The Vault Part IV; Popcorn Piece

Day Twenty-Four of Thirty Days of Writing

Diana Feil | unsplash

“He probably worked on this building. Part of the renovation,” I say “I wish we wouldn’t have gone through all the liquor. I want another drink.”

“You’ve had enough” says Kat.

“Don’t tell me what I’ve had enough of,” I spit back “he knows more about this building than the people who work here. He picked this particular bank for a reason.” Nicole and Kat stare.

“Why the gun?” said Nicole.

Why the gun? It’s a fair question. He knows I can’t stand them. That I’d never go out and get one, but a gun with only one in the chamber? He wouldn’t know I’d bring anyone with me. He wouldn’t expect that. He’d figure I’d come alone. So work it that way.

Did he plan the vault door closing? Does the bank know I’d be in here playing this game?

“The bank has long since closed. It’s past six now on a Friday. We’re here through the weekend.” Kat and Nicole let cry a collective groan.

“Damn. No phone service down here.” Nicole checking her phone.

“Yeah, were in a faraday cage. We’re here for the duration folks.”

I let Kat and Nicole know my thinking. He wouldn’t have expected the two of them, let alone anyone else, to be here with me. He very well may have planned it so I’d be locked in here over the weekend on my own with a hand gun and a bottle of bad booze.

I pace the room for a while looking at the ceiling and the floor. The ceiling. The floor. The ceiling again. Running on no ideas I lean against the vault door and slide down to the ground holding the gun in my hand.

Hours pass and Kat and Nicole curl up together on the floor and begin to sleep.

The gun has initials on it. HG. Must have been my grand fathers, Henry. I’d never met him. He died years before I was born. I can’t sleep. Wish I could. But this is the only thing of interest my fathers ever given me. What could he be thinking?

Looking up at what’s left of the ceiling it’s just rods suspended in mid air now by wire. I wonder if he hung this ceiling himself? We’d done so many. When I was a kid. Kat and Nicole snooze and I begin to pace looking up at the ceiling, dust from the debris in my hair shaking out and down my face and onto my clothes.

The fire system.

I pull the table underneath the fire alarm censor. One shot. It should give off enough smoke to set off the alarm. At least that’d be enough to get us out of here. Get some attention.

Table in place and I get up on top of it. Check the gun, load the one round. Ricochet. I get down off the table and grab three pieces of the drop ceiling; stacking them against each other. Should be enough to dull the bullet.

Get back up and hold the fragments in front of the bullet and put it up as close to the censor as I can. Kat and Nicole are still snoring along. No idea of what I’m about to do.


I squeeze the trigger. The bang goes off the bullet blows through the ceiling fragments and makes a few tings. Ricochet was unavoidable. Kat and Nicole leap awake as the alarms for the fire system go off and water begins to poor down on all three of us.

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