Three Friends

By:Gank

     The street lamps shone brightly, basking the cobblestone with a warm comforting glow. The summer night was surprisingly cool, a welcomed change from the stifling heat that usually envelopes the city. The three friends walk in uncharacteristic silence, their soft footsteps echoing off the brick buildings, which surround them on all sides.
 
     One of the boys takes a slow drag of his cigar, watching the smoke swirl an intricate patternacross the night sky. This action which usually relaxes him does little to diminish his rising anger. He keeps his dark eyes forward, not wanting to look at the other boys on either side of him.

     Another of the three shuffles his feet awkwardly, then runs a hand through his blond hair. Sighing he glances over at his two companions, unaccustomed to the uncomfortable air of anger between them. He searches his mind for something to say, something that would patch the rift in their friendship, but nothing comes to mind. So the three boys continue on in silence.

     The third boy glances at the first, frustration evident on his face. His anger rises as he observesthe boy taking long drags on his cigar, as if oblivious to the harsh words that had been shared earlier that evening.
 
     “I still don’t see why you’re so mad,” he mutters, his voice breaking the silence like a rock through glass.

     “Of course you don’t, I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” the first boy sneered.

     “Aw come on guys, it was no big deal, can’t you just forget about it? You’re supposed to be friends,” the second boy pleaded.

     “Stay outta dis Blink, it don’t concern you,” the third boy declares.

     “Oh so now you’re yellin’ at him? You’re certainly in a prime mood tanight Jack.”

     “I wasn’t yellin’!” he cried. “And another thing…”

     The second boy turns away, frustrated that his attempt to fix things only resulted in making things worse. His two companions continued to bicker, their angry in sharp contrast to the serene background. His ears perked up at a sound off in the distance.

     “Hey,” he said urgently, the tone in his voice putting a stop to the two bickering boys.

     “Did ya hear dat?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

     “Hear what?” the first boy questioned, taking another puff of his cigar.

     “I’m not soir. It kinda sounded like screamin,” he replied uncertainly.

     “I think ya got dat eye patch tied a little to tight Blink, der ain’t nobody screamin,” the third boy snickered, pulling his black cowboy hat onto his head.

     “No I definitely hoid something,” he replied defiantly, turning off their predetermined course.

     “Hey, where ya going?” the first boy called, starring after his departing friend.

     “I know I hoid screamin; somebody might need help.”

     As if on cue a blood-curdling scream ripped through the calm fabric of the night, sending chills down the spines of the three friends.

     “I told ya, come on somebody needs help,” the second boy urged, gazing back at his unmoving friends.

     “It’s getting late Blink,” the first boy stuttered apprehensively, glancing down at his gold pocket watch. “We should probably just head back.”

     Another scream sounded through the darkness.

     “What’s the mattah with you guys? Don’t ya hear dat? Somebody needs help,” he said franticly, pointing in the direction of the screams.

     “It ain’t our business Kid,” the third boy replied evenly, his tone demanding authority.

     The second boy narrowed his eye in anger. He hated when people called him Kid, in attempt to belittle him. “Do what ya want Kelly, but I got a conscience,” he sneered, heading down the side street toward the soul wrenching scream.
 
     “Now look what ya gone and made him do,” the first boy grumbled. “Hey Blink, wait up!” he called after him, jogging to catch up.

     What do ya mean me?” he retorted, catching up as well.

     The three friends walked briskly through the empty street; the desperate screams growing louder with each step.

     “Maybe dis ain’t the smartest idea,” the first boy muttered quietly.

     “Ya scared Race?” the third boy chuckled, even though dread had settled on his own heart as well.

     “No,” he grumbled, then raising a hopeful brow he turned to the third boy. “Why Jack? Are you?”

     “Would you two be quiet. I think we’re getting close.”

     The three friends walked in silence yet again. The screams had manifested into words, being shouted with an icy quality of terror at the night sky. “Help!” the word was screamed repeatedly, louder each time that it was uttered.

