Switch it Up

I leap a pile of melting snow, miss, and it splatters in damp splotches up my Bob’s Diner uniform. “Ugh.” But the mailbox is just ahead. I wipe cold sweat off my palms, looking at it. “You can do this.” The door creaks when I ease it open. It’s here, the reply from my interview with Harden Electric.

My fingers tremble as I pull out a thick manila envelope and the letter. The wind picks up, and I clutch them to my chest as I hurry back to the house. Getting hired as a female electrician is proving harder than I’d thought.

At the table, I swallow hard and slice open the message.

We regret to inform you . . .

I slump, dreams dying as everything dims. This is my ninth rejection. Did I waste my time learning a trade? What if I’m chained to food service with fryer grease in my hair forever? The two years since high school are too long already. I stare at the white toaster on the counter. It was the first broken appliance I’d ever taken apart and repaired. It still works. I cradle the feeling of success that comes with fixing things like a dying ember.

Desperate to escape my bleak reality, I rip open the larger envelope. Strange. There’s no return address. No stamp either. Peering inside makes me gasp. Several stacks of hundred-dollar bills fill the interior. I pull them out, blinking hard.

The money sticks together as I count it. At $10,800, a handwritten note falls out.

Amber. You’ll have questions. – Tilly.

Brain like mush, I struggle to make connections. Why would my aunt, the cat lady, send me this much cash? My memories of her halo of frizzy grey hair and flowing dress covered with cat hair don’t compute with the money in front of me. I finish counting. $20,000. Realizing I’ve missed something, I find a small book in the bottom of the envelope.

I run my fingers over the soft black cover, with an elastic band holding it closed. It looks like a Moleskine to me. The fresh scent of paper imprints on my brain as I open it. Inside is a written set of detailed directions to Tilly’s home via the backroads along with today’s date and a note at the bottom—4:30 p.m. Answers.

I look at the time. It’s 4:03 now, and following her odd orders will take me longer than it normally would to get to her house. Swiping the money and book back into the envelope, I race to my car, leaving the letter from Harden in the dust.

I glance at the clock on my dash. 4:31.Questions force my foot down harder as I wind down the forested road.

“Shoot!” I slam on the brakes, wheels skidding. A thick tree lays across a sharp curve in the lane. “Now what?” I jam my open palm against the steering wheel.

Cold air hits me as I step out, hugging the envelope and trying to see if I can drive past the log. The road is impassable. Behind me, a vehicle nears. I guess we’ll have to turn around.

Up ahead, a slim figure appears in tight black clothing, a long silver braid thrown over one shoulder. It must be another driver coming from the other direction. As she approaches on foot, I scowl. There’s something familiar about her.

“Aunt Tilly?”

“Hello, dear. So glad you could make it.”

One side of my nose wrinkles. “What’s going on?”

Her change in appearance is as shocking as the money. She focuses just beyond me at the car that’s pulled up. With an easy practiced motion, Tilly draws a pistol from a slim hip holster and aims it at me.

My heart slams into my toes as she says, “Not another move, Brian. Amber, come here.”

I struggle with my concrete legs and cast a glance over my shoulder, finding a tall man paused half out of his jeep, jaw clenched. I trip over the log with its freshly cut base, still gripping the envelope. Tilly backs away.

“Hurry.” I barely catch the word as it leaves her mouth. “Run.”

I lean forward, sprinting with the woman who once was my aunt.

“Get in the car!”

We slide into the seats; she slams it into gear as part of a tree just ahead explodes, splinters flying. I scream, ducking low, hands on my head as the vehicle fish tails, gaining speed.

“Aunt Tilly?” Mixed fear and awe fills my tone as I stare at her calmly monitoring the rearview mirror.

She looks over at me. “Sorry, dear. You were late.” We accelerate past her house with twenty cats lounging on the front porch and fat ponies in the pasture. The idyllic life I thought she had is now at war with the trim, gun-toting commando in the driver’s seat.

“Who are you?” The words squeak past my lips.

She sighs. “I’m a bank robber. Legal, mind you.”

The envelope feels hot in my hands. “You stole this money?”

She laughs like the aunt I know. “I have independent wealth. Got into bitcoin at $.13,” she says, as if that should explain everything. “But you have to stay sharp, you know? Sitting around with cats won’t do it for you.”

“So, you rob banks for fun?”

“No, dear, for a salary. With all the hackers out there, the only way banks can stay a step ahead is to hire their own. We hunt down security weaknesses, try the latest backdoors, and make the world a safer place. If we can’t get in, nobody can. Over the years, we’ve done a few physical break-ins if there’s a glaring gap in the system.”

The car’s engine roars and I clench the armrests.

