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Travis
“You sure Zeke is cool with his?” I ask, as I close the back door to Afterlife behind me, “He knows this makes him an accessory if we get caught. Not that we will get caught.”
“He’s down. I filled him in, and he didn’t even hesitate.”
“Alright,” I sigh as I look into the retinal scanner and open the basement door. “Let’s fucking rock.”
Striding down the steps, we both stop in front of the two pathetic pieces of shit that stand in our way; one of which formulates a temporary solution to our problem. Riot walks over and checks Jim, who barely has a pulse at this point. He just needs put out of his misery.
Liam is asleep and it gets under my skin that he’s sleeping so peacefully, so I whip out the butterfly knife from my back pocket and thrust it down into his thigh. His screams bounce off of the walls and I smile in satisfaction.
With wide eyes, Liam looks up at me. He mumbles something but he’s still gagged and I have no intentions of taking that shit off. Squatting down in front of him, I grip his chin and look him dead in the eyes.
“Don’t get too comfortable pal. I told you that you wouldn’t leave this basement alive, and I meant it. See the thing is, Aria, she’s not really Aria. Her name is Spencer, and she’s been mine since the sandbox motherfucker. Life had some other plans for us,” I muse as I pull the knife from his thigh and tap the bloody tip against my chin, “but we found each other again and neither of us are willing to let go. And you, you pathetic piece of shit. You woman beating, rapist, piece of fucking trash. You hurt her. You fucking hurt the one thing I care about most in this world. I want to skin you alive and remove your insides slowly, but your life isn’t mine to take. For now though, I can enjoy making you fucking scream.”
Pushing up on my knees, I stand, hovering over him. Thrusting the blade into his shoulder, he screams as I twist the blade. Leaning forward, I get close and whisper in his ear, “Limp dick piece of shit. I want you to die knowing it’s my name she screams. I’m the one who makes her come so hard her world spins on its axis. And fuck, is it beautiful.”
Ripping the blade out, I snarl as I turn and walk away, leaving him a sobbing mess. Reaching for the back of his waistband, I watch as Riot retrieves a Glock and in one swift motion, he blows Jimbo’s brains all over the wall.
We can’t leave a giant mess behind in Zeke’s truck, so I head to the basement storage space and drag out the large roll of plastic sheeting from when we remodeled the upstairs. Riot helps me lay the plastic down flat on a section of concrete that isn’t already caked in blood and brain matter.
Digging in my pocket, I retrieve the key and unlock the padlocks from the set of chains which held Jim to the spot where he took his last breath. Working together, we unchain him, and carry his corpse to the sheet of plastic.
Rolling his body up in plastic, we secure the ends and seams with duct tape to ensure no blood leaks into the bed of Zeke’s pickup. At this point we are both sweating from dragging the dead weight around.
Standing up, I wipe the sweat from my forehead, and look over at Riot, “Ready man?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Lifting his dead weight, we drag the body up the steps of the basement, out the back door, and toss his corpse into the bed of Zeke’s pickup truck.
Climbing into the cab, Riot starts up the engine, and I pull a joint and lighter from the pocket of my leather jacket. Lighting up, I inhale and blow a large puff of smoke out of the passenger side window.
Handing the joint over to Riot, he follows suit.
We each take a few more puffs before I put the joint out and set it in the ashtray as Riot pulls out of the back lot, heading for the street. He takes the dimly lit side streets the whole drive to Spencer’s house. Avoiding the main roads. It’s the middle of the night, and it’s dark, but the last thing we need is a wandering set of eyes to see something damning. He turns down the alley behind her street, cutting off his headlights completely.
Quietly, he pulls through the back gates of Spencer’s yard, and he’s only coasting, so we are fairly certain we haven’t been seen or heard. Shutting off the engine, we both slip out of the cab quietly. While Riot lowers the tailgate of the truck, I jog up to the back door, unlocking it and propping it open with one of the chairs from the back porch.
Meeting Riot back at the truck, we slide the body to the end of the bed and lift him up, carrying him into the house. Once inside the kitchen, we drop his body and it hits the tile floor with a loud thud.
“Check upstairs Riot. Let me know if they dropped the other body.”
He nods and jogs up the steps, checking to see if the coroner’s office delivered the freshly deceased female body to the master bedroom like they were ordered to do. In just a couple of minutes, he jogs back down the steps, giving me a thumbs up.
Standing over the wrapped corpse, catching our breath, Riot looks up at me.
“You ready for this boss?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Remember, we need the bodies to burn beyond all recognition.”
Giving me a nod, he heads back outside, returning a few minutes later with two cans of gasoline. Handing one over to me, he takes the first floor, and I take the upstairs.
Swinging the can, I pour gasoline on the walls. I pour a trail from one room to the next, dousing every surface in accelerant. When I swing open her bedroom door and step inside, a small part of me aches as I pour out the remaining gas from the can. So much of what she owns is in here. So many things she’s collected over time, and it hurts me knowing how this hurts her. Dropping the can, I turn to walk away, when the glint of something shimmering in the moonlight catches my eye. Stopping I walk over to her nightstand.
Running one gloved hand around the small silver frame, I look at the photo of Spencer and Mama Dee. I remember this one. I’m the one who snapped it. Our moms had taken us to the lake on a little weekend getaway. We were still kids, around ten years old.
Simpler times.
