Spoiler
May be a tad long, but you will not regret it. I promise you. Split into eight acts. Four acts of revenge, three events leading to the betrayal, and the finale. Be aware there is violence and some strong language involved. The story follows one act of revenge then one flashback to the betrayal, then another kill, then flashback. Now enjoy.
Taylor
The other customers exit the diner. I nod to Charlie and we split. I make my way through the front entrance and head for his booth. A waitress looks up from the counting of her tips and flashes me a fake smile. I pass before she has a chance to ask if she can get me a seat.
He’s still sitting there, trying with great effort to cut away at the burnt steak with the knife in his left hand. A half empty bottle of beer demands the full attention of his right. His eyes droop and he mutters a slew of curses under his breath as he fights the stubborn meal. A wrap of bandages drapes across the side of his neck. I note the soft bulge of the gun beneath his coat. Charlie enters from the back exit and takes his place behind the target. A pair of black shades covers his eyes. I slide into the booth.
“Look buddy, the seat ain’t taken but it ain’t exactly free.”
I ignore the joke. “Hello Taylor.”
There’s the look I’ve been waiting for. I can see him go cold. Even the buzz can’t keep the blood from leaving his cheeks. Charlie wraps his arm around Taylor’s neck and jerks him to the side, pulling the weapon from his coat and vanishing it behind his back. I can hear the waitress calling for us to knock it off, like it’s a little joke.
The veins in Taylor’s hand flex as he tightens his grip around the steak knife and brings it up towards Charlie. I catch his hand and slam it back down, pulling the sauce drenched fork from his plate and jamming it into the space between his knuckles. I feel the bone shift alongside metal. The pain’s enough to make him drop the knife. I slide it away as Charlie relinquishes his grip and stands at ready with both hands on Taylor’s shoulders. His right hand digs into Taylor’s bandaged wound.
Taylor lets out a whimper and buries his hand between his legs, his eyes shut tight as though trying to will the hurt away.
“Thomas, look you know it wasn’t my idea-"
I cut him off. “Have you ever tasted dirt, Taylor? It’s not pleasant.”
“You don’t need to do this, I was just following the chain-"
“Ever been buried alive?” I continue, lost in the moment, “Well I have, and it’s not like drowning, not like you’re weightless or floating in a dream. It’s hard and rough, like nails in your throat. It’s fear.”
My eyes turn down towards the knife in my hand. A smile cuts a swath across my lips. This moment, it feels good.
“I’m not going to ask for their locations, though I’m sure you’d be willing to cooperate in exchange for me sparing your life. I’ll find them. It won’t be quick like it was with Lily, they’ll know they’ve been cut.”
“Please...”
I whip him across the face with the knife. He lets out a piercing shriek and clutches at his cheek where the side of his mouth has just been extended. Blood pours out through closed fingers. The waitress behind me screams and rushes back into the kitchen. I can hear her shouting through the wall. More voices come. Taylor’s cries drown them out.
“Oh my God! You sick bastard! You-"
His words cut short as Charlie locks his fingers around the top of his skull, nails digging into the soft skin beneath his eyebrows. He pinches Taylor’s nose together, cutting off the air. Taylor’s arms flail against Charlie’s face but he keeps his hold. I force open Taylor’s jaw and reach into my pocket to withdraw the package. I shove it down his throat and slap my hand across Taylor’s mouth. Spit and blood coats my fingers. I can feel his tongue dance across my palm as he tries to bite my skin. The gash stretches wide. Torn muscles twitch. Finally he swallows.
The waitress returns with several members of the kitchen staff, one armed. They call for us to let the man go. Charlie releases his hold and draws Taylor’s pistol before they have a chance to react. He puts a round in the man’s shoulder. The staff cowers around the fallen man. The waitress looks up at Charlie, her tears sending a stream of black mascara down her cheeks.
“We’ve already called the cops!” she says.
“That’s fine,” Charlie replies, but keeps his weapon steady.
I keep my knife on Taylor. He pulls a handful of napkins from the dispenser and presses them against his would, trying to stem the flow. He manages a gurgle of words despite the blood that fills his mouth.
“What the hell did you give me?”
“A small explosive device.”
“What?”
I nod. “Amazing, isn’t it? I’ve been watching you all night, Taylor. You’ve been drinking like you always do. That little vice has ensured your demise. The device will activate soon and when it does it will fill your stomach with gasoline. Then it will spark.”
