POLAROID (snippet)

(first few pages of a new 40,000 word project I'm working on, Its about two dozen interconnected short stories with character cross overs and subplots within subplots etc etc yeaaaah dawg)




When he opened his eyes he was holding a gun his hands, and he realized with a shocking jolt that the shrieking alarm clock sound that had ripped him from what he thought was his sleep was actually the woman screaming.
He turned, noticing in a passing glance the fine architecture of the place; the cut bronze pillars, faded and off-white; the calming peach color of the walls; the dead-black marble floor and onyx countertops. The cavernous ceiling that created echoes of everything. Then he saw the people, spread out on the floor around him, each lying face down, their palms interlocked behind their heads.
The woman with the voice like a fire-alarm was screaming because she was covered in blood, the gash in her forehead like a canyon cut into the floor of the Wyoming flatlands, and she sat in the center of the bank floor on her knees.
He didn't know how he got here, but he knew what was happening.
"Hey!"
He turned, seeing a man in a tailored black suit with a submachine gun and a Frankenstein mask, motioning at him frantically.
I’m wearing one of those, too, he thought. And then, I’m confused.
Confused cocked his head, his breath loud and claustrophobic, filling his own mask with heat and nervous apprehension. Frankenstein Mask motioned furiously for him to come forward, and he did.
"What the hell is wrong with you," shouted Frankenstein Mask, his voice muddled beneath the mask.
“Eh?”
“I said what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Confused shrugged. He felt the weight of the pistol in his hand. “I don’t know.”
"Jesus Christ,” said Frankenstein Mask. “Get the drawers,"
Like an attack dog following its masters orders, Confused mechanically climbed over the bank counter in a fast robotic motion, furious for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. He found the teller huddled in a whimpering ball on the floor.
"Unlock these drawers," he said, his own voice like the dead empty click of a vending machine. She hurriedly went to her feet, a tiny gold key in her hand. Confused watched eagerly through his own mask as the she opened the drawer, as if he had been waiting for this. "Get back on the floor." Where are the words coming from?
“Okay,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Shut up.”
“Please.”
“I said shut the fuck up.”
“You good,” called Frankenstein Mask.
“Yeah.”
Am I, he thought. What am I doing here? How did I get here?
From behind him appeared another man, also wearing a tailored suit and carrying his own submachine gun, a black duffel bag over his shoulder, the strap tense with the weight. The man wore a Brown Bear mask that looked professionally made. It was terrifying even without the other accessories he carried.
"Hurry up," said Bear Mask.
Confused looked down at the open drawer, and with a second nature that was foreign to him he began to quickly place the stacks into his own bag, empty and light.
"90 seconds," shouted Frankenstein Mask.
“We’re alright.”
Confused watched as Bear Mask hopped up and over the onyx countertop, heading towards the door. Confused emptied the drawer into the bag, the pistol heavy in his sweaty hands. Why am I here? We need to go, now.
"Move it out of there, man" yelled Bear Mask.
Confused assumed that Bear Mask was talking to him, and as he hopped over the counter, feet hitting the floor in seemingly programed movements, he realized he could not remember his name.
The three of them smoothly, quietly stepped over the frozen, unlucky citizens laying on the floor in pools of cold-panic sweat, sweeping across the large hall of the bank towards the front entranceway. Confused started to trot ahead, not knowing why, but knowing.
Confused stuffed the pistol into his waist and rearranged the duffel over his shoulder and as he reached the second set of doors he pulled off his mask, glancing at it as he tossed it aside, seeing the red features, the devilish grin and bulging eyes, the long black plastic mustache and the tiny protruding horns at the top, and then he was suddenly outside, the sun glaring and hot.
The sounds of the city were overwhelming, shattering the silence of the robbery he had just participated in and only half remembered
The three of them gently entered a waiting car, a black ford Taurus, shiny and clean and professional. The man at the wheel was older - easily 50 – a neat white beard and a short white pony tail. Confused entered the back passenger side seat, next to Bear Mask, as Frankenstein Mask slammed the front passenger door and the Older Man perfectly, seamlessly merged into the traffic.
“What the hell,” said Confused. “What the hell just happened.”
Frankenstein Mask turned and pulled off the disguise, revealing a pockmarked but handsome face with a military style short cropped buzz cut. He turned and looked at Bear Mask. Confused turned to Bear Mask as the driver sped up, just beating a yellow light.
Bear Mask looked back at Confused. In the front seat, still turned towards them, Frankenstein Mask lit a cigarette. Bear Mask after a moment removed his own disguise – a light skinned black man, young, also with a military cut. He grinned at Confused and then rubbed his eyes.
“Do you know where you are?”
“No,” said Confused, desperately trying to remember.
“Do you know my name?”
“No.”
“Good,” said Bear Mask, turning away from him to crack his neck. He nodded at Frankenstein Mask in the front seat. “Looks like we’re good, Sergeant.”
“Good.”
“No snags,” asked the old driver. “In their, I mean.”
“He froze for a minute,” said Frankenstein Mask, staring at Confused.
“I saw it too,” said Bear Mask.
“Had me worried.”
“Worked out alright.”
“Scared the shit out of that poor clerk, though,” said Bear Mask. He nodded at Confused. “Why’d you do that, man?”
“Someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
“You tell me.”
Confused looked at Frankenstein Mask, and noticed the Old Driver kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
“I can’t… I don’t know.”
“You do,” said Bear Mask.
“Who are you people?”
“Think. Come on, Hardy.”
“Hardy?”
“Just think, Private,” said Frankenstein Mask. “Just relax.”
“We just robbed a bank.”
“Forget about that,” said Bear Mask. “Just think, Private Hardy.”
“Is that me?”
“Just think.”
Frankenstein Mask smiled and blew a plume of smoke into the backseat. Confused coughed. Confused felt like he might cry.
“Just stay calm,” said Bear Mask.
“Calm?”
Frankenstein Mask reached back to Confused and put his gloved palm on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, old friend.” He turned back in his seat, facing forward again. “It’ll all come back to you.”
“Like a polaroid,” said Bear Mask, the young black kid. “You’ll be alright.”
Confused looked at each of them, and then as he turned towards the window, all went black again.