|
Scribe
Join Date: Jun 2004
Posts: 73
|
No title, just crap
I was looking through my files and found this. This is one of the many stories that I have begun and discarded. I wrote it about a year ago. Tell me if it is any good. If you like it, I may continue with it.
((It goes quickly. I wanted it to do that. Give the reader a view of the chaos that the character went through. It is a typical prologue flashback. The next chapter would take place about 9 years later.))
Prologue
“Hey Gabe, Jeopardy is on in five minutes!” Devlin's deep voice boomed up the stairs of his modest, two-story home. “You are so going down tonight!”
“Bring it on,” a small voice from the upstairs of the house squeaked. “Just let me finish my book. I’ll be down in a second. Whatever questions they do before I get down can be counted as yours.”
Devlin smiled and walked back to the couch where his wife sat with a bowl of popcorn in her lap. He plopped down, putting his arm around her.
“Eight years old and I swear that kid has the IQ of Einstein.”
Kaitlyn smiled at her husband’s exaggeration.
Devlin got back up to go yell up at Gabriel again, but the doorbell rang, causing him to stop and glance at his watch.
“Honey, are you expecting anyone?” He called back over his shoulder.
Kaitlyn looked up from the television.
“No. Dev, after you get the door, yell to Gabe to hurry up. I think he would really like these categories.” She turned back to Alex Trebek.
Devlin strode over to the door and looked through the peephole. He pressed his forehead against the cool door, his hand resting on the handle. Then, against his better judgement, he pulled the door open. Fit and handsome, Taylor Byrne dominated the front stoop. His blue uniform was neatly pressed, and his boots and belt buckle shined, giving him the neat, friendly police officer appearance Devlin had found so appealing as a young boy.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Dev?”
Devlin slowly opened the door wider, and moved aside, allowing Taylor access to the house. He walked in with the swaying motion caused by too many items adorning his tightly strapped belt. Devlin nervously eyed one of those items in particular. Taylor’s .38 Special was newly polished, and the strap that held it in its holster was open.
After entering the house, Taylor turned to face Devlin, who was slowly shutting the door.
“What’s up, Taylor?” Devlin fought to keep his voice from trembling. He prayed Gabe stayed upstairs.
“Oh, same ol’ same ol’, Dev. You?”
Devlin nodded, biting down on his cheek nervously. He silently cursed himself for leaving his gun in the bedroom upstairs.
Taylor smiled, sensing his partner’s nervousness.
“You and me, Dev, we gotta talk.”
“Ok. Let’s go out and have some coffee, or a beer. Let’s go get a beer, Taylor.”
Taylor shook his head.
“No. No beer. What I gotta say to you, I say right here.” He smiled again, his white teeth flashing. “Scared, Dev? You should be. Cops aren’t s’posed to turn on their partners.”
Dev’s jaw tightened.
“Turn on? I didn’t say anything to IA, Taylor. Not yet, at least. All you gotta do is stop skimming, or request a new partner. I am not going down for that crap you did.”
Taylor moved closer to Devlin causing his shoulders to twitch, but his feet stayed planted.
“Stop? Don’t give me that self-righteous shit. Everybody skims money. When you get paid peanuts, you have to. You know that.” Taylor glanced around at the house.
“Well, you are a little better off than most. You’re lucky your daddy gave you this house. I could barely afford an apartment, you know? Anyway, who cares about some drug money? The dealers ain’t getting it back. It’ll probably just go to some dirty politician’s pocket. So why not my pocket?”
Devlin swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing.
“We’re cops. We are supposed to uphold the law, not break it. Come on, Taylor. I won’t say anything, just leave my family alone.”
Taylor stepped forward and Devlin’s eyes caught the glint of light off the gun’s barrel. He tried to move to counter Taylor, but he didn’t react in time. Taylor shoved the gun into Devlin’s ribcage and pulled the trigger, Devlin’s body serving as a crude silencer. After a few seconds, his eyes widened as his brain finally registered what had happened.
