An Incidental Reckoning (13 page)

“It’s starting to get light out. That’s going to have to do. I’m impressed. We’ll throw Chris in and you’ll have to fill in the hole, but first we’re going to take some pictures.

“I’m going to take a few of both of you, next to Chris and his final resting place. Smile, ham it up a little bit. Oh, wait…” Brody produced the gun that Will had brought, and popped out the clip, then tossed it on the ground in front of its owner.

"Hold this, and give me your best gangster pose. Jon, you unwrap the tarp around Chris’ face so I can see it. Wouldn’t want him to miss out on his last photo op.”

Jon looked at Will, expecting him to refuse and get shot and be buried along with Chris, and fostered a foggy resentment of being left to fill in the hole on his own. But Will picked up the gun and then waited on Jon expectantly to do his part.

Too weary to protest, knowing it didn’t matter anyway, Jon approached the tarp and pulled back the area around Chris’ face. Leaves and sticks were now tangled in his hair and beard, along with some dirt that had fallen on him during the digging process, some directly on his eyeball. Jon fought his horror and the inexplicable need to pick it off.

“Okay Will. You first. This is my insurance, guys. Once I let you go home, I know one of you might be tempted to get the police involved. I would then have a need to hurt you, and I'd like to avoid that. The camera stays with me, the pictures undeveloped as long as you keep quiet. Otherwise, I take it to Wal-mart, and I’ll have some prints that will not look good to any cop or judge, no matter what else happens. Now get over there by Chris and smile big, Will.”

Jon watched as Will crawled to the corpse, and then sat down next to it. He held out the gun and offered a smile that looked like a grimace.

“Going to have to do better than that. Put some feeling into it.”

Will’s smile slowly broadened, and he crossed the gun over his chest. Jon shivered at the result. It looked like exactly what Brody intended; a man posing with a trophy deer, giddy with the act. Brody took several more, praising Will for his photogenic qualities. If Jon didn’t know better, he might have believed that, by the time he had taken about half a dozen photos, Will was enjoying himself.

“Good job. Your turn, Jon.”

Jon took the gun from Will, and did his best to mimic his friend’s performance. His heart wasn’t in it, but it must have been enough as Brody took the photos without criticism.

“Great. Perfect, gentlemen. Now get busy filling her up. Don’t forget to add Chris. I’ll be sure to call and order a headstone once I get home.”

“Don’t you want a few of us together?” Jon asked.

Brody smiled. “Nice try, Jon. But then they’d know there was a third party involved, wouldn’t they?”

Jon smiled sheepishly, figured it worth a shot, anyway.

The sun had come up by the time they had finished, Jon again falling into a near hypnotic state sustained only by the rhythm of motion. He thought he understood now why slaves had sung as they worked, the timing of the phrases providing something to focus on besides the task at hand. And to keep thoughts from straying into the territory of hope.

They slogged back to the vehicles. Brody said, “You both follow me again. We’re going to have to drive a little ways, to put some distance between us and this place. We’ll stop at a motel and get some sleep, and then I have one more thing planned before I send you home. I know you’re exhausted, but you need to stay awake until we get there. Wrecking on the highway now would raise too many suspicions, since you’re both so filthy. Plus you might die, and I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

“Glad to know you’re looking out for us.” Jon said, not caring if the remark brought a rebuke in any form.

“No problem Jon. I’m not such a bad guy. You’ll see.”

Chapter 10

They drove to Altoona. Jon expected to fight sleep for the entire drive, but he instead felt wired and edgy, sure that a State Police cruiser would fall in behind with its lights flashing and siren screaming. At least his car wasn’t doubling as a hearse anymore. He tried to remain hopeful, believe that Brody would let them go. And why not? He had the pictures. He didn’t seem to care much about Chris. But why, then, were they heading to a motel instead of home?

Jon wished he could talk to Will. He thought of his cell phone packed in a duffel bag due to its uselessness at the camp and the surrounding area, figured he could get reception here. But if Brody turned and saw them talking, he didn’t think it would go well for them. He considered hitting the accelerator and ramming the motorcycle. But again, it came with no guarantees. Brody might see him coming and evade his car…too many what ifs. Better to wait, to see what he actually planned to do with them. Maybe.

In Altoona, Brody pulled into the lot of a Motel 8, then instructed Jon to park his car at a Burger King next door, and Will at a hardware store on the other side. He went inside the office, and then motioned them from their vehicles as he got back on the motorcycle and drove to a spot in front of the room. Jon waited for someone to point at him, narrow their eyes in suspicion at his filthy clothes and hair matted to his head in some places, and sticking up crazily in others, these things the equivalent to a sign stating "murderer" hung around his neck and printed in bold, block letters. A woman glanced at him and her gaze lingered, her mouth twitching in a smile, and then she looked away. He shambled on to the darkness of the open doorway, a zombie returning home to his grave.

Once inside, they both took showers, and Jon had never appreciated one more, wishing that the last day’s experience might wash down the drain with the soil. But he knew it to be impossible, that he would remember it forever. And they weren’t even done, yet.

When he came back out, he found Will tied by an arm to the head of one of the beds, already sleeping. Brody held another length of rope and smiled at him and Jon sighed in resignation and lay down, even placing his arm in position for Brody to secure.

“Good night, Jon,” he said, and settled into the second bed.

Jon decided to wait until Brody slept, and then wake up Will to discuss their situation, but then Brody was prodding him with his boot.

