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To a black SUV somehow parked in the woods.
“He’s in there?” I ask.
“In the back,” Archer says. “Covered with a tarp.”
“Do it,” Birdie says. “I have to see.”
Archer walks to the SUV and opens the back.
I feel my body start to shake.
For some reason I have this horrible thought that Darby is going to sit up, climb out of the SUV and attack us.
Zombie Darby?
I swallow hard.
There’s a tarp.
Darby’s body is under the tarp.
There’s no movement either.
“Move the tarp,” Birdie says.
Archer reaches and pulls the tarp back.
“I cut the clown mask so I can place it on his face where I put him,” Archer says. “Clear message will be sent to everyone atDSC.”
“That’s the mask,” Birdie whispers. “Move it.”
“Birdie,” I say. “What do you want to do here?”
“Move the mask,” Birdie says.
Archer listens.
That’s when I get to see…
I cover my mouth.
The fatal wound on Darby’s neck.
It’s nothing like the movies.
It’s disgusting.
A jagged, dark red cut across his entire throat.
His mouth still open.
His eyes are still open too.
Like he’s stuck frozen, screaming in pain for all of eternity.
“You fucking piece of shit,” Birdie says. “I hope you’re in hell right now.”
Birdie takes a step.
