This is the conclusion to the first part of the story(not even I know how long this story's gonna be!). There'll be more soon, and as ever feedback is really appreciated. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed any of my stories, it means a lot.
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Part 1: iv) Blood Money
Saturday, 26th July 1986
11:13 a.m.
Central Bank of California
They had almost arrived at the bank when the police car suddenly came into view. Marty calmly pulled over to the side to allow them to pass, which they did with a blazing of sirens and flashing lights. The car headed off in the opposite direction - the sirens fading into the distance.
From the truck's interior the smooth white stone building shone effortlessly; the marble of the building's exterior sparkling as it caught the sunlight, reflecting all the separate colours like a rainbow. The Toyota effortlessly picked up the multicoloured reflections like a mirror; the sun was so bright.
Doc didn't even wait for Marty to bring the truck to a complete halt before opening the door and leaping out onto the sidewalk. Clara's concern had returned during the journey, refusing to let her mind ease at why things were playing out like they were. But strangely enough, she was rather glad Doc was here. She felt somewhat…safer, more secure in herself. Not because it was her first time visiting a bank, no. She didn't know why, but everything seemed as though they were going to be all right.
Clara made her way onto the sidewalk with a little assistance from Doc. Doc lifted his head to see where Marty was, but noticed the young man had remained in the driver's seat, almost ready to take off again.
"Marty? Aren't you coming in with us?" Doc almost expected him to want to tag along just as he often did. But not this time.
"Nah. I'm not needed in there. You go ahead, I'll wait in here."
"OK, if you're sure. We should only be a few minutes." With that the door closed firmly shut. The vehicle sat in almost complete silence; the engine ticking over as it cooled showed the only signs of life in the vehicle.
Making their way to the entrance, Doc took one last look around at the truck, sceptical as always. His focus returned forwards as he pushed open one of the heavy glass doors leading into the bank, holding it open to allow Clara to pass through.
Marty watched as the couple entered, resting his elbow on the open window. Though it wasn't a hot day it was warm enough to test anybody's patience, including Marty's own. He hoped they wouldn't be long, anyway.
Marty allowed his gaze to wander the street ahead of him, taking in all the rich scenery of Hill Valley - just as he had done while Doc had left the truck to find Clara less than an hour before. The row of shops down the opposite side of the street, passed by couples walking hand in hand as they window-shopped; a man riding by on a bicycle, trying to pass the rows of cars lining the street. Just in front a car was leaving its parking space, vacating a spot on the side for another car to take its place.
Just as Marty watched the car exit along the road another car entered his vision travelling in his direction. The car soon reached the black Toyota four-by-four, blocking Marty's view of the sidewalk as it parked up by the curb. With a small jolt the car stopped dead, opening a clear view of the driver and the passengers inside as it faced Marty.
Squinting a little from the reflected light from the windscreen, Marty could see three stubbornly looking men, with jackets and coats too warm for the weather they were in. He mentally winced at seeing their attire, only being able to imagine how hot they must have felt in those coats.
None of the car's occupants noticed Marty staring at them straight away. They were busily searching through boxes and cases for items they wanted, placing them inside their coats, hidden from view. At one point the passenger in the front stopped in his tracks to show his annoyance with his friend in the back, obviously wanting to say his piece in the open to show his dominance. Marty smirked a little – they seemed determined to prepare for something.
It was only during this small argument between the two passengers that the driver eventually looked up to catch Marty spying on them. He froze instantly, not knowing what to do, like he had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar, red-handed. At his sudden pause the man beside him – bearing the most stubble of all three of them – turned in confusion to look at his friend, following his gaze through the windscreen towards Marty. Marty's eyes almost froze like the driver's. The man's stare almost seemed deadly – a stare that could kill anyone within ten paces – and he was giving it to Marty with ease.
Almost feeling as though he was intruding on someone's private affairs, Marty unlocked his attention from the three men in front and instead focused it on to the watch on his wrist.
11:33 a.m.