“Get up. Time to go.”

Brody rode in Jon’s car, and Will followed behind, the arrangement at Brody’s direction without any explanation. Jon’s stomach rumbled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday. They drove for about ten miles, the sprawl of Altoona giving way to rural roads with an occasional farm, trailer court, or a near palace built by the wealthy getting back to nature on their own terms. Jon kept his eyes on the road, and resisted Brody’s attempts to draw him into conversation. Eventually Brody gave up and stared out the window with a small smile fixed on his lips. Jon resisted the urge to strike him. They had only slept for about four hours, and he didn’t feel refreshed, possibly even worse than before. He had a headache and his body had stiffened so that moving was difficult. He dreaded the extreme soreness he would soon experience once his muscles discovered the full measure of the trauma they had experienced.

Brody instructed him to turn onto a side road, and Will followed. They headed down a winding country lane until Brody pointed at a bare, tire-rutted patch of dirt next to a stream; a fisherman's pull-off, vacant on this Monday morning. Here, they left Will’s car, Brody offering no explanation and neither of them daring to ask. But Jon’s stomach felt tight, afraid for what this meant. Leaving one of the cars signaled that someone wouldn’t be needed to drive it later on. Despite Brody’s assurances of letting them live, Jon didn’t trust him one bit. They would have to look for an opportunity to strike back soon. His glances at Will revealed nothing of his friend’s thoughts; he had withdrawn completely into himself.

Brody had Jon clear out half of the backseat and sat behind them now. After returning to the main road and driving about five more miles, they came to another small town. If it had a name, Jon didn’t catch the sign, nor would it have mattered; the chain stores and eateries strung out along the road did nothing to distinguish it from anyplace else.

Brody instructed Jon to turn into a fast food parking lot, and then park in one of the spaces. Jon was grateful that he could at least put something in his stomach and ease one of his discomforts and opened his door.

“Hey, sit tight, Jon. You can get something to eat later.”

Jon shut the door, his stomach in knots, wishing he didn’t have to hear what was coming, the reason Brody had brought them here.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You see that convenience store over there?”

“Yes,” they said in tandem.

“Well, you two are going to rob it.”

“The hell we are,” Jon said. Will kept silent, his eyes still on the store.

“Not a debate. If you don’t, the pictures get developed, and/or I do what I have to. I don’t want to hurt you guys. If you just go along with it, eventually you’ll have your lives back again. Just like in high school. You didn’t rock the boat, and when I graduated you were free men, right?”

“Not really,” Will said. “I’ve never been free of what happened.”

“It’s not my fault that people are made different. Some are made to lead, others are made to follow. Call it genetics, fate or whatever you like. Just the way it is. You guys just happened to end up in the lesser category. But don’t feel too bad. Most people are right there with you. You can look at this however you like, but if I were you, I’d put the best possible face on it. Look at it as an adventure. You’ve already killed a man. What’s taking a little bit of money? Lots more where that came from. You’re not doing this of your own free will, anyway. So you’re not responsible...sort of.”

“But what if we get caught?”

“All part of the bargain. Will, I just want you to remember that you’re the one that trashed my car, and brought me to the campground. I had no plans to come looking for you. Hell, I hadn’t thought about you guys for decades. You obviously didn’t think enough about potential consequences then, so it’s a little late to worry about it now. And I’m putting myself on the line, here, too.”

“Are you coming in there with us?” Jon asked, realizing that they would indeed rob this store, and he now needed details. He wondered if it had been someone else, some random thug instead of Brody Stape directing this obscene little play, if he would go along so easily, that because he had once taken orders from Brody that a part of him still held him in thrall. But it didn’t matter, the reasons. He would do it, just the same, to save his skin, God help him.
God help us both.

“Nope. You two are going in together. I’m going to wait in the car, down low here in the backseat so nobody sees me. Once you come out, drive like hell back to the other car. Both of you will get into that one, and I’ll drive this, and we’ll meet back at the motel. We’re going to have to hurry and put all of the camping gear in there as well, if it fits. If not, we throw it into the woods. If someone gets the make or description of the car, it will have one occupant instead of two that fits neither description, and no camping gear. And you two will be in a different car altogether, coming home or heading to a camping trip which isn't anything out of the ordinary. I should have thought to put your gear in the motel room before we left, but nothing to be done about that now. You'll keep the money in the trunk. They'll have no reason to search it if they do pull you over, which I doubt as they’ll be looking for someone else. This is all assuming we get ahead of the police. If not, you drive like hell and don’t stop.”

The explanation of the cars brought a wave of relief to Jon. More than he had a right to enjoy, he knew, faced with knocking over a convenience store. But better than being buried in the new cemetery in the woods. And suddenly he just wanted it to be done.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Not yet. I want to watch the place for a bit.”

They sat and stared across the street, and several customers came and went but mostly it was slow; a Monday afternoon and commuters long since gone with their coffee and gas and now tucked inside whatever place they went to. But after about ten minutes of watching, a police car pulled up to the front of the store and the officer, very tall, unfolded himself from the cruiser and went inside. Through the glass they could see him filling up a coffee cup, and then standing at the counter talking to the clerk while taking quick sips like little kisses. He didn’t put any money down, and Jon assumed the store supplied him and his colleagues, if he had any here in Noplace, Pennsylvania, with caffeine in exchange for good will and maybe a few extra drive-bys. Probably at night. Who robbed a convenience store in the middle of the day?