Chapter 2

Written by: Donna McTavish

The transit van sat in a pool of yellow light on the deserted street. It was past midnight and it had been raining for hours. The street was lined on one side by an abandoned warehouse; on the other side an empty space was spotted with rubble and beyond that rail tracks stretched out connecting the town to the docks. Groups of youths, drugged up and pale with hunger, slept there sometimes oblivious to the rubbish and decayed smell but tonight no one disturbed the thick grey curtain of rain.

The driver was bored, alternately scanning the street and checking his watch. His fingers tapped an invisible tune on the dashboard. The quart of whiskey had long gone, he hadn’t counted on this taking so long, but he still had his pipe. Where the bloody hell was he?  He reached inside his jacket, leaned his head back and let his eyelids close.

That was why he didn’t see the black car slide up slowly and stop behind the van, its lights switched off.  He didn’t hear the door open quietly or the careful footsteps. It took a few moments for the taps on the window to wake him from his brief sleep and when his eyes snapped open there was a man standing beside the van. He could see an expensive watch on the wrist that was holding a large black umbrella. The brim of a hat held the upper half of the face in shadow.

The van driver rolled down the window. “About bloody time, mate. Have you got it?”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy envelope. “It’s all there. You can check it if you want but it’s all there.” His voice was brittle and a small hiss escaped from his lips as he let go of the envelope.  Before the van driver could reply the man turned and walked quickly back to the black car. The driver heard the door close and the car crept slowly down the dark street and disappeared.

The van driver opened the envelope and looked at the two bundles of notes. The thickness of the package told him that what the man had said was true. It was all there. All twenty thousand dollars of it.  His plan was going to work. It was working.

He hit the main highway and turned the radio on. He’d grab a few hours of sleep when he got there and then he’d pay his old buddy Max a visit. He tuned his mind to the voice of the late night DJ and put his foot down.

                                               The officer was not having a good night. Mid week shifts were painfully slow so when the transit van sped past one tail light blinking in the rain he grinned and turned on his lights.  It didn’t take long for the van to stop. Rain dripped from his cap as he leaned forward and peered inside the cab.

 

“Name?” he spat.

 

“Stevenson. Sean Stevenson.”

Comments

Donna - what a superb piece of writing - I felt like I am in the middle of the scene as it unfolds.

"The street was lined on one side by an abandoned warehouse; on the other side an empty space was spotted with rubble and beyond that rail tracks stretched out connecting the town to the docks. " - This sentence captivated me. You have a real talent.
I agree. This is a beautifully written piece and full of excitement and new characters. The story could go anywhere. Wonderful stuff, Donna.