Gone Like Rain

Any Other Night in the Neighborhood

It was a quiet night in New Orleans. The year was 1957 and the rains had been heavy for the past week. But now, it was quiet. A 1956 black Chevrolet Bel-Air cruised slowly down a street in Marlyville-Fontainebleau. The orange light of a streetlight gleamed on the chrome and slipped off the black paint like silk. It bounded off the puddles in the street and glanced off the windows of nearby homes in polarized rays. Aside from the rumble of the car's engine, the streets were silent with the gentle hush of a secure neighborhood in slumber. The car turned into an alley as though guided by a commanding, assured hand. The type of guiding that knew exactly what it was there for.

The car shut off and for a moment, everything was completely quiet once again. Both inside the car and out. Two men sat there together. The taller of the two was known as Scott. He had dark hair cut close to his scalp and a narrow, serious face. His eyes were set in a determined albeit cold way that gave off an air of a man that didn't care about anything in the world. His gloved hands still gripped the wheel and he sighed deeply. Scott kept his eyes locked straight ahead.

The man in the passenger seat was shorter and stockier in build. His name was Aristos. He was currently looking at Scott in a concerned way, his chest length, brown, curly hair pulled back in tight braids. Had it been let down, it would have framed his face, which was oval in shape and held a subtle innocence. Scott turned to look at him, then. Their eyes met.

"Are you ready?" Scott asked in a gravelly voice. The black leather of his gloves creaked against that of the wheel. Aristos nodded.

"Yeah, sure." His throat was dry and he was just starting to sweat.

"Right. Let's go."

Scott got out of the car and popped the trunk. He stood there for a minute, fifteen seconds at the most, and watched the dark of the alley. Water dripped down the brickwork and through rusted out gutters. Nothing more. Scott sighed again and drew a 12 gauge pump action shotgun from the trunk. He slung it over his shoulder. In the meantime, Aristos had also gotten out. He had a black handkerchief tied around the lower half of his face. Oddly, it had three yellow roses embroidered in each corner. It was a surprisingly delicate adornment. At the moment, he was donning a pair of brown leather gloves. Scott beckoned him over with a nod of his head and Aristos joined him at the trunk.

What else lay there? A double barrel break action 20 gauge shotgun, two boxes of 12 gauge shells, one box of 20 gauge shells, two burlap bags, and one large, leather satchel. Aristos collected the satchel, the 20 gauge, and three shells. Scott grabbed one of the burlap bags. He had tied a red scarf around his face previously. The only distinguishing feature about him now were his determined eyes. The same could be said for Aristos, who's eyes were a dark, trusting brown. Their eyes met once more before Scott shut the trunk as carefully as possible. It clicked softly as it latched.

After that, they picked their way through more alleys and a little backstreet. As they rounded their last corner they were met by the back porch of a very regal, pale green, two story, mid-century house. The windows were dark and shuttered; the yard soundless. For a moment they just stood and listened for any signs of life. The only sounds that met their ears were the dripping of rain water, a light breeze blown in from the south, and the chirp of crickets revelling in the night. Somewhere far off, a car honked and revved it's engine.

"Okay, let's get it." Scott whispered. His whisper sounded like a calm, low growl. He lead the way quickly across the rain soaked lawn and onto the nicely painted white porch. One of the floorboards squeaked meekly beneath Aristos' boots as if crying out for help. He froze up on instinct and shot a glance at the windows around them. Nothing. Not a soul stared out at them and neither eye nor ear knew they were there. He heaved a small sigh of relief before turning his attention back to Scott.