I pause a moment to let the words soak in. Taylor’s eyes begin to tear. “I believe the resulting pain will be quite intense. Your stomach will burn apart, emptying its acids into your organ systems. The flames will spread, aided by the gas and booze, until you die. You’re going to burn from the inside out."
I check my watch. “You have less than a minute; I suggest you pray for forgiveness. I wouldn’t try throwing up the package, it’ll only get stuck.”
“Please! Please, don’t!” Taylor’s weeps as he scrambles across the table and latches onto my arms.
“Get off me.”
“You’ve got to do something!”
“I said get off!” I force him back into his seat.
I stand and place my money on the table leaving Taylor huddled away from me. The kitchen staff drag the wounded man away and cover their faces. I pay them no heed. Sirens roar in the distance as I make my way to the front entrance.
As the doors close my watch alarm begins to beep. The screams of terrified staff rise within. I dig a smoke out of my pocket and pull out my lighter. Storm’s coming, clouds are moving in. I strike the lighter as Charlie appears behind me. He nods his head in the direction of the shrieks.
“Was she worth it?” he asks, removing the glasses that hide his burned out eye.
I smile. “She was.”
Betrayal
Someone’s in my house.
Lily lies by my side. I lay a hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. The soft lashes of her lids flutter as she wakes but she does not speak. I raise a finger to my lips and nod in the direction of the bedroom door. There come whispers, voices, reaching out from the darkness of the small apartment. I slide my pistol out from under the bed and tighten the silencer. I kiss her cheek and stand. She lays a hand upon my arm and nods. Her eyes shine. I cross the bedroom and peek through the crack in the doorway, the pistol held close at my side.
Two men stand in my kitchen cloaked in black and lost in conversation. They’re at the fridge speaking loud enough for me to hear. No lights are on but the blinds open wide. Moonlight shines through.
“You see True Grit?”
“True Grit, the John Wayne movie?”
“Nah, the remake those Coen guys did.”
“They remade The Duke?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know?”
Something’s up, these guys aren’t pros. From the light of the moon I can make out the finish on the two sawed offs in their hands. Fancy, primo stuff. These guys certainly have the green, and they’re not worried about being quiet when they kill me.
The first sets his weapon aside and pulls on the fridge handle. I close the door as the refrigerator light shines across the room. I stay still, waiting for gunfire that never comes. I breathe out slowly and watch as Lily peaks out from the other side of the bed. She holds a small purse pistol in her shaking hands. I shake my head and glance out again. The men are still there. I raise the pistol shoulder height and let the barrel pass through the crack.
“What’s the deal with all these remakes?” the first asks, raising a carton of milk he’s taken from the fridge to his lips.
“What do you mean? They’re not all bad.”
“Can you name even three that were better than the originals, right off the top of your head?”
“Sure I can. There’s The Departed, The Thing, and uh…hold on…” the second replies.
The first one smiles and brings the milk back up. I fire.
“That’s why-" he begins, his words cut short.
Blood dribbles from the corners of his mouth as he lets out a soft gurgle. Milk spews out of the carton where the bullet pierced it. The container plummets to the ground and leaks white onto the hardwood floor. The hit man grasps feebly at the hole in his neck. Blood fountains down his shirt. He sinks to his knees, stretching out his hands and pulling at his partner’s coat.
“What the-"
I never give the second a chance to finish. The right side of his head hits the wall before he even knows what’s happened. I swing the door open and advance towards the kitchen, scanning the room as I pass. The warmed steel of the gun tickles my palm as I shift my free hand beneath the clip slot.
The one I shot in the throat is still alive. Kneeling in blood, he looks up at me with eyes racked with fear. Skin the color of paste sticks to a body that shakes from shock. He speaks in a ragged, choked voice, each word he squeezes out spilling a trickle of blood down his pale throat.
“P-please, I-I-I wa-was just p-paid t-t-to stand here!”
“What?”
“Please d-don’t kill me!”
“Shit...”
I never have a chance to turn, he has me. Brick has me. A towering mass of solid muscle, bald and angry, he has no plans of letting me go. My gun slips from my fingers and I cease my struggles.
“Well, what a mess we have,” Frank whispers as he steps out from the shadows of the back room. A sheet of white plastic drapes over his form covering the suit beneath it. He nods to his partner. “Taylor, get the girl.”
“Lily they’re coming!” I shout, earning a punch to the gut from Frank. I gasp in a thin stream of air that burns my lungs.
