Too Young

He'd never seen it like that. Confused, sure. Inexperienced, obviously. Wildly unprepared, understatement of the century. But too young? Could someone actually be old enough for murder?

Chapter One

Hunted

Chicago: Three years ago

"We shouldn't be here."

Sam glanced over his shoulder. His brother stared at him from an armchair, wringing his hands above an open book.

"We're in a bookstore, Jerry." He turned back to his tome and flipped through a couple more pages. Ancient civilizations, their way of life, language and writing. Everything he ever wanted to know was in that book. He reached the pre-Columbian chapter and stopped there.

"Yes, I know, but Dad said we should come straight home from school." Jerry stood and put his book on top of the pile on the table in front of him.

"When we were twelve." Honestly, Jerry could be so paranoid sometimes. "I'm fifteen, you're sixteen. I think we're old enough to handle a detour." And it wasn't like they were doing something bad. Just furthering our education. Feeding their hobbies, actually, but why hang on semantics?

Jerry brushed his thumb on the spine of the books. He picked a couple up. "Detour over. We should go." He whirled around and headed for the register.

With a sigh, Sam gathered his own batch and followed Jerry. He wished he could stay a little longer, but a lecture from his parents - or Jerry for that matter - wasn't appealing.

"My, you're mighty interested in science." The girl at the cash register gave Jerry a dazzling smile as she turned over his books. "You like to experiment, don't you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. This wasn't the first girl to hit on Jerry. He was mister tall, dark and handsome, after all. And girls loved that.

"Oh, yes," Jerry answered. That girl was maybe one or two years older than him, but he talked to her as if she was a grown woman.

The girl seemed to like that because she giggled. "And have you found the right chemistry set, yet?" She winked.

"Of course. It wasn't easy, but I managed to find a couple of good ones." He smiled.
The girl's mouth fell open. Completely ignoring the effect of his words, Jerry picked the books out of her hand and stuffed them in his backpack.

Sam bit on the back of his hand not to laugh. Jerry was clueless! He wouldn't recognize flirting if it hit him in the face with a frying pan.

"Your turn, kid," she snapped.

Sam jumped to attention. Kid? He was only a couple of inches shorter than Jerry and didn't look much younger. Fuming, he dropped his books on the counter. She scanned his purchase and seemed glad to see the back of him. Not that he found her attractive with her frizzy hair and too-thin physique, but it still hurt to be shoved into the kid category by someone who hit on his one-year-older brother.

"What did you get this time?" Jerry asked

Sam slid the books inside his backpack, still mentally cursing. He never cursed aloud in front of Jerry. His brother got very moralizing when he slipped. "Same old, same old." No need to ask Jerry what he'd brought. His room was practically a chemistry book haven. "We should stop being such geeks," he said as they exited the bookstore and wound up in the hallway of the mall. "That girl liked you. Maybe you should ask her out."

"We're not geeks. We're people with hobbies. And I don't see the point in asking someone I don't like out." Jerry looked around. "Beside, you know Dad's no dating rule."

"You should want to date at your age."

Jerry raised his eyebrows. "So should you."

Sam bit his lower lip. He'd learned enough human anatomy to know he was supposed to be a raving pile of hormones at his age. Jerry should, too. But the two of them were oddly content with studying and hanging out with friends. Sam wondered if there was something wrong with him and secretly decided he'd have himself checked if he didn't start feeling more interested in girls by the time he turned eighteen.

Jerry smirked as if he'd proven a point beyond all doubt. "Let's go. I want to get started on dinner before Mom and Dad get home."

Sam followed Jerry to the escalators, his stomach already rumbling in anticipation. He'd gotten so used to Jerry doing the cooking, he didn't find it strange that his brother fed their parents anymore. And was much better at it than their mother.

"How dare you!"

Sam frowned and turned to his right. The crowd of shoppers shifted and a large woman in a flowery dress came into view. She raised her purse and hit a short, skinny man over the head with it.

"Piss off, woman!" The man yelled, leaning back to avoid more purse strikes.

"We have no time for this." A brutish fellow with long muscular arms and the face of a bulldog grabbed the skinny man's shoulder and nudged him forward. Once he spotted Sam, he froze. The four men accompanying him stopped as well. For a moment they all just gawked at him and Jerry as if they had antlers, then the leader lifted a pudgy hand and pointed straight at them.

"There they are!"

Sam's eyes widened and he grabbed Jerry's wrist. All five men pulled out guns. People started screaming, their voices drowning the music coming from the speakers. Sam yanked Jerry's arm and made his way through the scattering crowd. They reached the escalators and charged down, heads bowed.

