Mike Webb woke up feeling anxious. This was not a new feeling for him. On most days, there was a barely controlled anxiety that thrummed, low and steady, just beneath the surface. This anxiety, though, was made of sterner stuff, and it percolated throughout his entire body as he slowly went through his morning routine. By the time that he pulled his sweater over his button down shirt, and smoothed his hands down his khaki pants, though, Mike had managed to tamp it down enough so that he felt that he could function as he went through his day.

Mike decided to forgo breakfast, (his stomach was just too upset) but he did have a small glass of milk. He washed the glass, dried it carefully, and placed it back into its customary position inside the cabinet. He then dried the sink, sorted through a few bills and put them into neat stacks on his desk, and, on his way out of the apartment, made a mental note that there was a small stain on the carpet by the front door that he would need to scrub when he got home.

On the way to his car, a neighbor waved to him. Mike nodded quickly and looked immediately down at his feet. He had never felt comfortable making small talk with people, and almost always went out of his way to avoid it if he could. His girlfriend, Karen, gently poked fun of him, pointing out that, if not for her pursuit of him, he would never have spoken a single word to her. What made Mike sad was knowing that she was right.

He reached his compact car, that he finally owned, having made the final payment six months ago, and slid gratefully inside its clean, quiet interior. Here, in his car, with the sounds of soothing meditation music as a backdrop, Mike was in his comfort zone.

Traffic was light, which Mike put down to it being late morning on a work day, as he drove to his destination. He’d taken the entire day off, which was, in and of itself, quite unusual for him. He was, and had always been, dedicated to his job as an accountant for Middleton, Graves, and Adams, an accounting firm, and he was feeling a bit odd for being out and about when he would normally have been at work.

Parking was plentiful in front of the strip mall when Mike arrived. As he pulled into a slot, he hoped that that would bode well for hurrying through his errand. Who knew, maybe he could even go into work, after all.

As he sat staring at the gleaming windows of Heston’s Fine Jewelry, another car pulled up. Mike watched a woman and a boy get out of their minivan and head into the store. So much for having the place to himself, he thought, glumly. The idea that he could just wait in the car for them to come back out certainly crossed his mind, but his desire to get it all over with had him unhooking his seatbelt.

He stepped out of the car and felt for his wallet, which was a nervous habit of his, as a man and woman stepped out of the tanning shop next to the jewelry store. Mike couldn’t help but notice how their deep tans accentuated their well defined muscles as they stood on the sidewalk sipping bright green drinks and conferring with each other.

Feeling scrawny and pale, Mike stepped up on the sidewalk and started for the jewelry store, just as the couple walked up behind him. Mike opened the door and the man grabbed it as well.

“After you, babe.” he said, as his companion slipped behind Mike as he stepped inside the shop.

Tendrils of anxiety snaked across his chest, but Mike fought it as he took in the shop’s elegant ambience. Diamonds and jewels glittered through glass cases, and velvet covered chairs invited you to come closer and stay.

A tall, thin woman in a black silk pantsuit came rushing forward. Intimidated, Mike looked down at his feet, and the tanned couple stepped around him and eagerly took the woman up on her offer of assistance.

Mike was rethinking his plan. He’d hoped that he would be able to look at the offerings without actually having to talk to someone, but, with so many sales people in place, it was doubtful that that would be the case. Perhaps he could come back another time, he decided.

“I’m Alex. Can I help you?”

Mike looked up. A man, a few years out of high school, by the looks of his youthful, eager face, was standing directly in front of him.

Mike inwardly drew himself up. He could do this. He would do this. It was important that he do this.

“I would like to look at your engagement rings.” he said, and was disappointed that his voice came out as a whisper.

“Of course, sir. Right this way.” Alex said, miraculously hearing him.

Buoyed by Alex’s ecstatic expression, Mike followed him to a large case at the far end of the room.

“What did you have in mind?” Alex asked him.

Mike looked down at the rings. There were so many of them. He hunched over the case and immediately realized that there were no prices displayed, or at least none that he could see. He spotted a simple gold band with a small diamond centered on it. He looked up at Alex, “Could I see that one?” he pointed to the ring.

