3. The Unreliable Third

Roger opened the blinds and tried to peer out into the street. The afternoon sun burned at his eyes and skin. Global warming and ozone depletion made even the simplest task of going outside a hassle. Roger put on a large brimmed hat and large dark sunglasses. He double-checked that the antique revolver was empty and slid it into the pocket of this trench coat.

Finally, today is going to be my day. Roger thought.

Roger parked downtown and started his walk to the convention hall. The antique show was in town and giving free appraisals. Roger was sure that his great grandfathers revolver was worth a large sum of money. With this he could finally pay off some of his mounting debts.

Gunshots echoed down the street. Roger ran down the alleyway towards the sounds. He came out of the ally just in time to see two dark skinned men in black suits carrying AK47s enter the First National Bank.

Terrorists, Roger thought, just like on TV.

Roger ran after the men and approached the glass door of the bank. Drawing his gun, Roger gave the doors a quick pull. The doors didn’t budge. The terrorists had locked the doors to keep people from escaping. Roger shot the door and the glass shattered. Light pierced the lobby stunning the patrons like a deer in headlights. Roger scanned the crowd. The blonde communist in a white sweater dropped her small handgun and ran. The rest of the crowd moved out of the way as Roger took a deep breath, and fired. The women fell face first. The patrons dropped to the ground and covered their heads; the other communist stood confused as her human shields suddenly disappeared. Roger made his way around the counter and pulled her out and into the lobby.  She started to cry in some foreign language that Roger couldn’t understand.

Police in full body armor busted through the doors. Roger dropped his gun and waited for the police. To his surprise they threw him to the ground and handcuffed him. His head accidentally hit the ground; one last thought swept though his mind before he lost consciousness.

Standard precaution until they know what happened. I’ll be on the news by 6 as the local hero.

Roger woke up in a strange room wearing a tight jacket and he couldn’t move his arms.

“Welcome Roger, do you know who I am?”

Roger looked at the women perplexed, he’d never seen her before. “Dr. Winchester, I haven’t seen you in years.”

“You haven’t been taking your medicine again.” She said. “This time you’ve really done it. Do you know what you did?”

Roger thought back over his heroics for the day. “I’ve been indoors watching T.V. all day.”

“I wish that was the case Roger. You opened fire in a bank today. The tellers saw you coming and locked the doors remotely; unfortunately you shot the glass and entered the bank. You shot a customer in the back, and dragged a teller out into the lobby and started beating her. When the police came, you opened fire on them. They managed to subdue you. Once they looked up you’re medical record they called me, and here we are. You’re going someplace where you can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

© Chris Richards 2009