I've gone through and edited the preface to "What the Silence Screams". At first, I wrote it and didn't know what kind of story would come out of the preface, but I've figured it out! I'm excited to unfold this story. I hope you enjoy it! Please comment on anything you might change or add. Suggestions are greatly appreciated!
Cheers!
-thevoiceinside
WHAT THE SILENCE SCREAMS - PREFACE REVISED
The soft pitter patter of uneasy footsteps echoed in the dark alley. The boy rounded another corner, squatting behind a metal dumpster. He could hear their voices: muffled, yet close. The air gave off a musty, almost suffocating sense. A stack of one hundred dollar bills fell heavily to the ground. The sound froze his insides, causing him to curse under his breath. Stuffing the wad of cash back into his backpack, he ducked behind an apartment stairwell. Several moments passed and the only sound to be heard was a distant police siren. The alley seemed to be trapping his every escape route and the only light illuminating the alley came from a second floor apartment; casting murky shadows against the opposite building. The fear inside him swelled abnormally, promising to burst his gut. The boy pulled a 6mm pistol from his jeans as he rose to his feet. A clammy, sweat caked, hand gripped the boy’s shoulder. His heart failed to beat for several seconds; cold steel pressed firmly against his neck. The boy raised his arms in a surrendering stance, pistol in hand.
“Drop it,” a scratchy, familiar voice spoke from behind. Cigarette smoke oozed out of the corners of his mouth, causing the boy to catch his breath in an intoxicating heave. The pistol fell from the boy’s grasp and hit the ground with a muffled clunky twang.
“Alright Ray, back down.” The boy spoke sternly, his voice demanding. The man with the scratchy voice lowered his weapon. Two other men grabbed the boy and flung him against the brick wall, pinning his arms helplessly.
“Where’s my money, Hendricks?” The man spoke again, pacing back and forth, nervously. Tears pierced the boy’s eyes and even still, he refused to cry.
“It’s in the bag, I swear!”
“It better be. Slink, search it.” He said motioning toward a prune-like man who shoved the boy from the wall, prying the backpack from the boy. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He rummaged through the bag, placing wads of cash in stacks on the dusty pavement. The man’s face showed no emotion. It was like he was unfeeling. The boy was still held captive by the jawing grasp of the third man. He too looked to be in his mid-twenties, although his face was unfamiliar to the boy, unlike the other two men.
“750 big ones are missing.” The prune-like man, referred to as ‘Slink’, spoke angrily as he handed the backpack to his boss. The color drained from the boy’s face, he hesitated, “I can expl—” Ray punched the boy in the face, causing his nose to bleed.
“Shut up Hendricks! You’re asking to be shot. I want my money and I want it now! Where is it?” The scratchy voiced man, Ray, paced again, back and forth, throwing the backpack against the stairwell. His energy screamed anger and fear.
“I don’t know!” The boy’s voice cracked with terror. Ray raised his fist to the boy’s face in a threatening gesture. He pulled a gun from his leather jacket with his other hand, pressing it firmly into the boy’s abdomen. “I won’t wait too long, Hendricks. And I won’t hesitate to end your pathetic, wasted life. You’ve got four days to cough up the money and tell your friend Pete,” Ray paused, looking around, “wherever he is, that I’ll do the same to him if I don’t see my money soon. Got it?” The boy nodded in agreement as the gun was removed.
A clattered metal banging sounded from several feet ahead in the alley way. Ray’s expression stiffened. He shouted, “Check it out Gutter,” pointing at the third man who held the boy captive. The third man, Gutter, threw the boy into Slink’s grasp. Gutter disappeared behind a stack of cardboard boxes. “Hey!” Someone yelled from behind the stacked mess. Their voice flowed through the boy’s ears with an eerie familiarity. The boy feared the worst, it was Pete. Gutter struggled, dragging him toward the others. Pete wasn’t the kind of person that had much common sense. He had an extensive criminal record already at age sixteen. Not to mention, he had been arrested several times for dealing drugs to Virginia East’s Junior High School students. Although Pete wasn’t the best role model, the boy looked up to him as an older brother. The boy was only a year younger than Pete and had already helped him in several criminal acts. Don’t say anything stupid. The boy hoped to himself.
Ray laughed, “How nice for you to join us, Pete.”
“We really need to talk to you,” Slink added, slyly. Gutter released his grasp on Pete, shoving him to the middle of a circle that now formed. Pete straightened out his rugged red tank top. A matching bandanna was tied around his right arm.
“What up guys?” Pete laughed smartly. “Hey Hendricks, looks like a party.” The boy took in a deep breath. He began to fear more than ever. Ray walked up to Pete, getting right in his face. “Where’s my money, Pete?”
“What? What are you talking about? I was looking for Hendricks. I see you found him so I guess we better go now.” Ray laughed and smiled with a smirk. His happy mask faded into a determined glare.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Ray pulled out his gun and cocked it, forcing it under Pete’s chin. The boy tries to take a step forward, but is forced backwards. He wanted to say something but his words were frozen under his tongue. Slink’s grasp grew tighter. The city of Roanoke, Virginia seemed to be silenced, highlighting the alley as the only form of action.
Pete raised his arms, surrendering to Ray and his gang. “The money is in my shed, behind the railroad tracks on Applecove drive, I swear.” Pete’s words were quick. Ray’s eyes grew wider with satisfaction. His gun fired; the sound echoing back and forth between buildings. “No!” The boy’s voice rang in his own ears for several moments. Everything seemed to be playing in slow motion. Pete’s lifeless body lay in a pool of blood on the alley floor. He had taken a bullet to the head.
Ray gestured to Slink who threw the boy to the ground, causing the boy’s right knee to bleed. The three men ran anxiously out of the alley, taking the backpack full of meaningless money. The boy reached up to touch his sore, numb lip. The taste of blood was definite as he rushed over to his fallen friend. Police sirens sounded in the distance, they were merging closer. The boy shook with sorrow as he lay himself over his friend. He untied Pete’s bandanna and stuffed it into his left pocket. “Damn it, Pete—” the boy cried. He cursed several more times as he staggered to his feet, darting blindly out of the alley in the opposite direction.
