Chapter One:
*~*The Unforgiven*~*
New blood joins this earth
and quickly he's subdued
through constant pain disgrace
the young boy learns their rules
with time the child draws in
this whipping boy done wrong
deprived of all his thoughts
the young man struggles on and on he's known
a vow unto his own
that never from this day
his will they'll take away
what I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown
never be
never see
won't see what might have been
what I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown
never free
never me
so I dub thee unforgiven
they dedicate their lives
to running all of his
he tries to please them all
this bitter man he is
throughout his life the same
he's battled constantly
this fight he cannot win
a tired man they see no longer cares
the old man then prepares
to die regretfully
that old man here is me
what I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown
never be
never see
won't see what might have been
what I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown
never free
never me
so I dub thee unforgiven
you labeled me
I'll label you
so I dub thee unforgiven
February 22, 1999
Bangor Savings and Loan
Small town in Maine
Pacey looked around the room and grimaced. The inside of the bank was normal enough in appearance, but what was happening there was definitely out of the ordinary. None of the tellers were at their posts and none of the clients were complaining because they weren't being waited on. Instead, tellers and patrons alike were huddled along the walls, talking in hushed voices. Their eyes would occasionally stray to gaze fearfully at the men and women who were pacing in front of them, guns clutched in their tense hands. The people with the guns were militants, not bank robbers. Their purpose was not the money that they had tucked away in satchels...At least that's what they claimed. Their real purpose, as one of their members was oh so calmly informing the negotiator, was to protest the capitalistic government pigs.
Pacey himself didn't hold to much stock in the whole idea. To be perfectly honest, he still didn't really understand what they were after when they made stands like this. Even after being with them for close to six years. What they did didn't make any sense to him at all. He just sat off to the side, praying that it would be over soon. He wasn't technically one of the hostages, but he wasn't one of the militants either. All he wanted, even after six years, was to go home.
He sighed and then reached into his duffel. He pulled out a well-worn copy of Atlas Shrugged and settled in against the wall to read. Paul Andrews, the man to his left, took in the title and looked at the young boy with a puzzled expression on his face. "So, what's an anti-capitalistic militant doing reading Ayn Rand?"
Pacey scoffed. "Like I'm with them out of choice. And don't talk so loud. Mama Sal wouldn't like to know just what it is I've been reading."
Paul studied Pacey, amazed that the venom in his voice wasn't betrayed on his face. "She doesn't know what it's about?"
Pacey scoffed again, not taking his eyes from the pages. "If she could read she probably would have pitched a fit, but since she doesn't...It's not like she really cares about any of that capitalist shit anyway. She'd just know what I'm saying by reading it. It's kind of a weak statement, but it's a statement nonetheless. But that doesn't mean that I want to get beat for it."
"She hits..." Paul stopped at the glare he got from Pacey and changed his line of questioning. "None of them can read?"
Pacey shrugged. "Beats me. I know she can't." It was a slight exaggeration, but he didn't care. It wasn't necessarily that she couldn't read. It was just that the strain of thinking that hard was too much for her. He glanced over at Paul. "You sound a little surprised. She fool you?"
"It's just that some of the groups now..."
Pacey nodded. "Yeah. Some of them are run by semi-well educated people with an actual idea of what they're talking about, but you guys lucked out. You got the illiterate hick."
Paul was amazed to find himself tempted to laugh, despite the circumstances. He buried the urge and asked a question instead. "So why are you here? She your mother?"
"No," Pacey said shortly, looking slightly ill at the idea. "No, she's definitely not my mother."
"So..." He stopped at the butt of a gun grazed the side of his head. He put a hand to his temple and looked up at the older woman standing over him.
"No talking to the boy," Mama Sal barked, glaring at the man. "You need to know something, you ask me...Better yet, don't talk. You want to live, you keep your trap shut." She turned to Pacey. "As for you, either bury your nose in that book, or stand guard."
Pacey scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Like you'd give me a gun! You know damn well that the first person I'd shoot would be you!" Pacey barely flinched as the woman backhanded him across the face. He glared up at her his eyes filled with hatred and Paul glanced from one to the other, hoping that he wouldn't have to watch this kid get shot. "What?" Pacey asked as she continued to glare at him. "What? You gonna shoot me? Go ahead! I'd welcome death after the hell of living with you!"
"Watch it sonny," Mama Sal said, glaring down at him.
