Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1378416-Maverick
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #1378416
It's about a guy getting rid of a body in the desert.
      The headlights of the Lincoln Towncar cut through the still desert night, casting an eerie glow over the sandy ground and the sparse sagebrush that grew upon it. Mountains rose in the distance unseen except for the silvery silhouette from the low slung moon. The howls of the coyotes were carried on the air from their secret locations. And in the middle of this picturesque scene was a man digging.  He wasn’t frantic or worried. In fact, he showed no signs of distraught whatsoever.  He was like any other man that has had to dig, except he was wearing a nice navy blue, two piece suit and it was the middle of the night.

In one fluid motion, he stabbed the earth with his spade, and slung the loose soil over his shoulder. Some of the dirt remained suspended in the cool night air briefly, before settling on his shoulders.  He looked down and admired what his hard work had accomplished. That was one big hole that he had just dug.  He never really had to do any manual labor down at the club.  And for a moment, a feeling of content filled him, a feeling that only hard work could bring. He was happy, but the moment faded when he remembered why he was there. He dropped the shovel beside the hole and decided he might as well get it all over with.

“Bad business. That is what this is, but I guess somebody has to do it,” he said to himself. 

He made his way over to the back of the car. He reached his hand into the front pocket of his perfectly creased slacks, and felt around for the keys to the trunk. Loose change was the only thing he felt.  He tried to reach into his other pocket, but his new bulky ring snagged on a loose string which subsequently led to a rip in his slacks. He wrestled his hand free, cursed under his breath, then pulled the ring off his finger and put it in his coat pocket.  He reached in again and this time, he pulled the keys out of his pocket. He fumbled for the right key and before he could find it, he dropped the whole lot. Nothing was going to go right this night.  He got down on his hands and knees. He patted the ground, trying to feel for the keys.  Rock, rock, sticker, damn that smarts, and at last keys. He stood up and held the whole set of keys up to the soft pink glow of the taillight. He found the right key, held on tightly and slipped it into the trunk.  He took a deep breath before he turned it.

The cargo light mounted to the undercarriage of the trunk was surprisingly bright for its size.  His eyes took a moment to adjust to the new source of light. Once the contents of the trunk came into focus, he felt nauseated.  It was probably the smell of ruptured bowels mixed with bile, which was tickling the back of his throat. The smell was like a morbid snake charmer willing the vomit to creep up his throat and bow to the audience of wild scavengers and crickets.  He turned away from the trunk, swallowed hard and recovered his composure.

“Damn I thought I was made up of stronger material than this. I’m acting like a girl dissecting a frog in science class or some shit like that,” he said to the night.

With his head turned to the side, he reached into the trunk with both hands and grabbed a large black garbage sack.  A grunt escaped his lips as he pulled the bag out of the trunk and let it fall on the ground with a dull thump. He dragged the slick garbage sack across the desert floor and deposited it into the freshly dug hole.  The sack looked so strange down in the hole with all the black fjords of plastic arranged at odd angles.  He couldn’t move.  He stared down at the jumbled mass in the hole and let the truth of what had happened that night sink in. he had taken a life this very night.  It’s not how he envisioned the night ending, but sometimes the constructs of fate have a different idea of how events should unfold than man does.  Connie was going to be pissed.

A brisk gust roused him from his stupor and he shook his head as if the motion could somehow sling the melancholy thoughts out and away from him.  He reached for the shovel and stabbed it into the sandy pile of freshly dug soil.  He flung the loose earth back into the hole. It hit the garbage sack and spread out like dirty water froze in time within the folds of the bundle.  Another shovel full. Another shovel full and another and another until finally the hole was completely full and only the best trained eye would be able to discern that anything was every amiss. 

He tossed the spade into the empty trunk and slammed it shut.  Then, he walked around to the driver’s side door and hopped in the car.  The cargo light remained on for a moment. He looked down and noticed his suit was filthy.

“Fuck, what else could go wrong tonight,” he muttered to himself as he turned the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. He mashed down on the accelerator. The car was slow going in the sandy soil at first, but soon it began to pick up momentum. Before long he was skimming across the desert, making his way back to the highway. He left two long black marks as the big car slid back onto the road.  Town was only ten minutes away.  He would probably make it in five.

The street lights shone a metallic orange on the strip as he entered town.  The car moved listlessly on the pavement between the other motorists.  His house was close and he was looking forward to the comfort of his own bed.  He overtook a middle-aged couple in a Buick.  The husband was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. What a fucking tourist. He turned off the strip and headed to his house.

Frank’s car was in the driveway when he pulled up.  He parked beside the beamer and turned the engine off.  He sat in the town car for a moment and rubbed his face trying to ride himself of the built up sleep.  He opened the door reluctantly and stepped out.  The air felt even colder than it did before.  He walked up the slim pathway to the front door.  He reached for the spare key that was always under the welcome mat, found it and inserted it into the key slot. Before he remembered to turn the key and unlock the door, he absentmindedly turned the knob. The door creaked open with the key still in it.

He crossed the threshold as quietly as he could.  His room was just down the hallway.  All he had to do was get to his room, fall asleep, and forget about all this bad business. As he was making his way to the sanctuary that was bed, he heard a voice. It was frank.

“Did you get it taken care of?”

He sighed, “Yeah, it’s done. Finished. Finito. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want some sleep. You know what I mean, Frank?”

“Are you going to tell her?” asked Frank.

“No Probably Not, I don’t think that would be the best course of action.”

He started back towards his room leaving Frank in the kitchen sipping his black, unsweetened coffee. Halfway down the hallway, he heard a door open. Muffled footsteps entered the hallway and headed towards the kitchen. The foot steps stopped. Then the voice that he was dreading spoke.

“What are you guys doing up. It’s two thirty in the morning.”

Frank replied, “Ask your son, I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of it. I about pissed myself when he told me about it.”

“Shut up, Frank. I swear you’re the worst step dad ever.”

Frank smiled and then did his little half-cough, half-laugh.

“What happened Tony?” asked his mom with concern in her voice.

Tony knew that she would find out, somehow, someway, anyways. He might as well just tell her and get it off his chest.

“After the prom, I dropped Connie off at her house. I was backing out. And, well, I heard a yelp. I got out of your car and looked around.  I ran over my date’s dog. Maverick. Maverick was his name.  He didn’t make it, so I got the garbage sacks out that you always keep in the car. I loaded maverick in one of them. Threw him in the trunk. Drove by the house, grabbed a spade from the garage, threw it in the back seat, and headed out to the desert to get rid of the body. Alright that was what happened. I got my rental dirty, ripped my slacks with my class ring, killed my date’s dog, and probably messed up the suspension on your town car, but right now I just want to go bed,” said Tony. He was making his way back to when he heard his mom speak.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t want to ruin it,” said Tony. Then he headed toward his bed where sleep awaited.
© Copyright 2008 T.C. Abernathy (sealkris at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1378416-Maverick