Alex seemed slightly disappointed by his selection, “Certainly,” he reached into the case and brought the box with the ring out, “It’s one of our more modest pieces.”

Undaunted, Mike picked the box up, bringing the ring closer; the diamond sparkled beautifully as he turned it this way and that. Karen would like it. He was sure that she would.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what were you thinking of spending on this most important of purchases?”

Mike sat the box down gently. Perhaps he should find out what his money, money that he’d been saving for nearly a year, could buy him in this establishment, “I was thinking somewhere in the neighborhood of …”

Suddenly, the glass fronted door was flung open violently, causing everyone in the jewelry store to turn around in bewilderment, gaping, with mouths open wide, at the vision of three men bursting into the store. They wore ski masks that completely covered their faces, and they were wielding guns as they hollered, “Everyone behind the counters, out in front! Now! Everyone else, down on the floor!”

As Alex started coming around the counter, and Mike felt a flood of stomach acid shoot up the back of his throat, the muscle bound man suddenly lunged for the trio of men.

A shot rang out, reverberating through the shop. The muscle bound man fell to the floor as his companion screamed in shock. She ran, still screaming, towards him, dropping to her knees beside his lifeless body.

“Fucking hell,” one of the men cried, as he turned to confront the man who had fired the shot, “You said no one was going to get hurt!”

“Shut the fuck up, Jerry,” the man grabbed the woman by her arm and yanked her to her feet, shoving her in the direction of Mike and Alex, “Get over there.” He gestured with the gun for the woman in the black pantsuit to do the same. She scurried across the floor towards them.

“He’s dead,” Jerry hissed, as he felt for a pulse, “You killed him, Mack! You fucking killed him!”

“Shut the hell up, Jerry, or I swear I’ll shoot you, too!”

“That’s enough,” the third man’s voice cut through the chaos, “Jerry, start taking them to the back room. Mack, lock the front door and start clearing the cases.”

“Wait,” Jerry stopped pacing and held a hand up to his ear, “I think I hear sirens.”

“You’re hearing shit,” Mack grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, “Do what Ed said and get these damn people in the back room, asshole, before I have to kill another one.”

“You heard him,” Jerry waved his gun at the people on the right side of the shop, “Get up. Hurry.”

Mike raised his head off the ground, daring to look up. The little boy that had gotten out of the minivan was crying. His mom was trying to console him, even though she looked like she was about to burst into tears herself. She gripped him by his shoulder and started walking behind an older couple and another salesman. Jerry followed, but stopped when sirens, unmistakable now, drew louder.

“See,” he whirled around, “I told you that I heard sirens! Somebody fucking called the cops. I fucking knew it.”

“Jerry!” Ed slammed his hands against Jerry’s shoulders, forcefully, “Do what I told you to fucking do and stop worrying about it.”

The boy was sobbing louder now, gasping for breath, and Mike felt his anxiety go through the roof as Jerry jerked away from Ed and marched his group towards the back.

“The rest of you, get up.” Ed ordered.

Mike got to his feet. His legs felt shaky and he had to grab onto the counter to steady himself.

The tan woman was filing past, as was the saleswoman in black. Alex paused beside him, “Are you okay?” he whispered.

Ed came up behind them, “MOVE!” he bellowed in Alex’s ear.

Alex scowled but did as he was told.

“You. Nerd boy,” Ed grabbed Mike’s arm and shoved him forward, “Are you going to shit your pants? Go. Get the hell in there.”

The terror Mike felt was almost more than he could endure as he stumbled by the jewelry case. He glanced at the door. It seemed so close. Right there. Just yards away from him. He wanted so badly to run for it. He wanted to push the door open and step into the sunlight. He wanted to go back to his normal life.

Suddenly, the shrill sound of a phone ringing made him jump.

“Answer that,” Ed ordered, “Answer the damn phone.”

“Me?” Mike asked, uncertainly.

“Yeah, you, fuckhead. Answer the damn phone.”

Mike reached for the phone. He held it shakily up to his ear, “Hello?” he whispered.

“Are you a hostage?” a voice asked him.

