Appalachian Galapagos (34 page)

Kevin looked down at the body of his wife. One part of him actually felt disappointed that he was not man enough to do it himself. As he watched her, she fell forward with a soft splash into the warm water, her head becoming partially hidden by the bubbles.

"Why in the hell would I give you money?" he asked, moving closer.

Forrest pulled a Colt .38 from his denim jacket. "That will be close enough. I never underestimate a desperate man, and you, my friend, are as desperate as they come. You will give me the money because I will simply make an anonymous phone call to the police. How would that work out for you, partner? I don't even exist. I'm a figment of your imagination. Do you think the police will really buy the convoluted story of a redneck
hitman
like me? It's too fuckin' pat. You're the one with the motive. Hell, your wife was
cheatin
' on you, my man. Me, I don't even live in this here town. No one even knows I drifted on in here."

Forrest widened his perpetual smile and pushed the cowboy hat up with the barrel of his gun.

Kevin felt his will to fight rush out of him. There was no way in hell that the police were going to buy the story of a
hitman
killing his wife, especially when they looked closely at the situation. Not only did he have a motive, but his flesh was embedded underneath her fingernails. He stared down into the bathtub and studied the back of her blonde hair as she floated in the dissipating bubbles. The only way out seemed to be to bide his time until he could figure out a better solution to his problem.

If Forrest disappeared, he would hang, of that he was certain.

"Okay, I'll give you the money, you bastard," Kevin said tiredly. "
BUT
, you have to help me get rid of her body. When I'm sure everything is secure, then I will get the money for you in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan to me, partner. And I hope I don't have to remind you that if anything happens to me, it ain't gonna help your situation. You'll still look like the guilty party." He aimed the gun down at the body. "Okay, you're gonna
hafta
get her out of there first. Throw her over your shoulders and put her in the trunk of your car. We'll bury her way outside of town. No body, no murder. That's what my daddy used to say."

"You're not going to help me carry her?" Kevin asked, hoping to put him into a vulnerable position.

"Fuck no. I don't like to touch dead bodies. It sickens me."

Kevin chuckled. "Fucks up your karma?"

After some struggling, Kevin had managed to get the body into the trunk without alerting any of his neighbors. The sheet that he had wrapped her in was hanging out of the closed trunk, but he was too numb to really care.

Smiling sheepishly, the
hitman
walked over to the passenger door and just stood there.

"I thought you said you were going to help me get rid of the body?" Kevin asked.

Forrest nodded. "I am, my man. I just have this thing about doors and whatnot. I'm germ phobic, I guess. Can you open the door for me?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Kevin asked, stomping over to the passenger side and pulling the door open.

"Yeah, I'm
kiddin
'," Forrest smirked and got into the car. "I just wanted to feel like the guest of honor at your party, partner. And a hell of a party it's gonna be. I already feel like Cinderella now—so thanks."

Kevin slammed the door shut and got back into the car. "Any ideas where we can put the body?"

"Yep. You know that abandoned
housin
' area outside of town? We can put her there."

Kevin drove off down the darkening street. "Are you sure there is any room up there? I'm sure this isn't the first time you had to put a body out there. It's probably all filled up."

Forrest's smile vanished. "You think you're so fuckin' special don't you? You think you're so much
better'n
me? You like to think that you're morally superior?"

"So now I'm getting lessons in morality from a conniving, insidious bastard like you?"

"Okay, so I killed your wife—but you know what? I don't even know the bitch. You walked into that bathroom and you barely registered any emotion. This is a woman that you supposedly loved with all your heart and you didn't even pause for one minute to grieve. Tell me the truth, partner. When you saw her body in that bathtub, was not the first thought that came into your mind how guilty you looked rather than 'oh my god my wife is dead'?"

Kevin shook his head. "You can't judge me by the way I react in a situation like that. It's not fair."

"Oh, it's not fair, is it? You call me insidious, but you are
worse'n
I am. You think I'm white trash. You hide your sincerity under your fake fuckin' persona and then claim to be a man of high morals and integrity. Here we are going to bury your wife and I bet the only thing on your mind is how YOU are going to get out of this little mess. What you should be
thinkin
' about is that the woman you love has her lungs filled up with Mr. Bubble."

Kevin took a hard right and headed down a side road toward the end of town. "Do you really kid yourself with logic like this?"

Forrest laughed. "See? You don't even bother to answer the question. A true sign of pseudo intellectualism. As soon as you're put to the challenge, you fall apart. Instead you hide by
throwin
' useless questions back at me. The simple fact of the matter is that most people are only one or two levels below the human scum that I am. Give them the right situation and they will degenerate to whatever level is required. A businessman like yourself becomes a heartless, selfish asshole whose sole function is to merely better himself. Every human bein' on this scumbag planet likes to think of themselves as
ridin
' the fuckin' morality high horse, when in fact they are just as low as I am. Stop
kiddin
' yourself. At least I'm honest in what I am."