Geez, how long is Doc gonna be? Marty thought to himself, watching time tick by as the minutes on his watch increased.
11:34 a.m.
Giving a huge sigh of impatience, he decided to go in and see what the hold-up was. Even Biff gave faster service than this, including when he remembered to do two coats of wax! Besides, the gentlemen ahead of him gave no intention of letting up their stares whilst he was looking in on whatever it was they were doing.
Locking the door behind him, the musician pushed his hands into his jean pockets and eased his way towards the bank doors. From the outside it was hard to see through the glass - the sunlight creating reflections of the street behind, including Marty's own reflection.
He entered the bank and walked into the foyer, looking up briefly to catch a surveillance tape playing on a small television, suspended high above. In grainy black and white Marty could make out the young woman entering the bank behind him, along with his own image staring back at him. He watched as she passed him and headed towards the counter, passing Clara on the way, in her unmistakeable white shirt and plain blue jeans. She was still stuck in the queue – nevertheless only two away from being served – with Doc right beside her, talking about something between themselves as the next in line moved towards the counter to be served.
Marty managed to catch Doc's attention with a quick wave of his hand, pointing to his watch and shrugging his shoulders to ask in sign language how long they were going to be.
Doc frowned for a second before the message was understood. His only response was a shoulder shrug for "unknown", which only earned him an annoyed sigh from Marty.
But neither of them could anticipate what was to happen next, until it was too late. In a split second the doors flew open, opening access to two burly men dressed in big heavy jackets and wielding big heavy guns. Sub-machine guns, from what they appeared.
Immediately the tallest of the duo began barking out orders to everyone within hearing range. His friend, from behind him, began dancing towards the service counter, making sure his gun was on display to show he meant business. The orders were kept simple: hands in the air; lie on the floor.
At first only a few obeyed, laying the front of their bodies on the cold, hard floor. Many were shaking from shock rather than the cold floor. Many others remained standing with their hands held high, forcing the orders to be repeated again but with increased tension.
Doc and Clara had their hands in the air in no time. Though Doc kept calm, Clara was visibly shaking. As softly as he could Doc took her hand into his, knowing without his guidance Clara's fear would render her motionless. Quickly, but calmly, Doc guided her towards the floor, not taking his eyes from the main gunman for one second. He placed his body over hers as much as he could without creating too much motion, protecting her closely whilst remaining alert.
As they reached the floor Doc threw his eyes over to where Marty was. Surprisingly, the young man remained calm, doing as he was told without question. That was the best thing he could do.
Marty's eyes danced around the room as the smaller gunman – the one with the ego-problem, thinking this was all a big joke – marched up to the counter, pulled out a large black duffle bag and bellowed for all of the money to be placed in the bag immediately. The poor woman behind the counter couldn't control herself as she did as ordered, crying until her mascara stained her face with rivers of black oil.
Marty noticed that the larger of the two robbers seemed to hold more control of the situation, telling his sidekick exactly what to do and leaving him to do all the work. It was only while the money was being collected that Marty noticed an office in the back, partly darkened by the shadows towards the back of the building. He hadn't noticed the trivial detail, until a small reflection of light had caught his eye. A small glint of light flashed for a brief second as the glass in the office door caught the sunlight. The door opened gently. From where he was Marty couldn't see whom it was who entered the office. But whoever it was, they hadn't been spotted by the bank thieves.
As quietly as it had opened the door closed to, hiding the occupant of the room from sight of those in the main body of the building. Marty let out a huge mental sigh, relieved that they had made it without being seen. These robbers were in no mood to deal with anyone trying to raise the alarm, without question. They were here to pick up only one thing, and the sooner they had done that the better.
"All right, listen up!" The leader shouted. His low, military-like tone came through muffled from under his balaclava, but that didn't stop everyone from listening. "Me and my friend here are glad to see that you can all follow orders well. So, for your next orders, I want you to remain where you are with your eyes facing the ground. I see anyone lift them to take a look –" He briefly paused to lift his gun into the air, making his assertions very clear to all who could see. "- and you'll be seein' a bullet aimin' for ya head! Got it?" He didn't need a reply. Everybody turned their eyes to the ground, not even risking chancing a look at the activities going on around them.
