Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Manure,” I answered.
“Really?”
“No. Not really,” I sighed. “It’s a body-shaped plastic bag, Kevin. What the fuck do you think it is?” I snapped my fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Now listen up, Daniel-son.”
“Who is it?” Kevin asked, entirely too focused on what was going on in the trailer. His gaze followed Jake’s every move as he sharpened one of the knives from the wall with a steel sharpener.
“The dead have no names,” I said.
“That’s a line from Game of Thrones,” Kevin pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Jake motioned to the door and Kevin and I lifted it together, holding it up until we heard the click from the inside locking it in place.
“Now what happens?” Kevin asked.
I lit a cigarette and passed it to him then lit another for myself. “Now we wait.” We leaned back against the trailer.
“What’s this thing used for anyway?” Kevin asked, looking over his shoulder at the closed door of the trailer.
“Well, when Jake here isn’t using it for more nefarious purposes, it’s usually used as a way for farmers to ‘dispatch’ their livestock without having to pay hauling fees to have the animals shipped to a facility and then shipped back in sellable pieces.”
“Dispatched?” Kevin scratched his clean-shaven chin.
“Yeah, I heard it on the traveling network,” I said. “When the host of this show doesn’t want to say things like ‘brutally slit their throats until all the blood drains out’ he says things like ‘dispatched’. It makes murdering our food sound a lot more pleasant don’t you think?”
“What’s he doing in there?” Kevin asked. I didn’t know all that much about him, we’d only spoken a few brief times. But I knew the kid wasn’t stupid. He might have asked what Jake was about to do but something told me he already knew the answer.
The sound of a buzz saw vibrated within the trailer, followed by a splattering of something against the door. I leaned against it sideways, turning to face Kevin. “Genius isn’t it?” I winked.
Kevin watched the trailer as if the goings on inside were being projected onto the door and he could see it all going down. I realized then that although his eyes were wide, it wasn’t in horror.
It was in fascination.
Score one for baby bro.
“Looks like you passed the first test. For a second there I was worried how you might react,” I said. Just then Jake pounded on the door, three quick raps from within.
We stepped out of the way and let the door fall back down to the ground. Kevin on one side and me on the other.
When Jake appeared again he wasn’t wearing a shirt. A black rubber apron was tied around his neck and waist. It was so long it covered the tops of his boots. You wouldn’t know the shiny liquid splattered on it was blood unless you looked past Jake and into the scene he’d left behind in the trailer. Different shades of red were dripping from every surface and was splattered across every wall and tool.
“You see, civilians have this thing about death. I think it’s all the blood, guts, and gore that bothers them.” I waved my cigarette in the air. “Things that hatred and revenge have a tendency to wash away with time. Things like a sense of right and wrong. Guilt. All that bullshit.”
Kevin squared his shoulders. “I’m not a civilian,” he argued.
“Oh yeah?” I cocked my head to the side. “Then what exactly are you?”
He shrugged then looked as if he was thinking. His eyes met mine. “I’m a Clearwater.”
I couldn’t come up with a response because for some reason his words rendered me stupid. Thankfully Jake interrupted by stomping down the door. Lighting a cigarette, he rolled his shoulders. His neck cracked with an audible pop. He pointed to the cooler at his feet. “All yours,” he said with a faint hint of a smile.
“You want to take a ride with us man?” I asked, Kevin picked up one side of the cooler and set it right back down when he realized how heavy it was.
Jake’s eyes lit up with amusement. He shook his head. “Can’t. My kids got a ballet recital at four.”
“Got ya. Mine wants to sign up for MMA,” I told Jake. I couldn’t help but to smile as I remembered how Bo had pointed from the fight on the TV and then to himself about a thousand times while jumping up and down. Jake looked at me as if I’d sprouted a dick on the middle of my forehead. “Long story. I’ll tell you all about it over a body sometime.”
I used to not get how Jake could go from virtual serial-killer type by day to doting family man at night. That was until I had a family of my own and now I respected the hell out of him for it.