Till The End of it All

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


A conflicted boy whose mother is diagnosed with cancer is forced to make decisions that could possibly change his life forever. follow along as Sam his quick witted friend Robby take part in an
ultimate heist in order to save his mother from her awful demise.

Submitted: June 06, 2018

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Submitted: June 06, 2018

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Till The End of it All

 I was 16 when I committed my first crime. My family was bankrupt, due to my father’s excessive gambling problem. I had to be the man of the house considering he was always out at casinos. My mother gave me some money and a grocery list and told me to go shopping. So I went out to the nearest grocery store and stuffed the cart full of the items my mother provided me with on the list. Once I was up at the register, the clerk gave me a look as if to say, “It’s not enough”. He made me put everything back on the shelf. So when I was in the bread aisle, I took as many items as I could and ran. Luckily there were no security cameras back then, so nobody could profile me in time. But ever since then, I had a feeling that was my calling. I moved onto bigger crimes: robbing money from gas stations and liquor stores, credit card theft, insurance scams, and even a stolen car along the way. Until a dark summer of 2004: when I heard tragic news that my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and needed chemotherapy. I didn’t know what to do because I give all the money to her and she spends it on cigarettes. But even all the money in the world couldn’t pay for expensive chemotherapy. It costs $2,000 a week for a year. I had a lot of plans on how to get the money. I had a long conversation with my mother, “I’ll do whatever it takes to get your money for your chemotherapy”. My mother says to me, “Sam, don’t be ridiculous, $2,000 a year could never work.” I told her, “I’ll get the money no matter what, you mean too much to me”. She puts my hand in hers and we cry together. We had a brief moment of silence before my father came through the door, “Theresa, I’m going to be gone for a while, I have to be at a poker tournament” My voice became elevated “ How could you even think of leaving your wife at a time like this? Do you have any consideration for your family at all? Or is it that money that you lose every time you play?” My mother says, “Now Sam, if he wins this, he could be able to pay for the therapy” I timidly say, “How much is on the line?” “64,000$” he says proudly. It still won’t be enough; a year’s worth of chemo would cost $104,000 without coverage of insurance. I quietly go, “what about a bank?” My mother goes, “Now you know we don’t have any money in the bank.” I say, “of course we don’t. But the bank does” My father goes “You’re not considering robbing it, are you?” I say, “I don’t know. It’s not like we have many other options. I mean, the odds of you winning the tournament are 1 in 100.”

***

My father comes back with a smile and a bag of cash. My face lights up, “There’s no way you won that” He goes, “I did.” We all gather in for a family hug. I say with tears in my eyes “that means we only need 40,000 more dollars” I say “not many options left. Bank heist is looking pretty good” My mother and father look at each other sternly and look back at me, “are you sure it could work?” my mother asks. “I’ve done this kind of stuff before. It always works” I say. My mother says “Yes but this is different, the government takes your money and sends you to jail.” “I can make it work” I say.

***

 The next morning, my friend Robby rolls into my driveway with a bank truck. “You ready to do this?” he asks. I say “Are you crazy? Everybody can see it.”  He goes into the back of the truck for a few seconds, and then comes out with a briefcase. He punches in a code and it unlocks. Inside lays two police uniforms. “Any bathrooms around?” he asks. “You know where it is, idiot!” I exclaim. I go to my room to put mine on, and I find a badge with the name Simons on it with a hole in the far left side. I, in my boxer briefs, go down the hall and knock twice on the door. No response. I knock again. No response. I kick down the door with everything I’ve got. There’s Robby standing in the middle of the room cowering in fear. “Jesus Sam, you scared the crap out of me.” He says. “Explain” I say. “Explain what?” he asks. I point to the hole in the uniform with underneath the badge. I say, “Explain to me why there’s a hole in this uniform. You didn’t really kill anybody for that uniform, did you? Cause if so, we’re not gonna is able to pull this off.” “Calm down… You don’t think I could actually kill a cop. That’d send me away and there would be no heist.” I didn’t know what to think. I had to think quickly. I found a ridged circle hanging off of where the hole was. This meant it was able to be stitched. I went to my mother who was sitting in her chair puffing on a cigarette. The nicotine filled my lungs, making me release a big cough that the rest of my body couldn’t handle, which, in turn, set off my coughing. I say out of breath with wheezes in between each word, “I… thought you quit… I’m getting you the money… and you still… continue to smoke.” “Mind your own business Sam. It’s my life I could do what I want.” My mother foolishly says. “Whatever… I have a job for you. I need you to help me stitch… could you put that out?... a piece of clothing together.” I can have it done in a few hours.” my mother says happily. Robby angrily exclaims, “a couple hours? We have to leave…” “Shut up” I say, “I’m not happy about this job… a million things could happen and I’m not prepared to take that risk at…” I look at my watch, “…”8:24 in the morning”

***

 My mother walks into my room with the uniform in her right hand and a cigarette in her other. “Thank you so much” I say. She leaves the room and Robby pulls out some cologne with a musky scent and practically sprays the whole bottle on. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask. “Smoking… she was smoking the entire time.”

