Code C Part 1

Return of the Ex

The yelling started at precisely 12:04 in the afternoon. The shooting started immediately after. I dropped to the ground behind the nearest desk and found the owner of said desk cowering next to me. He looked absolutely terrified.

“Never been caught in the middle of a robbery before?” I asked. He shook his head and his eyes went wide as more yelling ensued over at the counter.

“Interesting. And how long have you been working here?” I asked, pulling out the little notebook I kept in my purse. It was very important to gather all the details correctly because memory can be so faulty.

The banker shot me a frantic look and sank lower into the ground. His eyes flicked over my shoulder, and it was only then I realized someone was standing behind me. Despite my pounding pulse and sense of self-preservation, I turned to look at whoever it was. If I was going to go, then I wanted to look my killer right in the eye when it happened.

A fairly tall and bulky man was standing there, pointing an intimidating rifle right at me. 

“Did you need something?” I asked, knowingly pressing my luck, or maybe calling his bluff. I didn’t think that a robber would actually want to shoot anyone.

“Yeah. Shut up over…” he trailed off and stared at me with unwarranted intensity.

“What? Is there something in my teeth?” I asked. It was my lunch break after all, and seeing as how I had found myself in the middle of a bank robbery, anything was possible.

“No, no, it’s just that you look like someone. You aren’t Chloe Collins, are you?”

“In the flesh. But I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

He shook his head and a worried look clouded his features. Then all of a sudden he lowered his gun and shouted, “Boys! We’ve got a Code C. Let’s get out of here!”

Looks that varied from uneasy to straight up terrified crossed the faces of the five masked robbers. Fascinating. I flipped my notebook to a clean page and had my pen poised to write before asking my question. “What's Code C?”

“Sorry for any harm we may have caused,” he said, ignoring my question.

He quickly gathered his co-robbers and rushed them out a side door. Before they were gone, I managed to get out one last question, “Who do you work for?”

He threw me one last look, conspicuously dropped a small piece of paper, and was gone.

I jumped to my feet and ran to retrieve the paper. I picked it up and realized it was a business card, embossed and everything. Strange for a robber to be carrying one of those. Even stranger, though, is that I recognized the name on the card.

Eric Selman. My first and only love. But it couldn’t really be him could it?

(2)I tucked the business card inside my notebook and shoved the notebook back in my purse. Now wasn’t the time to fall down a deep, dark well of memories. No, that would come later with the aid of pizza, a nice bottle of wine, and maybe some ice cream if I fell into the depths of emotional self-loathing.

For now I helped get everyone to their feet and waited somewhat impatiently for the bank to resume its normal function. Even a thwarted bank robbery didn’t change the fact that finances had to be dealt with.

By the time I was done at the bank and had given my statement to the police, I was very, very late getting back to work. My boss was less than thrilled with the turn of events, and by the time I made it back to my desk I was sweating from the scolding I’d received. No amount of explaining that I couldn’t control which bank was robbed seemed to calm him down. It seemed that I would be lying low for a while around here.

I really tried to get back into my work, but my mind kept wandering back to the bank. And when my mind wandered, so did my eyes, all the way to the corner of my desk where a little plaque sat neat and polished.

Investigative Reporter Chloe Collins, it read in pristine golden letters. If only they were the truth. The plaque was supposed to be a vision board, but mostly it was a constant reminder of where I wasn’t. Still, it inspired me more than it depressed me, so I kept it out to admire.

I still remembered the day I’d made it. It was my first day of college, when my aspirations were big and my knowledge of the adult world was small. I’d only made it halfway through my degree in journalism before I ran out of funds and had to drop out. I’d managed to land an entry level job with an office supply company, and I’d worked my way through the company for the last fifteen years. My little plaque had followed me from desk to desk and from title to title all the way to where I was now: Senior Assistant Marketing Director.

The pay was good. The hours okay. But the brain fog was terrible. Each day I itched a little more to get out into the world and find the next big story. So far that dream was at a dead stop. Except maybe not anymore.

Eric’s business card was burning a hole through my purse and my mind. This was my story, I could feel it. Robbery Gone Wrong, Innocent Bystander Catches Head-Honcho. Or something like that, it was a work in progress.

I got nothing done the rest of the day. I was too busy writing headlines and composing stories in my head, each one crazier than the last.

When I finally got out of the office, the first thing I did was pull out the business card. I stared at it as I walked to my car. Eric’s name stared back, along with a phone number and an email address. Oddly, there was no business name or logo on the card. I flipped it over, but there was nothing on the back either, except a few weird scratches. I looked closer and rubbed at the card a little. A light gray substance was covering the back of the card. It reminded me of the stuff on Scratch-Off lottery tickets.

An idea hit me, and I flew the rest of the way to my car. Once inside, I dumped my purse onto the passenger seat and rooted through my things until I found a coin. Immediately, I set to scratching. It took a bit of work, but soon enough I uncovered a single line of writing on the back of the card. It was an address, and it was only a few blocks away.

I really tried to talk myself out of going, but I couldn’t do it. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in years. I started the car and pulled out of the parking garage….

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Yes, it’s a Tuesday. Yes, this is an old story (circa 2021, hence the drop in quality). Yes, I’m trying to get back on the writing train. As I work to reboard said train, let me know how you’re doing and if you’ve got something cool I need to catch up on here on the ‘Stack!

Thanks to all of you who are still here, and to the newcomers, for reading my stories! Make sure to check back on Thursday for the second (and concluding) part of the story!