It was quiet where he was, where-ever that was supposed to be. A low but persistent snoring came from the other side of the door, and once in a while the footsteps of a patrolling mook echoed dully from the area outside. It was, in fact, more peaceful than things should be. For all the time he'd spent locked up in that empty room, not once had everything quieted down as such. Usually there were always distant voices talking about something, or the occasional grating noise of objects being dragged to and fro, but now there was nothing but nigh-absolute silence.
Suddenly, a soft thud. Reuben sat up straight, his heart racing, and listened. Perhaps it had been nothing, perhaps he'd been paranoid - no, there's a faint noise following it, like something heavy being dragged across the floor. Or was he hearing things? It could have been anything, it could have been -
Reuben waited, taking long, withdrawn breaths as if his very life depended on his silence. Footsteps were heading towards the metal door. The muted snoring sound never ceased; instead, it droned on despite the advancing footfalls. Someone's coming. Reuben tried to concentrate on what noises he could hear, but his pulse thudded and his adrenaline threatened to drown out every other noise by sheer panic. Fragmented memories of the last few visits he had received burst before his eyes - shattered images of glass shards, glinting steel, grinning faces -
The footsteps stopped. For a moment, there was silence, pure and uninterrupted.
And then, chaos. There were cries coming from somewhere nearby. Amidst the uproar, quick, harsh sounds of impact punctuated the confusion. A snapping noise, followed by a pained roar, reached Reuben's ears and turned his stomach. Gunshots penetrated the thick air. One. Two. Three. A howl indicated that the shots had made their mark - or marks, Reuben corrected himself, noting that the shots seemed to have rang out from two different directions. A clattering noise told him that the metal chair outside had toppled over in the brawl.
Slowly, the noises subsided, and then the slow, certain footfalls resumed. A man's voice groaned and sputtered, but it was interrupted by another voice, monotone, condemning:
"Where?" it demanded. A mumbled, slurred reply was said, but Reuben heard none of it. He had recognised the voice, and yet he refused to believe it. Certainly there was no way it could have been -
A rattling noise at the door, and the click as a key was turned in the lock. Reuben scrambled to his feet, swaying unsteadily as he did. Then, the door was thrown open, leaving a silhouette against the bright outside. The silhouette was of a young man, with wheat-blond hair and what seemed to be a flashlight in his hand. But what Reuben found his eyes inexorably drawn to was the figure's left hand, which was awash with crimson, the blood dripping steadily onto the floor. The man advanced, and Reuben realised that what he had taken to be a flashlight was in reality a revolver.
Reuben looked up into a pair of thick-lidded, blue eyes and asked his brother: "E, what do you think you're doing?"
There is, in fact, a main story from which this scene is derived, but most of the actual story will be told from E's - Ezra's - point of view. As soon as I read the prompts, it just fits perfectly, and I just had to write this. Personally, I consider the above to be a sort of teaser trailer for myself, as I've yet to reach that part in the story proper. The title for the piece - Keeper - doesn't make sense in context of the trailer; it refers to the story's tentative title.
LaRe An omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.
This message was edited by the author on October 8, 2012 at 3:24:43 AM