Then, Staunch saw the wide birch shooting up near the lake's edge. His heart pumped in short bursts, rapid, and then short, slow again; a combination of nervous fear and the traces of meth still beating around in his brain. Alex stepped ahead of Staunch, who straddled behind wanting to stay but needing to follow. The hole sat only feet away now, closer with each and every stumble. Any minute now they would be right upon it. Stopped for a breath, frozen even in the pulsing rays of daylight, Staunch collected his emotions, his swollen and frayed nerves like wounded and exposed electrical wires, and he caught up to Alex . The two men stepped in around the birch alongside one another, with its hollowed middle, and Alex knelt, no words, at the edge of a roughly bore hole in the muggy earth; a hole where once they deposited all their stolen goods, a hole now empty, void.“Why'd you push me in the fuckin' trees like that?”“I just told ya,” Brian said, “there were people comin' and I di
Back over under the Canopy and its branchy cover, Tommy and Brian stopped in an inlet of trees and alder bush. They were scared. Still, the boys were beyond determined to be done with the whole situation. Only trouble was neither of them, with all their heart, wanted to relinquish their hold on the money, those pieces of jewelry, all of that. Even as all the trouble of the world might perilously be wavering only inches above their heads, like one of those cartoons were an anvil hangs on a thread about the coyote's head, all Brian or Tom managed to see were the endless possibilities the contents of that bag could provide them; the images of a future path different than their own dominated them, overthrew those young and impressionable minds.“We could just toss the duffel bag in the woods someplace,” Brian remarked; half sure of himself, half kidding himself.The look gave his friend spoke enough on its own.“This is fucked up.”“We can't just get rid of it – not now,” Tom told him.“Y
He lived on a decent cul-de-sac in Grand Falls, down near the river. Out back of the house sat a spacious garage separate by a large concrete pad, itself leading up into the long driveway. In the garage he had a nice spot for all his woodworking equipment: table saw, bench, racks of drills, hammers, handsaws, wrenches, and plenty of storage space for fresh wood and the like. At the back of the garage stood a door, behind the door, a room, and in that room were secrets. Locked away with only him and the stale air of the garage's workshop, those secrets grew, multiplied like mould in the dark, and he had a place where his wife would not disturb him; she left him to his business, and without her knowledge his rotten secrets, only coming out when he wanted her there. The man even installed a state-of-the-art security system for the entire property, including the garage, which came with intercoms; often, he would simply call his wife on the intercom to let her know it was fine to bring him
The majority of the poor girl's murder only came back to him by way of time. Once months went by, the nauseating days of his freedom stretching on, and on, he pieced together several images from the night he first made death; him, the craftsman, making death by hand. Her throat bulged under a tight grip of his clenching fists. She tried to grab him, poke at his eyes, but the force of his hands clamping into her skin and taking the breath out of her heaving lungs kept him safe from any real damage, save a couple scratches. He did not actually orgasm; all the same, his penis shot up erect and stiff like a great monolith against her and he pressed it to her, putting the entire weight of his body down on hers, crushing the clutching bits of life from her flailing, pathetic existence still trying to hold to this world.From the start, he made a fine and thorough killer, an efficient machine created for the sole purpose of killing. Her body would never be found; it still sits buried, rotted
Inside, the wood stove crackled nice and hot. The evening outside, even in summertime, cooled enough to put a chill in the bones. Brian and tom sat at a medium-sized kitchen table; they'd just finished off a good feed of minced moose burgers and deep-fried home fries. Don cooked a lot of things, but the boys loved their late night lunches – usually the same every time, burgers and fries or moose sausage and fries. As they relaxed in their chairs, Don brought them each a glass of ginger-ale, and a good portion of liquor for himself. The boys drank their pop and Don got his kit: one cigarette rolled, and a joint, as well.“Gimme a smoke,” Brian said, hand out.“Yeah, right,” laughed Don. “I ain't that nice, boy.”Brian laughed and Don lit his smoke.“That was wicked grub, Don,” Tommy told him. “Thanks again. Was friggin' starved.”“Today's been a long one,” said Brian.Between puffs of smoke, Don asked, “What'd you two shits get up to all day?”The boys looked nervous at one another, sl
Feeling his back pockets, Alex told him, “Well come with me, we drops down to Bank of Montreal. I needs a bit of air, and a smoke maybe.”The door to Jimi Jak's opened, sound blowing out to the street for a moment or two and then gone, muffled inside. Alex lit his cigarette while he and Staunch went down the steps, which were now soaked in beer, streaks of blood, and littered with smoked down cigarettes butts from a successful, savage night. The Bank of Montreal only across the road from the bar, they crossed over once cars whizzed past.Nobody was inside the bank's ATM lobby. Alex passed Staunch the rest of his smoke before heading up towards the doors.“Not sure which one'll work,” Alex said thumbing through a handful of stolen debit and credit cards. “Might be a few minutes.”Alex went in to the bank machine and Staunch stood alone, drunk, in the dead of night. Occasionally, a car passed, a sound of laughter from the bar flew on the breeze, and a short time Staunch actual
The forest had its peace. The light rustling of the branches and leaves in the wind. While walking among the numerous trees, Alex Tolbert hummed a tune. He carried steel bracers on his forearms and thick leather boots on his feet, dressed as a peasant in a wool shirt and cloth trousers. The single strap that held the satchel bag at his side was slung across his shoulder. A large steel shield with a roll of bedding strapped to the top behind his head and a water canteen tied to his belt were on his back.After a long day of traveling, he decided to take a break in the cool shade of the trees. He put his satchel on the ground after taking it out of its bag. After that, he took out his shield and leaned it against the tree closest to it. He laid out his bedding roll in the dirt and leaves. He sat on it and looked up at the blue sky through the brown and green branches.A map-drawing roll of parchment was pulled out when he reached into his satchel. He briefly considered it and noted his
"Are you not mad at me? You are a fool. Don't you also want to cut me down to pieces?”“Angry: No, I'm disappointed because you gave me food and a place to sleep, but you left me with nothing but my tools, which I made sure to hide because they are my most valuable possessions."What do you conceal with iron tools? Why would you conceal tools but leave a valuable shield and sword for the taking?When they got to the stables, Alex said, "You’re no fool, your mad in the head," "Say what you think," and "But I will live my life the way I feel is right." "They are of less worth to me, I only have them as a last resort for defense, and I will get them back, but I’ll do it honestly."James began to scoop and scrape the muck from the stable floors after Alex instructed him to sit on a stool in the corner of the stable where he could keep an eye on him. Alex noted how poorly the horses were cared for in such filth, and the work was repugnant.James observed Alex as he diligently scrubbed the