The Sign

There was no sign. It should have been there. He knew it should have been there. Was it hiding behind the clouds, running behind the thunder, riding on the lightening?

A sign. That’s what he needed. A sign. The car was going too fast on the highway and the rain pelted the window mercilessly and he was looking out the window searching for a sign. The static of the radio crackled over whatever the other man was saying.

               

“In the….Catch ‘im….Swear to God….”

               

A song was trying to play. He could hear the bass, the drums, but the static obscured the vocals. He didn’t care though. He just needed a sign.

               

“Load…Goddamn rain….Are ya….”

               

Thunder rolled over the gray clouds and lightning seemed to try and cut the sky in half. Half. That described a lot of things. He’d been the car for half an hour. His mind was only half there. The storm had been raging half the night. The music could only be half heard.

               

“Hell…He’s gotta be…listenin’ to….”

               

“Hnh?”

               

“Goddamnit, Harris, ya even listenin’ to me?”

               

“Whaddya say?” The other man slammed his hand hard against the steering wheel.

               

“Jus’ pass me the Goddamn booze, Harris,” he snarled. Harris looked to see he was holding a beer bottle in his hand. He handed it to the driver and looked back out the window.

               

“What we doin’ out here, Rich?” Harris asked. He didn’t recognize what was outside the window. Then again, with the rain, he could hardly make out what was there.

               

“Whaddya mean what we doin’ out here?” Rich slurred. He’d emptied the bottle of its contents and rolled down the window, tossing out the bottle and letting it shatter on the road. “We’re doin’ what we came here to do.”

               

“What the hell we come here to do, Rich?” Harris asked. Rich shook his head.

               

“I swear to God, man, swear to God I never met anybody dumb as ya. I been tellin’ ya what we’re gonna do since ya got in the Goddamn car.”

              

Harris tried to remember. He honestly did, but nothing came to him. He’d been letting his mind wander all night. He let his gaze trail out the window. Nothing but blurs out there, yet he was still looking for a sign. There had to be a sign.

               

“Harris? Harris? Harris, Goddamnit!” Rich hit the steering well again. Harder this time, hard enough to make Harris jump in his seat.

               

“Whaddya say?”

 

Rich sighed deeply. He was always doing that when he frustrated, especially when he was frustrated with Harris.

               

“Jus’ get the gun,” Rich ordered. Harris nodded then paused. He didn’t know where the gun was. As if he’d read Harris’s mind Rich mumbled “Glove compartment.” Harris opened the glove compartment at the same moment Rich made a sharp turn. Harris hit his head with a loud thunk.

               

“Moron,” Rich muttered. Because his voice was so under his breath Harris figured he wasn’t supposed to have heard, so he pretended he didn’t. He slipped the gun into his hand and straightened up. He put the gun in his lap, ran his fingers over the barrel. He heard Rich sigh.

               

“Load it, ya idiot,” he said. Harris found the bullets in the glove compartment and he loaded the gun. Two bullets. He wondered why. If they were going to kill anyone he knew Rich was such a good shot he would only need one bullet to get the job done. Were they going to kill two people?

               

Rich made another sharp turn, and then another and soon they came to a stop. Rich got out of the car and Harris followed suit. He paused for a moment, letting the rain drench him, looking up at the sky. There was still no sign. But there should have been. He knew there should have been. Was it hiding behind the clouds, running behind the thunder, riding on the lightning?

               

“Let’s go!” Rich snapped, and Harris hurried to catch up with him. They were at the docks. The waves were crashing against the docked boats with blind anger. Nature was like that. It didn’t really care what it did. If something was in the way, it would face nature’s wrath. Harris watched the waves crack the masts of two sailboats.

               

“I said let’s go!” Rich shouted over a clap of thunder. Harris hadn’t realized he’d stopped. He shook his head and kept going. They went inside a warehouse. Rich maneuvered past boxes and crates filled with God knows and practically flew down a flight of stairs with Harris at his heels.

              

The basement was damp. There was some kind of mossy substance in the corners. It smelled.

               

“Someone there?” a voice called, thickly accented. Spanish, Harris guessed, although he’d only heard a Spanish accent a handful of times. He didn’t get around much.

               

“Harris, the gun,” Rich whispered. Harris had forgotten he was even holding the gun. He handed it to Rich. “It’s me!” Rich called to the voice.

               

He and Harris stepped out from behind a particularly large crate, and that was the first time Harris saw the man. He was tall with slicked-back black hair and tanned skin. His dark eyes flittered over Harris and then went to Rich.

               

“Richard,” he said with a smile, his accent distorting Rich’s name.

               

“Lucio,” Rich replied coolly.

               

“I should have guessed it would be you, amigo.”

               

“Yeah, ya should have,” Rich said.

               

“Well, what is it you want? To buy something from me?” Lucio reached inside his jacket and pulled out a bag of something. He held it up for Rich to see. “Cheapest stuff around,” he said with a sly grin. His accent made everything difficult for Harris to understand. He wasn’t good with accents.

               

“I don’t want your s**t,” Rich hissed. He brought the gun from behind his back. Lucio’s eyes widened as soon as he saw it. “I want ya off my Goddamn streets.”

               

Rich fired the gun. Harris shuddered. He didn’t like to watch when Rich shot people. It made him feel sick, lightheaded, dizzy. He wanted to puke. Rich turned to him. It was dark, but Harris managed to find his eyes.

               

“W-We goin’ now, Rich?”

               

Rich didn’t say anything. Well, he grunted, but that didn’t really count for saying anything. He marched back up the stairs and Harris scurried after him. They went back to the car, but instead of going to the driver’s side Rich followed Harris to the passenger door.

               

“Um, what’re ya doin’?” Harris asked.

               

“What has to be done,” Rich replied. It was then that Harris remembered the two bullets he’d put into the gun. He started to shake.

               

“Y-Ya wouldn’t…Please, Rich,” he said. The gun was in his face then. “Please,” he mouthed. He would have said it, but fear held his words in his throat.

               

He didn’t feel anything. He just heard the gunshot. Instead of being soaked with rain his clothes were becoming drenched in his own blood. He heard a door slam, a car speed off. Rich was gone. Harris looked up towards the sky. The rain was finally letting up, and as the gloomy storm clouds cleared a path for the blue sky he saw it. His sign. He knew it would be there. A white cloud in the shape of a cross. His sign. He sighed. It wasn’t the kind of frustrated sigh that Rich always gave. It was a content sigh. A sigh of relief.

Author's Note

I just kind of started writing....This is what came out of it. I feel like it starts out a lot stronger than it finishes, but oh well. Comments and crit appreciated. ^^

Reviews

[John McGrael]

i had a hard time following it at first..., but i liked the ending the most actually

i think its pretty good, obviously not as flawless and precise as a story that has been proofread and edited and well thought out, but i enjoyed reading it!