The Ninth District

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The woman stood in the middle of the bank atrium. She stood there with a look of anguish on her face, staring at the gun pointed at her, and moved her hands to her mouth and to her stomach and ended up with one hand over each. She was in her early thirties, dressed in black pants and a striped top with sleeves to the elbows. She had long, dark, shoulder-length hair held back by a white headband and she was pregnant. She looked close to term the way her stomach stretched the shirt. She shook her head back and forth, her eyes never leaving the gun.

A man in a long, black trench coat stood in front of her and motioned with the gun for her to move towards the rear of the bank. She didn’t move. He finally pointed the gun at her stomach and motioned with his head for her to move. The woman wrapped her arms around her belly to protect her unborn child before moving in the direction he’d indicated. The man followed and reached out and pushed her shoulder with his gloved left hand to move her along. His right hand held the gun, pointed at her back. The woman stumbled, and shook her head back and forth; her shoulders hitched up and down as she struggled against the tears. She trudged ahead. They disappeared as they turned left around the corner into a hallway, first the woman, and then the man.

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