“So do you have anything that you’re saving up for?”
I smiled. “An apartment. As soon as I have a stable job and can make a living wage, I want us to move out and get a place of our own, just the two of us.”
“And hopefully when we’re both ready, it could be for the three of us,” Angel said sweetly as she kissed me.
Emily came back, stuffing some cash into her wallet. “All right, let’s get going.”
Just as Angel and I stood up out of our chairs, the door slammed open and three guys stormed in guns in their hands and cheap plastic masks.
“Everybody down!”
“Oh shit, looks like my old luck has returned,” I muttered.
I had heard that crime rates rise during heat waves, but I thought that was only in the big cities. This may be the first bank robbery in Maine in my lifetime. But all the days for it to happen, why now? Angel had a look of fear in her eyes, but I put my hand on hers and could instantly feel her body relax.
“Its all right, Angel. Let’s just do what they say.”
Everyone got down on the floor and the gunmen gave the order for the vault to be emptied. As one of the men began to rob each person in the bank, I could hear police sirens in the background, summoned by the silent alarm.
‘Oh my fucking god, they didn’t bother to cut the alarm or the power? What is their getaway vehicle, a short bus?’
The man came to the girls and I, holding a plastic bag with the other hostage’s wallets and jewelry. We gave him everything we had, but his eyes fell to Angel’s hand.
“The ring, hand it over!” he demanded, mistaking the glass bead for a gem.
Her eyes widened in horror at the prospect of parting with it, her most prized possession. “No, please! Anything but that!”
He grasped her wrist and pulled her up, trying to wrench the ring off her finger.
“Let go of her!” I howled, shoving the man to get him off Angel.
Staggering back, he flinched and his finger pulled the trigger of his gun. My eyes could not have caught the sight, but my mind swore that they had, filling me with horror beyond description. The slug left the pistol, wrapped in smoke with a tail of fire as it spun through the air. Moving right by me, it struck Angel’s shoulder and imbedding itself in her flesh. The air was ripped from my lungs as I watched her collapse in a pool of blood. I felt adrenaline course through my veins and my heart beating with such power that I thought my ribs would shatter. That bullet had struck my very soul, risking me the loss of everything I was and loved. In a great mind-ripping deluge, all of the anger and pain in my life surged through my body, making me feel like my cells themselves were being incinerated. Roaring in fury, I charged towards the man who had hurt her. He aimed his gun at me and fired, and like her, the bullet slammed into my shoulder and was lodged in the muscle, having narrowly missed breaking bone. Adrenaline and rage were keeping me from feeling pain and allowed my arm to maintain its strength.
I tackled the man and tried to take his weapon. The gun was aimed upwards and a third round was fired, striking the overhead sprinkler system and triggering a full shower. With the man distracted by the pouring water, I ripped the weapon from his hand and fired the last six shots at his cohorts, but not to kill them. The bullets pierced their arms and blew holes in their guts, causing them to drop their weapons in pain and collapse. Pulling my victim’s face away from his shoulder, I raised my head with my mouth open and sank my teeth into his neck. Everyone in the bank was shocked and terrified, as with blood spraying forth, I rode the gunmen down to the floor. The taste of gore, the feel and texture of raw flesh, and the screams of agony from my victim strengthened my rage and pulverized any remaining inhibitions and fragments of reason and logic. Snarling like an animal, I yanked my head back, ripping away his jugular vein with a mangled strip of flesh and muscle held between my teeth. I spat it out and attacked again, this time closing my jaws around his windpipe and tearing it free like wrapping it paper.
With my face coated in blood and my victim on death’s door, I turned and pounced on the second gunman. I was drunk with rage and the urge to kill was all that filled me. Having seen me cannibalize his friend, the crippled man was desperately reaching for his dropped gun, which sat just out of reach of his crippled arm. Grabbing the pistol, I kneeled over the man and began beating him savagely in the head with it as if it were a rock. Each impact ripped his skin and blood began to splatter of the end of the gun, landing on the walls and ceiling. I beat him over and over again, until at last, his skull caved in like a watermelon. Getting up, I slowly walked over to the third gunman, who was pleading for mercy and desperately trying to pull himself to the exit. With the water from the sprinklers pouring down on me, the blood of my first victim was washed off my face and out of my mouth. Paying no heed to his cries, I stomped on the back of gunman with enough force to knock the air out of him, then flipped him over and crouched down with my hands outstretched. He screamed in agony as I grabbed the sides of his face and gouged his eyes out with my thumbs. After several seconds, he became silent, dead with blood and brain matter oozing from his eye sockets.
“Marcus.”
I turned around and stared at Angel like a deer in the headlights. Emily was holding her and tears were streaming from her eyes. The fire of rage in my heart was extinguished, replaced by a deep chill. I rushed over and Emily moved aside so that I could hold Angel in my arms.
“Angel,” I said softly as I wiped away her tears, all the while my own tears splashed her face.
The sight of her wound was ripping the warmth from my body, but she had a look of peace on her face as I held her.
“You’re going to be all right. It didn’t hit your lungs.”
“I know, my love. I’m not going to leave you.”
“The bullet is still inside. I need to get it out.”
As gently as humanly possible, I placed my fingers on the wound, causing her to whimper in pain. Everyone in the bank watched as I slowly reached into her shoulder, moving aside torn flesh and splintered bone, searching desperately until I finally found the bullet. Angel trembled in my arms and cried out in pain as I pulled the slug out and tossed it aside. She then did the same to me. With unparalleled tenderness and care, she reached into my shoulder with her fingers, dug through the flesh, and pulled out the bullet.
I looked around at the gore that coated the floor. Her hair was scattered out in all directions, almost looking like it was melting and blending with her lost blood. Angel had bled too much; I had to do something to save her. Gaining a desperate idea, I shifted myself so that I was holding her under me.
“What are you doing?”
“We are the same blood type. I’d give anything to keep you alive, even the fluid in my veins.”
I pressed our wounds together and hoped that the blood pouring from my veins would enter hers. I held onto Angel for dear life as I gave her as much blood as possible. The front doors of the bank were smashed open as police stormed inside, while behind me, the gunman whose throat I had torn reached out and grabbed the dropped weapon of one of his comrades. With his dying strength, he aimed the gun at me and pulled the trigger.