The leader marched to the counter, his impatience growing by the second. "What's taking so long?" he whispered menacingly to the assistant, giving her the evil stare from under his mask. "We haven't got all day, ya know. Case you haven't noticed we're in a little bit of a hurry."
With this the assistant shook even more, as panic began to set in. She worked as fast as she could go, moving from counter to counter to collect the funds. The smaller robber followed her, keeping his weapon trained on her to be sure she kept going. The leader casually stepped away, towards the opposite side of the building, taking a quick glance through the huge windows that gave such a glamorous view of the street. Beside the bank lay a small open patch of grass, with a few trees around the border – an idea the mayor had had to try and increase the scenery of Hill Valley, to make it more pleasant. It did the town no favours.
Both Marty and Doc decided to risk a glance up at the robbers. They noticed each other's gaze rise, asking the same questions to each other as they searched each other's eyes for answers. Marty looked up at the robber nearest to him, the ringleader, but quickly reverted his gaze back to the floor as the robber started to turn and scan his surroundings. He took note of Marty's figure lay near to the door, but didn't consider him for very long.
The money was almost ready. Eventually moving to the last desk, the cashier suddenly froze in horror from what her senses began to pick up. Both bank robbers turned their head towards the commotion they could hear. Both Doc and Marty tried to turn to look towards the door, where they could hear sirens in close range.
The police were on their way.
"What the hell…?" the leader mumbled to himself, not knowing how the cops could get there so quickly. Immediately he turned and ran to his accomplice, the panic in his stride instantly recognisable. "Come on, let's get outta here!"
His friend took little attention, instead turning to the frightened woman stood behind the counter. "You! You called the cops! The damn cops! I told you not to try anything!" She jumped with fright, shaking even more as he raised his gun in a rash move to hit her. But he was stopped in his tracks.
"No, you idiot! Leave her! Grab the money and let's go!"
He did as he was ordered, grabbing the rucksack under his arm and following his friend to the front entrance. He almost ran into his friend, not realising he had come to a sudden stop before the door.
"The cops! The cops are here! Kyle's gone! The woodenhead's left us in it!" The welling anger in his voice was an obvious sign that things were not going to plan.
Marty saw his opportunity to crawl over to where Doc and Clara still lay. His trainers squeaked as they slid on the marble floor. His hands left sweaty imprints on the floor as he crept over to his friend's side.
"Marty, are you crazy!" Doc exclaimed as loud as he could without being caught. "Get back over there before they see you!"
"Relax, Doc. They're too worried about the police outside rather than what we're doing." Marty turned to check where the robbers were. They were still looking through the doors, trying to figure a way out.
"Got any ideas, Doc?"
"No, not yet. It's best we stay low and do as they say. They're irritable, and we don't want to test how they can handle a gun."
Marty nodded, turning again to see the two robbers pull back from the doors. The cops outside knelt behind the bonnets of the parked vehicles, guns drawn and pointing to the doors. A single car stood outside with only two officers in attendance, though the robbers didn't realise this. The darkened glass of the doors masked this detail.
The leader of the two pulled off his balaclava, revealing his stubble face and dark eyes. His hair was damp with sweat, with beads of moisture running down his cheeks onto his jacket.
His friend did the same, giving him an odd look of not understanding why his partner had revealed his identity.
"What are we gonna do now, boss?" He asked impatiently, turning to see someone lift their head to get a better look at the situation. "Hey! Eyes down, towards the ground. Now!"
As he said this he felt a hand take hold of his arm. "It doesn't matter, now. Let it go."
"Let it go?!? Hey, I'm not the one who screwed up here, OK!" The smaller man responded, pulling his arm free of the other man's grasp.
