River

Samuel Postlethwaite

As much as I want to go back into my office and close the door on this ghastly scene, I can’t in good conscience leave my poor clerk alone with these obvious ruffians and their grotesque souvenir. So the four of us are standing, awkwardly, in the lobby of the bank, and I am hoping to god that we can take care of this quickly and be rid of them.

One of the men is simply staring at the ground, but the other one is walking around, an expression of interest and curiosity in his eyes over his bushy beard, cheerfully examining the entire lobby. He looks at the desks, the cabinets, cranes his head around to peer towards the vault in the back. It looks for all the world like he is casing the joint.

The soggy bag lies revoltingly on the floor. At least they cooperated with my request to get the head back into it. I try not to look over at the nauseating thing.

I’m not sure my appetite will ever return after what I have seen today.

In a few minutes Gregor returns, and I don’t think I have ever been so relieved to see somebody.

He addresses the ruffian who has been strolling around. “The reward can be paid just as soon as the inspector comes to verify the claim. He’s putting together some forms that he will need to fill out for this purpose.” The man shrugs, clearly content to wait for whatever procedures are required to be fulfilled in order to get his money.

I’m not sure what forms Gregor means, and I am about to ask, but he cuts me off. “Mr. Postlethwaite,” he addresses me formally rather than with my first name. By this I understand that he wishes this conversation to be held for the benefit of the listening ruffians. I wonder what he’s up to now. “I assume the reward money is ready for payment?” he asks. The men’s ears perk up.

“Yes, yes, of course,” I reply. He nods at me, encouragingly, and I go on, “It will be paid just as soon as the inspector has cleared the claim.” He smiles at me and nods again, so I know this is what he wants. I see what he is doing. He wants to keep the ruffians busy and comfortable while we are waiting for the inspector to arrive.

“Didn’t I hear the other day,” he continues conversationally, as though human remains are not lying at our feet, “that the reward has been increased?” The two men both look up at this.

“Oh, yes,” I reply, playing along. “The governor recently added five hundred dollars to the amount offered.”

“I see,” he says. “So that makes it….?”

“The current reward is twenty five hundred dollars.”

The first man whistles and grins. “Hear that, James?” he says. “This is turning out even better than we expected!” He seems to consider for a moment, then turns to me and asks, “Do you have all that money ready now? So it can all be paid today?”

“Oh, yes, certainly, the bank can cover the amount.”

The man looks between Gregor and I, and I see him narrow his eyes. He asks me, “Are you sure? You have enough to pay it right away?”

I glance at Gregor before answering. I’m not exactly sure what is happening here, but I sense that the mood has shifted. “Yes, certainly, we keep sufficient funds in the vault.”

The ruffian furrows his brow, then says, “Why don’t you go on and start counting it out. I imagine it will take a long time to count that much money. Let’s make sure it’s ready to go.”

“Er,” I hesitate, “I will need to wait for the inspector to arrive and verify the claim.” I don’t want to open the vault in front of these men. Even Gregor looks slightly alarmed, as though he wasn’t expecting our little conversation to take this turn.

“You could certainly count out the funds very quickly after the claim is verified, right?” Gregor remarks. “It shouldn’t cause any significant delay, I wouldn’t think.”

“No, of course not, Gregor,” I respond, “it would only take a few minutes.”

Gregor’s eyebrows lift at my mention of his name, and he shakes his head slightly, but apparently it is too late. The ruffian snaps to attention, and swings around his head to stare at Gregor. “Gregor?” he asks. “You are Gregor?”

Oh dear. I realize now that if these men knew Mason, they might very well have heard him speaking of Gregor, who he had apparently considered to be a nemesis. What a blunder. I look at Gregor, my eyes wide, wondering what we should do now.

But before we can make any further moves, the ruffian barks at me, “Go get the money. Right now.” He obviously has become suspicious and alarmed with our chat, now that he has realized who is chatting.

“No, no,” I dither, “we must wait for the inspector to verify the claim.”

I see my clerk edging away towards the back of the bank, clearly alarmed and wishing to escape.

