The revenge

The street-lamps flickered as the man strode past. He took a seat at the bus station, waiting for someone or something. He said he agreed to visit here. Has he lied? He was curious, but stayed seated. Where is he? The clouds passed over the sky, blocking out the moon. Out of the shadows of an ally, came a man in black, striding towards him. There he is. However, he made no move to greet him.

The man took a seat, unaware of the danger to his right. They sat in silence, while the man in black sat and fidgeted with his fingers. “John?” he asked, shattering the silence. The man gave a nod. “I had to be sure. There’s plenty of people ‘round here, who’d love nothing more than to harm me.” You’re sat next to one, John almost said, but he kept quiet. “Is that it?” John gave another nod as the man stared at his briefcase. “Well, I’m not one for waiting so let me see it.”

He thrust out his hand to grab it, but John drew back. “Wait. Why should I trust you? show me the money, then I’ll give it.” the man sighed and reached into his pocket, withdrawing three envelopes, thick with cash. Perfect, John thought as the man tossed the money to him, and stared at the briefcase with hungry eyes. “There. Now, give the gun.”

John thought for a moment before answering. “You may have stuck to your deal, but I’m not keeping to mine.” From his pocket, he drew a gun, and fired three times at the man. He stumbled, eyes wide from both fear and shock. whilst John stood, a cruel smile etched upon his face. He concealed the gun and money, and left before someone appeared. A door opened and closed, then the sound of someone running could be heard. Marcus’ vision blurred, as tears streamed down his face. A woman screamed nearby, but Marcus didn’t know where. “Help,” he croaked, before it darkened.

A few weeks passed, but I hadn’t heard who shot my brother. Marcus was only two years older than me, but I felt older. Our dad was a gang leader, so we were taught to shoot and fight. I had learnt to use a gun before Marcus as well as defend myself, but I missed not having him around. My mom was devastated by the news and my dad stayed in his study for hours, searching online to find the killer. He’d appear for food, then vanish back to his room. The funeral had come and gone, and when I looked around, I saw family and friends. People I trusted with my life.

I wanted to avenge my brother, so I had to ask around for information. The woman who had told us had been a family friend, so I decided to see her first. I left my room and made my way to the where my car was parked. Marcus had gone two miles from home, but why? Unless the other person asked to meet there. I had to know who did it, else more of my family could die by them.

I exited the car, and approached her house. When I knocked, there was no reply. I repeated again, but still no answer. Just as I was about to leave, the door opened, and I gazed at Linda, lost for words. She was of average height, but slender, with blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. “How have you been,” she said.

“I’ve been doing well, but it was a bullet to my heart when I found out about Marcus. I was wondering if you could tell me everything you witnessed the night he died.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she spoke. “You’re glad to come in. I’ve got tea and coffee if you’d have some.” She locked the door as I entered the living room.

I wouldn’t mind red wine,” I replied, as I took a seat at the table.

“I’ll see what I’ve got,” she said as she made her way out of the room.

I stared at the pictures on the walls, of a girl, I guessed was Linda. She returned, carrying a mug and glass of wine, which she passed to me, while she placed her own on the table. “So tell me what you saw,” I said as I took a sip of the wine.

“I was preparing for bed, when I heard three bangs. At first I thought it might’ve been teens playing around, but I went and checked as I felt quite agitated. When I went outside, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, which made me more confused. The bus station wasn’t far, so I went to check. However, as I got closer, I let out a scream. Your brother lay on the floor, and begged me to help, but I was too scared. I looked up from his body and saw someone, but they vanished, before I could identify them.

“By now other people had come out, but I stood there, shaking with fear, and crying. People began calling the police and paramedics, but I went away and called you.”

“Are you sure you saw someone?” I asked as I took another sip of my wine.

“Yes. I know I did. I don’t know what they looked like because they ran.” What would she get out of lying to me? I thought. It’s nothing that could help me find Marcus’ killer. I drained my wine, and placed the cup on the table.

“Well, I’d best get going. You’ve said enough.” I made my way to the door. “Have a good day.” Linda came and shut it behind me as I returned to my car. I still don’t have enough evidence. Then a thought came to me, and I made my way home. I entered Marcus’ room, and approached his bedside table. Surely, he’d have letters, or even messages from this person. I rummaged through his drawers, reading any letters I came across. This is going to be a big job, I thought, as I retrieved a great mound of paper. My dad, must’ve heard some commotion in the room as he appeared sometime later. “What are you doing, Justin?” He asked.

“I’m searching for any letters between Marcus and his killer. I haven’t found anything yet, but there’s bound to be something that could help us.” My dad gave a nod, and retreated back to his study. I continued to search the great mound of letters, but after a while I had no luck. However, as I neared the end of the stack. I discovered three letters from Valentine Road. That road is only a mile from where Marcus died, so this could possibly be it. I read through the letters and discovered the killer’s name was John Maddock.

He lived on twenty-eight Valentine Road. I found out that John got guns from other trade routes and sold them to people, and Marcus had been one of the buyers. John had suggested that they meet each other at Crockford Street, so Marcus had agreed. I was going to avenge my brother, and make sure John didn’t kill anyone else. But what if I were to die? I wouldn’t be able to avenge him. Then I would’ve failed him. I have to be careful about this. I returned to my car and set out to John’s house.

