by Sweet, Dell
"I did my fifty. The ball's back in your court,” April told him.
"Well how about I just throw the other sock in there," Billy said suddenly. "That would solve it."
"Sure," April agreed. "You'll give them two samples of your DNA."
Billy frowned, reached down, grabbed a piece of the crumpled up newspaper and fished his sock out of the bag. A fat, white maggot clung to the sock and Billy nearly threw up as it dropped off and fell back into the bag. He carefully piled everything else back into the bag and zipped it back up. He rolled his socks up and took them out and dropped them into the garbage. He took the duffel bag outside and stuck it into the back of his pickup truck and covered it with a tarp. He went back in, waited for April to come out of the bathroom and then went in and washed his hands and face. He met her back in the bedroom.
"We'll have to get rid of that today," Billy said.
"We should do it right now: Right down the road and onto the main highway. Drop it off the bridge," April said
"It's still morning. Too early, you just said that yourself. We'll have to wait until tonight," Billy said. "What next?" he asked.
April dragged one of the big plastic bags over, borrowed Billy's knife and burrowed a hole through the heavy, black plastic.
"Pot," she said. "Packed tight... That's a lot of pot, Billy."
"Maybe we should try it. Make sure it's good," Billy said.
"So you can get all messed up and screw something up? Forget to get rid of the head?" April said.
"I didn't think about that," Billy agreed.
"Later, Billy; later tonight," April said. "Okay, your turn," she finished nodding at the unopened bags.
Billy dragged the black suitcase from the trunk of the Ford over. He took a deep breath and pushed the latches back. They were locked. He used his pocketknife to Jimmy them and then slowly lifted the lid.
"Clothes," he said. "All clothes... Wait another stack of hundred dollar bills." He took everything out and searched more carefully. A man's watch and diamond ring were hidden inside a sock and that was it.
"Thirty thousand in cash," April said. "Over a hundred and thirty five thousand dollars," She looked at the brown suitcase. "That's from the Toyota, right?" she asked.
"Yeah," Billy agreed. "It's heavy... Maybe the body that goes to the head and hands... Maybe money... More drugs?"
April was nodding. "I had to do the last body parts," she said.
"Yeah, but it might not be body parts," Billy said.
"Good. You'll get over then, but either way it's yours," April said.
"I just opened the black one, it could've been a body too, but I did it. It's your turn," Billy said.
"No, it's a body. I can feel it, if it's a body that's not my turn it's yours. I already opened a package of body parts. It's your turn and that's final, Billy." April said. She locked her eyes on his. Blue gray, Billy noticed. Long lashes: She had beautiful eyes. He nodded.
Billy leaned close to the brown suitcase he had pulled from the Toyota and sniffed, but all he could smell was the burned vinyl that covered the case. A sharp chemical smell he smelled every time he burned plastic in his own burning barrel. He pulled the case over, stood to one side to open it and that was when the sound of dogs snarling and fighting came through the thin walls of the trailer: The sounds of claws scrambling on metal.
"Oh fuck," Billy said and jumped up.
"What, what?" April asked.
"The head... The duffel bag," Billy spluttered. He bolted out of the bedroom through the front door and around the end of the trailer. He was too late. Fifty feet away going into the tree line a Rottweiler he recognized from down the road was dragging the duffel bag backwards into the woods. A scrawny yellow dog was running alongside beside the bag, biting at it as it bumped over the ground. A second later they were both gone.
Billy walked over and looked into the back of his truck. At least they hadn't made a mess... Now what, he wondered. He turned and went back inside, listening to the two dogs still fighting over the bag somewhere off in the woods. He walked back into the bedroom.
"Gone," Billy said.
"Gone?" April echoed.
"Gone. Two dogs; a big Rottweiler from down the road?"
She nodded.
"And some stray... A yellow dog... Never seen it before. They took it. Dragged the whole bag off into the woods where they're fighting over who gets what... It sounds like that anyway." Billy said
"What do we do now?" April asked.
"Nothing," Billy said. "There's nothing we can do."
"Somebody will find it," April said.
"Probably... Eventually... Whatever is left," Billy said.