“Yes,” Mike turned around to look at Ed. Behind him, Mack was still cleaning out the cases, sweeping the jewelry into a reusable grocery bag, “Yes, I am.”

“Give me that,” Ed grabbed the phone out of Mike’s hand, while simultaneously moving the gun to rest against Mike’s temple, “What?” he barked into the phone.

A bead of sweat rolled slowly down Mike’s cheek, but he was too afraid to reach up and wipe it away, so he just stood, staring out the windows at the flashing lights of the patrol cars.

“You listen to me,” Ed barked into the phone, “We want a car pulled up to the back door. It’s going to take us to a private plane with a fucking pilot that’s going to take us anywhere we fucking want to go. You’ve got one hour. One fucking hour, or I’m gonna kill another one of these fuckers in here. You got that?” Ed slammed the phone down and glared at Mike, “Get the hell in the back before I fucking kill you, nerd boy. Mack, hurry up and clear this case out.”

Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to stay upright as he lurched around the jewelry case and turned the corner. There was an open door on the left, which led to a small office. All of the hostages were sitting on the floor, their faces betraying the absolute horror that they were feeling, as Jerry paced back and forth in front of them.

Trying to make himself as small and unthreatening as he could, Mike stepped into the room, already lowering himself down to the floor as he did so.

“He needs to use the restroom,” the child’s mom suddenly said, “Please.”

“He can wait.” Jerry said, as he stepped to the doorway and looked out into the main room.

Jerry’s gun hung from his hand, right in front of Mike’s face. Mike shifted away from it. Across the room, the boy’s mom had found a coffee mug for the boy to use, but the boy was shaking his head. She finally gave up and slid the mug back onto the desk.

“Jerry, close that door and get the fuck out here,” Ed’s voice carried into the small office, “We need to figure some shit out.”

Mike held his breath as Jerry swiveled back to face the room, “Sit tight, and don’t think we won’t blow you to smithereens if you so much as poke your head around the damn door, you hear?”

The entire room sat staring silently at the floor until the door closed.

“Mommy, I want to go home.” the boy wailed.

The mom looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Mike wanted desperately to comfort her, but he didn’t, of course.

“Hey, buddy, what’s your name?” Alex asked, as he leaned around the woman in the black suit and smiled at him.

The boy glanced at his mom, and, after she nodded consent, he whispered, “Joel.”

“Joe?”

“It’s Joel,” the mom answered, “And I’m Tammy.”

“Alex,” Alex gestured towards the woman beside him, and the man sitting on the opposite side of the door from Mike, “And this is Samantha, and that’s James, over there.”

“I’m Harold,” the older man spoke up, “And this is my wife, Carol.”

Alex looked at Mike.

“My name is Mike.”

“And you?” Alex looked at the tanned woman, who was slumped over a large box of copy paper.

“Erica.” she said, in a voice that was devoid of emotion.

There wasn’t a person in the room that didn’t feel the waves of grief emanating from her, and everyone fell silent again, each of them lost in their own despair as they remembered the murder that they had witnessed just minutes before.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Ed, Mack, and Jerry stomped into the room.

“Listen up, folks,” Ed pulled one of the office chairs out into the middle of the room and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the seat back, “Here’s what’s going down. I’ve talked to the cops and we’ve told them what our demands are. Now, if they give us what we want, and you guys don’t try any funny stuff, then no big dealio, but, if they don’t give us what we want, well, I’m gonna have to take one of you out, each and every hour, until the fuckers figure out that we mean business.”

“Can my little boy leave?” Tammy pleaded with him, “Please. Can he go? I’ll stay, but he … he’s just a boy.”

“Tell you what, lady,” Ed swiveled his chair to face her, “Jerry here said the boy had to use the pisser, so, to show you that I can be a nice guy, I’ll let Jerry take him. That’ll make him more comfortable, but, as to your question, no, I’m not letting him leave,” Ed chuckled as he caught Jerry and Mack’s eyes, “Who knows, he might just be our golden ticket out of here.”

Jerry and Mack’s laughter almost drowned out Tammy’s horrified gasp.