“I can’t do that.” Taylor whispered in his ear as he held Devlin close. He pulled away, gently easing Devlin to the floor. Devlin’s mouth hung open, his ice blue eyes staring up at his most trusted friend.
Gabriel sat on the top stoop, watching the ordeal. He fought desperately to keep from screaming as the bullet entered his father’s body. Now, the man he had known as Uncle Taylor moved towards the living room: towards Gabe’s mother. Gabe wanted to get up, to scream to his mother to run, but he didn’t move, a disgusting feeling of helplessness brewed as he sat crouched on the stairs while Uncle Taylor sauntered out of his view, and into the living room.
“Dev?” Gabe heard his mother call.
A shot rang out, and Gabe silently sobbed.
After what seemed like forever, Taylor moved back into Gabe’s view as he walked towards Devlin’s body. Gabe shifted, creating an almost inaudible noise. Taylor’s trained ears picked up the sound, and he looked up at Gabriel.
“Hey buddy.” A slow smile filled Taylor’s face. “Come say hi to your Uncle Tay.” He moved towards the bottom of the stairs. With every step he took, Gabe scooted backwards a few inches.
Run, Gabe’s brain screamed at him. Tears streamed down his face as Taylor made his way up the stairs. He couldn’t run. His feet were glued to the stairs. Then, all of a sudden, the little boy in Gabe stopped crying, and he bolted up the stairs as his brain’s frantic messages reached their desired destination. Taylor’s pace stayed the same.
“Don’t run, Gabey. I’m not gonna hurt you. Besides, there’s nowhere to run.”
Gabe made his way to his parent’s bedroom, shutting the door tightly behind him. He sunk to his knees on the floor, the footsteps of his pursuer echoing from behind the door. He crawled his way to the table on his father’s side of the bed. He dug until he found his father’s backup pistol, loaded and deadly. He easily located and turned the safety off, well versed in this weapon. His father had taught him to use it, convinced that is his son knew how deadly it was, he would be less likely to play with it. Devlin had been right, and Gabe had never had a desire to even hold the gun. Now it was necessary.
The bed concealed him from Taylor’s view, as the door creaked open.
“Gaaabbbeee.” Taylor sang.
Gabe cringed at the familiar word dripping with evil.
“Come on, son. You can’t hide.” Taylor moved closer to Gabe’s hiding spot. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. He could hear the blood rushing around in his head.
See that shell? Put it to your ear. You hear that Gabey? People say that is the sound of the sea. Want to know what it really is? It is the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. Cool, huh?
Taylor rounded the corner of the bed, that disgusting smile drew across his visage as he noticed Gabe.
“There you are.”
Gabe leveled the gun to Taylor’s chest with surprisingly steady hands. The smile remained on Taylor’s face.
“You gonna shoot me boy? Did your daddy teach you how to shoot that? Come on. Come on, Gabey. Shoot me already.” Taylor moved closer to Gabe.
“You can’t do it, Gabey. Only men kill other men. You are just a boy. A helpless, little boy.”
Tears ran down Gabe’s face. He didn’t want to kill Taylor out of anger, only necessity. He aimed at Taylor’s heart, and shut his eyes.
Remember never to jerk the trigger. Always squeeze. Really gently. There ya go, Gabey.
Taylor silently pulled the .38 Special from behind his back. Gabe kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t see Taylor pull the gun, but he felt it. He opened his eyes slowly, and gently squeezed the trigger.
__________________
"Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum." --Epitoma Rei Militaris," by Vegetius.
|
It has a real air of suspense, which is always important in a good story. I think it's very nicely written, and I enjoyed the easy flow of the writing style. I think you should take this somewhere too. 
I absolutely see this going farther. Any ideas what direction it might take? Or haven't the characters told you yet? lol sigh...the writer is always the last to know. Very nice.
