by Brian Hodge
“Peter—”
“I’m not done yet, Fred. There are not a lot of things in this world I care about. You might be the only person on this planet. We went through the same childhood together, remember? Believe me, I know how bad it fucks a man up. The difference between me and you is this, in my opinion. I gave up early. I gave into the killer in me, you know? We both have this in us. Daddy gave it to us. Now, I’m going to ask you a question. And I want you to be fucking honest with me because I am all you got. Why did you kill this whore?”
“I don’t know,” Fred said. He looked down and into the dead girl’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
Peter put his hand on top of Fred’s. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Now, I’m not mad at you for lying. I came in here ready to swing and you were already upset enough. I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me the truth straight up. Just tell me what happened.”
“I went to the bathroom just to clean up a little. I was gone all of forty-five seconds. I peeked out at her through a crack in the door just to see if she was okay and I seen her looking through my journal. I fucking lost it, Peter. I grabbed the knife from the kitchen and told her to get the fuck out. That’s when she went fucking nuts on me and started screaming. She wouldn’t shut up. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you immediately but I was scared. Don’t tell Daddy.”
“Heh. She wouldn’t shut up so you decided to stick a kitchen knife in her mouth? It wasn’t easier to tell her to get the fuck out? You’re more like Pop than you think.”
“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t ever say that again. Will you help me get rid of her?”
“Yep. And you’re going to help me get rid of someone too. A fair trade. I was trying to figure out how to do it right this week and now this falls into my lap.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Remember that conversation we had years ago? The one about getting some payback for Mom? I want to kill Daddy, Fred. I’ve had it with him. He’s out of fucking hand. You remember my friend Kamal? Daddy whacked him this week. Didn’t even fucking talk to me about it. I had to find out about it from Frankie. You believe that? Good old smiling Kamal and Daddy killed him. I’ve had it.”
“I think one murder is enough for me, Peter. As much as I want Daddy dead, I don’t think I have the stomach to kill him. I don’t want to get involved in family politics. You know I don’t. I never did.”
“Answer this question with one word, Fred. I deserve this much. Do you want Daddy dead or alive?”
“Dead. But if I wanted to be the one to kill him, Peter, I would have killed him ten years ago when Mom died.”
“Hear me out. If we do this right, we can even get Daddy to help dig his own grave. If I call him up and tell him we need him here, he’ll come. Regardless of all that’s happened, he loves us in his own twisted kind of way. We’re all he’s got. Normally, he would send someone else to help with something like this, but this is personal. This is family. He’ll want to keep this between us and not make it a big thing. He doesn’t trust anyone enough in the organization to get rid of bodies at the moment, not since George Grimm got whacked. He has me getting rid of fucking bodies now like some goddamn underling. He admitted he killed Mom, you know. About a year ago when he was drunk off his ass. He was laying on the floor crying like a baby about how he shot her.”
Fred froze. “He didn’t! I knew it, Peter! I fucking knew it! You always told me he loved Mom too much to do it, but I always knew he did it!”
“You gonna be part of this?”
“Tell me what you have planned.”
“Simple. I’ll get hold of Daddy and get him to come down here and give us a hand. He’ll help us go down and get rid of the body if I play all the cards right. All I have to do is trump up like this is a family thing. He’ll like that. We’ll make him think you want to be with us now. He’ll definitely help out if he thinks that. We’ll go out into the woods and dig a big hole. Then we’ll shoot the old man and bury him with the junkie whore. It’s almost fitting.”
“I don’t think it will work, Peter.”
“Of course it will work, Freddy. Daddy has no fear of us. I just wish we would have done this when we were kids. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble. Hell, I’m certain we’d both be doing something legit with our lives if Daddy hadn’t of fucked us up. As soon as we get our story situated here, I’m going to call the old man. You won’t even have to do nothing. I’ll kill the fucker. All’s you have to do is help me bury him. I’m gonna give you a gun just in case, though.”
Peter paced back and forth, eyes never leaving the clock. Fred continued staring at the corpse of the woman, licking his lips. They had planned everything out as carefully as possible. Their father was on his way down and he wasn’t very happy. He had only just managed to get to sleep when he got the phone call from his sons.
Headlights cut across the room and both men made nervous eye contact. Daddy was here.
“You let me do most of the talking, Fred, you hear?” Peter asked. “Daddy is fucking smart and he’ll pick up on anything weird. Whatever he asks you, you tell him the fucking truth.”
“I have a bad feeling about this, Peter,” Fred said, standing up. “I haven’t seen Daddy in five years. I don’t even know how to talk to him anymore.”
“You can do it, Freddy. I know—”
There was a hard thump on the front door. Peter walked over, peeked in the peep hole, and opened the door.
John O’Rourke stepped into the room. He appeared smaller dressed so casually—a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Normally, he was wearing Armani suits. His black hair was cut short, patches of gray sprinkled throughout. His eyes, a striking blue, scanned the room calmly. He made brief eye contact with both sons before taking a long look at the corpse on the floor.
