I Quit My Job at the Bank Today

I quit my job at the bank today. It's not like I had much choice, after what happened. There's no way I could ever set foot in that place again. The things I saw will haunt me until the end of my days. Of that, I am one hundred percent certain.

It was a normal day at the outset. I got up at the usual time, had breakfast and coffee, and left for work right on schedule.

"Hey, Steph!" said Max, our security guard. "How are ya?"

"Good, Max. You?"

Max smiled and nodded. "I'm good. Ready for this weekend to get here, though."

"Big plans?"

Max nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Yes, indeed. You see, this here weekend marks me and Jack's ten year anniversary."

"Really? I asked, raising my eyebrows. "I didn't know you two had been together that long. Congratulations!"

He smiled. "Thank you, kindly," he said, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Well, I won't hold you up no more, Steph. I know you got a job to do."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I suppose. It was good talking to you, Max. Tell Jack I said congrats, will you?"

"Will do, Steph. Will do."

Having Max around always made me feel safe. He was a big guy, and his presence and demeanor were comforting. The large handgun he carried on his hip helped somewhat, too, I suppose.

"Morning, Steph!" It was Zach, the head teller. He wasn't a bad guy. In fact, he was a little overly nice. I often wondered if his smile was just a front, or if he genuinely enjoyed his job as much as he seemed to.

"Morning, Zach. How's Sherry?"

"She's doing pretty good, now. Jessica's birth was rough, but Sherry's on the mend and her sister flew in to help out with the baby."

"Lucky you, having an extra set of hands around the house, especially with the new baby."

Zach chuckled. "Ain't that the truth. I'm not sure how we'd make it without Caitlyn's help. She's a godsend."

"Well, either way, I'm glad Sherry's doing better."

"I'll tell her you said, 'hi,'" Zach said, turning and heading to the next teller's window. He continued with his morning ritual of greeting the other tellers while I set about the task of prepping my workstation for open.

The first few hours of the day went by much like they do any other day. Customers came in asking for various services, and we got them squared away and back out the door in short order. A textbook day in the life of a bank teller, if there ever was one. That is, until I came back from lunch.

There was this really weird guy standing in line at the window next to mine. He looked out of it. Disheveled and sporting a thousand yard stare. Every now and then he would twitch or mutter something under his breath.

This guy made me nervous as all Hell, and Max was watching him like a hawk. I even saw his hand travel to the butt of his service pistol a time or two, which was unusual for Max.

When the weird guy got to the front of the line, Max got off of his stool and made his way towards Shirley's window. His hand never left the butt of his service pistol as he did so.

Shirley greeted the man and he said good morning in return, but his eyes darted all over the room and I could see the sweat beading up on his forehead. This guy was about to pull something shady. I could feel it. I think we all could.

"I know. I know, Victor! Okay? And stop calling me Chuck! It's Charlie, damn it!" Charlie pulled a large caliber revolver from somewhere inside his coat and pointed the gun right in Shirley's face. "Don't think for a second that this little plexiglass shield is gonna save you, Shirley. Not like that's your real name, anyways."

"Drop the gun, scumbag!" Max boomed, drawing his own pistol and leveling it at Charlie's head.

Charlie laughed. "'Drop the gun,' he says. That's rich, coming from a washed-up rent-a-cop. Hey, Victor. Take care of my light work, would ya?"

Max's right forearm snapped in half, half-way between his wrist and his elbow. Blood jetted from the wound and Max screamed, a horrified keening, unlike anything I'd ever heard before. His pistol was wrenched free of his lifeless hand and he was pistol whipped in the back of the head, sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap.

"Anyone else wanna try playing the hero?" Charlie asked, looking around the room. "I didn't think so," he said, turning back to Shirley. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes, I believe this is the part where you cut the shit and tell everyone in this place what you really are and why you're here, Shirley."

"L-listen, m-mister," Shirley stammered, "I don't know who or what you think I am, but I promise you, I'm nobody. I'm just a bank teller. I swear."

"You believe this shit, Victor?" Charlie asked with a sneer. "She's still trying to keep up the facade, despite the fact that we've got her dead to rights." There was a pause and Charlie nodded. "You're right. No time like the present." Charlie leveled his pistol and pulled the trigger, shooting Shirley point blank in the face, right through the sneeze guard. Her head exploded and her lifeless corpse crumpled to the ground.

"All right, folks. It's all right," Charlie said, lowering his pistol and backing away from the counter. "The threat has been neutralized. Go back to your-" Charlie paused, tilting his head as though he were hearing something the rest of us couldn't. "Oh, no…" he muttered, backing away from the counter. "You folks should run," he said, gesturing towards me and my coworkers.

Shirley's headless corpse took to its feet, wobbling as it stood. A geyser of blood and entrails erupted from the stump where her head used to be, showering us all in gore. Then, this thing burst from between her shoulders, unfurling itself until it stood at nearly the height of the bank's vaulted ceilings. It looked like a giant helgramite, complete with wings and over-sized pincers.

"Victor!" Charlie bellowed. "Victor, we got trouble!" He fired a couple of rounds at the monstrosity, and they passed through with little effect. The creature shrieked its agitation as it pulled itself free of Shirley's dessicated corpse. Its serpentine tail writhed in the open air.

"Foolish, human!" The creature hissed in a booming, gravelly voice. "You cannot defeat me!"

"Vic-" Charlie began to shout again before doubling over in pain. His body grew, doubling and then tripling in size. His face became a literal mask of stone, locked in a sneer. Charlie roared, throwing his head back and pounding his massive chest with his boulder-like fists. "I got your back, Charlie," he growled in an inhuman voice. "Time for Victor to come out and play."

Victor leapt from the floor to the counter and then lunged at the airborne creature, barely missing it as it dove to the side and dashed out into the lobby. Victor gave chase, lunging again, attempting to grab the thing's flailing tail.

"Fine!" Victor roared. "Have it your way!" He grabbed one of the chairs in the lobby and flung it at the creature's face. The thing snatched the chair out of the air and crunched it with its massive pincers, showering the floor in splintered wood and bits of broken chair.

Victor dove in, snatching up two larger pieces of the chair, and rolling back out of the thing's range. He threw one of the wooden spikes at the creature, impaling one of its wings and partially pinning it to the wall. Victor grabbed another chair and tossed it ahead of himself before dashing forward and using the chair as a stepping stone. The arc of his jump put him right where he wanted to be and he drove the other wooden spike into the creature's abdomen.

"Not bad for a human, hey?" He growled.

The creature shrieked in agony and then drove its head down into Victor's neck. Its mandibles dug into Victor's flesh, sending a geyser of blood into the air. Victor grunted a curse and then fell limply to the floor. The creature tried to wriggle free of its trappings, but died right there, pinned to the bank wall. Charlie and Victor died where they lay in the bank's lobby.

Like I said, I'll never set foot in that bank again, because that's where I learned that there are things that go bump in the night, and without Charlie and Victor to protect us, someone has to step up and do the right thing. Might as well be me.