despite the storm raging both outside and in, the mailbox still stands. An oblivious note inside, another cheap sticky note. Reading,
“we have the girl, if her asshole brother pays us what he owes. She’ll come back alive. If he doesn’t, that bow in her hair won’t be the only thing you’ll get back in pieces. Time’s runnin’ out Jack.
You’ll know where to find us, you have a habit of beating on little kids there. :)”
Fuck. He knows, Jack /knows/ exactly where Lolly is. Though he’s oblivious to the scream echoing from outside, lost to the wind.
Curly rips the note off the cement, nails tearin minutly along the edges. He curses. Those fuckin Brumley Boys were gonna fuck this up worse for all of them.
'Give that to me!' Jack leans around Johnny, tries to snatch the paper away from Curly. Johnny snaps between them before he can get closer, hand dartin to the switch in his back pocket. Before Jack can respond, two, Steve, n Soda are on their feet. Fists clenched, eyes hard.
Jack wavers. Freezes. Opens n closes his mouth. But it's Curly who speaks.
'It's for him, Johnny. It's about his sister.' N no amount of hidin it makes the look of fear on his face not utterly n completely unmistakable.
Curly holds the note out to him n Jack moves slow, like tryin not to disturb a pack of hungry dogs. He takes the paper, readin it desperately.
'Oh God. Lolly.'