     The three friends passed by an apartment building just as the front door burst open; cascading  light onto the darkened cobble stone street. Covering the three friends in an unearthly glow.

     She stumbled down the steps in a blind panic. Her face awash with fear, stained with tears, and dark purple bruises. “Help me please!” she cried, throwing herself at the second boy, hiding her face in his shirt. “He’s going to kill me!”

     “Settle down it’s all right, no one’s gonna hoit ya,” he assured her, smoothing out her tangled mass of blond curls. The woman shuddered in his arms; a deep gash from somewhere beneath her thin nightgown spewed forth a deep crimson flow of blood.

    From the landing a dark menacing shadow loomed over them, blocking the light.

     “Get da hell away from her boy,” the man growled, his voice sounding more like an animal, then a humans.

     “Don’t let him near me, he’ll kill me!” she cried, her voice shrill with terror and pain.

     “Shut up!” the man raged, his face red with furry.

     “Come on Blink, dis ain’t our place ta interfere,” the first boy said meekly.

“Please don’t leave,” the woman sobbed, clinging tightly to his arm, her blue eyes overflowing with tears.

     “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.

     “Get yer hands off my wife!” the man declared.

     “Don’t be stupid Kid,” the third boy warned.

     “I said get yer filthy hands off of her!” the man pulled something from his jacket, compiling his fit of drunken rage into one unforgivable act of violence.

     The shot rang out surmounting the woman’s desperate pleads for help. The smoke cleared; the three friends stood in utter amazement, their perspectives shattered. The woman had slide to the ground, now she lay motionless in a growing pool of blood. The man’s face was a twisted mask of pain and uncertainty. His starred at the cold metal object in his grasp, and then at the form of his fallen wife. Dropping the gun he bolted from the landing, disappearing into the dark summer night. Like the sudden appearance of an apparition, the man had appeared. He was now gone in the same fashion, vanishing in a flash of noise and smoke. His Bastille form still burned into the minds of the three friends.

     “Did he get ‘er? Did he get ‘er?” the first boy asked franticly, moving quickly to the woman’s side.

“No.”

     Whatever had passed between the three friends, whatever harsh words had been spoken, was all but forgotten at that moment. Something far more important than their petty quarrel was transpiring that cool summer evening.

     “Shit,” the second boy muttered, as his feet gave way beneath him. He hit the street with a thud the rough cobblestone scratching his outstretched palms.

     “Aw no,” the first boy murmured, a tight knot of impending doom rising in his throat. He watched silently as his friend fell to the earth, his face showing nothing but surprise, but his skin was as white as fresh fallen snow.
 

     He lay on the cold street, writhing in anguish. Clutching at the gapping hole just below his ribcage, trying in vain to stop the flow of blood, that spurted forth from the wound.

Shrugging out of his jacket the first boy pressed it against the wound, his hands shaking with fear. “What are ya standing there for?” he cried angrily at the third boy, who still stood rigid a few feet away. “Go get da doctah!” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly.

     The third boy gave one last look at his two friends and then took off running.

     “H-how’s da lady?” the second boy asked urgently, trying to sit up to help the injured woman. “She ok?”

     The first boy glanced over at the woman’s still form. She was as they had left her, lying in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes remained open, staring blindly across the dark street. Her mouth twisted in a silent scream, for all eternity. Her chest refused to rise and fall, despite how desperately the boy prayed it would.

     “Yeah Kid, she’s fine. Ya did good,” he lied, looking down at his friend.

     “Thank God,” he sighed, smiling slightly. His visible eye sparkling with pride. He erupted into a hacking cough, blood staining his mouth.

     A single tear traced its way down the first boy’s face, as he watched his friend struggle to breathe.

     “Hey don’t, don’t do dat,” he declared, once his coughing fit had waned.

     “Do what?” he asked, allowing another tear to fall.

     “Dat, don’t-do-dat,” he insisted through gritted teeth.

     “Can’t help it Kid,” he murmured softly.