“I always knew you had a killer in you, Freddy,” John said, grinning at the corpse. “A brutal one, too. Damn, you didn’t even bother taking the knife out of her mouth.” He outstretched his arms. “Come give your old man a hug.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Fred said, staring at his father for a few seconds before looking away. “Thank you for coming to help me out.”
“What, you’re not gonna hug the old man?” John said, smile fading. “Gonna leave me hangin’ here? You want my help but you can’t even touch me?”
Fred walked over and hugged his father.
John embraced him fiercely.
“You gained some weight, Freddy,” John said, letting his son go and patting his stomach. “It’s good to see you again, though. Real good. Believe it or not, I missed you.” He walked over to the corpse and leaned down. “Well, this is a regular family gathering if I ever did see one. Nothing like a rotting corpse with a knife in her fucking mouth to bring us all together, eh boys? Let’s do this is fast as possible and get it done. It’s already almost midnight. We need to get her into the ground before sunrise.”
“That’s it?” Freddy asked, ignoring the look of panic Peter shot him.
“Yes, that’s it, Freddy,” John said, letting his voice drop down the dangerous whisper he was known for. “I realize we haven’t had time to catch up, but we got a corpse on the floor here. There’s plenty of time for playing catch-up after all is said and done. We’ll have coffee together in the morning.”
“You don’t even care why I killed her?” Fred asked.
“Should I?”
Fred thought about it. “I guess not.”
“Keep an eye out for the road, Peter,” John said, staring into the darkness ahead. The headlights illuminated the trees around them in a milky glow, shadows flickering through the branches. “It’s hard to see. It’s not marked or nothing.”
“Is that it there?” Peter asked.
They had been driving for about thirty minutes. The corpse was in the trunk, completely wrapped in plastic. Fred sat in the backseat, staring at his father’s head.
“It’s been a long time since I took part in an actual burial,”
John said, turning down the unpaved dirt road. “I’d say at least ten years. You know what’s weird, Freddy? I’ve been thinking about you lately. I’ve been thinking about the way things used to be.”
“It’s best you don’t go there, Pop,” Fred said. “It will only get us arguing.”
“Just hear me out,” John said. “You know what I wonder sometimes? I wonder what our lives would be like if the family wasn’t caught up in all this. Some sick part of me wants to live a life like that. No pressures. I bet we might actually be a close. I know you don’t think I have it in me, Freddy, but I do. Some part of me envies that you were able to walk away from the family. I’ve always felt trapped myself. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t get out now. Too much blood on my fucking hands, you know? I’m just glad to be able to help you now. I think this is the first time you’ve ever asked for my help. I can’t deny it feels good. Real fucking good. I knew you’d need me sometime in the future.”
“I knew you would help us, Pop,” Peter said.
Fred said nothing. He turned around, shocked at how dark it was. As far as he could tell they had driven out of pure blackness. He couldn’t even see a tree. The car lurched and he felt a little queasy.
“Okay, there is another offshoot road coming up,” John said.
He took the turn.
“It’s dark as fuck outside tonight. Hope it doesn’t rain. Okay, we go down this for a few minutes and we’ll be at the old dumping grounds.”
“How long have you been using this place?” Fred asked. He rolled down the window a crack, feeling relieved at the stab of cold air that hit his temples.
“We haven’t used this place in years,” John said, making eye contact with his son in the mirror. “That’s how I know it’s pretty safe. There’s still some bodies out here undiscovered from the fucking seventies. Imagine that, there are some corpses out here in rotting leisure suits and bell bottoms. Last thing some of them might have heard is a Bee Gees falsetto. It’s almost sad when you think about it.”
“You always think like a twisted bastard, Pop,” Peter said. “Who would even think of saying the shit you do?”
“I just see all the details is all,” John said. “It’s a good way of looking at the world. There’s more to see.” He stared into the mirror. “I missed you, Fred. I gotta admit it’s strange, this night. I always told Peter here you didn’t have the killer instinct. Part of me is glad I was wrong, son.”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Daddy,” Fred said.
John snickered. “You hear that, Peter? The way he said it just then it almost sounded like he spilled a drink on one of your mother’s rugs.”
The car went silent at the mention of their mother. Peter turned and looked out into the dark trees while Fred looked down at his fingers angrily.
“Do you miss her, Daddy?” Fred asked, trying to make his voice sound nonchalant, though he was fighting the urge to punch the back of his father’s head.
“Yeah, I do,” John said.
Up ahead loomed a massive pile of dumped garbage. A few deer stood in the damp grass off to the left, frozen for a few seconds before scattering in different directions. Clouds of fog billowed through the trees as they vanished.
John stopped the car and turned to face his son. “You know, it’s kind of funny, Fred. I haven’t seen you years, huh? Now I haven’t even been with you in an hour and we’re burying a body together.”
“Heh. It’s almost like a Hallmark moment for sick fucks,” Peter said. He glanced nervously at Fred, who was barely hiding his anger.
John snickered and cut the ignition. “You think like me, Peter. Okay, boys, let’s get this over with. I’ll carry the shovels and you carry the body. We’ll just take it out in the woods and find a spot.”
