to congratulate him, a comforting sound that was broken by a voice. “Wait! You can’t leave! I’ve seen your faces! I’ll report you!” The cashier threatened, his voice was filled with a newfound seriousness that wasn’t quite there before. Being reported, although not desirable, was easy enough to combat. Even if the descriptions were spot-on it would be awhile before the police could get a reasonable sketch and even longer before it could be widely distributed, generally a couple days; that was all the time Marshall needed. Marshall looked at the car, inside Dominic tapped on the watch strapped tightly around his wrist. Marshall turned back to see Lamarr pulling the Cashier the collar, “Take a good look then boy because this is the last face you’re going to be seeing for a long time.” Lamarr had a deranged look in his eye, a look that until then Marshall had never been accustomed with. Then Lamarr raised the gun. The shot was fired before Marshall could open his mouth to tell Lamarr no. The smell of burning rubber accompanied the smell of gas as Dominic sped away with the car leaving Marshall and Lamarr out of it. It was understandable why Dominic fled; something happened that wasn’t part of the plan, something that threw everything off, the thing was that a murder taking place wasn’t accounted for in the plan and so in its unraveling Dominic had fled. The cashier slumped behind the register; his blood stained the counter like an abstract work of art, a work of art that exclusively used a bright shade of red, like the artist had a strictly monogamous relationship with it. It was the kind of red that imitated the small red light on the camera, only the small red light on the camera wasn’t red anymore, now it was green.