In Between Times (Complete Novel, Mastered May 12th, 2022)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

— Souvenir

Eagle Eye – Big Murf ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

PARRISH:

"Is there only one elevator?" I ask.

Oliver nods as his eyes remain glazed over, searching the short distance within the room.

"It's a big elevator, but it's the only one. We're stuck, man."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," I mutter.

We're locked in a room on cloud seven. It's a rectangular room, and there is only one door out of here. It leads to a much less tamed chaotic house of screams, and gun fire. I don't believe they've killed anyone, but they love firing their guns randomly.

We're in the cash room, I believe. We're behind a sealed window, and the men on the other side can't hear what we're saying. These two men are blocking the door out of here. They're wearing army gear, and ski masks that look hot as hell.

They told us to sit on the ground, shut up, and don't move. I felt so helpless having to listen to them.

Whoever set this up had to know what they were getting themselves into. This is a massive place, and there are a large number of gun-holders throughout the building. There is no doubt in my mind. What could they want from us?

It's just me and Oliver in here. I have no idea where Gage or Robert ran off to. Hopefully they got out, but I can't stop the thoughts going through my head. This place is literally surrounded, and there is only one exit. The Underdog's Underground is a well-built setting, yes, but one exit? One elevator? This shit isn't realistic, yet it's what I'm living.

Sitting here with my legs sprawled out in front of me, I can't help but to look at the crafted boxes settling there, nestled under the teller windows. Some of them have cash inside. That's what these guys are after, and I'm just a little worried they're going to get me and Oliver to do their dirty work for them. Why wouldn't they? We would be great candidates. The less they use their hands, the better.

"We have to find a way out of here," I whisper to Oliver without looking at him. I stare at the tips of my feet as they clash together. I'm acting like a bored, hyper five-year-old that wants to get into shit. My fingers can't stop strumming at my side. I'm tense as hell.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to wait it out," he replies gruffly.

I sigh as my hands spread out on the ground, and roam. An object brushes my fingers, and I pause as I slowly take it in my hand. It's a chip. I hold it out in my palm looking at it, and then chuckle. "Souvenir," I gesture towards Oliver, and he crinkles his forehead at me. "God, I love Vegas," I draw, my tone thick with sarcasm. I place the chip in my front pocket.

"Parrish, dude, this doesn't happen. Heists don't happen at Underdog's," he says deeply, shaking his head as he turns towards me, "Something is out of place."

I nod, "Yeah, we're out of place."

Oliver forces a laugh, and then frowns. "No, dude, we're hostages. If anyone dies tonight, we're close to the top of that list. We're right where they want us to be," he says, sighing longingly.

I don't say anything at that moment, because I don't want him to be right. I want to believe we're not going to die like this.

"We're just gonna have to be strong," I reply simply.

***