***

 We roll into the bank driveway. “It’s show time” Robby says. “Shut up, Robby, this isn’t a movie. It could go really bad, really fast. In times like these, precisely a year after the twin towers collapse, everybody is on the edge of their seats fearing for their safety.” I said as I scolded him. I honestly think he was dropped on his head as a child. We go up to the back entrance. We both look as the two garage type doors open and we reverse the truck into the loading dock. A guard approaches us, “I’m gonna need some ID” Robby sends me a signal and points to his pocket, I look back up to his face and he gives me the stupidest look I have ever seen anyone make. I think it was him trying to tell me to pull my crap together. I look in my shirt pocket and sure enough there is a legitimate looking ID card with my name and a fake number. The guard looks at Robby’s card; “Go right in Mr. Owens” Robby follows a guard, and shoots me another one of his signature stupid looks. The guard looks at my card, looks up at me, looks at the card and looks back up at me. He gives me a look as if to say ‘I’m onto you’ but bit his tongue and said “Go right in Mr. Blake.” I approach a room with a vault with a big handle on it. A guard punches in a code and we enter. He pulls up a two carts and says “Make it quick.” I ask “Where is this money going?” The guard who let us in gave me an angry look and asked “You two aren’t phonies are you?” Robby nervously says “No, my partner didn’t fully wake up and is a little short on sleep.” The guard points at my shirt, “What’s that on your uniform?” “What do you mean?” I ask. “That stitch, it looks as if it’s been torn.” The guard says. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say. He says, “I’ll be right back.”

***

 As we load up the last of the cash in the truck, a guard approaches us and says “Have a safe trip” We pull off and leave. “There’s no way that just went off without a hitch.” Robby says. “I know I can’t believe it either.” I respond. We hear sirens approaching us in the distance. I say “Jesus, they’re onto us. Stop the car. STOP IT!!!” I say. He stops. “If anything happens to me make sure the money gets to my mom at all costs.” I say. He says “Relax, nothing will happen.” After a few moments of waiting an officer approaches. “License and registration” he says. Robby pulls off at full speed. “What the hell are you doing? Everything was going to be fine and you had to pull that?” I exclaim. He responds with “Never surrender” “Where did you get that from? Rambo?” I ask. All the acceleration has me sick to my stomach and stuck to my seat. Soon enough, we hear gun shots in the distance. “Oh my god, they’re shooting now. It’s a life sentence. It’s a life sentence” I nervously say. He hands me a bag and signals me to the back. I grab as much money as I can, still stumbling and falling over with how fast and erratically he was driving. I look out the small windows and a bullet flies through and hits me in the in the shoulder. I fall to the ground instantly, with a sharp pain coursing through my body and glass all over my face. I find myself drifting in and out of a deep sleep.

***

I awake in a hospital bed with a cast going around my neck down to my arm with the most pain on it. Robby enters my room, “I’m going to jail.” He says. I say “Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to zoom off with 3 million dollars in cash in a truck from the cops.” He leans in, “the money is safe… It’s all with your mother. So far, nobody knows where it went. I didn’t tell a soul and I’ll refuse to.”  “What about me?” I ask. Robby says, “What about you, for all they know you were just an innocent victim of cross fire. Maybe you can make some extra money from that officer that shot you in your chest.” “You never know” I say.

***

 Two hours later a nurse makes her way into my room holding a clip board and having a stern look on her face as if to say, “After you’re discharged you’re going away for a long time.” But to my surprise, she held back from what her face was telling me. She says to me in a very cheerful voice, “It’s time for group therapy”

***

 I sit in a big group in a circle of idiots that I had no desire to be around. We talked a little bit about moral and immoral choices, we reflected on some dirty deeds (what the counselor referred to instead of using, “A bad decision”) Once it was my turn, I briefly discussed the amount of guilt I was feeling for the wrong I have done over the past couple years. I wanted to believe that I wasn’t actually guilty. But even still, something told me deep down that my life of crime… is over. The counselor hands me a note pad. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” He gives me a look, “Now Sam, you said that you feel guilty. Write a little bit about your experiences with the life of crime and struggle you’ve endured.” I don’t think I would put it as a struggle. I was normally very successful but I had no desire to put up a fight with a pounding migraine kicking in. I let out an audible groan of pain. “Would you like me to get you something?” The counselor kindly asks. It didn’t sound too sincere. It was more of a, “Oh, if I really have to.”  I say, “Yeah, an Ibuprofen sound like it’ll help.” I swear, with all the medication I was on for my head, a normal person would think I was a pill popper. I make my way to my room and open the wonderful notebook that I just have to use. I think of a couple things to write. Whether it be, my first crime, the struggle with my mom and her battle with cancer, or even my foolish friend Robby ruining my heist with his “FBI Most Wanted: high speed chase”. But I think I’d squeeze it all in into one big story. I open the notebook and write on the top line “Till the End of it All

***

I wake up on a very special day. This was the day I get discharged. Also, let’s not forget, my Mom’s first day of her Chemotherapy. I get see a white sedan approach. I finally got to wear my actual clothes and not a seven week old hospital gown that reeked of body odor and a hint of deodorant. My consoler comes to lead me out the door in a wheel chair that I could have easily managed without.  He looks at me with a different look than he gave me when he first met. “Stay safe. You’ve made such great progress” I get in the car and my Mother and Father are sitting in the front. “How ya doin Sammy?” my Father asks gleefully. “Not too bad.” I say with absolute positivity. Mainly I’m ecstatic cause I’m out of the psych ward, or because the money made it to my mother without the government getting their filthy hands on it, or even because I got away without getting… I think of something. The thought of Robby pops into my head. I think of the thing he said to me in the ER. He was going to jail and it was my entire fault. I felt guilty but realized that turning myself in wasn’t worth it. If I wasn’t caught now then what was the point of doing anything. I still think about Robby every so often. I think about how I feel and how I should’ve turned myself in. Life was always good up to that point. Even with my mom diagnosed with lung cancer. I could’ve gotten a job and bought them health insurance. I realized that up till the end, everything was great. Everything is great till the end of it all.

 

 


© Copyright 2018 mike d. arsenault. All rights reserved.

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