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4
Knox
I don’t even breaka sweat as we dump the body that girl left in the alley in the trunk of my car and haul it out of town. Ash pouts the whole way there, but that’s Ash. He loves getting what he wants, and he definitely didn’t want to be stuck on corpse duty with me when he could be doing more fun stuff.
I don’t know what he’s so annoyed about, though. It’s just work. Easy work, too.
We head out to a spot in the middle of nowhere that I’m familiar with, all looming trees and craggy ditches.
“Well, this is a cheerful place,” Ash mutters under his breath, climbing out of the car when I kill the engine.
“Not supposed to be cheerful,” I tell him, even though I’m smiling. I pop the trunk and haul the body out, throwing it over my shoulder.
“You’re going to get blood on your shirt,” he comments, following behind me once I slam the trunk closed and start hoofing it into the trees.
The smell of damp dirt and mildewy leaves and pine is thick in my nose, and I don’t mind it. There’s something kind of peaceful about being out here in the middle of the night, handling business.
I’ve used this spot before, a little patch of woods off the highway enough that no one comes here unless it’s to do shady business. The pine needles, soggy leaves, and dirt cover the sound of our footsteps, and I can tell there’s no one else around.
It’s just the two of us and the trees and the holes in the ground.And our dead friend, I add mentally, bumping him higher up on my shoulder.
“It’s just a shirt,” I tell Ash over my other shoulder. “I’ve got a lot of shirts.”
I don’t need to be able to see him to know he’ll be rolling his eyes, crabby that his night has been ruined by some strange girl dusting off some strange dude in the alley behind our club.
“Let’s just make this quick, okay?” he says, and I shrug and hustle along.
I’ve always felt like I have some kind of sixth sense when it comes to where to bury a body. I’ve done it enough times that it’s not new, and there’s a certain kind of feel to the ground where you know it’ll be easy to break through the earth and dig a deep enough hole to bury the remains.
“Did you grab the stuff?” I ask Ash, dumping the body on the ground in a good spot with a huff.
“Yeah,” he replies, hefting a bag in one hand and a shovel in the other. “This isn’t my first rodeo. But it’s your kinda thing, so here.”
He hands over the bag and leans the shovel against a nearby tree. I take the accelerant out of the bag and start squeezing the bottle, squirting the nasty smelling liquid all over the body.
Ash wrinkles his nose and steps back, but the smell doesn’t bother me as much. Maybe I’m just used to it. It burns my nose, but it’s a familiar feeling, and I smile a little as I light a match and drop it onto the body, watching the flames catch and grow immediately.
The fire lights up the woods, making flickering lights dance off the trees, and I watch it like a kid staring into a fireplace ready to roast a marshmallow. There’s something beautiful about it, and about the way the fire eats through the body, leaving a pile of charred bones and ash behind in a dark spot on the ground.
I look over at Ash, who has his phone out, not interested in the show. Oh well. It always has been my kinda thing.
I grab the shovel and dig a hole deep enough that someone would really have to go digging to find what’s left of Mr. Nobody here, and then I shovel the remains and the dirt back into it.
It’s easy work. Honest work. My muscles get warm from the repetitive movement, and it makes me feel good and alive. I was right about the spot being perfect, since the dirt splits easily under the shovel, with no hard stone or solid rock to get in the way.
All told, it takes about half an hour, and when it’s done, I wipe my brow and smile with satisfaction, breathing in the cool night air that’s still scented with the aroma of char.
“Are we done here?” Ash asks, his voice cutting through the quiet of the night with that impatient edge he gets when he’s not doing something he thinks is worth his time.
“Yup,” I tell him, gathering the stuff back up and slinging the shovel over my shoulder. He watches and then shrugs, leading the way out of the woods and back to the car so we can head back to the city.
“You know, I had better things to do with my night than this,” he grumbles. His amber eyes gleam behind his glasses as he turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Much better things.”
“What’s better than this?” I ask him, grinning teasingly. “Spending time with your favorite person in the great outdoors. Sounds like a good night to me.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was supposed to have a fucking three-way with one of the dancers from the club and her twin sister.”
“Exciting,” I say, nodding along.
