Flashback Flash Fiction: Burglars in Paradise

I'm not sure what the origin was for this story from 2015, but I touched it up a little and hope you get a smile out of it. My apologies for the formatting. I know it should be either intents or double-spaces between paragraphs, but I'm too lazy to fix it.

 

Burglars in Paradise

 

“Look at this, Julia! The place isn’t even locked.”

 

“Let me see, Melvin.” The shapely blonde tested the doorknob. Sure enough, it turned and the door swung open a little. Like Melvin, Julia pulled it shut again very quietly and looked around for the catch. No one was in sight. No surveillance cameras recorded their every move. Nothing moved but the two of them, and no sound but a light breeze disturbed the perfection of the night.

 

“Those guys in the bar were right. This place is perfect,” Melvin enthused. "It really is utopian, just like they said."

 

So why does it make me so nervous? Julia wondered. A job shouldn’t be this easy. Rather, it shouldn't look this easy. Her experience with Melvin was that as soon as things looked good, something would go catastrophically wrong. She'd have felt more comfortable if they'd already had to flee the cops a half a dozen times. They’d probably go through that door and get torn to shreds by pit bulls or something. Still. They needed a good heist, and soonest. This might be their last chance.

 

Melvin enthused, but Julia noticed that he was just as reluctant as she was to open the door and go in. She stepped a few paces down the clean, attractive street to the next door.

 

It was also unlocked.

 

“What’s with this place? Doesn’t anybody lock their doors? I mean, banks and pharmacies without locks?”

 

“Maybe that’s what the guys meant. It’s perfect. Shoot, the place is even named ‘Utopia.’ Don’t that mean perfect?”

 

Julia frowned. It was in the back of her mind that “Utopia” didn’t exactly mean perfect, though she couldn't recall ever hearing it used in any other way. “Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “Perfectly clean streets, perfect unlocked doors. Maybe it’s even perfectly lacking in guard dogs. And loaded with perfect money.” That would be nice. They really, really needed money.

 

The burglars looked up and down the street and frowned. This was a place with money. You could tell. Shoot, they’d even had to walk a few miles from the train station, because places with this kind of money didn’t like trains running through, and didn’t bother with buses because they had cars and chauffeurs. In Julia’s experience, rich people had burglar alarms and guard dogs. And there never was a bank without all that and security guards too.  But, then, rich people also locked their doors, even in the kinds of “safe” towns where lots of people mightn’t. This place was really different.

 

“Only one way to find out.” Melvin was back at the first door, easing it open. No dog attacked, no guns fired, no alarms sounded. With a mental shrug, Julia followed him inside. Nightlights illuminated the back hallway where they stood, and led them toward more interesting parts of the building.

 

The bank. Julia reminded herself it was a bank, and they were there to remove as much of its money as they could carry away. They hadn't really planned this one, but after years in the business, they had their MO down pat. Enter the bank, disable the alarms, crack the vault, get the hell out of Dodge. It wasn't a fancy plan, but it worked for them. Usually. It made her uneasy, changing the routine. She hadn't gone to disable the alarm, because there wasn't one. Already she was off her rhythm.

 

The duo padded down the long hall, past closed offices. They were dark. No alarms sounded, no dogs barked, no security guard accosted them.

 

No security guard? This really was utopian. Julia began to sweat. Her breath came in rapid bursts as she tried to control the tremble growing in her hands.

 

She started to shake all over when they reached the vault.

 

The vault had no lock. It was really just a closet. A closet full of money.

 

Melvin thought it was amazing good luck. Julia wasn't so sure. Melvin never did think things through very deeply.

 

"Look at this!" Melvin didn't even remember to keep his voice down. By now, Julia was pretty sure it didn't matter. "It's like it was designed for us!"

 

Julia knew what he meant. They weren't very good at vaults. The last three banks they’d hit, they'd been unable to crack the vault, and had to make do with the loose change in the desks and the coins from the soda machine in the break room. Still cautious, she pushed open the door of the money room--you couldn't call it a vault, with no locks--and peered in. Melvin couldn't wait, and in his hurry to get past her and find the money, pushed them both into the room.

 

And into nothingness. As the world vanished from around them, Julia remembered, at last, the literal meaning of utopia.

 

 

Photo of the nothingness? Actually, it's the Portal from Steampunk HQ in Oamaru, New Zealand.

 
If you like my writing, please consider reading my books! 

Rebecca M. Douglass, 2025
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.


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