Mike clenched his fists at his sides, trying desperately to get control of the anxiety that was making the room spin, as his mind tried to make sense of a world where grown men could entertain the thought of killing a child.

Ed thumped the back of the chair as he quickly stood up, “Jerry, my man, take the boy to the pisser. The rest of you, just hang out.”

************************************************************************

“We need to do something,” Alex whispered, after Jerry brought Joel back and left again, “We can’t let them kill anyone else.”

“What do you suggest?” James asked.

“I think we need to jump Jerry when he comes back in here. Look, there’s more of us than there are of him. We can take him. We’ll get his gun …”

“They’ll hear us.” Samantha crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, defeatedly.

“It could work, is someone dropped him before he could make a sound.” Harold offered.

“Harold, you will not be part of this stupidity,” Carol said, “You just recovered from heart surgery, you fool.”

“I think it’s too risky,” Tammy was sitting with her son on her lap, and she rocked him back and forth in a soothing rhythm that was probably as much for herself as for her son, “I think we should just let the police take care of them.”

“I say we should kill the motherfuckers.” Erica suddenly spoke.

Everyone looked at her.

“What?” she stared back, “I think we could do it. I think we should,” she glanced at Tammy, “You think we should just sit here, waiting for them to kill us, one by one?”

“The police are right outside the building. They’ll save us.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“She’s right, Tammy,” Alex got to his feet, “They said they will kill one of us each hour until they get their demands met. They’ve already killed one of us. They’ll do it again, and again if they have to. What do they have to lose at this point?”

“Mommy?” Joel buried his face in his mother’s shoulder.

Tammy started dry heaving.

Alex caught Mike’s eye, “And you. What do you think we should do?”

Singled out, Mike felt his cheeks redden as everyone turned to look at him. He breathed in through his nose, like his therapist had taught him, nice and slow, one time, then another. It helped, marginally, “I … uh … I think we …”

The door opened so quickly that everyone jumped. Mack stepped into the room, “Guess what, folks,” he said, surveying them with an odd half grin, “We’ve decided that the feds need a bit more incentive. You know, hurry things along. Make them see how real we’re being with them. I’m going to need a volunteer. Anyone?”

The room was deadly silent.

“No one, huh?” Mack chuckled softly, “And here I thought one of you wanted to get the chance to play the big hero. My bad. Fine, I’ll pick.”

Mike wanted to keep looking at the nubby, tan, industrial carpet, but he was gripped with a curiosity that made him look up at the man through his lashes.

Mack stepped towards Tammy and Joel. He reached down and grabbed the boy’s thin arm, “How about you, little guy. I think you’ll be quite the incentive.”

As Mack tried to pull Joel from her arms, Tammy clasped both of her arms around her son’s torso, refusing to release him as she wailed in anguish.

“Bitch, let fucking go of him,” Mack threatened her, “Or I’m gonna backhand you across your face.”

“I’ll go,” Alex jumped to his feet, “I’ll go. Just leave them alone.”

Mack released Joel. He spun around to face Alex, “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ve got to say it. I’m impressed. We’ve got a bonified HERO here, folks,” Mack gestured to the doorway, “After you, my man. After you.”

Alex’s back was ramrod straight as he slowly shuffled towards the door, but Mike, from his vantage point on the floor, could see the fear in his eyes, and the sheen of sweat on his sickly pale face. Mike wanted to do something to help him, but the gun in Mack’s hand was a powerful deterrent, so he just stayed hunched over, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

************************************************************************

The room had feel into silence once more, as the hostages exchanged looks of confused fear. None of them knew what was happening out in the main room. None of them knew what was happening to Alex, either.

“I should have went,” Harold whispered, “It should have been me and not that young man.”

“Stop that right now,” Carol wiped tears from her eyes, “I won’t hear of it. I won’t.”

A shot suddenly rang out.

They looked at each other, their faces revealing their desperation and sorrow. It was becoming more and more certain that they might not make it out of there alive.

