Slippin' into Darkness

11:30 P.M.

Lying in the bottom of April’s grave, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, Amelia Peyton sure as shit didn’t look like she was worth anything.

Griz Cody steadied the flashlight, and the murky beam filled her startled gray eyes. Griz had taped her mouth shut so she couldn’t scream, but her eyes were doing a pretty good job of it.

Jesus. Who wouldn’t want to scream? Lying in a grave, in an open coffin half filled with muddy water. Who wouldn’t be terrified?

The water part was almost funny. Before Griz could find the flashlight, Derwin and Todd had tossed Amelia into the grave. The splash had surprised everyone. Playing the light over the grave, Griz had noticed the bent sprinkler head, which was still dripping a tired trickle. Most of the water had leeched into the soil, but the coffin was still pretty full, like some weird steel bathtub. And the guys had tossed Miss Priss Amelia Peyton into it, dead center.

Derwin said, “Turn off the light. Her eyes are givin’ me the creeps.”

“Sure.” Griz thumbed the flashlight switch. He knew what Derwin meant. Amelia Peyton had given them a good scare, and it was hard to shake it.

Christ, this whole night was going to be hard to shake. First Bat coming over, telling him that Ozzy Austin, who was a goddamn cop for christsakes, had the film and was going to start trouble with it. That hadn’t sounded so bad at first. How much trouble could Austin cause? After all, April was dead, and dead bitches couldn’t testify about anything.

Then Griz had remembered what was on the film. What it showed him doing. He didn’t want anyone to see that. He had kids, for christsakes.

That was when Bat dropped the kicker, saying that Ozzy Austin was the one who had stolen April’s corpse. It seemed obvious once Bat explained it-the shattered beer bottles at the cemetery, and Ozzy being the guy who had practically invented graveyard baseball. And then there was the way Austin had always mooned over April, scared to talk to her and all that shit. And when Bat said that Austin had actually jumped in his face that very afternoon, acting all weird and everything…well, that was just the icing on the fruitcake.

So they went to Austin’s house, Derwin and Todd in tow, planning to kick the shit out of him and get the film. Or maybe even kill him, but nobody actually said anything about that. But Austin wasn’t there, and it didn’t seem very smart sitting around the place waiting for him.

So they decided to snatch April’s corpse and go somewhere else. Somewhere a little quieter, where they could ambush Austin without any trouble.

Derwin stared into the grave, saw nothing. It was almost worse with the flashlight off, knowing those terrified eyes were swimming in the bottom of that black hole.

Shit. Terrified eyes. He had a picture of that. Bautista’s fuckin’ eyes bugging out when he kicked his way into Ozzy Austin’s basement and April Destino came at him with a busted bottle.

Wasn’t April, though. Was that bitch. Amy Peyton, dressed in April’s fuckin’ cheerleading outfit. Wearin’ a wig that made her look dead like April in high school. Sure, Amy Peyton wasn’t no eighteen year old, but she had taken care of herself. Hell, she looked pretty damn good. Except for the barmaid’s kiss that she held in her hand.

Funny thing was her expression. After Bat got the bottle away from her, that is. Saying that Ozzy was nuts, when she was the one dressed up like April.

Austin was nuts, though. Had to be. Lockin’ the Peyton bitch up with a corpse. Hell, two corpses. Fuckin’ dead fat guy lyin’ there on the floor. It turned out it was Dougy Douglas. Man had that asshole gone to seed.

Shit. The whole mess of ’em had to be buttfuck loony. And about that time the real deal dawned on the Peyton bitch. Derwin could see it in those gray eyes of hers. They turned wary all of a sudden, the color of a sharpened lawnmower blade. And he knew what was going on behind those eyes. Here I am, she was thinking. Here they are. But they’re not here to rescue me.

They’re the motherfuckers who raped April Destino.

They’re here to rape me.

