The heavy downpour could barely be seen under the pale light of the moon but it could certainly be heard as it pummeled against the roof of the car, the streaks of rainwater merging and splitting endlessly as they ran down the grubby windshield. The sidestreet seemed eerily silent in the absence of people, but if you were to listen closely the faint wail of police sirens could be heard from a distant part of the city.
The trio sat silently in the car as they had done for the past twenty minutes, the youngest fidgeting constantly, his eyes darting from one end of the street to the other nervously watching for any sign of trouble. The driver glanced over to him for the fourth time and gave him a look that implied if he didn't sit still he'd be walking home. The boy sunk back into his seat, his red sweater bunching up around his cheeks. He looked to his brother for comfort but he was oblivious to his sibling's distress, staring attentively out the rear window. He knew what he was doing so he wasn't scared, or at least if he was he did a good job of hiding it, probably trying to seem composed in front of the driver.
There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the street, the babble of voices disturbing the silence. The group turned to face the rear window where a crowd was forming in the distance, a mass of bow ties and umbrellas no doubt revelling over the acrobatics they had just witnessed in the theatre; the new show had taken the city by storm. They stood huddled for what seemed like a lifetime, but gradually the crowd thinned from the front of the front of the theatre as families headed home to put their children to bed, yet all of them walked in the opposite direction of the car.
"I told him this would be a waste of a trip," the driver grumbled under his breath as some of the theatre-goers began to bundle into taxis.
When the group had all but cleared a family turned left and headed down the empty street towards the not-so-empty car. They were well dressed, the father in a tailored black suit that matched his son's, who looked almost his father's duplicate, whilst his wife donned a luxurious red dress, a set of pearls around her neck. As they walked underneath the umbrella the boy balanced himself on the edge of the curb, his arms held out as though he was walking on a wire. His father gently nudged him, laughing as his son wobbled but did not lose balance, a look of concentration across his face.
"Should we go for it boss?" the older brother asked.
The driver waited a moment before he replied, watching as the family stopped outside an alley, the father seemingly trying to persuade his wife that it was a shortcut. "Yeah. I think so. You seen them pearls that lady's got on her neck? They'd be worth something on their own." The older sibling nodded in agreement and began to lift his hood when the driver held a hand out to stop him. "Not you. The boy." The youngest looked at him, shaking his head. "Shake your head all you want, kiddo, but you need to learn the trade at some point. If you don't do this you're out and so is your brother. And you know what that means, don't you?" he asked.
The boy nodded.
"There'll be no one to look after mommy. Now go on, all you've got to do is follow the richies into that alley and threaten them with this until they hand over the goods," he held out a small revolver, clicking off the safety.
The boy stared at the weapon, his brain unable to form clear instructions for his limbs leaving him paralysed. It was only until his brother nudged him that he came to. He turned to his sibling, who nodded his head towards the gun. With an uneasy feeling in his stomach he took hold of the gun, which weighed more than he'd anticipated.
"Hurry up, kiddo, or they'll get away and then mommy can say bye bye to her meds," the driver taunted.
The boy nodded and slipped the revolver into his pocket before opening the door to the vehicle, the rain cold against his bare hand. He took a deep breath, stepped out and began to make for the opening of the alley where the family had entered when the driver inched down the window some more and called out "Pull your hood up, dumbass." The boy fumbled over his shoulder for the hood of his jumper, pulling it over his head so it covered his face in shadow, and then lifted the black scarf to cover his mouth and nose. His legs felt weak, and as he moved towards the alley he worried they might give way, and his mind was trying to process a million thoughts at once leaving him feeling dazed.
The alley was empty and for a moment he felt the tears beginning to form at the thought of failing his family, but then he noticed another opening to the right. Sure enough half way down was the boy with his parents, the trio peacefully making their way home.
He mustered up thoughts of his mother in bed, her face pale and eyes glassy. They were thoughts that made him sad, ones he tried not to think of, but right now they were the only things that gave him the determination to do what he needed to. He had to make her better. With a deep breath he stepped around the corner, sliding his hand in his pocket to feel for the handle of the weapon. A fleeting fear of accidentally shooting his own foot crossed his mind as his finger brushed against the trigger.
When he was a couple of metres away the man who appeared to be twice his size turned around, alerted by the splash of a misplaced footstep landing in a puddle.
"Give me your money." his voice quivered.
He saw a look of shock flicker across the man's face, probably surprised to be being mugged by such a small person. Behind him his wife beckoned for their son to step away from his father.
"Hey, look young man, I don't have much cash on me -" he started, the rain flattening his black hair.
The boy's breath caught and he tried to think of an alternative. "Pearls!" he blurted. "Her pearls. I'll take them."
The man looked to his wife who was clutching at her necklace and then looked back to him. "My wife's pearls? They're very special to her. But just listen to me a sec-"
The boy's face was beginning to feel hot and his palms were sweating. In an attempt to hurry the process he pulled the gun from his pocket, taking it with both hands and pointing it towards the man. "I need something!" he cried out. "Give me something!"
The man held out a hand to silence his wife who was begging him to move away, asking if she should call for help, his eyes never leaving the boy with the gun. He looked sad. "Put the gun away, kid. I'm sure we can help you out somehow, but you don't need that okay, let's just talk something through."
The boy held his gaze, the gun shaking in his hands.
"If you just put the gun down we could work something out. I know this isn't what you want to do. I promise I could help you if you let me."
The promise of some sort of help that didn't involve underground gang work sounded so appealing to the boy that he began to lower the weapon, thoughts of a better life running through his mind. Thoughts of his family smiling and laughing around a dinner table with plenty of food to eat. A life where his mother's skin was glowing instead of pasty-white.
But then the man began to walk towards him and panic seemed to possess his body and without meaning to he pulled the trigger. A bullet exploded from the tip, sinking into the man's chest releasing a pool of red that seeped into the fabric of his shirt. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor with a splash.
His wife shrieked in horror, running towards her husband who was clutching at his chest, gasping for air. She threw her mobile at her son, screaming for him to call the police but he was unresponsive, his eyes fixated on his dying father.
There was a patter of footsteps behind the boy with the gun and then a hand grabbed him, tugging him backwards. He dropped the gun with a clatter as he began to move, tears streaming down his face, the woman's shrieks piercing his ears.
Another explosion ripped through the air and he turned to see the woman with the pearls fall limply onto her husband. He cried out and tried to pull away from his brother to stop the driver from massacring the whole family, but he was no match and found himself being lifted into the air and carried back to the car.
All the way he waited to hear the third gunshot, but by some act of mercy it never came.