her window. “Here,” the teller said. “Please. Just go.”
Jamie reached over, then pulled his arm back with a flourish before grabbing it. “You didn’t trip the alarm, did you?”
“No. No, of course not.”
“Are you sure?”
Though his abilities didn’t come with a lie detector, the freshest memories were the easiest to read. He dove in and confirmed she told the truth.
“Yes,” she said, nodding faster and faster. “Please, take it. I promise, I didn’t do anything.”
Jamie wrapped his fingers around the backpack’s strap, giving a little twirl as he flipped it onto his shoulder. The weight of the bag awkwardly slammed into his side, taking his wind for a second. “Alright.” He turned, putting his back to the three people watching him. “You’ve cooperated for now. Consider yourself lucky.” He hesitated, counting to seven for an appropriate dramatic pause.
One.
They wouldn’t remember this since he was about to wipe the encounter from each of their minds, but the security cameras would capture it, local news would broadcast it, and social media would discuss it.
Two.
The hashtag #MindRobber would boost his legend even further. Just the thought, the mere mention of him would generate fear in anyone he encountered.
Three.
Okay, it stroked his ego a little bit too. When you wake up in a dingy apartment without any of your memories, you really don’t have much else.
Four.
His only other accomplishment at this point was returning library books on time and being a good cat owner.
Five.
Remember your lines. And a good American accent, practice makes perfect, he told himself. “The Mind Robber has spared you...this time.”
Six.
Jamie adjusted his posture to make his big declaration before brain-stunning the two bystanders and the teller and removing the memories of this bank visit with surgical precision. Done, finished clean, in a mere ten minutes. He took in a breath to begin when the silence broke.
It wasn’t a word of defiance. Or desperation, or despair.
No, this sound was a guttural ungggh, like something choked. Jamie turned, then his eyes widened in horror.
This was unexpected. Uncontrolled. The preparation, the scouting, the review of his plans, the speech rehearsal, and none of it ever accounted for this.
The other employee, the woman standing by the desk, clutched her chest, eyes shut and brow creased in pain. She dropped to her knees, then fell face-first onto the floor, her skull hitting the stone tile with a sickening crack.
“Oh my God,” screamed the teller. “Wendy!”
The man in the polo shirt stepped over before stopping and turning to Jamie. “Please! Let me help her!”
What do I do what do I do what do I do...
None of the robberies had gone totally smoothly, but nothing had ever happened on this scale. Jamie froze, petrified as blood began to trickle from the woman’s head onto the floor. All that preparation, the theatrics, the ridiculous cackling, it acted as crowd control so no one played hero or got hurt. But this was something completely different. “I, um...” He wanted to say something, something to make this alright. Why didn’t he get the ability to reverse time, just a few seconds—seven seconds, precisely, to remove that stupid dramatic pause and just get out of there.
Run. He should run. Every instinct told him to get out of there—no, stun the remaining people, lift their memories, then get the hell out of there. Should he call 911 first? That woman, she was on the floor probably dying because of him, either from an apparent heart attack or the ensuing face-plant onto a solid rock floor. She deserved medical attention.
“We need a doctor!” yelled the bank teller.
Was Jamie a doctor? Maybe. At least in his previous life, the one that hid behind that moment of waking up about two years ago with no identity, no memories, no history. Did medical training linger somewhere in the void of his brain?
More importantly, could he even recall that type of information?
“Please!” the man in the polo shirt urged. “She needs help!”
“I know that!” Jamie yelled back, his English accent breaking through for a moment. Any cool resolve in his character was totally broken. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m an engineer. We need to call an ambulance. Please!”
That man couldn’t help her right away. Jamie raised his hand, flicked a finger and put the man into a stunned stupor, standing but looking blankly into the distance.
“Wendy?” the teller asked. “Wendy are you—”
She stopped short, now also under the influence of a brain-stun. Jamie’s hands trembled as he tried to lift the memories of the robbery from each