It was becoming night by the time I got to John’s house. I need to wait a while. I sat in my car, watching for any signs of movement in the house. Nothing. Then one by one the lights went out. He’s getting ready for bed, I thought. As the last light died out, I made my move. I pulled Marcus’ pistol from beneath my seat, and concealed it inside my pocket, then left the car. He’s got to be inside, I thought as I approached the house.

The air was cold, sending goose prickles up my body, but I kept walking, my eyes fixed on John’s house. I tightened my grasp on the pistol and continued to walk forwards. Knock! Knock! At first there was no answer, then the unmistakable sound of footsteps. However, when the door opened, I was met with a woman. “Hello. Do I know you?” She didn’t look pleased to see me.

“I’m looking for a friend,” I lied. “He’s called John and he said to meet here. have you seen him?”

The woman thought for a moment, before answering. “John, left about an hour ago to sought out some business.”

“Did he tell you where he would be going?”

“He said he was going to the Lion’s Den pub. He told me he’d be back at around ten to half ten.”

“Thanks for telling me, but I’d best be going. I’ve heard John’s not one for waiting. Take care.” I returned to my car, wondering who John would be speaking to. I started up the engine and made my way to the pub. When I entered I noticed there were a few people. I ordered myself some apple cider, then found a seat at the back of the pub. Best not to draw attention to myself, I thought. When I looked around, each table had more than two people or none at all.

Then I saw a man glaring at me. John, I thought. When he saw me look up, however, he look down and began sipping his drink. Sometime later, another man appeared, and they started to whisper with one another. When he looked up his skin turned the colour of curdled milk. That has to be John. I smiled at him, drained my glass and approached them. “Hello, John.” His eyes widened with shock and fear. “Why don’t we go for a walk.” I revealed the gun and put the barrel to his back, as we left the pub, and entered an alley.

“You… you should be dead. I killed you,” he whimpered.

“You killed my brother not me,” I replied, my voice quivering. “Why, though? Why did you murder him? he never did anything to you.” John didn’t reply, so I moved the gun to the back of his head.

“Please, don’t shoot me. I don’t want to die. I have a family.” I realised he was crying. He killed your brother. a voice whispered. You shouldn’t be pitying him.

“Marcus had a family as well, but that didn’t stop you from murdering him,” I said. “So why should I do the same for you?” all of a sudden, a searing pain passed through my arm and I saw John’s friend, standing there, a bloody knife in his hand. I turned towards him, hitting him in the side of the face with the gun. He stumbled, blood covering the side of his face. He went to stab me again, so I hit him, knocking him out. when I looked back John was running as fast as his legs would take him, so I gave chase.

I didn’t fire in case I missed, and continued running. John was ahead of me, but I was the younger of us both. I continued to sprint, watching as John slowed down, then we collided. I rolled over, and brought my fist into his face. He groaned, but I continued to land blow after blow. John’s hand curled up into a ball and connected with my chin, but I didn’t stop hitting him. by the time I rolled of him my knuckles were bloody. He went to stand again, but I grabbed my gun off the floor and pointed it at him. “Don’t move, or I won’t think twice about putting this bullet in your head.”

John glared at me and spat a glob of blood at my feet. “Get on with it then. Kill me.” I went to fire, but I couldn’t make myself do it. However, as I lowered the weapon, John made the mistake of trying to attack me. I fired the gun, hitting him in the gut. He fell down, landing on my knees, but I pushed him off. The blood gushed from the wound, but he was breathing. “Call an ambulance,” he choked out. “I’m dying. Please call an ambulance.” I saw the fear in his eyes, but thought of Marcus and stood up.

“Why should I help you? You killed my brother, and that was the worst mistake you’ve made.” John grasped my leg, groaning, but I kicked it away and continued to walk. It had begun to rain by the time I got to my car. As I entered, an ambulance drove past as well as some police cars. I had gotten my revenge, but I didn’t feel like I’d achieved anything. Have I done the wrong thing? Part of me regretted what I did, whilst the other half didn’t.

My arm was bleeding, but I doubted it was fatal. When I returned home, my mom wrapped her arms around me, then saw the cut. “I’ll go get that cleaned and bandaged,” she said, as I followed her to the kitchen. “Where were you? I was worried sick.”

“I went out to deal with some business.” I winced as she poured wine into the wound. “Where’s dad? Hasn’t he come down yet?”

“No,” she said with a little sigh. “He’s still trying to look for Marcus’ killer. I told him it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t listen though. He never listens.”

“I’ll go see what I can do.” Once the cut had been cleaned, I made my way to my dad’s study. When I entered, his back was to me and he kept mumbling something under his breath, whilst typing away on his computer. “I still haven’t found anything out about Marcus’ killer,” he said when I entered.

“There’s no need. I’ve already dealt with the situation.” My dad looked up from his computer, a smile across his face. “How did you find him?” he asked.

“I went through the letters in Marcus’ room and found out quite a bit about the man.” I went through everything wrote in the letters, and then what I did to John after. “I put an end to his sly life, so he won’t bother us anymore. Now, I think you should go get some rest. You look tired.”

My dad gave me a hug and strode out of the room. I hadn’t realised how exhausted I was, until my eyes begun to droop. I gave a yawn and made my way out. I gave a long look at Marcus’ room, before going to my own bed. But as I lay down to sleep I found I couldn’t. When I did drift off my dreams were of Marcus and me when we were younger.


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