The men got out of the car and into the darkness. Only the sound of the crickets chirping could be heard. Both Peter and Fred were thankful for dark as it would help hide their body language from the ever alert eyes of their father.
Fred fingered the revolver his brother had given him. He knew he should be nervous but he somehow felt calm. Already the way he had murdered that girl felt like a bad dream he had had months ago. It was amazing to him how fast a life could degenerate. Only eight hours ago he felt like a normal citizen.
John opened the trunk and covered his nose with his sleeve. “Jesus Christ! I’ll never get used to that smell. Good thing this ain’t my car. It’s Frankie’s. Get her out of there, boys. Make sure none of her blood spills out, okay? Sometimes lining the trunk with plastic doesn’t help worth a shit.”
John reached in and grabbed the shovels then stood off to the side. Peter and Fred each grabbed an end of the body and hoisted it from the trunk.
“All right,” John said. “She ain’t that heavy, is she? We should try to get her buried at least a little ways into the woods. And we need to bury her relatively deep, too. We don’t want some fucking animal digging her up and ruining a perfectly good burying ground, do we?”
Shadowy trees surrounded them and the wind whistled softly through the branches. The sky had cleared up a bit and the half moon could be seen peeking through a milky cloud.
“This spot is good,” John said, dropping the shovels to the ground. The sound seemed loud in the quiet of the wilderness. “Okay, now that we have the body out here and away from all the people I can ask a couple of questions. Did you know her, Fred? I figure she’s just a whore by the way she looks.”
“No, I don’t even know her name,” Fred said. “She’s just a prostitute I picked up. I caught her going through my stuff, and I lost my temper.”
John clapped his son on the back. “You’re just like your old man was back in the day. You let your anger get the best of you. I can help you with that. There are many ways of bringing yourself back in control. Come see me.”
Fred, not really knowing what to say, picked up a shovel and started digging. John stood and watched him, face half in shadow. Peter soon followed suit.
“You know, it makes me proud to stand here and watch you two do this,” John said.
“Pop, could you please stop with all this I’m so proud of my sons bullshit, please?” Fred finally said. The sentence stayed in the air for a few seconds, loud in the quiet of the breeze and crickets. When John said nothing, the brothers started digging again.
“You are one ungrateful fat fuck, you know that, Freddy?” John finally said, his voice a low whisper. “I’m out here putting my ass on the line for you and you immediately start acting like you used to. Who killed this dead whore here, me or you? You trying to say you’re better than the old man? That you have some higher ground to stand on? Well, why don’t you look at it this way. The people I’ve killed are people that had it coming. I’ve never killed a single person that didn’t bring it upon his or herself. Most of them lived a lifestyle just like me. What about you? You think this girl deserved a fucking knife in her? She’s just a simple girl that went down the wrong path. She was just someone trying to survive. Just a tired old whore. And you cut her up. She barely looks twenty.”
Peter kept digging. There was something in the voice that seemed dangerous. He tried to make out his father’s expression but all he could see was a sliver of his shadowed face.
“Yeah, Dad, you’re a regular angel,” Fred said. “You really kid yourself like this? That there is some sort of gray area to murder? I don’t kid myself. I know I fucked up. And you know what? When I look deep down into my soul I don’t try to rationalize anything. It’s only been a few hours since I killed her and already she’s haunting my fucking head, okay. I don’t like the way this feels. And I know I’m going to burn in hell. Just like you.”
“Maybe I should leave right now,” John said. “Leave you stranded out here with a corpse.”
Fred pulled the gun from his pants. “How about this?”
“You little fuck!” John screamed. “Put that down now! You just gonna stand there and let your brother do this to your old man, Peter?”
> “I’m gonna help him,” Peter said, dropping his shovel. He pulled out his own gun, cocking it at his chest before aiming it at his father’s head.
“Why?” John asked.
“Got any jokes to make now, Pop?” Fred asked. “You’re going to spend the next few months decomposing alongside this ‘tired old whore’.”
“Fuck you, Freddy,” John said. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of begging for my life. If your brother wasn’t standing there holding a gun I wouldn’t even be afraid of you. You don’t have the fucking guts to do anything on your own. What, you don’t think I know your brother is the one with the balls to do this?” He turned his dark face to Peter. “Is Kamal really worth this, Peter? That bastard was a snitch.”
“He wasn’t a snitch, Pop,” Peter said. “You paranoid bastard. He loved working for you.”
“That’s what you think, Peter,” John said. “I heard different. And my instincts told me something as well. I can’t afford to take chances. I know you were close to him, but if my instincts were right he’d sink us all. You should stand on the side of your father, not on some nigger you just met a year ago. How fucking dare you.”
“Just shoot him, Peter,” Fred said. “I don’t think I can stand another second of him.”
“You shut the fuck up!” John shrieked. “I’ll fucking—-”
Fred pulled the trigger.
John fell backwards, blood spraying from his neck, a shocked hiss of air escaping his lips. He lay covered in shadow, coughing.