When Things Go Bump In The Night.
"I don't care how you get it, Richard, just fucking get it!"
"I can't.." came an almost inaudible utterance from a middle aged man to the left of the original speaker.
The man grumbled heavily, raised one foot by several centimetres and stomped it down onto the wooden flooring with indescribable force. A loud crack fit to wake the dead was the result, as well as more than several flinches from other parties in the room, which was cloaked in darkness.
"I'm not asking for the Crown Jewels here, now piss off out of my face and get it!"
The man whom had been bombarded with various illegal requests which differed somewhat in severity hesitated and spoke up meekly. "That's worse than mugging an old granny!" he insisted.
"Mug an old granny on your way round there if you like, just don't hang about on your way back!" Yelled the first again, clearly far from impressed.
Sensing that his pleas to his commander's better nature were wasted on account of him distinctly lacking one, the nervous entity raised a slightly trembling hand by mere inches, and made his exit. "Boss.." he called.
"I need all of you back here by three; got it?! Steve; bugger off and get the ropes would you; I told you half an hour ago! Eric; petrol, I won't tell you again!" Clearly wearing the trousers within the operation, the man placed himself in the windowsill and glanced meaningfully to his accomplices to be as they reluctantly filed out of the room, one by one.
The clock struck one thirty, dinging loudly in the process. With it life drained from the dimly lit streets, the darkness of which was alleviated only by blinking streetlamps; tired as the streets and a particular family which resided there. Buildings became submerged in inescapable darkness which was modified with the closing of yet another amenity, then the one that followed, and the one that followed that; a row of dominoes. Neglected streetlamps could not even begin to penetrate it.
Laughs. A once laughter filled area too appeared to have split at the seams hurriedly, suddenly, horribly; the circling giggles pouring out drop by drop; like a dripping tap. A single being slipped inside of a gate leading to a doorway, followed by countless others falling up the street; like jenga, many blocks with a reliance upon a single one.
Towering winds howled through all buildings; forcing curtains forward at such an angle that they could have easily been in the process of being inflated. Nothing and no one was immune from the horrors that the night brought with it; natural or not.
The spluttering of a somewhat aged engine drew the attention of a now hooded, masked and concealed captain figure. Storming to the rusting driver's side door of what he regarded to be a less than road worthy vehicle, lacking in patience as per usual, the driver was very nearly dragged from the seat to the stone cold concrete of the ground in a split second. "I gave you permission to mug an old granny on your way if you desired; not to get the van off of them! Look at this trash; are you blind?!"
"What do you expect me to do in an hour and a half?" The earlier highly shy part of the equation spoke up, nervously to an extent, but having acquired some degree of confidence.
"What I expect is for you to find me a reasonable van for the job, not a bloody one way ticket to fucking prison!"
At this, Steve emerged from the sheltered but somewhat poorly warehouse, swinging in his arms sufficient lengths of marine rope, which had previously been tied together in a relatively neat bundle. "Ladies; handbags down now…."
"What the fuck is the matter with you, Steve?! I issue orders around here; me, no one else!" the first man barked again, reaching out in something of a rude manner for the marine rope which he had wasted little time in requesting. He turned the resulting item over in his hands several times, taking a close look, before deducing that the find was suitable. "At least you have a bit of a brain, I suppose…"
A single bolt of thunder fell from the darkening sky, clouds rumbling unmistakeably, coinciding with the strike of three hours. Three hours. "I guess I'm just going to have to chance it, thanks, Richard; I can't get anything else now.. I can't wait another day.." The boss had spoken, and no one dared to argue. All elements of the operation knew that this was an order to make their way to the van and this was the very action that followed.
Simple scuttling of mice in the attic overhead was not enough to shake the house. Two young girls slept soundly in their fairy filled room, pale pink curtains flowing down from almost the ceiling to the floor, excess fabric curled up in a relatively neat heap. One, the younger of the two, sniffed subconsciously and shifted so that she was led on her left side, but did not wake in any capacity. Her sister simply continued breathing heavily in her slumber. Heavy, seemingly gale force winds from outside sliced the rare silence of the household. Glenda remained oblivious to all comings and goings from the next room, consumed with a heavy sleep that it seemed nothing or nobody could penetrate…
The van screeched to a halt, its aged shell having creaked so much in the process of stopping that it attracted the attention of some passers by. "No gob please, Richard, they'll have us in a second if you do.." demanded Archie, jumping out of the front seat and circling the van in order to collect the necessaries from the back; shockingly more concerned and waylaid with these than Steve and Eric who had travelled in the back with much reluctance and opposition.