“The boys double-crossed me on this last job. We planned to exit the bank with $200 in marked bills to prove a surveillance flaw, but they cleaned out the vault, planted my fingerprints on the keypad, and left me at the scene of the crime. Should’ve had my Glock, but I failed to suspect them. Stupid. If I don’t recover the loot, they’ll either kill me, or I’ll go to prison. They didn’t think I’d get away from the police that night. I need someone I trust. It’s a two-person job. If you want out, I can drop you in town and call your dad to come pick you up.”

“So, I help you or you die?” The window is cold against my skin as we skid around the corner into a maze of old factories.

“Hold this under your nose.” I take the bottle of lavender oil she offers, letting the fragrance force down the stress.

“We’re here. You’ve always had a level head. You’re a hands-on kind of girl—capable. Are you in?”

I stare at her in horror, arguing with myself. “I’m in.” My hand covers my mouth. Can I do this?

“Get in the building, low and quiet. I’ll cover you.”

I fall out the door and fly on pure adrenaline, huddling inside the dark entryway. Tilly pushes into the dilapidated structure holding a device.

“They’ve got a signal scrambler flaring in front of a safe. Last night I planted a copper pipe just beyond it. I have copper strips in my clothes, so once I’m parallel with the pipe, I’ll motion like this,” she makes a fist at shoulder height, “then I need you to push send, detonating the C-4 I caulked the safe with.”

“Why didn’t you get the loot then if you had all that time?”

“I’m wired for audio; I want a full confession before I take them down. This is payback, dear.” Her blue eyes are fiery. I never noticed how beautiful she is before.

“Right.”

“Just stay out of sight and push the button at my signal.”

I nod, mouth dry. “Do I get a gun?”

She looks at me, lips pursed. “Not a chance.” Tilly stashes me behind a stack of empty pallets. “The boys should be here any minute. Stick to the plan.” Then she disappears.

Seconds tick by as doubts descend. I should have said no.

Movement at the far end of the warehouse reveals the man from the jeep. Another door opens, cold air swirling. Two men stand arguing in front of a tall, green safe. They’re too distant to make out the heated words.

Aunt Tilly breezes in, leading with the pistol. They turn, smiling menacingly at her approach, certain they’ll get her now.

They spread out, forcing her to shift between them. Minutes slime by. I wish I could hear them. Tilly’s fist goes up. I ease the device out, thumb trembling as I hit the send button. Nothing happens. Nerves on fire, I push it again. Tilly lofts her hand higher. I see you. I mash the button; the scrambler must be overriding the metal in her clothes.

I stifle a gasp as reality descends. They’ll kill her then me. Desperate, I press against the pallets, thoughts flying. My eyes fall on the thick electrical cable running along the top of the wall. Their device must be plugged in. I follow the wire, goosebumps racing up my arms, feeling exposed.

I ease through a doorway, tracing the converging cords to a huge circuit box. Dust poofs as I open the metal door, the squeak making me wince. There’s a large, red switch—the main shut off. Before rational thought can kick in, I reach for it, but it won’t budge. Using both hands, I grit my teeth, straining as the edges bite my fingers.

Grimacing, I shove it again. It flips with a dull clack and darkness descends. I flatten against the wall, hyperventilating. “Go!” I push into the dark, stumbling in the dim light filtering through layers of dust on the high windows.

Tilly shouts, a tone of pure rage. I can just see her in the distance on Brain’s back, one arm hooked around his throat. Before the other man can swing at her, I press the send button. The concussion hits me in the chest, driving me backwards and stealing my breath.

Ears ringing, I see three forms sprawled on the floor. “You’ve murdered them all, Amber!” I whisper in horror.

No, they’re moving. My gaze centers on two pistols on the rough concrete.

“I can do this.”

Sprinting hard, I scoop them up, stomach roiling.

“Hands behind your heads!” My voice reverberates in the immense space. I can’t believe I’ve said that to someone. The lock on the safe falls off, still smoking, and the sound makes me jump. The men shift slowly, disorientated from the blast, but their hands go up. I grin at Tilly as she staggers to her feet.

“Nice move, girl. We’ve got a beautiful confession speech and the police should be here in . . .” She holds her head as she looks at her watch. “Three minutes.” She pulls two sets of handcuffs from under a stack of old boxes. “Do you have any clue how to shoot those?” She asks as she secures their wrists.

“None whatsoever. I was bluffing.”

I lower the heavy pistols, chest heaving. Tilly smooths her braid and wipes a smear of dirt across her brow. That’s my aunt.

She sighs, content. “All is right again, thanks to you. You have some natural skill, and I need a partner. What if we consider the $20,000 a sign-on bonus?” My mouth falls open as she adds, “It’s not just anyone who can say they rob banks for a living.”

A laugh bubbles up. I’ve never felt so alive. Electrical contracting suddenly sounds like drudgery. Blue lights bounce off the walls as the police arrive.

“I would love to.”