The ruffian, whose face has developed a very menacing expression, begins reaching around behind himself, lifting the side of his coat, to something that is apparently tucked into the waistband of his trousers behind his back, and I have a moment of terror when I expect to see him withdraw a weapon.

But he doesn’t get the chance. Suddenly Gregor lunges at the second man, who is standing next to him, and with a mighty shove pushes him straight into the first. Both men stagger sideways, but manage to not quite fall to the floor. As they are trying to right themselves, Gregor darts behind them and snatches something out from under the first man’s coat, and I see a pistol in his hand.

The ruffian spins, his features filled with rage, and quickly draws a knife from his pocket. I am frozen to the spot.

Not Gregor, though. Like some kind of whirling dervish, Gregor both tosses the pistol away from himself towards the door, and at the same moment with his other hand reaches forward to the knife the ruffian is holding. I am horrified to see him close his hand directly around the blade, heedless of injury, and force it from the hand of the villain by grasping the sharp edge firmly and pushing it sideways out of his grasp.

The blade clatters to the floor and Gregor kicks it aside as well, just as the second villain lunges at him. I see blood streaming from Gregor’s hand where the blade sliced him as he yanked it away from the first man. But he totally disregards the pain this must be causing. As the second man seizes hold of him, Gregor takes his bloody palm and swipes it straight across the villain’s face, smearing blood in his eyes and causing the man to instinctively jerk back.

The first man dives back into the fray, enraged, fists flying, and I am sure that Gregor is about to be killed. The second man has recovered and seized Gregor’s arms from behind, trying to hold him still for the attack of the first. The first man is landing blows left and right, as Gregor tries to escape from the clutches of the man behind him in order to defend himself.

I realize that I am standing here like a post, and when I see Gregor somehow glance my way in the middle of the scuffle I am spurred to action myself. Not stopping to overly analyze the reality of what I am doing, I reach down to the closest thing at hand, the repulsive sack at my feet, grasp it firmly, swing it around myself like I’m casting a fishing line, and manage to strike the first man in the head, with the head. It knocks him to the floor, and I am shocked to see Gregor pause from grappling with the second man to actually meet my eyes and laugh.

The first man is scrambling back to his feet when I hear footsteps rushing in the door. The militia has arrived. Suddenly the room is full of other men, and the two ruffians are very quickly subdued, the battle over as they are taken into custody.

Gregor stands near me, panting and bleeding, and grinning. It looks for all the world like he is enjoying himself enormously. All I can do is stare at him.

He withdraws a handkerchief from his pocket and begins casually wrapping it around his bleeding hand as though this is all perfectly normal.

He stands silent and cheerful as I talk to the militia inspector to clarify what just took place, and soon enough the militia is bundling the men out the door to place them into their little jail. Apparently they are both wanted men, as much as Mason had been, and will be facing trial for a long list of crimes they have committed. I hear the first man shouting and cursing as they drag him away.

The inspector is the last to leave. As he moves towards the door, Gregor calls out, “Wait, wait!” The inspector pauses and looks back at him, and Gregor points to the hideous sack on the ground, now even more leaky and stained after I utilized it as a weapon. “Don’t forget to bring that evidence with you!”

The inspector nods, and picks it up with evident and understandable distaste, holding it as far from himself as possible as he departs.

My poor clerk has been cowering in the back of the room throughout the mad scene, and now looks about ready to faint. I think I should send him home for the day. At any rate, the bank cannot be reopened for business until I can get a cleaning crew in here to try to undo the mess left behind by the leaky bag, not to mention Gregor’s hand bleeding copiously.

I look over at Gregor, still seeming as happy as though he has just enjoyed a very pleasant picnic, not a terrifying battle with evildoers.

He grins through a split lip and shakes his head at me. “Look on the bright side, Samuel,” he says.

I just widen my eyes and stare at him, thinking he must be insane to find any enjoyment in this chaos, much less believe that there is a bright side to be found.

He goes on, “Everyone gossiping at the club tonight will have to turn to you for your first-hand knowledge of these events!”

And just like that, we both burst out into such a storm of laughter that we are left breathless and giddy.

I guess I’m just as crazy as he is.