The Mark

all but free of his new robes, Richard gave the rigid body a hard shove and Ivan’s lifeless remains rolled down the first few steps. It is like people say. A dead body moves in a way like nothing else. Or rather it doesn’t, it just crumples into hideous positions. Whatever way gravity wants it to go, nothing else is left controlling it from the inside. It was terrible seeing him fall that way, then us leave him in such a state. Richard stepped back and nodded at me, but his face was aghast and there were tears on his cheeks. He bent down slowly and pulled away the remainder of the sheets and wrapped them up into an untidy pile. He wedged them under one arm. There were a few streaks of blood visible on them.

We stared down at the body, one last check, searching for anything wrong about the way it looked.

It was all wrong. None of it should have happened.

“I guess that’s it then,” he said.

I didn’t have anything to respond with.

I just wanted away.

We hurried back to my apartment in silence, we saw no one and probably made it back in less than a minute. I closed the door quietly shut. I pulled out my phone to check the time: 04.13. It also informed me that there were notifications from Facebook and Twitter and that the weather the next day would be sunny and cloudless.

What did I care about those things now?

I got straight into cleaning the floor again and Richard joined in too. We wore gloves and wiped the sheets down best we could – mostly to avoid any fingerprints. We did the same with the wallet and just took the cash out. Then we separated the sheets into one rubbish bag and the wallet and wipes and gloves into another. Richard said it would be best if they weren’t found together.

Richard checked his watch, then grimacing said,

“I’m gonna have to get back and ring reception soon. You’re going to have to go dump the stuff Vicky.”

“What, me?” I gasped, my voice squeaking, “But…” I started, forcing my voice lower, and running out of words.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing else for it. You’ll be fine, really. I better go.”

He gave me a cursory hug, looked once around the room and left saying,

“We’ll talk in the morning. I’ll ring you.”

And then I was alone.

19

I didn’t hang around. I didn’t want to lose my nerve and was out again in five minutes. Maybe it was closer to ten though. I had stopped for a look in the mirror – not for vanity – but because I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. Only it had been something worse than that. I applied a cursory dash of makeup, some lipstick, then headed out. I went out of the hotel grounds by the other back exit and hurried down the steps. Stress and exhaustion had begun to take over and I was in a trance. I had this task to do and I wasn’t gonna go overthinking it. The two carrier-bags were less of a risk than hauling a dead Ivan around, that was for sure. It was like earlier – this was just another hurdle to drag myself over. I was nervous, yeah, but that wasn’t my primary emotion. Maybe I had used up all of those feelings. I headed to the pier and picked up the pace and jogged a little bit. The sea had roughened up some and daylight was beginning to seep out through the clear night sky. I was annoyed by my lack of fitness and soon I had to slow to a brisk walk, coughing and starting a wheeze.

Need to cut down on the smokes.

I spied a bin down on a small rocky stretch of beach. A few steps led to it, which I swiftly hopped down. I stuffed the first bag inside and shoved it in as far down as I could. It was now anonymously wedged in between empty bottles, crisp packets and nappies. I scrambled back up the small incline and felt an urgency to get this finished with, to get back to my room. I settled into a jog which I maintained with an occasional hack, continuing back along the long coastal pier. I passed dozens of shutters covering the fronts of little cafes, bars and souvenir shops. After about ten minutes I came to a bend in the coastal path. There was some kind of bar at the end of a row and a couple of dumper bins were set at the side of it. My heart skipped a beat and I sprinted over to it, then checked all around. There was nothing but the sound of the water breaking against the sea wall and the distant sound of a few cars somewhere far away. I heaved the lid across and an acrid smell attacked my nostrils. I made a face and then plunged the second bag down into the dumpster. In my haste the bag ripped open and I felt panic return renewed. I tried to force the bloodstained sheets back into the ripped bag, as it hung in part off the roof of the bin. They wouldn’t go back in, even as I tried on tip toes to force them to.

Then I heard a sound.

Footsteps.

I spun around and to see a man staggering along – just around the next bend. He looked absolutely blitzed and was still maybe fifty yards from me. I turned back to the task in hand, but they still wouldn’t go in. I’d have to give up on getting the sheet in the bag, but I couldn’t leave the lot hanging half out. The man was getting closer – he appeared to be chatting away to himself. As he came closer still, I was surprised to see he wasn’t actually some homeless wino. He had carefully quaffed hair and wore a fine suit, albeit in some disarray. I