Taylor enters the bedroom. Silence. A gunshot sounds. Taylor screams, then Lily. The door bursts open and Taylor shoves Lily forward onto the carpet. He clutches at his shoulder. A blossom of blood blooms beneath his hold. Taylor forces Lily up on her knees and slaps her across the face again and again. Her cheeks swell from the blows.
“That’s enough, Taylor,” Frank says.
“Bitch shot me.”
“And you should feel as pathetic as you look, now back away.”
I can’t move. Brick hasn’t given an inch. Frank nods towards Lily.
“It’s not my fault you fell in love with her, you knew what happens to those who fail a job and yet you still couldn’t go through with it! You should’ve left, Tom, taken the bitch with you. Arrogance always wins, right?”
He pulls a set of purple examination gloves over his hands.
“What happened to the leather?” I ask.
“Cheaper this way.”
“Always skimped where it counted,” I remark, glancing around the room, “Where’s Charlie?”
Frank stares into the reflection he casts against the balcony glass door and fiddles with his slick hair. He straightens his tie and pats down the wrinkles in his pressed suit through the thin plastic.
“He didn’t feel like cooperating, some sort of loyalty issue he has with you two. Had to rough him up a bit,” he replies, too focused on his own reflection to meet my gaze, “Don’t worry, he’ll be with you soon enough.”
Sasha enters through the front door. Taylor takes his place behind Frank, always at his beck and call, but Sasha remains behind. She won’t face me. Lily breathes in harsh breaths. Her hair spills over her beaten face. She meets my gaze. I want to hold her. I want to grab her hand and kiss her again, but I can’t move.
“It’s okay, Lily,” I say, “It’s okay. I’ll get us out of here.”
Frank holds out his palm. Taylor removes a silencer from his pocket and lays it in his hands, receiving a curt nod of approval.
“Sweet sentiment,” he says, making sure the silencer is fully attached.
Lily knows better than to rise. She doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t show the fear as Frank takes his place behind her. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry. Her eyes are closed. I place my feet against the floor and kick back, doing nothing more than making Brick take a step back. I bite at his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t feel it. I’m screaming now as Frank raises his gun and places the barrel against Lily’s head.
“Don’t you do it, Frank! Don’t you dare!”
Lily swallows hard. She’s crying too, silently. I never understood how she did that. Frank raises his hand up behind the gun to protect himself from the spray and cocks the hammer as slowly as he can, drawing out the act. Lily opens her eyes and looks to me.
“Tom…” she whispers, then Frank pulls the trigger.
The bullet exits through her forehead. A splash of blood hits the floor. Lily jerks once before dropping. The silence comes, the silence that comes at the end. It’s broken by my screams.
“Lily! No! No, no, no! I’m gonna kill you, I swear to God I’m gonna kill you all! I swear-"
Frank wipes a speck of blood from the sheets that cover his chest. “Brick, if you would please.”
There’s a crack as Brick dislocates both my shoulders. I’m out.
Sasha
I sit in the chair beside Sasha’s bed. She sleeps soundly, her long hair spilling across her face, hiding eyes the lightest blue.
“We were friends once,” I whisper.
She wakes. She doesn’t jump with fright or reach for the gun in her night stand I’ve already taken. She rises slowly.
“Why’d you tell him where we were?” I ask, “What did he have on you?”
She doesn’t answer. Outside, rain begins to patter the windowsill. I pick up a small, framed photo that sits on the stand, a picture of Sasha from long ago. I can’t help but smile.
“I remember when we first met. I remember our first job and how you hesitated.”
“How you saved my life,” Sasha says.
I return the picture to its original place after wiping my prints from the frame. “I want to thank you for what you did for Charlie.”
“It’s all I could-"
“But that doesn’t change what you did to me and Lily.”
We sit in silence, not once locking eyes. She breaks the aging quiet.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Yes.”
She nods. “Will it hurt?”
“No.”
“Promise?” she asks.
“I promise.”
She lies back, pulling the sheets to her chest, and closes her eyes. I raise my weapon.
“Goodbye.”
Damnation
A jolt wakes me as I roll into a curved chunk of metal. I’m in the trunk of a car, my hands and legs tied. I twist and fight against the ropes that tear my skin.
I’ve got to break free, have to warn Charlie. Jesus, how could Sasha betray us? No, can’t focus on that, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting free and warning Charlie.
