“I still can’t believe that I got this job.” Nearing the end of his break, Andrew Stratton decided to check in with his fiancée before heading back on duty. “I must be the youngest person ever to have it.”

  One of the oldest banks in Elmira, First Trust had the singular distinction of being the only bank within a hundred miles that still employed an actual lobby security guard. Given the prevalence of electronic security measures, Andrew considered himself very lucky indeed.

  “Are you going to stop by the store on the way home, honey? We’re out of milk.”

  Six months pregnant with their first child, his fiancée had recently seen one of those daytime talk shows extolling the virtues of milk for expectant mothers. Ever since, it seemed like he was always stopping somewhere for a gallon of milk. He hated the repeated trips to the store but relented because she was the one having the baby.

  “First of many defeats,” his father would often say. “A happily married man needs to be a skilled retreater.”

  “Yes, honey,” he said strategically, following in his old man’s footsteps. “As soon as we close, I’ll stop by the market.”

  “I love you, Andy.” Her voice was warm and forgiving. “You’re so good to me.”

  “I love you too, baby. And the other baby.” The very idea of fatherhood was something he still had to remind himself of every day. “You know what I mean.”

  “Be careful.” She laughed as she always did when he made an idiot of himself. “Don’t let anyone rob the place.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “Your new one, so don’t blow it.” She hung up.

  Satisfied with his wife’s momentary contentment, Andrew switched his cell back to vibrate then returned it to his newly assigned locker. Bank policy forbade the use of cell phones for personal reasons. Since this was only his second week on the job, he took great care to follow every rule to the letter.

  Another policy included the 9mm Beretta resting semi-snugly within a holster attached to his belt. Andrew was still trying to get used to carrying around a weapon all day long for his job. Not that there was anything wrong with it. On the contrary, he had a cousin on the police force. No. His problem was having to look out for two equally important things at the same time: the bank's money and the bank’s gun.

  Upon returning to the lobby, the first thing Andrew noticed was the lunch crowd had thinned out considerably.

  The only customers in sight were a pair of elderly gentlemen huddled by an island near the entrance. One, knee deep in trying to figure out how much to deposit, while the other trying extremely hard to decide how much to withdraw.

  This scene remained static until his regular patrol route led him back to a conspicuous spot near the far end of the lobby. Once there, he heard a shrill voice from inside the teller’s cage. “So, how do you like your new job?”

  Andrew reluctantly leaned forward to see a middle-aged woman with short golden-brown hair trying to get his attention. Aunt Margie, he cringed slightly. Of all his relatives, why did she have to be the one to help him secure this job?

  “Fine, Aunt Margie, standing here sure beats standing in the unemployment line.”

  “I guess that means you owe me.” Her tone was incredibly presumptive.

  “I guess it does.”

  Margaret Donnelly looked her nephew squarely in the eye and gave him the kind of look only someone who simultaneously loved and looked down upon you could. Over the years, Andrew learned his best defense against her guilt was to avoid eye contact, though his attempts at ignorance often led to something much worse.

  “You remember that the next time you’re invited to my house for Sunday dinner. Because I can assure you. I won’t.”

  Without planting a flag on any hill, he let his aunt continue staring daggers at him until she was sure the point sunk in. When it had, she ordered, “Now get back to work.”

  For the next half hour, things were mostly quiet. A few stragglers came in, but never enough to fill up all the teller windows completely. There was some excitement when a newly elected city commissioner stopped by to thank everyone for their support. However, the graying man in a charcoal suit soon realized that no one there wanted to hear his self-congratulatory bullshit.

  After that, everything fell back into a nice dull rhythm.

  At least until the front doors of the bank were nearly snapped off their hinges. Instinctively, First Trust’s newest employee placed a hand on his sidearm. After all, he had to be ready for the town’s first bank robber in fifty years. However, his quick thinking was wasted on a customer merely trying to escape from the frigid weather.

  “Breathe,” the stranger stopped just inside the lobby doors. “Breathe.”

  Nearby, one of the two indecisive patrons decided to forgo his banking in favor of a conversation with a stranger. “You better believe it’s hard to breathe out there. When I woke up this morning, the thermometer was solidly clear. Do you know how cold that is?” He prodded his friend’s shoulder. “Eddie, tell him how cold that is.”

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  Trying his best to make one of those cheap bank pens work, Eddie never looked up from his withdrawal slip. “Like I told you this morning, Allen. It’s really fucking cold.”

  The man smiled a toothless grin, happy to be proven correct. “See, I told you.”

  Andrew half expected the stranger to turn around and run away after that little scene. Instead, the odd-looking man in a green army jacket and dirty khaki jeans took a step forward and repeated his first word. “Breathe.”

  “Buddy?” Allen tried to reach out with a sympathetic hand. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  Before he could make contact, the man collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud.

  Scared and unsure, Allen jumped and stood there for a moment, watching the man writhe in what looked like pain. Then, his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He hurried back to the island and summarily went back to scribbling on a deposit sheet.

  Eddie, who had just finally finished printing his name on his slip, regarded Allen’s retreat in a more comical sense. “It’s not like that’s the first time you’ve seen somebody pass out in a bank. Remember your house refi?”

  On the other hand, Andrew did his job.