"What the hell are you talking about? You were the one who was taking so long to get the money!" Things were beginning to heat up between the two men, making Doc more nervous as to the possible consequences. More sirens sounded outside as more police officers made their way towards the scene, their cars screeching to a halt just feet from the entrance. Movement outside grew as officers moved into position
"I was taking so long? Hey, blame the slut over there with the black eyes. She must've called the cops on us!" With that he started to make his way over to where the young woman stood, her eyes still black from where her mascara had run. "It was you wasn't it? Couldn't resist tryin' to be the hero round here! I think I'll enjoy busting your skull open right now!"
"That's enough, Carl!"
Carl paused in what he was doing. He had tried to drag the woman over the counter as far as he could, in order to use his gun on her. At the sound of his name he stopped, letting her blouse free from his grasp. Turning towards his boss he checked his gun was properly loaded and ready to fire, before heading towards the source of his problem.
"We agreed, no names Reilly," Carl whispered to his mate. "We agreed to keep names out of it. We also agreed to keep the hoods on!" This last sentence was greeted with fury as Carl threw down his balaclava in disgust. Reilly watched and said nothing, showing no feeling of panic or fear in his face anymore. What fear had been there had disappeared, only to be replaced with his cold, calculating stare.
Carl also noticed this, and began to back off when Reilly refused to answer. He dreaded that his small explosion of anger could possibly have ended his life.
Instead, though, of pulling his weapon close, ready to use it, Reilly allowed his gun to fall to the floor. Carl watched in confusion, not knowing what to expect. This hadn't been part of the plan…
Before anybody could comprehend what was going on Reilly took hold of his jacket and pulled down the zip to reveal his chest and waist. Strapped around his waist, leading up to a small, compact switch was a homemade explosive device – concealed well under the jacket from even his accomplice's eyes.
"Jesus, Reilly! Are you crazy!?! You'll blow us all to kingdom come!"
"That's the idea, Carl," Reilly calmly replied, taking the shock in from everyone's faces as they saw just exactly what Carl had seen.
"No! Don't do it! Please!" A man called from behind where Doc and Clara lay. He mirrored everybody's thoughts exactly.
"Shut up!" Reilly called, wanting in no way to be persuaded otherwise.
"And when, exactly, were you gonna let us in on this, Reilly?" Carl asked sarcastically, pointing to the device. "You're…you're not gonna use it, are you? I mean - it's just to scare the police, right? Reilly?"
Reilly refused to respond, taking a deep sigh and walking slowly to the centre of the building, making sure everyone could see him.
"I'm not going back, Carl. I won't let them take me again. You know they'll kill me this time if I set foot back in prison." Reilly turned to view Carl's response. Carl shook his head in disbelief, the panic beginning to set in as the scale of the situation hit him hard. He ran to his friend to beg with him.
"Please, Reilly. We can figure this out. We can still escape. Yeah, we can find some other way. It doesn't have to come to this." It was the best Carl could do. He'd never had to beg for his life before.
Just as Reilly was about to back down on his idea his attention was caught elsewhere. Commotion at the front doors caused him to look up to see the police, ready to charge in with weapons drawn.
That was when Doc realised what was about to happen. They don't know! They don't know about the bomb!! He mentally screamed to himself.
He quickly pounced to his feet in an attempt to signal to the SWAT team to stop them from entering. But it was too late. With one swift action Reilly lowered his hand to the switch on his chest. The switch clicked into place, and the connection was made…
From outside, all that could be seen was flying glass as the explosion took hold. Glass fell everywhere, followed by debris of all kinds – stone, paper, plastic; dust was sprayed far across the street like a volcanic eruption, only stopping when it collided with the surrounding buildings and vehicles.
People dived for cover as the blast ripped through the building. Officers watched as the windscreens in their cars exploded, and as stone and glass landed on top of the twisted metal frames of cars parked too near to the bank – or what now remained of it.
Within a matter of seconds the worst of the explosion had ended, leaving behind only the traces of fire inside, and the skeleton of what used to be the Central Bank of California.