"Don't say that," April said.
"Well, April, they're dogs. Sort of like wolves only better manners... Sometimes anyway." Billy said.
They both looked down at the other suitcase. "If that's another part or parts or whatever, maybe we can leave it for the dogs," Billy said.
"That's not funny, Billy," April said.
"Okay," Billy agreed. He wrestled the suitcase closer, popped the top, it wasn't locked and begin to raise the lid. "Here goes," he said.
"Oh God," April gasped as the lid opened.
The Cops
Municipal Garage
Detective Don Wright pushed his thick knot of black hair out of his eyes and leaned in closer to look at the key which was still in the ignition of the Ford.
"It was taken out," the tech said. "See?" He pointed out a disruption in the spray patterns of blood, brain and bone around the sides of the ignition switch. "Probably a thumb and a forefinger," the tech said. "Should be able to get good partials."
"Got to be the kid," his partner Sammy Simons said. He pushed his own hand across his forehead to catch the sweat that threatened to roll out of his blond hair and into his eyes.
Don nodded. "Couldn't be anyone else... But why? And why not tell us?" he asked.
"Also," the tech said. "There's another intrusion into the glove box. Two actually: What is probably a perfect thumbprint, and then the palm print; perfectly outlined in the fine spray of blood." Don and Sammy walked over to the passenger side of the car and looked at the glove box. It was clear as day. It hadn't been so clear in the half light of morning, but here with all the light trained on it, it was easy to see.
"Kid must've been looking for something. Might have even found something," Sammy said.
"He probably did... How long until you ID those prints?" Don asked.
"Tomorrow... Late afternoon at the soonest...” He blinked and then shook his head. “Nope, tomorrow is Saturday. Monday afternoon at the soonest," the tech amended.
"Well what do we do until then?" Sammy asked. He was younger, less seniority and the case was Don's anyway.
"Nothing without proof: We can't prove that anything is missing or what his intent was. Or even that it is him, yet. I guess we wait until Monday afternoon, maybe between now and then we'll get something solid." Don said.
"Go out and talk to him?" Sammy asked.
"We could, but I don't want to until I have something concrete," Don said. He gestured toward the tech as he began to walk away. "Maybe they'll come up with something else. Something concrete," Don said. He made his way over to the other side of the garage where the Toyota set with its own techs going over it. It smelled like burnt, roasted meat. He pushed the smell out of his mind and watched the techs work.
Lott Road
Billy Jingo
April stared into the suitcase.
"Has to be... I don't even know," she breathed.
"A couple a million dollars" Billy finished.
"I was gonna say that," April agreed. "Except it's all hundreds again. It's packed full... Might be more." She sounded breathless.
"It's a lot of money," Billy said. "Somebody's gonna be coming back for this money... It's too much."
"How can it be too much?" April asked. She looked up again.
Billy shook his head. "Nobody turn
s loose of that much money and doesn't come back for it... Those guys had to be flunkies... Just dudes doing their job. Somebody higher up is gonna miss all of this. And if this was payment for all of that," he gestured at the bricks and bags, "Someone will probably be coming for that too." Billy said.
Billy fell silent for a few minutes.
"Well it's ours," April said finally.
"Is it worth dying for?" Billy asked her?
Her lower lip quivered.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to scare you," Billy said. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "The cops might be back too. If it's big, someone will snitch, tell the cops what was here and is now missing. They'll be back, I know it."
"But what can they do? They need warrants to search, right? It's not like they have fingerprints, right. They need all that shit. I watch TV. They need that stuff," April said.
"That's television, April. This is the real world, they search first and cover their asses later... And maybe there are prints. I touched the car... I took the key from the ignition... I wasn't thinking about prints. Stupid, stupid, stupid," he said as he pounded one fist against the floor.
"You left fingerprints?" April asked.
He nodded.
"Well I spoke to them. They'll know I lied," she said.
"Sorry," Billy said. He looked up quickly. "We have to get out of here," he finished. His eyes widened. "But we have all the money in the world. We can get lost, right now. Today, right?" he asked.