They came to a red light. Kevin noticed a police car parked off to the side and saw his opportunity. He went right through the red light and took a right onto the dimly lit back road that led outside of town. Within a minute he noticed the police lights in the rearview mirror. He knew that it was Ned Roberts, the sheriff. They were old high school buddies.

"That was a very stupid move, partner," Forrest whispered, burying the barrel of his gun deep into Kevin's ribs. "This isn't going to help you. Let me tell you a quick little story at how screwed you are. First of all, I'm just gonna say I'm a drifter, some hitchhiker you just picked upon your way out of town."

"He won't believe you, I know him," Kevin said smugly.

"It don't matter who you know. What matters is that
you're
the one with the motive.
You're
the one with her fingernails so artfully scraped across your face.
You're
the one with your fingerprints embedded into her goddamn neck. And let's not forget the traces of those soapy little bubbles that they're gonna find on your shirt when they run tests. In fact, I'm even going to take another step."

Forrest opened his revolver and removed all the bullets except one. He tossed the gun into Kevin's lap.

"There you go, partner," Forrest continued. "Now you have a choice. You either kill that cop or kill me. You kill me and you'll look just as guilty. If that cop finds out what you got in the trunk, you may just have to kill him. Play your game, partner. One bullet, one choice. Take it as you got it."

Kevin pulled over to the side of the road, letting what Forrest had just told him sink in. He had the feeling that if he told the truth that Forrest would be just charming enough to play the dumb drifter.

"
Evenin
', Kevin," Sheriff Roberts said, shining his flashlight into his sweaty face. "You know why I stopped you right?"

Kevin nodded, deciding he was going to have to try and dig himself back out of his newly dug grave. "Yeah, Ned. I was just lost in thought, and wasn't thinking. I had a long day. I'm sorry. If you want to write me up a ticket for it, I completely understand."

Ned leaned back down into the window. "You also know you have a white sheet or a shirt or something flapping from your trunk? You'll have to tuck that in, it's distracting to the other drivers. I'm not going to give you a ticket this time." He paused for a moment. "That's a bad scratch you got on your face there,
Kev
. How'd you get it?"

"See what you did?" Forrest drawled. "You're gonna
hafta
kill him now."

"I'm not killing him," Kevin hissed.

"What was that?" the sheriff asked.

"Nothing," Kevin said. "Thanks, Ned. I'll get the sheet."

"You'll have to do it now. Like I said, it's distracting."

"There is nothing in the trunk, Ned."

"Oh that was a brilliant thing to say," Forrest commented.

"I never said there was, Kevin," Ned said his voice not bothering to hide his suspicion. "Let's just get it tucked back in the trunk and then you can go back to your business."

Kevin frowned, feeling his mood darken. "Ned, please get in your car and go now please. It's not worth it, trust me."

"Step out of the car please, Kevin," Ned commanded, his voice taking on the tone reserved more for strangers.

"Please don't do this."

"
Godammit
, Kevin! I said step out of the car!"

Kevin aimed the Colt and fired.

A wet spray of red mist erupted from Ned's chest. He fell backwards hard, still clutching his wound as he bled onto the pavement.

"Never underestimate a desperate man," Forrest said, leaping through his open window. He stared down at the officer, a massive grin on his face. "Poor bastard is still alive, you better finish '
im
."

Kevin opened the car door and stepped onto the road. A sharp pain detonated in his stomach. The impact of the bullet sent him airborne and he hit the side of the car forcefully, the air rushing out of his body in a tremendous burst, the gun falling from his hand.

"Why Kevin?" Ned asked, still holding the gun from where he lay propped up on one elbow, a pool of blood widening around his body.

Kevin looked at him dumbly, at first not understanding the question. He had already tried to stand up but his arms and legs refused to move. The bullet had severed his spine. He let his eyes drift slowly back up to the wounded cop. "He set me up. I didn't have a choice. Forrest. He killed my wife, Ned."

"Isn't this cute?" Forrest asked. "Two
dyin
' men
settin
' in the road using their last precious moments to ponder the why. It breaks my goddamn heart, Kevin. Really it does."

"You shut the fuck up!" Kevin shrieked, blood and spittle flying from his lips.

Ned stared at Kevin for a moment, his eyes betraying his confusion. He tried to move, almost managing to get up, but fell backwards again. "Kevin, you've lost your damn mind."

"Ned, he's standing right next to us," Kevin said, staring at the
hitman
with hateful eyes.

Forrest smirked. "Am I, Kevin?"

Ned coughed and fell to his side, his face now embedded into the already congealing blood. "There is no one there, you damn fool. You're talking to yourself."

The
hitman
laughed—the sound thousands of spiders bursting from an egg. Kevin felt the shock travel through his body.

Forrest's laugh had escaped from his own lips.

Kevin felt his mouth open up and heard Forrest's southern drawl escape like a hiss of dead air from an opened coffin. "Did you really think your life had turned into some kind of film noir movie, Kevin?"

As Kevin watched in horror, Forrest's phantom body slowly vanished until it was just some bad negative burned into his memory. He continued to talk to himself in both voices, carrying on his conversation out loud.