Chapter 2: Sunday Morning
As the residents continued their daily lives, Terri sat and waited for someone to find her. She was not yet dead, but her body remained disobedient to her mind. So Terri sat and waited for her hero to arrive, with little hope or luck.
Catherine strolled past the Thomas residence, and crossed the road. And then, Mrs Catherine Gardener finally saw what the problem was. The middle aged woman fell to her knees and let out an awful scream, which echoed through the once quiet neighbourhood.
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The Jones family were sitting down to breakfast when Mrs Gardener shrieked. Ben and Ellie got up, and went to their front door, wrenched it opened and looked outside to discover what was wrong. Mrs Gardener was on her knees in a crowd of people and the sirens of an Ambulance grew louder. Ben looked at Ellie, who nodded. Mr Jones firmly tightened the cord of his blue dressing gown and marched over towards the sobbing, middle-aged woman.
"What happened?" Ben asked Amy, who was stood in the crowd with a cotton, pink gown wrapped around her.
"Mrs Gardener found Terri Wilkinson on her doorstep. She had been shot, and there was blood everywhere," Amy replied, calmly. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear then continued. "The Ambulance were called but nobody knows who shot her,"
"There, there, Catherine" an elderly woman was saying. "It's alright"
"Trust Mrs Gardener to make a drama out of a private thing," Ben murmured and Amy nodded in agreement.
By this time, Ben and Amy's other half's had appeared, curious that their partners had not returned. Matt smelt of very strong cologne and mints. Ben coughed a little, and Matt turned red.
"What's happened here?" Ellie asked.
"Terri Wilkinson was shot." Ben replied.
"By whom?" Matt inquired.
"Nobody knows." Amy answered.
After Amy's comment, the Ambulance pulled up, and the four friends rushed towards it, and saw their fifth friend, lying on a bed of cotton, her eyes closed, with blood all over her lovely apron.
"Oh my," Ellie clasped a hand over her mouth. "It's true,"
An Ambulance worker, who vaguely resembled a gorilla nodded. "Yeah. She was shot by someone about half an hour ago. She's stable, but we think she won't make it to tomorrow," he said gravely.
"That's awful" Matt thought aloud.
"Her poor husband" Amy added, looking at the 14 carat gold ring on the pale woman's finger.
Ellie took Terri's hand and squeezed it gently. The ambulance worker began to talk with Matt about her injuries. Then, Ellie was almost certain that she felt someone squeeze her hand back. Ellie looked at Mrs. Wilkinson's face, the still, emotionless face and realised that Mrs Wilkinson wasn't dead. In fact, she was very much alive.
While his wife looked at the poor woman, Ben had noticed that the door to the Wilkinson residence was still open, and that Brad was knelt down doing something. Curious, Ben edged closer to one of his neighbours and saw that Brad was scrubbing at the blood stains on the wooden floor, where Terri had been.
"What in the world…?" Ben whispered to himself, approaching Brad. He took a deep breath and tapped gently on the open door. Brad didn't look up.
"Hello Brad. I just wanted to let you know that I am so sorry for your loss," Ben said, sombrely.
Brad didn't respond for a few moments then said something indistinguishable.
"Excuse me…" Ben knelt down to see what the man was muttering.
"I said 'I'm Cleaning!'" Brad roared, and Ben fell backwards with shock. He'd never know Brad to be so viscous.
"I'm sorry," Ben stuttered.
"Go Away!" Brad got to his feet, shrieking and waving his arms about. Ben backed away slowly. Brad was breathing heavily, like an angry rhinoceros. Mr Wilkinson slammed the door to Number 12, leaving Ben alone on the well kept garden.
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Charlene Gates watched the events unroll from the safety of her front room. "Dirty, filthy Scavengers. Disgusting insects! Foul Vermin!" There was a tinker of glass as Charlene destroyed a valuable ornament her mother had given her. Why couldn't she be Amy? Charlene stared at a photo of Amy and Matt then tore it to pieces. "Why couldn't I be Amy?" she shrieked. "Why?" she felt to her knees, sobbing.
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Florence stood in the kitchen, with a frying pan. She was cooking Bobby some eggs. Sam had stormed out on her again, leaving a red hand print on her face and several bruises on her stomach.
"Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?" Bobby asked innocently.
"No, sweetheart." Florence felt tears well up in her eyes, so she quickly wiped them on the back of her hand. "What makes you think that?" her voice shook.
"You keep arguing," Bobby said glumly.
Florence was silent for a moment, as she put the eggs onto Bobby's plate. "All couples argue." she said, calmly.
"Mr and Mrs Wilkinson don't…" Bobby said.
"How dare you argue with me?" Florence bellowed, her voice quivering. "Go…Go to your room!" she sobbed. Bobby obeyed in silence. Florence sank against the wall and cried.
Yes, every street has its mysteries. Some have dark mysteries which give the inhabitants chills up and down their spine. Others have quiet mysteries, that all mount up to something terrible. And some streets are so mysterious, that not even their neighbours know about them. Appleby Street was a quiet street, but even they had secrets, secrets which could destroy them. And nobody wanted anyone else to find out their secret. But the day Mrs Terri Wilkinson was shot, the lid which kept the street's secrets safe was removed, and life would never be the same again.