The naked edge

42

"Looks like I'll win my bet," Carl whispered. "If they were going to find us, they'd have done it by now. I cut a piece from my jacket and tied it around my leg so I wouldn't drip blood on the ground. I came back here and got one of the plastic sheets I stole from a construction site. I wrapped it around you so you wouldn't drip blood when I carried you here. As far as whoever's out there is concerned, we vanished. Ain't that great? Our last game of hide and seek."

Cavanaugh managed to nod. His consciousness wavering, he thought about all the things he regretted-not kissing Jamie more often, not telling her often enough how much he loved her. He regretted the beatings Carl had received from his father. He regretted not having spent more time with Carl in the weeks before his father's disgrace forced Carl's family to move to Nashville. He regretted having treated Carl's letters and phone calls as a nuisance. He regretted not having kept in touch with Carl after Global Protective Services fired him.

What do you say we go out for a drink, Carl? How about a movie and a burger afterward? How about visiting my ranch in Wyoming? You'll love my home. Sunset over the Tetons. A friendship. All this happened, so many people died, because of a friendship that went bad.

His suffocated mind couldn't find the words. Who's the self-centered asshole, Carl? You think I let you down? Pal, you let me down.

He knew he ought to feel angry. Furious. And he was. If he had the strength, he'd find a way to grab Carl's head and pound it until…

But he felt something else as well, and as tears streamed down his face, his blood and his life seeping from him, he tried to say it, tried to spit out the gag and tell Carl…

"Choking again, good buddy?"

Carl's hand pulled out the vile rag. Cavanaugh's mouth was almost too dry to force out the words.

"Got something to say?" Carl asked.

Cavanaugh nodded weakly.

"Let's hear it."

"I'm…"

"Yes? Keep trying. Get it out. Last words and all that."

"Sorry."

"Ah."

Cavanaugh's mind seemed to plummet.

"Sorry? You know what, my friend?" Carl said. "I am too. Three years ago, maybe I should just have kicked the shit out of you. Maybe I was afraid I couldn't do it. But hey, I sure kicked the shit out of you now."

Cavanaugh felt more tears streaming down his face. What he had tried to say was that, Jamie aside, he was sorry that he and Carl had ever grown up. I wish we were still kids, he thought. His head thudded onto the blood-soaked wood.