"What are you going to threaten me with this time?" Pacey asked glaring at her. Paul felt amazement growing in him. The feelings of hatred he had towards this woman were nothing compared to the look of pure loathing that graced Pacey's face as he glared at Mama Sal. "What? What else can you do to me? You've already..." Pacey came to a stop as the butt of the rifle came in contact with his head, knocking him cold.
Mama Sal gazed at the ceiling for a moment. "Ah, blessed silence," she said softly, before turning and walking away. Paul watched her go before reaching over silently and making Pacey as comfortable as he could. He was relieved to see that the boy was already beginning to come around.
"What did you do that for Mama?" One of the men asked, nodding in Pacey's direction.
"He was talking to much. What are they saying now?"
The man shrugged. "Bobby's still talking to them."
"You all right," Paul whispered softly to Pacey, his eyes never leaving Mama Sal.
"I'll be fine," Pacey said, groaning softly as he sat up. "No big deal."
"Does she do that often?"
Pacey shrugged. "Never could control my smart mouth. Runs in the family."
"Why do you stay?" Paul asked. "There must be some way..."
Pacey inclined his head in the direction of one of the men. "See that monster over there?" Paul glanced over at the man and found that his gaze was met by two shifty black eyes. He nodded. "That's Hank. Hank has orders to shoot me if I try to go anywhere in this place besides the bathroom. I'm not going anywhere."
"My god!" Paul said.
Mama glared at them but her concentration was broken as one of her men approached. "What did they say Bobby?"
"Not much," Bobby said. "They're working on the money and the transportation out of here."
"That's all?"
"They also said that they're thinking over our statements about the government, but that there's not a whole lot that they can do to change the entire government of the United States in the matter of a few hours."
"They said what!?" Mama asked, her beady eyes narrowed as she gazed around the room. "It seems to me that they're mocking us. I hate it when people mock us! Maybe it would be a good idea to set an example of what happens when people cross me," Mama said, her eyes coming to rest on Paul.
*~*Outside*~*
An older man and a young woman got out of a dark, nondescript car. They looked around them, taking in the activity that was taking place in front of the bank. They spotted the Sheriff off to the side and approached him.
"Sheriff Andrews?" The man said.
"Yes?" The sheriff said, his gaze never leaving the building in front of him.
"I'm Special Agent Thomas and this is Special Agent Jones, FBI. We're up from Bangor..."
"You claiming jurisdiction?" The sheriff interrupted, finally looking at them. He was an older man, with a weather-beaten face. "'Cause if you are, you can't have it. Not while my boy is in there."
"All the more reason that we should take over," Agent Jones said softly. "Besides that, it's a bank and that's under federal jurisdiction."
"You're not shutting me out of this!" Sheriff Andrew exclaimed. He watched as federal agents began arriving in mass. "I won't allow it!"
"No, we're not," Agent Thomas said, looking meaningfully at Agent Jones. "Our orders are to assist in any way that we can. You're still in charge for the time being, but if this goes on much longer, we're supposed to take over. That all right with you?"
Sheriff Andrews sighed knowing that it was more then he could logically have expected. "That's fine." He looked around, his eyes coming to rest on a deputy. "Rob?"
"Yeah Sheriff?"
"Bring these two up to speed will ya?"
"Sure Sheriff," Rob said as the sheriff turned his attention back to the bank. "What do you two need to know?"
The Feds looked at each other and sighed. "Just tell us everything you know."
*~*Inside*~*
"Maybe it would be a good idea to set an example of what happens when people cross me," Mama said, Her eyes coming to rest on Paul.
"What do you want me to do Mama?"
"Shoot him," Mama said.
"I think you're in trouble," Pacey said softly, as Bobby and Mama Sal approached them.
"Get to your feet," Mama ordered, pointing her gun at Paul. "You're gonna to be our example."
Paul got slowly to his feet. Pacey looked at Mama Sal and back to Paul before jumping to his feet. "I'm not going to let you do this Mama!" He said.
"What do you care?" Mama Sal asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I care because you're doing this because I talked to him and I'm not about to let another person die thanks to me!"
"Sit down!"
"I won't!" Pacey said.
"I can shoot him just as easily with the kid standing," Bobby said raising his gun.
Mama Sal looked into Pacey's eyes and knew in an instant what he was going to do. "Bobby don't!" It was too late. The man had fired just as Pacey threw himself in front of Paul. They tumbled to the floor in a heap.