She just stared for a moment and then she looked at the suitcase. "Yeah," she said finally. "We could."
"You said you don't have anybody, well neither do I," Billy said. "Who would miss us? Who would we miss?" he asked.
"Nobody," April said, seeming to warm to the idea. "Where would we go though, Billy? They'll look for us, right? They'll know your truck... We'll have to be careful," she finished.
"We can be though. We'll have to be too. They'll know. The cops will know maybe already do. And if the cops know the guys who own the drugs and money will know too. They'll read our names in the paper and come after us" Billy said.
"Then we'll have to go," April said. "We'll have to go right now."
"We have a little time," Billy said. He thought for a few minutes. "We need a truck... An SUV. Yeah, an SUV is closed in and we can put everything in there with us. We need to buy one... With cash... Maybe get the paper and find a used one for sale by owner... Take the plates off my truck and put them on it... Leave my truck somewhere where they won't find it right away," Billy said.
"Can we do it from the road," April asked. “You're scaring me a little. Maybe we should already be gone.”
"Yeah... We can... Should... C'mon, let's get the truck loaded and get the hell out of here." He jumped from the bed and April's hand caught him as he did.
"Are we going to be okay?" she asked. Her eyes were bright: Her voice shaky. She pulled herself to him from across the bed as he stood there and hugged him. "I'm scared," she said.
Billy was so surprised that he couldn't react for a second. "I won't let anything happen to you," he told her. He sank down onto the bed as her hands pulled him, body pressed against hers. He could feel her breasts pressing against him: The little hard and soft parts of her body. She looked up at him. "You promise?" she asked.
"I promise," he told her.
She looked at him a few seconds longer and then kissed him softly. It just seemed to go on forever to Billy and even though he hated himself for it he felt himself grow hard. He couldn't help it. She looked back up and smiled. She shifted and her body pressed a little more firmly against his erection.
"We'll take care of that later," she said, "Okay?"
Billy nodded and reluctantly let her go when she pulled away. He fell back against the bed for a second as she began getting everything ready to go. A half hour later the truck was loaded, a tarp tied down across the back and they were driving down Lott road toward the main highway: The money in the suitcase between them.
Gabe Kohlson
Watertown New York
Jefferson County Transfer Station 2
Gabe Kohlson came around slowly, his hands clutched tightly across his face.
They had gone for the eyes: Gulls; they were everywhere here… Thousands of them.
Fuck that! They had gone for all sorts of things, but he couldn't protect it all. Without eyes you couldn't see, even an idiot knew that, and so he had protected those and let them have the rest. The backs of his hands were in bad shape, he could feel that.
He could also tell that it was morning, or close to it, the red screen beyond his eyes, beyond the hands that covered his eyes, told him that, but the hands had done their job. He had probably passed out and stayed gone until this morning. If he could see that red screen, then he could see, and so if the hands were a bit ripped up it was worth it.
The rest of his body hurt too, it wasn't just the hands, but he supposed he should still be grateful, after all he hadn't expected to live through it. He had been sure she would kill him when she had come for him and Johns, and so if he hurt a little, even if he was banged up pretty good, at least she hadn't killed him. He removed his hands, but left the eyes closed.
Ah, yes, the redness was brighter, not much brighter, but it had been fairly damn bright to begin with, he opened them slowly, one at a time, and ... ... He looked up into a clear, blue sky. There was not a cloud in sight anywhere: Stunningly beautiful, absolutely beautiful, especially since he hadn't expected to ever see it again. One lone bird up there, circling in all that blue, looked like a buzzard for sure, but even that didn't break the spell. He'd probably been lying here unmoving all morning long and so the buzzard had obviously assumed he was a goner. Fuck that though, once he was up and moving Mr. Buzzard could take a walk. No free meal for him today, Gabe Kohlson assured himself.
He tried to sit.
Well, maybe not totally unhurt he told himself. He could feel his legs, but they didn't seem to want to move for him.
Don't panic, he told himself, keep a cool tool Gabe, probably broke 'em or something like that is all.
He tried to lift his head. It didn't budge. It didn't even try to budge.
