Young Writers Society

Second Always Comes Last

"Accident"

(29)

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 Death can be such an anticlimactic thing. We anticipate it all of our lives; wait for it, grow on it. Everything we ever do, say or feel is all preparation for our one single moment. Death.

There is no going forward, there is no going back. There is no trying again, there is no second chance. Death just is.

Through our experience with Sir, we had far grasped that concept, and so far every death we had caused had been the most marvellous it could have been. Starting with Sir, we had witnessed three deaths worth boasting about. If any of them could have looked forward to their moment of death, and seen how majestically they finished their story, they would have been proud. To look forward to ones death and to know it would be majestic would be something I would die for. Literally.

I had expected something more when the bolt embedded itself into the front of Daniels forehead. I had expected something incredible, or supernatural. Anything. It was a death, it was the most important day of the dearly departed’s life.

Yet there was nothing. We heard a crack, if it was from the release of the crossbow or the snap of the skull, it was impossible to tell. But that was it. There was no scream, no explosion, no crunch of train wheels. Swanson had simply and slowly fallen backward onto the grizzly path of grass.

The short bolt penetrated deep through the bone, situating itself almost all the way in. The range had been only a couple of metres; what could be considered point-blank. The brain was penetrated and that was it. There would have been no pain long enough for him to comprehend.

Shane was frozen in place, simply staring, the cross bow still held at aim in his arms. He was blinking his one good eye furiously and shaking his head at the same time, although to wake himself up or get himself together. Carmen had completely vanished from the door frame and didn’t respond to Hutcheon’s brief call out back.

“Call her.” He said solidly to Shane, lifting the bow out of his hands. Chen furrowed his brow, not having heard what Hutcheon had just said.

“What?”

“Call Carmen. Call her cellphone then put me on.”

“Yes... Yes... sir.” Chen nodded, his eyes still fixated on space, and scrambled his pockets for his phone.

Darany and I followed Nathaniel over to where Daniel lay. The blindfold was still tight across his eyes, but his lips were frozen just askew, his fingers curled into solid fists. The blond boy crouched down, taking his thumb and wiping the thin edge of blood out from around the bolt in Daniels forehead. He wiped his thumb on his pants and then looked up at the two of us.

“Should I pull it out?”

“No.” Darany replied before I could even open my mouth but said nothing more. Beauregard glared but I shook my head, confirming Darany’s instruction.

“Has she answered her phone yet?” Hutcheon snapped at Chen, who had cellphone in hand. Shane nodded, and handed the mobile to Cameron who stuffed it firmly under his ear.

“Carmen? Yeah, where did you go?”

...

“You think that was the best time to suddenly pack up and leave? Yeah whatever, I don’t care that you left anyway.”

. ...

Hutcheon’s tone changed, becoming frantic; angry. “Why am I calling? To tell you one thing. You said you wanted in on this club. Sure. But if you tell anyone. Anything. If you write it down. If you hint it. If anyone ever finds out about what happened. We’ll kill you.”

...

“Yeah, I know you believe me. I swear we will kill you. Clear?”

He hung the line and tossed the phone back to Shane, instantly turning his attention to our small gathering around the collapsed boy.

“Let’s take him in.”

We nodded and I grabbed under the shoulders while Hutcheon took the legs and Darany the back. It was heavier than I had expected. Like somehow emptying a shell of its force would life a long held weight from its mass. But it didn’t. Even carrying Oskar when he had been barely conscious had felt lighter. But this. This was something else. Beauregard trotted in front of us, opening the doors and the hatch to the basement early, and Shane following behind closing them all. Once we had struggled the body down the stairs we laid him out on the same table we had stretched Oskar upon, and there we simple stared in silence for a good minute.

Beauregard was about to open his mouth, but Hutcheon beat him to it. The tennis boy’s eyes were bulging, wide and intensive. Afraid. Exhilarated. Excited.

“Listen up the lot of you. We don’t have time to wait around and spend days at a time planning. This death is different from all of the other ones so far. It has to be dealt with tomorrow at the latest.”

“Dealt with...” Darany’s voice trailed off softly, but he continued to nod along. I flit my eyes between him and Chen, whom had gathered himself together in the last few minutes. His eyes were open wider than Cameron’s, and his lips were curled into a rigid grin sitting on the verge of laughter.

I turned my attention back to Cameron, settling my pupils within his.

“What do you propose then.”

He gulped, averting my eyes but pushing his chest forward to assert his voice.

“We’ve all watched enough news and seen enough crime shows to know the basic potholes we can’t fall into. It has to look like an accident in all purity. Nothing less.”

I pointed to the protruding bolt. “Forensics will determine the cause of death. I don’t know how doing that will be possible.”

“Hutcheon has a strong point.” Shane put. “We can’t have Swanson just go missing. He was supposed to be staying over at my house this past night so his disappearance will be inevitably linked with us.”

“That’s a shame.” Beauregard said to himself. The four of us glanced toward him. He leaned over the silenced one as a prince would over a fairytale princess. “I like him so much better now... I wanted to keep him.”

I twisted my face into an expression of disbelief at this statement, but Beauregard only scowled at me in return. I shook my head, ignoring him.

“Even if we did manage to stage an accident, how are we going to move him? We can’t walk around with a lifeless over our shoulders.”

“Nazza why are you so objective!?” Hutcheon’s sudden outburst took me and everyone in the circle aback. His fingers fumbled into fists and he receded, regretting his words.

“I’m not trying to be objective...”

“Just... trust me as a leader, alright?” He paused, thinking hard.

“Considering your point, we will need an accident so horrific and destructive that there wont be enough left for the forensics to determine any other cause of death other than the obvious.”

“Like throwing him under another train?” Shane suggested.

“No. The train accidents between Sir and Taylor are already too coincidental. The authorities would definitely link a serial movement if that was the case.” I argued.

“That’s right.” Cameron agreed. “I do have a seed of an idea... but it seems unrealistic but if we can figure it out, it might work.”

“Lets hear it then...” Chen’s words fluctuated to weak as he looked down at his hands, before snapping his head up again, holding his jaw strong. “Lets hear it then.”

“Well the other weekend I went mountain biking out west with my dad.” Hutcheon explained. “And there was this logging site nearby that had a mother of a machine.” He paused, building on the moment before grinning to himself. “A mulcher. An entire tree mulcher.”

“What an accident.” I breathed. “Maybe you enjoyed mountain biking so much last week you decided to organize a second trip with your mates.”

“Being the stupid adolescent boys we are, we were enthralled by the massive muncher and decided to get a closer look, climbing onto the staff platforms.” Hutcheon added.

“But unfortunately...” Shane continued. “Daniel slipped.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Tomorrow?” Huctheon decided. Another wave of approving nods.

“But how?” Darany’s voice sounded out of place after such a long stretch of silence. He pointed. “Bring it?”

His words stumped the lot of us, the genius plan now seemed impossible.

“That’s easy!” Nathaniel laughed. He made a scissor gesture with his fingers. “Chop chop chop.”