My muscles cramp as I work. Brick’s left both my shoulders dislocated. The bones shift awkwardly, freed from their sockets. The car rolls to a stop. The motor dies. Moonlight spills over my beaten body as the trunk swings open, blocked somewhat by Brick’s bulky form.
“Having fun, my friend?” Frank says, his white teeth shown in full form with a long, wolf-like smile.
“Fuck you, Frank.”
Frank responds by breaking my nose.
“God, fuck! You fucking fuck!” I scream, trying to fight back as they pull me out of the trunk.
“Let’s go, partner,” Frank says as he drags me down the road. Ahead lays a long abandoned construction site. Rusted trucks and cement mixers scatter across the field. Mounds of coal-black dirt rise in neat little pyramid piles. Behind us Taylor backs the car up savoring what little time he ever gets behind the wheel. Sasha follows.
We reach the pit. I don’t have to ask why I’m here, I already know. It’s where we buried Sasha’s old partner Samuel two years ago. He didn’t like to play fair when it came to getting pinched, tried to flip us. Frank didn’t like that.
“Recognize this place, Tom?” Frank asks.
They’re going to bury me.
“Yes.”
“Then I guess an explanation isn’t necessary.”
He shoves hard. Before I know what’s happening, I’m flying through the air, and it’s almost peaceful. Then I hit the ground. I land hard, still bound at the legs and feet, coughing into the dirt and groaning as I turn on my back.
Brick locks his monstrous hands around a dump truck’s grill. His muscles contract, veins pulsing as he begins to drag it, fully loaded, towards the pit. I fight at the ropes. Frank and Taylor watch my struggles. Only Sasha doesn’t look. She’s sitting alone in the car and crying, perhaps over Samuel, perhaps over me.
Brick stands above. With impossible strength, he forces the truck’s load bearer upwards. Rock and sand slowly fills the pit. By the time I manage to sit up it’s almost at my waist.
“Bye Tom,” Frank says, removing the surgical gloves and tucking them back inside his pocket.
I can’t think, I can’t fight, and as the dirt covers my face, I hear the car start.
Brick
He’s watching Sleepless in Seattle. That’s the one thing I’ll always remember about Brick, he loves Meg Ryan movies. He’s a massive man of wrath and violence, yet he loves Meg Ryan. Didn’t like to admit it, but we all knew.
Brick’s the lone man of our group. I have Charlie, Sasha had Samuel, even Frank had Taylor, but Brick works alone. He doesn’t need backup. He sits in his living room before a massive flat screen in an equally massive easy chair. At his side lays a bucket of popcorn and a two liter bottle of Sprite.
I watch from outside the window. Rain’s starting to pick up. I’ll have to move fast. I slide back the handle bar of the assault shotgun. Bullets line its sides. If the silent way fails, there’s always back-up. My heart beats fast in my ears. I switch off the safety and let the shotgun hang at my side by the straps across my back.
The chair faces away from me with only the top of Brick’s head visible, fixed completely on the screen. He hasn’t heard me. I ready the laser sight of the silenced pistol on the back of the chair and fire six times, four in the back, two in the head. Shattered glass peppers my face. The body falls forward onto the Oriental rug at the center of the room. I lower my weapon.
A large punching dummy lies before the TV. Beans pour out from the top of its head where my bullet struck.
“Son of a bitch.”
He’s behind me, his shadow looming up. Before I can turn he grabs me by the arm, rips the pistol from my hand, and hurls me across the lawn. I land hard in the half-wet dirt. The wind in my lungs rushes out on impact past clenched teeth. I push myself up from the ground. He’s charging. I try and pull shotgun up to fire but it’s too late.
Brick looms up, eyes darkened and bald head shining with sweat and rain. Spittle drips from his lips as he lets out an inhuman scream. His arms lock me in place. I feel my chest constrict as he tightens his grip. I twist to the side, freeing one arm. I pummel his face over and over but he only laughs and squeezes harder. I can’t breathe. I reach into my pockets and pull out the steak knife Taylor encountered earlier this night. Brick lets out a manic chuckle as he sees the pitiful weapon I hold.
I drive the blade deep into his eye.
He drops me with a shriek, stumbling forward and sinking to his knees. Blood pools against his socket as he grips the handle. Tendons tear and veins shred as he rips the blade out, left eye still attached. I rise slowly to my knees, clutching my bruised ribs and grunting with effort as I lift the shotgun up from my side. Brick lets the blade drop. Blood spills down from the impacted socket across his face, covering him in red like war paint. He begins to laugh. A hideous, unstopping laugh. I point the shotgun at center of his forehead. His laughs stop.
