Awry Robbery

“Allen, I’m telling you, nothing is going to go wrong. This plan is full proof.”

“It’s foolproof.” Allen fought back on procedure instead of substance. “I just don’t want to go to jail man. This is a big risk.”

“It’s a big risk but it’s a bigger reward! You know what’s in that Bullseye. You worked there for years.” Marcus confidently replied complimenting each of his thoughts with an appropriate hand gesture. “From what you remember, how tight was security?”

“When I was there… not very. But that was three years ago! We are betting a lot on something we don’t know!” Allen nervously voiced his concerns but, truthfully, he was already in the parking lot with a gun. It was too late to turn back; at least for these two gamblers. Allen thought to himself that when Marcus got into these moods, all you could do is hope you survive the avalanche.

“You know we need the money. What choice do we have? The employees don’t even care! They are told to not stop us!”

“Then why are we bringing guns?!?” Allen waived a handgun around in the air with poor trigger discipline. He was not a seasoned veteran of this kind of endeavor.

“Just in case. Just stick to the plan and everything will go fine. Here, take this.” Marcus threw Allen a ski mask. “Put it on when we get out of the camera’s blind spot.” He paused for just a moment. Marcus looked out the window at the Bullseye big box store and stared. His usually jovial expression furrowed with stress. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t think I ever will be. So sure.” Allen relented.

Marcus and Allen stepped out of the van while pulling down their masks. They have positioned the van, stolen from a neighbor that morning, in a blind spot of the cameras that Allen had described during their initial planning session two weeks ago. They made their way to the back door and checked their watches. It was about 10:38. Though the store formally closed at 11:00, Allen knew that the staff began emptying trash cans into the back dumpster as early as 10:40. The boys took their assigned positions; Marcus standing directly in front of the door a few steps out, and Allen hiding behind where it would open.

An acne plagued youth, with headphones in, came strolling through opening the door with his back as he dragged the trash can behind him. He never saw it coming. When he turned and faced Marcus, an above average height fully grown man in a ski mask, the urgency of the situation began to creep over him. Marcus did not wait for him to fully grasp it. “Hey kid. We want a tour.”

As he said it, Allen emerged from behind the door and placed the barrel of the gun against the back of the employee’s head. “And we aren’t asking.”

The visible symptoms of fear took over as the kid’s knees began to sway and the sweating began. “I… I don’t want any trouble.” He stammered.

“We don’t either. So let us inside.” Marcus played it cooler than he was. The mask served a dual function of concealing their identities and cloaking their true expressions. Marcus wondered to himself if that’s how they got so popular for this sort of thing. He caught himself drifting and refocused on the task at hand. “Now, for the tour. You are going to lead us directly to the trading cards. Avoid any other employees and cameras where possible. Understand?” The kid shook but said nothing. “Nod your head if you understand.” He nodded. “Alright. My friend here is going to put the gun away in his pocket, but don’t forget about it. It will still be aimed directly at you as we go through the tour.” Marcus punctuated the threat with a finger gun pointed at his heart. “Now let’s get started.”

The three boys entered the store slowly. Marcus and Allen scanned around each corner as they moved into the main floor keeping the teenager in front of them. There was not another employee in sight. Marcus took the lead, as always, directing them. “No funny business. We know where the cards are. Go right.”

“I’m not being funny. They don’t pay me enough for this man; I don’t care about their shit. You can take whatever you want! Please don’t hurt me.” The kid spoke clearly, for the first time, pleading with his captors.

Allen sympathized but, if it was too late in the parking lot, it was definitely too late now. They passed aisle after aisle of random plastic garbage; the “make up aisle,” “back-to-school,” and one vaguely titled “seasonal”. Allen wondered what season it even was in early April.

They had not seen another person since they burst through the back door. At this point, they had to assume it was intentional. They were being watched; they could feel it. Marcus was getting frantic. “Hurry up. It’s right around the corner.” As they approached the shelves of fully stocked trading cards, they arrived at what had always been conceived of as the most challenging part of the robbery. The shelves were guarded by hard plastic barriers separating the precious cargo from would-be shoplifters. “Alright kid. What was your name anyway?”

“Edgar.”

“Edgar? Seriously?”

“Ya.” Edgar replied in a tone that suggested he got that question a lot.

“Alright. Open the shelf Edgar.” Marcus was focused.

“I can’t”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Allen interjected with his gun trained on Edgar through the pocket of his sweater.

“I don’t have a key.”

“Well go get a key!” Marcus was yelling.

“They don’t give me a key! Only the Bullseye shift leaders have them. I work at the pizza place at the front!”

“Well, where are they?” Marcus was controlled but growing concerned.

“They probably left thirty minutes ago. They don’t need them to close the store.”

“What do you mean!? There are no keys?” Allen was starting to freak out. “Marcus, I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Don’t say my name!” Marcus’s concentration was broken. He took out his gun and aimed it at the lock. He held the gun steady but closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the hollow aisles and echoed against the tall industrial ceiling. When he opened his eyes, Marcus saw the result of his non-aim. The bullet had ricocheted off the lock and pierced Edgar’s thigh. “Allen, we have to go.”

“What happened to no names!” Allen shouted as the store alarm began.

“It doesn’t matter now. We have to go, come on!” The pair began to run towards the back door as they began to hear faint sirens close in. “I’m sorry Edgar!” Marcus shouted as they left him, bleeding, lying in front of shelves full of unstolen trading cards.