"You idiot!" Mama Sal screeched, cuffing the man upside the head.
"Ouch!" Bobby exclaimed. "It was an accident! He jumped in front of the guy!"
"Go make sure you didn't kill him."
Bobby approached Pacey and Paul cautiously, Mama not far behind. Meanwhile, Paul had rolled Pacey off of him and was examining the wound on his shoulder. "Get out of the way!" Mama exclaimed, knocking her gun into Paul's shoulder.
"I'm a doctor." Paul said. "I think that I can do him a hell of a lot more good than you can! Now please..." He stopped as he saw Pacey shake his head. He looked into the boys pleading eyes and moved slowly away, not knowing what the boy was going to do, but needing to let him try. Owing it to him to let him try.
Mama and Bobby crouched beside Pacey, their guns hanging loosely by their sides. Pacey looked from one to the other and then in a sudden move flailed his injured arm in Bobby's direction, sending his gun clattering across the floor. As Mama's eyes followed the gun, Pacey other hand darted forward and grabbed the gun from her hand, taking her by surprise.
"Surprise," Pacey said, as her shocked gaze returned to him. "Doc!" He called. Paul hurried forward. "Help me out here!" he said, his eyes never leaving Mama's face, the gun pointed directly at her head. Paul helped Pacey to his feet, his eyes full of amazement. Once he was standing, Pacey waved the gun at her, indicating that she should stand. She did this slowly, glancing around the room. The other gunmen were watching them carefully as the cautiously moved forward. "Stay right where you are!" Pacey exclaimed. "Don't make me shoot her 'cause god knows I will!"
"I know something you don't," Mama said softly.
"Which is?" Pacey asked.
"The safety's on."
"Nice try," Pacey said, his eyes never straying to the gun. "But did you honestly think that would fool me? Not only have I spent the better part of six years around your sorry excuse for a militia group, my dad's a sheriff. He taught me how to use a gun when I was seven. The day he caught me with his. He decided that if I was going to be around guns, I should know everything about them. How to take care of them. How to respect them and how to use them. Now please tell those rejects over there to drop their guns...Unless of course they want to see your brains splattered all over this bank. Personally, I'd have no problem killing you and you know damn well why!"
"You heard him boys," Mama said, giving in. "Drop the guns." The men looked at each other and then slowly dropped their guns to the floor.
"Move to the side," Pacey said. "Away from the doors and the people." The men looked at each other again and then moved away from the weapons and door, gathering in a huddle against the wall. "If any of you know how to use guns, please pick them up and cover those guys," Pacey said, his body starting to shake from the effort of standing upright. None of them moved. "Doc?" He questioned.
Paul turned to the other people. "Reggie," he said to a young man of about nineteen. "Come over here and help this young man keep on his feet." Reggie nodded and jumped to his feet, replacing Paul in holding Pacey up. Paul went forward and grabbed one of the guns which he pointed at the men. "Nancy," he said. "Go out and get the police in here."
"On my way," the teller said, getting to her feet and hurrying out the door.
Pacey laughed slightly and looked at Paul. "You know how to use that thing, Doc?" He questioned softly.
"You're not the only one whose dad is a sheriff," Paul said with a wink. Pacey laughed again, swaying slightly as the sheriff, his men and the FBI swarmed into the bank.
"Thank god you're all right!" Sheriff Andrews said, clapping his son on the shoulder. He looked around, his gaze coming to rest on Pacey who was being helped to a chair by one of the deputies as another one slapped some cuffs on Mama Sal. "Who's that?"
"That's the reason I'm all right," Paul said, handing his gun to one of the police officers. He hurried over to Pacey, his father on his heels. He crouched before Pacey. "How you doin' kid?"
"You're the doctor," Pacey said wryly.
Paul laughed. "Name's Paul. And you are?"
"Pacey..." Pacey said weakly, his voice trailing off. "My name's Pacey."
"Hang in there Pacey," Paul said as Paramedics hurried over to them. "I'll take care of everything."
Pacey nodded slightly before letting the darkness overtake him. Paul looked down at him for a minute, watching as they loaded him onto the stretcher and wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance. He then turned to his father. "I need you to do something for me." Sheriff Andrews nodded, looking at his son questioningly. "I'll tell you everything on the way to the hospital," Paul said. "Promise." Sheriff Andrews nodded and father and son left the bank together, leaving the case to the Feds.