Mike’s breaths were coming faster and faster, and he knew from experience that he was about to hyperventilate. He forced himself to take deep, measured breaths. He touched points on his face, his legs, his chest, trying to bring himself back to himself, and he did, gradually. He became aware of his fellow hostages talking low, and he listened with renewed interest.

“They aren’t coming,” Erica was saying, “If they were going to, they would have by now.”

“The police will come,” James argued, “Especially now that … that … you know.” his voice drifted off, leaving them all thinking about Alex.

The door swung open again. Everyone in the room recoiled as Mack and Jerry entered backwards, dragging Alex’s lifeless body into the room.

“Folks, this hero here might have just saved all your asses, but it’s too early to say,” Mack crowed, “You’d better hope so, right,” he looked straight down at Mike, “Right?”

Mike nodded.

Mack stomped out of the room, his disturbed laughter echoing down the hallway, as Jerry rubbed his bloody hands down the front of his pants in disgust.

Mike let his eyes wander from the blood trail across the carpet to Alex’s body. He was facing away from the room, and Mike could clearly see that the back of his head was gone.

Warm vomit came rushing up Mike’s throat and he couldn’t hold it back. He had just enough time to lean forward, spewing it onto the carpet and splashing it onto the legs of a desk chair, as Jerry leapt backwards in an attempt to escape the spray.

In a haze, Mike raised up onto his knees, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He saw the gun. Jerry must have sat it down on the chair when he’d wiped his hands. Mike didn’t think about it. He just reached for it. A moment later, the gun was secure in his hand. He glanced up. Jerry was staring at him with an expression of disbelief. He opened his mouth to scream. Mike pulled the trigger and a bloom of red spread across Jerry’s chest as he dropped to the floor. There was the sound of feet running down the hall. Mike turned, the gun held out in front of him. Mack burst into the the room and Mike fired. The bullet hit the door frame, splintering it into shards. Mack looked Mike in the eyes as he raised his own gun and took aim. Mike’s finger pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Mack in the face. He was dead before he even hit the ground.

“There’s still Ed.” Erica cried, pointing at the doorway.

Mike stepped over Mack’s body. His hands were shaking and he could hear his own blood rushing through his veins as he rounded the corner and stepped out into the small hallway. He raised his gun, as ready as he would ever be to confront Ed. The room was empty, save for the discarded bag that was lying in the center of the room, jewels spilling across the carpet.

Confused, Mike stepped around the jewelry case, his eyes casting around the small room. He heard a noise from behind and he turned, but Ed was already launching himself at him. Ed’s body made contact, and Mike fell to the floor with Ed on top of him.

“I’ll be damned,” Ed stared down at him, “It was you, nerd boy? You shot my friends?”

Mike felt the weight of the gun in his hand. He raised it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, asshole,” Ed put his own gun to Mike’s temple. With his other hand, he reached over and pulled the gun out of Mike’s grasp, before rearing his hand back and slamming it across Mike’s face.

As stars skittered across his vision, Mike clenched his hands around Ed’s arms and tried to throw him off, but that only served to enrage Ed further. He rained blows down on him until Mike’s eyes nearly swelled shut and blood poured from his nose.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Ed hissed, as he jammed the gun into Mike’s temple, “You hear me? I’m going to fucking kill you …”

Two shots rang out, one after the other, and Ed’s body suddenly slumped over him. Mike gasped for air as James and Harold appeared at his side. They pulled Ed off of him and helped him sit up.

“Man, he got you good, son,” Harold winced in sympathy, as he took in Mike’s battered face, “Wish I could have gotten out here sooner.”

“You shot him?” Mike asked, as pain flared in his jaw.

“Hell yes, I did. We realized that Mack’s gun was still in the room and we got it out from under him. Carol didn’t want me to do it, but she can’t always get her way.”

The phone rang and Erica answered it. They listened to her tell the police what had happened and that they were about to come out.

“You saved my life.” Mike said.

“No, son, you saved ours.” Harold offered his hand and pulled Mike to his feet.

“Can we leave now?” Joel asked, as he gaped at Mike’s injured face.

“We sure can.” Mike attempted a smile as his face screamed in pain.

The other hostages all gathered around him, and, together, they went to the door and stepped out into the sunlight.