The Getaway

Blaine drove the van exactly as Sam instructed, following direction perfectly. Sam guided the van to the precise location near the building, nose of the van practically on the wall of the building itself. Pulling a foldable knife out of his pocket, he quickly cut the zip ties binding May and Elayne’s wrists.

“Go ahead, take your hoods off, you’re going to need to see,” he instructed. Both women complied.

“Where are we?” May asked, looking at the brick wall through the windscreen of the van.

Sam chuckled, “We’re parked exactly where we need to be, but I’m going to get you girls to both scoot up near the front for a moment,” he instructed, motioning them to where he wanted them.

George stepped into the back, “You too,” he said to Steven. Once the man dressed up like a robber vacated the back of the van, George dropped down and rolled up the carpet on the floor revealing an unsecure panel. “No lights?” he said looking up at Sam.

“We’re good,” replied Sam.

Lifting it up, then twisting it sideways, it was easy for George to pull the metal panel into the van before rolling the carpet back down into the hole left by the panel’s removal. In the ground there was a large circular manhole cover. Grabbing a hook wrench, George slide it into a hole in the metal covering. Grunting with effort, he heaved the lid out of place and revealed a series of metal rungs vanishing down into the darkness below. Grabbing two glow sticks from a pants pocket, he cracked them and shook them, creating a yellowy green light inside the van before dropping them down into the gloomy hole beneath the van.

Next, they dropped the black duffle bags down through the hole. After all the bags were gone, “I’ll go first,” Sam said, exchanging places with George. Before dropping through the hole he looked at George. “You come last, him second to last,” he started, nodding to Steven. “You make damn sure that cover is in place. I am going to encourage everyone to move with as much haste as possible, we are under a bit of a time crunch here.” With that, he descended down into the storm sewer channel.

Descending almost thirty feet to the broad floor of the storm channel, Sam grinned under his mask. Wyatt Taylor, the sixth man who had set up the IT overrides had finished loading the bags into the back of the crew cab four wheel drive Ford pick-up, a black balaclava pulled down over his face.

“What the fuck happened in the bank?” Wyatt hissed.

People began descending the ladder from above.

“Neither the time nor the place,” warned Sam.

“You almost got me with one of those bags,” griped Wyatt, heaving slightly, slender of build and not accustomed to much physical exertion.

Sam pointed up the ladder.

One by one, each of the people began climbing down. First May arriving at the bottom.

“Fucking hostages?” said Wyatt, looking at the older woman.

“Just get in the truck,” Sam said. Turning to May, “If you would be so kind, into the box,” he said, pointing to the rear of the truck. Next was Blaine, who received similar direction. After Blaine it was Elayne. who at a height only a few feet from the storm channel floor suddenly squeaked and fell backward, landing squarely in Sam’s outstretched arms, her left hand inadvertently pushing his mask back and mostly off his head.

“Got you,” he said gruffly, setting her feet on the floor of the channel. and readjusting his mask.

“I’m sorry,” she said, panic in her voice, studying his face in the eerie yellow light from the glow sticks. “It was damp and I slipped,” she explained, eyes wide and full of abject terror

Readjusting his mask, “Unfortunately you’re going to have to come with us for a time Elayne, but not to worry, you’ll be okay. I want you to get in the back seat,” he said pointing at the cab of the pick-up.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Steven, no minus the Dead Man’s switch arrived followed shortly after by George. Steven was hustled into the box of the truck with May and Blaine, while Sam jumped into the front passenger side and George behind him.

“We need to get the fuck out of here like right the hell now,” George said, “Timer is counting.”

“Go!” instructed Sam.

Clicking on the headlights, Wyatt stepped on the accelerator and the truck sped away.

“What the fuck she doing here?” George asked, looking at Elayne huddled up against the door in the seat behind Wyatt.

“She saw my face,” Sam explained without bothering to look back, eyes instead watching as they travel down the cement conduit.

What?” George asked.

“I-I fell,” Elayne said, “When he caught me I accidently hit his mask,” she added, recoiling away from George.

“Well that’s fucking great,” bellyached George, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t make a lick of difference, my goddamn DNA is all over the bank and undoubtedly they’ve already have Jeff’s identity. Pat’s laying there dead and I still don’t have the faintest idea of what the hell happened to Cameron.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Pat’s dead?” Wyatt asked, shock in his voice.

“Jeff too, those guys in the back dressed like Pat and Cameron are more hostages,” Sam said.

“Oh my god,” murmured Wyatt. “Cameron too?”

“Just focus on driving, here, pull up right here,” Sam said, pointing to spot up ahead. Wyatt slowed the truck down. And brought it to a stop.

“Thank Christ it’s not rainy season,” mumbled the driver.

Sam chuckled, “Like he had a hand in the contingency plan,” he said, getting out of the truck. There was a rumbling, like thunder, from somewhere in the distance. Moving around the back of the truck, he had the three people back there climb out.

“You’re a few hundred yards from getting out here, I’m sure the cops will be keen to hear your side of the story,” he said, closing the gate of the truck and moving back around the side.

“What about Elayne?” May asked, stepping forward.

Sam paused at the door, “She’ll be fine, we’ll let her go somewhere further down the way,” he assured, climbing back into the truck.

The three released hostages watched as the tail lights of the truck vanished in the darkness of the channel ahead.