Bitch tried to run, but there was no place for her to go. Not with four of them to stop her. Shit, bitch tried to scream, and he got hold of her and made her stop. She felt nice and warm against him, squirming around in her cute little cheerleading outfit. Brought back some memories and made his blood rise.

And then he tried to cop a feel and got nothing but a handful of paper hankies. Shit. This bitch wasn’t no April Destino.

Still…it seemed like a waste. They could still have some fun. Nice quiet basement. No one would hear her scream. Even Limp Dick Cody could have his fun.

Bat snuffed the candles on that particular cake. PDQ. Boy was getting even more paranoid than usual. Said they would leave evidence if they even did the slightest little thing to her. Said sperm was just like fingerprints, and boy did that strike Todd funny. He just laughed and laughed until he could hardly breathe. Then he stared at his fingertips and whispered to himself and started up laughing all over again.

Bat wasn’t laughing, though. Said let’s pack her up and go.

Get that nut and get the film.

Derwin didn’t care nothing about the film. He just wanted a piece of the nut. Rockin’ a cop-now that might make him feel pretty good.

He felt pretty good right now. Pistol jammed in his belt, blood pumpin’ through his veins, some bitch making sounds like a sick cat down in a hole in the ground.

This shit was a hell of a lot more interesting than mowing lawns.

Amelia Peyton’s moans turned Bat’s stomach. His kids had whined that way when they were babies. It was one of the main reasons he’d had the vasectomy.

Christ. If this night would just end. He glanced at Derwin and Griz and Todd, and they didn’t make him feel any better. The only thing that would have eased his worries was if his mama had given birth to quadruplets, and the other three were with him tonight.

These boys were nuts. Derwin wanting to pull a train with Amy Peyton, as if riding April’s choo choo way back when hadn’t caused them enough misery. And Griz, that boy was a sick puppy, pinning a ransom note to the cheek of a corpse. Austin was nuts, sure, digging her up and all. But at least he hadn’t done any weird shit to her after he got her home.

And Todd. Fuckin’ Todd Gould. If you jammed his thumb up his ass and told him he was Little Jack Horner, the fool would try to eat himself.

Jesus. Bat spit into the grave, but the bitch didn’t shut up. If it wasn’t for that little spool of film, and the knowledge of what it could do to him and his family, he wouldn’t be here at all. These guys weren’t worth it. Tonight was the last night. He was quits with these idiots. Guys like these…shit, guys like these had been holding him back his whole life. Wasting his time, getting him into trouble with his old lady. Maybe there was something to Ozzy Austin’s loner routine, after all. Austin had done all right by it, and he was certifiable.

“C’mon, Austin,” Bat whispered. “Let’s get on with it.” The only good thing that had happened was Austin doing Doug Douglas. That would save Bat some work down the road. If things went right at the cemetery, he’d only have Shutterbug to worry about. And that particular worry wasn’t any bigger than Griz Cody’s dick.

But it would be a miracle if this thing worked. What a plan. Grab Austin when he got here, take him out with the. 45 they had stolen from his gun cabinet. It had to be a head shot. Then, when he was dead, wrap his fingers around the pistol and drill the coffin, so that traces of powder would show on his hand. It would look like he had killed Amelia Peyton, and then killed his nutty self. Bat couldn’t sort out the crazy shit that was going on between the two of them. He didn’t have a clue about the games they were playing. And that was good, because he figured the cops wouldn’t see it any clearer.

Bat sighed. Someone would have to go back to Austin’s house, too. Get the note off April’s cheek. Shit. This was too damn complicated. Bat hoped he had thought of everything.

Amelia Peyton sloshed around in a couple three inches of muddy water, and Bat almost said. Hush hush, you little brat, or daddy’s gonna make you hush.

But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything.

He jumped into the hole and closed the coffin.

Slammed it closed.

Todd Gould yawned.

It was a nice night, that was for sure. A little colder than last night, but nice. It was quiet. Nice and quiet.

Sometimes it was real quiet at the furniture store. That was nice.

But this place wasn’t like the furniture store. There wasn’t any furniture here at all.