“Do it,” he growls.
I take off the top of his head.
I pass Brick’s body and retrieve the pistol beside the window. My phone begins to vibrate within my pocket. I answer on the third ring. Charlie’s voice comes through the line.
“I found Frank.”
Savior
I can only see darkness. Rocks fill my throat as I gasp for breath. I swallow what I can before the air stops. Shudders rack my body, each more violent then the next. I can hear the car engine roar above me. It’s leaving. It’s gone. I’m alone in the end. Nothing here but darkness and dirt. I close my eyes.
Then I feel them. A pair of strong hands clasp around my own. I feel myself being pulled from the pit. I lay coughing, spitting out dust, trying to catch my breath. Chunks of rock come up with every heave. I stick my finger down my throat and vomit, dispelling what I can. I look to my side and see Charlie kneeling.
“Hey Tom.”
“Ch…Charlie? That you?”
“Who else would come to your rescue?”
“How’d you find me?” I ask, my head swimming, unsure as to whether or not what I’m seeing isn’t a hallucination.
“Where else do they take traitors?”
“I’m not a traitor.”
“To them you are.”
The laugh that rises up comes to an abrupt end when I notice the patch that loops its way across Charlie’s eye. A splotch of torched skin forms around the socket.
“Jesus Christ, Charlie.”
“What, this?” Charlie asks, twirling a finger around the ruined area, “It’s nothing. Take a lot more for me to turn, but they didn’t get the chance.”
“How’d you escape?”
Charlie offers me a sly smirk. “Taylor’s never been the best at tying knots.”
“But Frank’s always best when it comes to locking doors.”
“Had a little help from Sasha,” Charlie says, “Tricky girl.”
Charlie pulls me up. I steady myself on shaky legs and start for home.
“You know she helped them, right?” I ask.
“I know,” Charlie replies.
“You know I can’t spare her?”
“I know.”
“I’m going to see Lily.”
***
I open the door to the apartment. Charlie and I enter, not bothering to search the area. They think I’m dead, by now they’re looking for him.
“There’s a pair of sunglasses on the kitchen table,” I say, “Put them on, you look like a pirate.”
Charlie retrieves the shades. Together we stand at the edge of the living room. Lily splays across the floor. A pool of dried blood spreads around her. Her hair covers her face.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Charlie says.
“It’s not your fault.”
“That doesn’t change a thing.”
I understand. “I want to say something, to her.”
“Take your time.” Charlie takes his place as guard in the doorway. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
I kneel before Lily. I feel I should move her, but I can’t. I don’t want to see her eyes. I touch her cheek and whisper my peace. “I’m sorry Lily. It’s my fault. I should’ve protected you.”
A tear makes its way down. I wipe it away, too ashamed to let more fall.
“I should’ve taken you away, but I was stupid. I was so stupid,” I whisper, rising once more, “I’m going to do something now. I don’t think it’s what you’d want, but it’s something I know I should do.”
I walk to the kitchen table where Lily left her purse and dig through the contents until I find her cell phone. I flip the top up and scroll through her contacts until I find the one I’m looking for. I punch the ‘talk’ button and wait for the ring. I don’t want to leave a message. Her voice comes through.
“Hello?”
It takes me a moment to find the words.
“Hello? Lily, is that you?”
“Mrs. Collins?”
“Thomas?”
“Something’s happened to your daughter. You need to come to my apartment. 405 W. Westchester.”
“Wh…what?”
“Someone hurt her. You need to come.”
“What happened, Thomas?”
“I…I won’t be here when you arrive.”
“What the hell happened, Thomas? What happened to Lily?”
“I’m going after them. I’m going now, I have to go.”
“No! No, Thomas, you tell me what happened to her!”
“405 W. Westchester. I’m sorry. I have to go. They’ll move on if I wait too long.”
“Thomas-"
“I’m sorry.”
Frank
Charlie and I sit outside the apartment in the darkened car. Lights shine inside the building. Rain falls hard around us. Water flushes down the street carrying bits of paper and fallen leaves towards the gutters.
Charlie removes his glasses and lifts away the bandage that covers his eye. Charred flesh and fluid filled sacs lift atop the whitened cornea. A stream of yellow liquid spills down.
“Jesus,” Charlie whispers, whipping away the substance and pressing a new pad to his eye. He pulls a roll of medical tape from his pocket and tears away a length.
