The Point of a Gun

Harold Langley hung up the phone as he pulled his expensive new SUV into the parking lot of the bank. The phone conversation he just had was not an enjoyable one, but unfortunately one that occurred quite regularly these days. His wife had called to complain about the help again; in turn, to complain very loudly about him. He hadn’t really heard what they did so wrong, or even paid much attention when the focus shifted to his shortcomings. He knew the situation could be handled without him having to endure an ear-full. He was able to calm down his wife’s shouting to a murmur when he offered to bring her a new necklace when he got home that night. Actually, that was his reason for being at the bank; he needed to withdraw some money to pay for that piece of jewelry. Mr. Langley worked hard for his money but he was willing to sacrifice some of it to keep the peace. Although this type of bribe initially began as a ploy for short-term happiness in the wake of his or another’s blunder, now it was beginning to feel entirely different to him. Instead of a bribe for short and temporary happiness, it seemed like a bribe for her company. As if this were taken away, she would have no reason to stay. Although he felt this, he never said anything and instead made himself believe that is just what a marriage was.

He walked inside the crowed bank brooding hatred for every other man, woman, and child in that building. He had more important things to do than be stuck here, didn’t they know that? As he took his place in line he put on a lifeless, emotionless facial expression and he thought of all the work he could be getting done if not for this delay. He wore a black suit, with a white undershirt, and a black tie. That is what he wore everyday at his job, which is what really consumed his thoughts at this time and nearly all the time. He came from a middle class family. Only occasionally did they catch a glimpse of the rich life and that seemed to be enough for the rest of his family, but that glimpse only made him want more. So he strove for greatness in school and made the top grades in his class, not because he cared about his education but because he was planning ahead. He then excelled in his career, not for pride but for wealth. Love for money motivated everything he did. That was his attitude then and now, as he stood in the bank waiting to withdraw a small bit of that wealth to appease his unhappy wife. The line he was in moved twice and this made him feel a little better. Maybe this would be over sooner than he thought and he could get back to what really mattered to him.

As he was envisioning sent business letters and finished reports, something to his left attracted his attention. There was quite a bit of commotion happening at one of the tellers. At first he just thought it to be another angry, impatient businessman like himself, but then he saw the gun. It shone from the sunlight that flooded in the windows of the bank. It was a pistol. He didn’t know what kind exactly as he never was put in much contact with guns. All he knew, and needed to know, was the damage it could unleash on the people in that bank, or worse yet on him. The man was yelling for all the money to be put in bags, so he could carry out his loot more easily. The tellers were rushing to comply, not wanting to disobey a man who held possible death for any one of them. Then the man turned around swiftly and ordered everyone else to lie on the ground. Everyone obeyed this new master for fear of the consequences. All except one man, he saw an opportunity to run when the gunman’s back was turned briefly. If his footsteps hadn’t sounded like land mines, perhaps he would have made it to safety, but instead he nursed a wound to the lower back that gushed blood. “Anyone else want to see how fast they can run?” prodded the gunman to his captured sheep.

During this whole time Mr. Langley was in a state of shock. He was experiencing a walking coma of sorts. He knew everything around him was real but his mind wasn’t willing to accept it yet, so his body just moved by instinct. By now the money had been placed in the bags and the thief was heading to the door to make his escape. Everyone held their breath, hoping this ordeal was nearly finished. Harold didn’t know when or how but the police had been called by someone and were now blocking all the exits from the bank.They had the place surrounded, thus quickly turning this robbery into a hostage situation. The gunman lined everyone up, one behind the other, in a single-file formation. He stated his ultimatum to the police, via the phone- if he didn’t get a getaway car and a way out he was going to shoot one hostage every five minutes. Harold couldn’t believe it, he was on death row. He had committed no crime but he was about to receive the highest punishment a criminal can get. In fact, he was suffering because of another man’s crime; if he had more time to spare he would have considered the injustice of it all. He was placed second in line and assumed he would die in ten minutes. He thought he would miss his wife, not because he had extraordinary love for her. He would miss her because she was a part of his life, and he loved his life.

The time had come for the poor woman in front of him to meet her fate. The thief raised the shining gun to the crying woman’s forehead as she kneeled before him. Harold couldn’t watch and closed his eyes so only his ears were met by death. The shot rang out. He opened his eyes but didn’t look directly at the woman, she deserved at least that he thought. He could see the running blood on the floor though, my God all the blood. He would have lingered on that but there was no time for disgust in what could be his last five minutes on earth. Before he blinked twice, it seemed, his time was up. So many hours in his life he wasted waiting or doing nothing and his last five minutes went by in two blinks? The gun was raised to his head now; so this was it. Once again he closed his eyes to death as if its light was blinding. He lowered his head and waited for the end. Then he heard the gunshot but he felt nothing. Had his death really been that quick and painless? He wondered what he had feared all his life. He raised his head to see, not the Lord, but the body of the thief slumped over with a bullet in his head. A sharp shooting officer ended this affair nearly as quickly as it had started when he finally had a clear shot at the gunman through those windows being flooded with light. The police then rushed the building with guns drawn. They checked on the survivors and sent medics to care for the executed woman and the shot man. Harold heard later that she died, but by then she was just another person to him- another face. They shared only a moment, he didn’t really know her. As for the man who was shot, Harold never heard what happened to him and he never did any investigating on the issue either.

After he was checked by the police and gave his statement, he got back in his SUV. He sat there, not knowing where to go. He had been forced to see what his life really was and he saw what greed resulted in. He slipped his favorite CD in, he hadn’t listened to it in a very long time and he didn’t really know why. For the first time in years he turned his phone off and drove away from that God forsaken bank. Maybe for once in his life he wouldn’t be going anywhere.