Jack Terrany

A short story, two men in a bank.

Jack Terrany tapped his fingers impatiently against the rail. The line at the bank was endlessly long, the mop of matted blond that blocked his view to the front of the line bobbed up and down, to the beat of the rap music blasting from a set of headphones. Jacks knees ached and back creaked, feeling old for the age of 26. the man in line behind him breathed heavily in Jack’s ear. Hot air engulfed his face. The blonde matted hair bobbed off to the teller and he breathed a sigh of relief. Last stop of the day, the hour was nearly reaching seven and the sky was beginning to darken. Jack hated walking in the dark, afraid of being mugged by hooded men with guns.

“Next” an old woman groaned. He heard the man behind him sign and scratch his head. ‘I get cha’  Jack thought to himself and moved towards the baggy old woman.

After cashing his check and stuffing the bills into his wallet, he began to leave, the bank was just closing and the line shortening. He noticed a conversation between the old man and the teller begin to rise in volume.

“what do you mean there isnt anything in there i got paid last week!” the mans voice lowered and Jack could only make out angry murmurs. He had stopped now to turn and see what it was all about, like much of the other customers. The man slammed his hand against the table. “I DONT HAVE TIME FOR THIS”. Jack watched as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. Its hard to describe what jack was feeling that moment. You could describe it as an anchor dropping in his stomach, or what it feels like right before you pass out, you suddenly become unable to hear besides muffled yells, spots clouded his eyes and his knees felt weak. And then brilliant utter clarity. He dropped to his stomach, along with the rest of the crowd. He landed besides the boy with the blond hair. The boy was crying and shaking. The man with the gun was yelling.
“LISTEN ALL I NEED IS THE MONEY I ASKED FOR AND I WONT HURT ANYONE.” and then quieter “I dont want to hurt anyone okay!” the man groaned. Jack looked at his hand, one laying beside each side of his head. he looked to the hand on the left, the side the boy was not on and thought about it. He was left handed, that was the hand he was taught to write with, the hand that he burned on the stove in the second grade, out of curiosity. The hand that was the first to get to second base and that now bears his engagement ring. How can so many memories lye in a single limb? How can twenty six years of life be contained by one body, and how it could all come to a crashing halt right now.

Jack looked to the boy on his right, he was still crying and now praying under his breath. The boy was approximately seventeen years old. With a metal stud in his nose and dark bags under his eyes, he was just a teenager. Hardly lived and barely tested. Now his fate lies in the hands of this man. Jack stood up.
His hands shook as he raised them above his head, the man had turned and pointed the gun on him. “Dont you dare try and be a hero.” the mans voice broke, he was as scared as Jack was.

“I dont want to be a hero. I just want to talk.” Jack says, just over a whisper. “My name is Jack Terrany, i was raised with three dogs and one sister, my moms name was Jan-”
“What the hell is this?!” the man yelled.

“Please let me finish. My moms name was Jane, she died when i was two. I tell people it didn't, but it really fucked me up for the rest of my life. Right now i have a daughter at home, she is two years old. Her name is Jane. Please don't take me away from her.” Jack reached into his pocket, the man gripped his gun. Jack pulled out his wallet. “Take it, it has two hundred dollars in it, its enough to get you out of here. If you leave before the cops come they wont catch you, just please, go.”

Gun shot broke his ears. Then nothing.