"Eric, you get the back door, I'm doing the front. Richard; for your insane choice of van, you can have the pleasure of using the ladder and going for an upstairs window. Steve; take the living room window," Archie demanded flatly his words laced with almost inexpressible hostility. Marching up to the door as if he had been doing it every single day of his life with no exceptions, he took a crowbar from inside his leather jacket and quickly inserted it into the corner of the door. It opened.
Archie paced forward several steps in the deserted hallway, came to the flight of stairs which led up to his long suffering family and glanced back. "Get on with it then!" He started off up the stairs, leaving his guiltless accomplices to make their entries. Richard was much more than half tempted to simply follow Archie through the front door.
Richard stepped as quietly as he could manage into the room. The floor creaked very slightly. He sincerely hoped that it hadn't given him away. The younger of the two girls rolled onto her front, but seemed to have remained unconscious. Her blonde strands littered her Barbie duvet. "Archie, Roxanne's moved…" he called instinctively.
"What is the matter with you, I ask you?!" Archie demanded somewhat angrily, skipping up the stairs two at a time to join his companion, having done a sweep of the house. 'Investigating immediate surroundings' he called it. "She's six years old, she's hardly going to do anything!" Someone better go and sort my bitch of a wife out, before she's woken up with all this racket and calls the old bill on us! Now!" he grumbled, easily the louder of the two.
Archie retired to the bathroom immediately, while Steve made his presence felt at the top of the stairs, having almost tripped on a pile of sporadically arranged catalogues and magazines, out of which the pages looked to be rapidly falling. "I could've broken my fucking neck!" he cursed. Roxanne or Veronica must have left them there. Glenda, although patience trying simply would not have been able to withstand such a mess, he concluded.
Richard scooped Roxanne out of her bed, then her princess themed room, which was in his opinion, fit for a princess. He had lovingly painted it with Glenda several years previously, before all of this. "Yours is away with the fairies mate; you'll have no problem," he muttered, brushing past Steve while heading for the stairs.
A period of mere minutes passed by, and with it Steve feigned a struggle. Archie, becoming aware of this happening, had soon rectified it. "Cut the crap; I've had enough for a year off of Richard!" he called sternly, and plonked his feet down upon the previously untarnished table top. To an observer, it would be lucky that it hadn't been constructed from glass, but pine and mud stains certainly did not make a good mix. Now joining Richard and Roxanne at the foot of the stairs cradling ten year old Veronica in his arms, it would appear he wasn't such a sick, twisted individual after all. But he was, he really was. You could be sure of that if nothing else.
.Archie, still failing to have moved from the kitchen table, glanced through the hallway to see his men huddled into a corner in close proximity to the door. He strode out of the kitchen. "Ropes, boys?" he commanded with some force in his tone after surveying their handiwork. He did not consider it very handy at all.
"In the van, boss," the three answered in unison quietly, knowing better than to scream at Archie, certainly in his preceding residence, where his wife remained above. Gagged though she was, the men could make their escape with much more ease by means of not waking her.
Archie scowled and his lips formed a seemingly permanent frown. "They're not much good in there; what do you propose I do, lay Roxanne and Veronica down in the middle of the road and tie them up?"
"Well, yeah. Wouldn't be so bad.." Steve uttered, unwittingly aggravating Archie. He'd known him the least amount of time out of the three.
He received a look fit to kill for his trouble, promptly to say the least. "We came here because I want my daughters; not their corpses in some sick revenge plot over my scheming wife…"
Their van soon zoomed off down the darkened road, never to be seen again. It hadn't even caused a slightest disturbance to the neighbourhood that night. It was the following morning that everything had fallen apart. Tears. Almost unstoppable tears had erupted. It was a wonder the town hadn't been subjected to flooding.