“You need to go to a hospital.”
I try not to grimace as the stream makes its way past the patch. Charlie lets out a chuckle.
“Don’t spoil your appetite,” he says.
The two of us share a laugh. It reminds me of old times. I nod towards the apartment. The light still shines through cracks in the closed curtains. No movement comes within.
“Why are you helping me, Charlie?” I ask him, “Why not give me up?”
Charlie finishes laying a second strip of medical tape across the pad. He shrugs. “It’s the right thing to do. It’s what you would’ve done.”
I nod. The light inside the apartment vanishes. I draw the syringe from my pocket and remove the cap from the thick needle attached. Clear liquid shifts inside.
***
Charlie takes the front. I head round back. It’s an easy lock to force.
The apartment is dark. The brief light of the world passing through the back door illuminates my path. I’m in his pantry. The walkway divides into two paths past the room, one towards the front door and living room, the other to the bedroom. A shadow passes in the black. I can make out Frank’s form as he slithers his way towards the front.
I turn the syringe I hold around like a knife. My thumb rests upon plunger. I grope my way around the corner and stand in the hallway. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s there, faced away from me. He takes his place beside the front door and waits.
The front lock shoots out and tumbles to the floor, freed from its home. The door swings open on unoiled hinges. Frank keeps it that way, in case someone comes for him. He should’ve checked the back. There comes a soft creek as Charlie inches his way inside. A sliver of light from the street beyond makes its way through. I can see them both.
Frank doesn’t waste time, I’ll give him that. He brings the butt of his gun down upon Charlie’s wrist. There’s a small crack and Charlie lets out a muffled groan. The gun drops from his hand. He pushes Frank back and reaches for the weapon but Frank already has his own drawn.
“Charlie,” Frank says, letting out a soft sigh, “figured you’d know better.”
He doesn’t hear my approach. I lay a hand upon his shoulder. The other holding the syringe rises.
“Hello Frank,” I whisper.
I stick the needle into Frank’s neck and press down on the plunger. He’s out.
***
I pull Frank from the car and drag his body through the dirt towards the pit. A rock cracks against his skull and forces him to consciousness.
“Wha-what the fuck?” he asks, trying to shake the lightness from his mind.
“What the fuck, indeed,” I reply.
I continue past the trucks and up to where the pit lay. The rain has softened the inside to mud, wet sand, and floating rock. I lift Frank to his knees and hold him by the scruff of his t-shirt, leaning him forward over the edge. He struggles to move but his hands are tied. The drug still moves strong through his system. His legs threaten to buckle beneath him. He glances from the watery grave behind him to the suit of plastic I wear over my own clothes.
“Really?” he asks, slurring his words together, “Didn’t think you were so big on irony.”
“You never knew a lot of things.”
“Your bitch is still dead. You know that, right?” Frank whispers, his lips forming that familiar grin. His teeth shine, “This won’t bring her back. I still took her.”
“I know, but this helps.”
“I’ll find a way to come back for you.”
I draw my pistol and put a round in both his knees. “No you won’t.”
It doesn’t take much of a push for him to fall back into the pit. He manages to keep his head up for a few seconds, his screams and cries sounding out along the empty site, but then he sinks. I remove the plastic cover and toss it in with him. I wait long enough to know he won’t be back.
Redemption
Charlie stands at the car dressed in a white suit with hands crossed. A massive swab of cloth covers his eye, hiding the stitching beneath. A cast forms around his wrist. I watch the ceremony from across the cemetery. The wench lowers Lily’s coffin into the grave. Her loved ones surround her. Mrs. Collins weeps against her husband’s chest.
A priest makes his way to the front of the proceeding. I can’t hear his words but he speaks for some time. He lifts his hand up and makes the sign of the cross, signaling the end of his speech. Family and friends take their turns to speak their peace. The first of the mourners begin to part. I hear Charlie approach.
“Thomas, we need to go,” he says.
“I know.”
I still don’t move. Charlie speaks. “You loved her, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And she was happy?”
“She was.”
“Then wherever she is, she’s waiting,” Charlie says, “Now get in the damn car.”
As I make my way to the waiting vehicle I feel the tears that run down my cheeks. I don’t wipe them away. We slide into the car. Charlie puts the seat back and shuts his one good eye. I slip the key into the ignition and turn. The engine roars to life. I put the car in reverse and back up, watching the last of Lily’s loved ones part, then I speed away.