Fuck!
Hey hold on, your hands work, right?
"Yeah," Gabe said aloud in a buzzing-whisper. He hadn't meant to whisper; in fact he had meant to shout. The buzzard was dropping lower and he thought a shout might send him along. Let him know for sure that Gabe Kohlson was not road-kill, but his voice didn't seem to be working all that well. The hands...?
He brought them up from his side and looked closely. Blinked and looked again.
They were fuckticated big time: Really fuckticated. They weren't really hands anymore either. They were really nothing more than bones, tendons, and a few stringy runners of flesh.
Apparently they had suffered a little more than he had thought they had, apparently they had suffered greatly and apparently they had not suffered alone.
Gabe Kohlson had always thought there was just one great big long bone that ran up a person’s arm from the wrist. He saw now that he had been wrong. There were two, and not great big bones like he had thought either, pretty skinny thin ones, and... And how was it that they could be this bad and still move, Gabe? How could that be?
A shadow slipped across his face, before he could think of an answer, and he dragged his attention back to the sky above.
Mr. Buzzard was coming down quick. No more than ten feet off the ground now and circling like a mad bastard as he spiraled downward. Gabe jammed his fingers under the back of his head and tried to lift it. It came, but barely. He could move the fingers, but apparently there was no real strength in them. It came up enough though, enough to get a good peek at the rest of him. He quickly let go of his head, and it cracked back down to the ground. He was lying on a mound of garbage. A huge mound of garbage... County dump? Transfer Station? Maybe; and that was bad, but his body was worse. He quickly pushed what he had seen away.
Hi
s swiveled his eyes to the left. Mr. Buzzard had apparently been cleared to land over there. He glared back at Carl with his beady little buzzard eyes and strutted importantly, purposely, towards him.
Gabe had gotten a good peek while he had been holding his head up, and wasn't Mr. buzzard really wasting his time?
He was, the small little voice inside him agreed, and Gabe had to agree right back. He had seen in that little peek that there was nothing there for him to eat, somebody, or maybe several somebody's had beaten him to it and so how could he disagree.
There was nothing but bone below him, at least what he could see. White bone, gnawed bone, several types of bone, but it was all bone and there was...
The buzzard was standing over him now, and Carl really didn't like the way the son-of-a-bitch was looking at him, not at all.
"Get," he whisper-croaked.
No good. The buzzard, Gabe was afraid, had noticed that there was some left. Maybe not the good stuff, maybe not even the best stuff, but still...
A quick blur of movement, and suddenly, painlessly, the left eye stopped working. He could see why too, the son-of-a-...
Another quick blur...
It was dark now, totally and utterly, no redness, no anything, but he could still feel that little son-of-a-bitch staring at him up there, and the last thing... The last thing he had seen was his own...
Ouch! Oh you bitch, you no good...
Richard Pierce
Project Bluechip
Far below the small city of Watertown New York, Richard Pierce sat working before an elaborate computer terminal. He had just initiated the program that managed the small nuclear power plant hidden deep below him in the rock. A small handset beside the computer station chimed, and he picked it up and listened. He did not speak at first, but as he listened a smile spread across his face. "Very good," he said happily when the caller was finished, "keep me advised." He set the small handset back into its cradle and turned his attention back to the screen in front of him. The plant had powered up just as it was supposed to, no problems whatsoever, and that made Richard Pierce extremely happy. Two more weeks tops, he thought, and then maybe I'll get out of this dump.
He supposed he should feel honored that he was even here. It was after all one of the biggest projects in the country, albeit top secret, but he could not help the way he felt. He was close to a mile underground, totally cut off from everything and everyone, and he hated it. If he had a choice, which he had not, he would never have come at all, but he had written the software that handled the power plant, as well as several other sections of the underground city, and that made it his baby. There were a couple of small bugs, mainly due to the fact that no one had been allowed to know what the entire program was supposed to do. The way the rewrites were going however, it looked as though he would not be stuck here anywhere near as long as he had originally thought, and that was something to think about. He had begun to feel that he would never leave this rock bound prison, and wouldn't that be a real bitch.