“Mine's closer.”
I nodded. The road stretched onward, no end in sight.
“So how much do you charge, for your services?” Thor asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“The job. How much I need the money.”
“Does it matter who the person is?”
“No.”
“Don't you think that's cold?”
“Everyone has to die sometime,” I said. “Some of us sooner than others.”
Another stretch of silence. Another stretch of road.
“I've got eight hundred bucks,” Thor said. “Is that enough?”
“For your pimp. The selfish bastard.”
“He is. I earned this money. Earned every cent. But in this area, every whore, from the trailer girls to the high class escorts, has to pay Jordan a cut.”
“And you didn't pay.”
“He knows how important my transformation is. One more operation, and I'm all woman. Holding out was the only way I could make it.”
“I thought you loved him.”
“Just like he says, love and business are two separate things.”
Her breathing sped up. Over the hum of the engine, I thought I heard her heart beating. Or maybe it was mine.
“Why don't you kill him yourself, with your little boot revolver.” I said.
“Jordan has the cops in his pocket. They'd catch me.”
“Unless you had an alibi when it happened.”
Thor nodded. “Exactly. You drop me off at a diner. I spend three hours with a cup of coffee. We both get something we need.”
I considered it. Eight hundred was twice as much as I was making on this job. Years ago, if someone told me that one day I'd drive twelve hours both ways to kill a man for a lousy four hundred bucks, I would have laughed it off.
Things change.
The pinch in my side, growing bit by bit as the minutes passed, would eventually blossom into a raw explosion of pain. I was down to my last three Vicodin, and only had twenty-eight cents left to my name. I needed more pills, along with a bottle of tequila and a few grams of coke.
Codeine for the physical. Cocaine and booze for the mental. Dying isn't easy.
“So what do you say?” Thor asked.
“What kind of man is Jordan?”
“You said it doesn't matter. Does it?”
“No.”
I waited. The car ate more road. The gas gage hovered over the E.
“He's a jerk. A charming jerk, but one just the same. I thought I loved him, once. Maybe I did. Or maybe I just loved to have a good looking man pay attention to me, make me feel special.”
“Murder will pretty much ruin any chance of you two getting back together.”
“I'll try to carry on,” she said, reapplying her lipstick.
Gas station, next exit. I made up my mind. A starving dog doesn't question why his belly is empty. His only thought is filling it.
“I'll do it,” I said.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Thor smiled big, then gave me a hug.
“Thanks, Phin. You're my knight in shining armor after all.”
“I'll need the money up front,” I said. “You got it on you?”
“Yeah. Take this exit. There's a Denny's. You can drop me off there.”
I took the exit.
We pulled into the parking lot. It was close to empty, but I killed the lights and rolled behind the restaurant near the Dumpsters, so no one would see us together. When I hit the breaks, Thor stayed where she was.
“Second thoughts?” I asked.
“How do I know you won't take my money and run?”
“All I have left is my word,” I said.
She considered it, then fished a roll of bills from her purse. When she was counting, I put my hand on her leg.
Thor smiled at me.
“I didn't think you were into me,” she said. “Finish the job, and then I'll throw in a little bonus for you.”
“I just need to finish my other job first,” I told her.
“I understand.”
My hand moved down her knee, found the revolver, and tugged it out.
With the windows closed I doubt anyone heard the gunshots, even though they were loud enough to make my ears ring.
I took the cash, hit the button to recline Thor's seat until she was out of sight, and rolled down her window. I hated to let the heat in, but the glass was conspicuously spattered with her blood, and I didn't need to make any more mistakes. Then I pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the highway, heading south.
Jordan had told me, over the phone, that I'd find Thor working the Eau Claire off ramp. He said to dump the body somewhere up the road, then meet him in the morning. The few hours wait were so he could establish an alibi.
A few miles up the road I pulled over, yanked Thor out of the car, and got behind the wheel again before another car passed. Then I grabbed the box of baby wipes in the back seat. As I drove I cleaned up my hands, then the passenger side of the vehicle. There wasn't too much of a mess. Small gun, small holes. I was lucky Thor got in the car at all, after spying the gun I'd sloppily left in plain sight. Stupid move on my part.
Hers, too.
When I reached Eau Claire I headed to where I thought Jordan would be. He'd be angry to see me so soon, but that wouldn't last very long. Just until I shot him in the head.
I had nothing against Jordan. I had nothing against Thor, either. But a deal is a deal, and as I told the lady, all I had left was my word.
?The Necro File
A word of warning. If this isn't the most offensive thing I've ever written, it comes close. I began this as an experiment, to try and write an anti-story. Stories normally have rules that need to be followed in order for them to work. I kept all of these rules in mind while writing this, and threw each of them out the window. It was a lot of fun, and other people feel the same way. The brave folks at Dark Arts books published it in their anthology Like A Chinese Tattoo, edited by Bill Breedlove. Readers beware—this one doesn't pull any punches. It's Harry McGlade Uncensored.
Jack Daniels Stories
Chapter 1
“It's my husband, Mr. McGlade. He thinks he can raise the dead.”
The woman sitting in front of my desk was named Norma Cauldridge. She had the figure of a Barlett pear and so many freckles that she was more beige than Caucasian. She also came equipped with a severe overbite, a lazy eye, and a mole on her cheek. Not a Cindy Crawford type of mole, either. This one looked like she glued the end of a hotdog to her face. A hairy hotdog.