Blood rushed through Sam's veins, bringing with it a rush of adrenaline. His brain swung between figuring out why those men were after them and finding a way out. A gunshot sounded behind them. His heart skipped a beat. Escape. Focus on escape!

Once they reached the ground floor, Sam ducked behind the escalators. Jerry followed him, gasping for air. The exit was on the other side of a wide, open space. Even with shoppers milling around, there was no way out without being seen.

"Some of them are coming down in the elevator," Jerry whispered.

"This way, then." His head still as low as possible, Sam ran further from the elevators, toward a row of massive columns. More screams filled his ears as the gun wielding men rushed through the crowd. The front door was definitely out of the question.

They reached the columns, and Sam pressed his back against the concrete structure. Plan after plan for their escape zoomed through his mind, but none of his ideas were bullet proof. He locked his eyes on a simple red door which read Parking Lot. He tapped Jerry's hand and nodded at the door. Jerry's eyes widened and he shook his head.

Sam raised three fingers and brought them down one by one. At the end of the countdown, they sprinted toward the red door. Sam pushed against it with enough force to have it smashing against the wall of the narrow hallway that awaited them on the other side. The first floor covered parking lot spread out before them. Cars filled every space, basking in semi-darkness.

Sam's gaze shot from left to right, but there was no moving car nearby.

"Come on!" Jerry tugged his arm and dragged him toward the first row of cars. Their footsteps bounced off the walls, coming back louder. They had no chance. Unless...
Sam jerked his shoulder out of Jerry's grip and rushed forward, taking his backpack off as he ran. He swung it at the one of the cars on the third row from the door. The alarm went off, filling the parking lot with the annoying wailing.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Jerry asked.

"Are the headlights visible from where you're standing?" Sam hit another car. A new alarm joined the first one.

"Wha-?" Jerry pressed his lips together. "A little. We should try further back."

Sam nodded and they scrambled bent double toward a more distant row of cars. Sam smacked another one then crouched behind the beeping car and waited, his pulse thundering in his ears.

"Where are they?" a man yelled above the noise.

"Follow the sound of the alarm and you'll find them," another answered.

"Which alarm?"

"I can't even freakin' tell where it's coming from."

It was working. Sam motioned to Jerry and they scurried to the underground level of the parking lot. Away from the screaming cars, the ramp seemed eerily quiet. Their footsteps boomed on the concrete. The rumble of an engine broke through the silence. Sam stuck his back to the wall, making himself as small as possible. Jerry did the same just in time as a car climbed to the upper story. The driver honked and stuck his fist out the window.

"Crazy kids!"

Sam ignored him and continued the descent, stepping faster and faster. As soon as they reached the next level, they sprinted across the lot, toward the other exit.

"What if they're waiting on the other side?" Jerry panted as they reached the other ramp.

"I don't know." Sam took in a deep breath. "Duck, I guess."

Jerry shook his head and the two of them climbed to the ground floor again. Most of the car alarms had stopped and they could hear distant screaming and cursing, but the coast looked clear. They rushed to the exit and were finally outside. Police sirens blasted from the distance. Someone had obviously called 911.

Sam stopped to look around, but Jerry grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the street. As soon as he reached the curb, Jerry put two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle. Seconds later, a cab pulled out in front of them.

"Move!" Jerry nudged Sam and he scrambled inside. As soon as he was in, Jerry gave the address to their father's office.

"Wait, where are we going? Shouldn't we talk to the police?" Sam asked as the car entered traffic.

Jerry turned on the seat and looked behind. "And have Dad pick us up from the station? No way! I'd much rather he decides what to do."

"But we didn't do anything wrong."

"We must've done something. Why would these people shoot at us otherwise?"

Sam looked behind, too. Red and blue lights flickered in the distance. Half of him wished they were still there so they could tell the police what happened. But Jerry had a point. He was in no mood for a giant lecture on what people might think that his father had to leave work and come pick them up.

"Trust me, talking to Dad first is a much better idea." Jerry turned to a sitting position and slumped in the backseat. "He'll know what to do."

Sam continued to look through the back window and his heart finally reached a steady rhythm. Even if it made no sense, he didn't like running away.

Hi and welcome to the end of the first half of chapter one!

A special welcome to all RIFOY ers on their way to continue with the story;)

So, we have some boring book shopping and then, BAM! Brick in the face (I do that a lot #sorrynotsorry).

Theories? Was it a mistake? Did Sam and Jerry actually do something? Did Jerry shoplift?

Thanks so much for reading. If you liked it, consider gracing me with a vote and comment.