     Closing his eye the second boy took in a deep haggard breath. “Kay, how ‘bout dis?” he

opened his eye and looked up. “How ‘bout dis is just goodnight? Just like any other night,” he suggested, each word causing more strain on his body.

     The first boy shook his head yes more silent tears trailed from his eyes.
     “Goin’ to da tracks tomarrow?” the second boy asked quietly, somehow he managed a slight smile.

     “Don’t think so Kid,” he replied.

     “But ya gotta go!” he exclaimed. He winced from a sudden wave of pain, relaxing slightly he opened his eye. “It’s gonna be a nice day Race,” he gazed up at the sky longingly. “A real nice day.”

     The first boy suppressed a sob, not wanting to upset his friend. He stared in silent horror at the deep red stain seeping through his jacket. His friend’s life was slowly leaking away and he was powerless to stop it.

     “Race?” he asked meekly, his voice showing the obvious pain he was in.

     “Yeah Kid?”

     “Look-look at-da stars.”

     He followed his friends gaze, above the towering buildings and through the wispy covering of clouds the stars shone brightly; thousands of little lights flickering in the dark sky.

     “Der real perdy tanight Kid,” he sighed.

     “Mama used ta…tell me dat you can…wish on da stars,” he explained, sadness dominating his voice. “You makin’ a wish Race?”

     “I’m makin’ a lot of wishes right now.”

     A spasm of pain ran through the boy’s body, causing him to cry out for the first time since the bullet entered his body. He reached for his friend’s hand, holding it tightly.

     “It’s all right Kid,” he assured him.

     “Course it is,” was his ragged reply. “I can be brave…like anyone…else… would be.”

     The first boy held his friend’s hand tighter, wishing he could be brave, like everyone else.

     “Race?”

     “Yeah Kid?”

     “It’s-it’s summer ain’t it?”

     This sent a shiver down the first boy’s spine. “Yeah Kid, its July.”

     “Den why is it…so cold?” this came out just above a whisper. The comment hung in the air, wispy like the morning fog.

     “Race!” the third boy had come back, gasping for breath.

     “Where’s da doctah?” the first boy demanded, searching the empty street with his eyes.

     “He wasn’t der! I pounded on da door forevah and no one answered!” he sputtered, leaning over to catch his breath.

     A pained cry escaped the second boy’s lips, causing his two friends to jump. The first boy applied more pressure to the wound, in a vain attempt to stop the grim reaper from claiming another victim.

     “It hurts,” he whimpered, tears finally finding their way from his crystalline blue eye.

     “I know Kid, just hang on we’re gonna getcha to a hospital,” the third boy replied.

     “I’m-tryin’- ta be brave,” he sputtered angrily. “I-it’s just…so damn-cold,” he began to shiver violently, his eye pinched shut in pain.

     The third boy covered him with his jacket and then sitting beside him gathered him into his arms.

     “Jack don’t move ‘im,” the first boy warned, but it was too late.

     The second boy leaned against his friend’s chest, grateful for the extra warmth, but still unable to shake the persistent chill.

     “You guys…promise me somethin’?”

     “Soir Kid.”

     “Don’t…forget ‘bout me-kay?”

     The first boy turned away, not wanting his friends to see his tear streaked face.

     “Nevah forget you Kid,” the third boy insisted, his voice even and unemotional.

     “Good,” he murmured, gazing up at the sky.

     The three friends sat in uncharacteristic silence, watching with quiet reflection, as the first rays of sunlight could be seen poking above the horizon. The warm glow engulfed them, shining brightly on their exposed faces.

     “Ya see Race,” the second boy stated, barely able to form the words. “A real nice day,” he took in a harsh breath, squeezing his friend’s hand tightly.

     “We-we’re-friends, right?” he asked both boys.

     “Yeah Kid, da best of friends,” the third boy replied, tears finally breaking through his strong exterior. He felt his friend’s body relax in his arms, and then let out his final breath.

     The two friends sat in silence, all the anger between them gone. The sun shone brightly down on the city, falling on the two friends, glittering off their tears.

The End

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