The job
Shane had been to the house once before, It was a few years ago when he was still a kid but he remembered it well. He knew the old man had money and a room full of treasure. Shanes Grandfather and the old man were in the war together. On his farm, he had taken Shane horse riding, given him treats and his grandfather’s old watch.
Timmy is the youngest of the crew. He sits up front next to his brother, Shane. The trip is silent, each member of the gang recites the role Shane had assigned last night. The old man lives alone, in and out in a flash, a regular snatch and run. Joey is timid so he would stay and drive. The guns are only to scare the old man and keep him quiet. No one is to hurt him; Shane had made this clear over and over. He cared for the old man and if he wasn’t so desperate he would never rip him off. He and Timmy were starting a new life, after this they will move into a house together, break up the gang and he will work, Timmy will go back to school and they would be like everyone else.
The sun is still pouring over the horizon. Thin amber cloud lights the sky and Shane feels something stir. What a view.
“Beautiful.” He breathes. The three in the back laugh and taunt but the brothers still eye the horizon. Shane turns back to the road. He stamps the brake and the car slides. Cars had backed up from the lights. The tyres are loud. The smell is foul. The car becomes still no more than an inch away from a roaring blue sedan.
“Shit Shane, keep your eyes on the road.” Muntah eyes the rear view mirror.
The car growls along the highway. The crew still sits silent. Each one focussed. The back three, Muntah, Joey and Paul are dressed in black. The brothers up front wear jeans and t-shirts. After gripping the wheel for an hour, Shane pulls down to the left and eases the car off the road. He leaves it purring and turns to the boys.
“OK Paul when we leave, you sit in the front and open the boot, Muntah Joey and Timmy, you guys follow me around the back and I will take us in.” In the darkness, he eyes each one as he says their names. “The back door leads through to the kitchen; from there we can access the room with the shit. “He has hundreds of collectors items probably insured for thousands, Me and Muntah will go in and load up the bags; Timmy and Joey you just watch out for the old man, by now he will either be on the couch or up in bed either way he will be asleep; he has no family so he will be alone. “Paul you leave that engine running and make sure the boot is open; we will come out of the driveway up there, leave the lights off and move up out front; Timmy and I will have the guns” Shane trusted his brother. “And remember; don’t hurt the old man, no matter what.”
Joey and Muntah pull balaclavas over their faces. The gang creep down the long driveway. They follow their leader. They skulk up around the back of the manor.
“Through here.” Shane’s voice quivers in the wind. He gently opens a white gate and follows a path around the back of the house. Timmy’s heart drums hard, he is the youngest of the lot and has never had much to do with crime. Shane reaches out and turns the handle of the back door. He pulls it out gently and steps inside. He lifts a small flashlight from his pocket and lights the floor ahead. The gang walk in a bunch through the hall, they find the kitchen and the floor sighs as they creep through.
“This is the room, you two watch for the old man.” Timmy and Joey stop, their eyes are wide and they scan the dark for sign of the old man.
Shane leads Muntah through to the large room. The walls are covered with shelves and precious items and photographs. Shane leads Muntah around and they gently fill the bags with signed nostalgia; photographs, golf balls, plates, a pair of shoes. He continues to swing the light a head and he sees something. On a shelf in an elegant gold frame is a picture of a young man. Unlike the other photos, there is no signature, no one famous, just a picture of a kid under a cowboy hat with a wild grin on a chestnut horse. He sees how happy the old man had made him. His face becomes hot and his grip loosens. His bag of loot hits the floor with a crash of bone-china.
“You idiot!” Muntah’s whisper is charged with fury but still Shane stares. “We better go, come on.”
The kitchen becomes bright.
“Get outta hear you mongrels.” Shane rushes to the door. There is a crack. His heart slams. Another crack sounds and Shane busts through the door. Muntah rushes past his shoulder and Joey has already beaten past the old man. He stands in the kitchen holding a big wooden gun with one hand on the trigger and one on the barrel. His eyes are wide and he scowls. His red face sees Shane. His look becomes doleful. He whispers.
“Shane?”
Shane looks at his feet. Timmy lies. His chest peppered with holes, leaks blood. Shane drops. His eyes soak and tears drip. He lifts his brother and grasps him. Timmy wheezes. His mouth opens and his eyes become narrow and his heart slows. Blood moves over the white marble floor. Shane sits behind his brother. His hands tremble and his heart thuds. He rises. He pushes his hand into his pocket. He rips the gun out and the old man stares. He just waits. Shane breathes faster and louder. His heart still slams. He aims. A moment passes and he gives his brother one more teary look. His grip becomes tight and the old man begins to speak. Shane squeezes the trigger. Two for the old man and one for him.
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