  “Sir,” he said, crossing the distance from his perch to the man in a few seconds. “Can you hear me?”

  He reached down to scoop the man’s head up under his arm. Eyes still focused on the ceiling. The stranger forced air in and out of his lungs like he was running a marathon.

  “Andrew,” Margaret frantically weaved her way from the back of the teller area to a small hallway that afforded employees access to the lobby. The whole time she kept screaming, “Is he alright?!”

  Andrew could tell his aunt was upset because of the way the word “alright” raised an octave. But considering her years of fried food and refusing to exercise, Margie was not the best-suited person to handle an extremely stressful situation. When she finally arrived, Andrew quickly decided that he now had two people to keep calm.

  “It looks like he’s hyperventilating or something.” Andrew snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face to get his attention. The stranger tore his wide eyes away from the ceiling long enough to look the security guard in the face. Again, he repeated the words, “Breathe… breathe.”

  Why the hell was he saying that? Was it because he was gasping for air? Like any person living in the 21st century, Andrew reached for his cell phone to call 911. Only to quickly be reminded that his cell was still in his locker. Again, he shook the stranger, but all he could elicit was that same non-sensical mantra. He was a second from calling out to someone when a hand grasped his shoulder very tightly.

  “Relax, what’s wrong with him?” Margaret leaned over the two men. She thought about squatting on the floor, but her bulbous frame made such a move hazardous. Instead, she asked, “Maybe it’s a panic attack? What’s he saying?”

  “Breathe,” Andrew repeated the stranger’s peculiar words. “He keeps saying the same thing. Do you think we should call an ambulance?”

  Margaret studied the stranger for a second, particularly the skin color around his eyes and mouth. If he was having trouble breathing, those areas should turn pale blue. Fortunately, his skin remained quite rosy from the frigid weather outside. The only other explanation for his behavior was the green military jacket he was wearing. “I think we should call the police.”

  “Why?” Andrew asked incredulously. His Aunt’s idea didn’t make any sense to him. This man hadn’t done anything wrong. “This guy looks like he’s having a heart attack.”

  “Breathe,” the man whispered hoarsely. “I must breathe.”

  “Well, he sure has a grasp on the obvious. I’ll give him that.” Margaret grabbed the man’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. This tender act was supposed to convey understanding, but her touch sent the stranger’s body into rigid shock while his fearful eyes opened even wider.

  “Aunt Margie,” Recognizing that fear, Andrew placed his hand over the man’s chest and petted it like the owner of a dog would before having to put it down. “I think we can leave the police out of this for now. And since I can’t have a cell phone, maybe you should go call an ambulance.”

  “But…” Years of living with a troubled military veteran triggered a memory in Aunt Margie. Something that told her to call the police. “I think he might have some problems unrelated to his health.”

  “Just call 911, Aunt Margie.” Andrew knew where she was going. But he hesitated to equate Uncle Phil with this man. “Do that… and you can have the first three Sunday dinners after the baby’s born.”

  That surrender did the trick. Margaret stood up straight, then hurried off to fulfill his request.

  Out of nowhere, the stranger’s whole body seemed to convulse violently for a quick second then stopped just as quickly. Hearing the commotion, Margaret turned around to see if something else had occurred. But Andrew waved to her reassuringly. “You don’t get the first one, though. That one’s for my mother.”

  “We’ll see.” Margie grinned.

  Andrew couldn’t help but return her smile. Ten feet beyond that smile, Allen was still entranced in the secret workings of his deposit slip. Eddie, on the other hand, just stared at Andrew and the stranger intently. Then, his face slowly contorted into a horrible scream. What had happened, he wondered? Did he suddenly realize his bank account was overdrawn?

  Slowly, Eddie raised his hand and pointed at Andrew. Before he could ask what was wrong, two concussive soundwaves washed over his entire body.

  In slow motion, Eddie wordlessly screamed out in horror as Aunt Margie’s back erupted in colors of the deepest crimson and charcoal. In the ensuing panic, Eddie and Allen screamed in unison for help before diving headfirst onto the ground.

  Disorientated and confused, Andrew tried to shake free of this apparent delusion. Head ringing like a gong, he tore his eyes away from his dead aunt to see if the stranger was alright. Thankfully, he was. But for some strange reason, he now held Andrew’s 9mm tightly in his right hand.

  Stranger still, the gun was pointed directly at him.

  “What…?”

  His ears were still ringing like an old rotary phone when the stranger pulled the trigger for the third time. The muzzle flash made him blink out of instinct, so he never saw the bullet tear through his uniform shirt and into his chest. Andrew convulsed violently then clutched at the gaping wound. Never having been shot before, he’d always imagined the act would be one of the most painful experiences in his life.

  However, the first thing he felt from the wound was a nagging numbness.

  Once that passed, the hole in his chest began radiating a sharp pain. A pain that became a pounding as warm blood began to rhythmically pump out of his dying heart. Until the only thing left was the distant bank employee’s screams and an unyielding coldness that seemed to overtake his whole body.

  Just before slipping into permanent unconsciousness, the soon to be father’s ears finally stopped ringing long enough to perceive the stranger angrily whispering through clenched teeth.

  “I must breathe… in and out. I must breathe.”