The Shadow of Winter

Chapter 1

        At this point the wind was howling, stripping away the red and gold leaves of dying trees. The detached foliage, a reminder of the enjoyably warm previous summer, found itself lodged in the most unusual of places, most certain to cause grief for those tasked with removing them. But with the wind steadily picking up that chore was to wait until another day. The current brought a bite to anyone unlucky enough to be trapped out in the cold morning.

        A young girl happened to be out of luck.

        She was alone. She was cold. Above all, she was tired and afraid. Her footsteps were absent among the relentless musical of whistles and moans as she hurried through the empty streets, lost in a city that once was familiar in the daylight. It was now a strange place of shadows with darker shadows hidden within. No one with any amount of sanity would be outside at this point. Yet here she was, as there was a reason for everything.

        (Name) had stayed out past her curfew again. It was not that her parents disliked the idea of limiting their child's freedom and allowed her complete free roam—it was just that they were oblivious to her nightly sneak outs. She would come home every day after school. She would do homework. She would eat dinner with the family. Just like any normal teenager would. However, when 8 p.m. reached its mark on the clock, the girl supposedly retired to her bedroom. In truth, she would slip past her distracted family and make a getaway out the back door. Nightly walks were just so much fun.

        Last night's walk had not been as fun as the other times.

        She had stuck to the orange-lit streets of (Hometown), keeping well within sight of anyone who happened to peek out their window during the night. Minors were not allowed to stay out past 10 p.m. in this respectably safe community, yet nobody bothered to yell past the window screen and warn (Name) just that. Perhaps they had believed she could take care of herself. Or, more likely, the girl was thought to be a thug, a druggie, and not worth the effort. Even if she was of a young age. After all this time the authorities were never noted of her appearance and so were unable to stop this habit from forming.

        The night had been warm—a cover-up for the windstorm that would soon arrive. Street after street had been passed, nevertheless (Name) had continued on at a moderate pace, enjoying the quiet and peace that the late hour brought with it. Not one car had passed by. They were instead parked along the sidewalks and down alleyways. Anywhere someone could get in a space before they were all taken up. Across the street was a black 1990 Mercedes, unseen due to its smooth ability to blend in.

        She had been in the midst of a daydream when there was a scream. Crudely ripped from a sensation of calm bliss, the girl was then thrown into the dangerous position of "flee or investigate." The latter was chosen upon instinct. Mother and Father had taught her to be a thoughtful citizen. If someone was in danger, you helped. If someone was in need, you gave. Nobody taught her that some actions were not worth the risk. Such as when those actions ended in being faced with the barrel of a gun, when the man who had cried out already lay dead on the cold floor of an alley.

        Four men in long, dark coats, each sporting a felt hat to obscure identity, had been gathered around the body muttering to themselves. They hadn't noticed as the young girl quietly crept up to peer around the corner. Her eyes had widened at the blood pooling about their feet and the way the men seemed not to be in distress about the situation. The words shared between them had been casual.

        "Who's gunna be the one tah put Ole Remy in the trunk?" said a man with a croaky, New York accent.

        "Oy, now why's we gotta be the ones? It's your car; you stuff 'im in the back. Or are ya too scared of dirtyin' up your fancy gloves, princess?" complained another man with a much higher-pitched voice but similar accent to the first.