After it gets dark, I head out to the garage, and sliding my phone out of my pocket, I shoot off a quick text to the only other person I trust. He has his own demons, and his own secrets which plague him. I don’t ask questions and neither does he, but we both know the truth. I leave the girls behind, and he takes care of them, letting me know when I can come and collect the ashes. We have a fucked up agreement of silence between us, and it works. We both have our quirks, and murder happens to be one of mine.
I’m not waiting long before he replies to let me know he’s on his way, and after securing the tarp in place, I hop in the truck and drive to meet him. The crematorium he works at is ten miles out of town, and it takes me a good twenty minutes to get there.
His car is already parked outside when I pull up in the truck. My headlights illuminate his figure leaning casually against the hood of his car, and the thin trickle of smoke from his cigarette floats up into the darkness. Killing the engine and the lights, the only illumination is the tiny red glow as he takes a drag.
Opening the door of the truck, the internal light flickers on, and I leave the door open after climbing out. “Hey, Kit.”
“Hey, Z,” he says on an exhale, blowing out more smoke.
“You ready? She’s in the back.”
His lips quirk up into a smile, and I suppress the images of what he plans to do, no doubt, once I’ve delivered the body to him. Dust and ashes are the easiest way to destroy the evidence of what I’ve done. I leave the method to him. This is clean, and doesn’t cause me any problems. He provides the incinerator, and I provide the fuel.
Kit is a good friend, and I trust him as much as I can possibly trust another person. We’re two monsters bound together by our demons and each other's darkest secrets… it’s what brought us together all those years ago. On the odd occasion he’s been unavailable because he’s out of town, he’s left me the key to get in and step-by-step instructions, but this is his territory, not mine. Besides, if he handles my victims too, then he can’t be tempted to talk. He knows if he does, good friend or not, then nothing will stop me taking him down as an accessory to my crimes.
Kit kept me somewhat sane through high school—our shared interest in death brought us together. With both of us being more alternative in style and tastes, we were pretty much the outcasts among our classmates, and we formed an unusual bond that's lasted for years. When we left high school, Kit went to college for his degree and became a mortician—I stayed here and fell into a pit lined with petals and blood that I've yet to claw my way out of.
Heading round the truck to the back, he follows closely behind me, and when I peel back the tarp to reveal Heather’s lifeless form, I hear his sharp intake of breath. I like my flowers pretty, and I know he likes them that way too. Once or twice, I’ve found less than perfect flowers, but they’ve suited my needs well enough to briefly satisfy my urges. High risk targets raise questions, and I have no desire to be locked up for my particular activities. Heather is one of the prettiest ones I’ve plucked from this destitute earth we live on, and I can see that Kit appreciates her too.
I look away as he strokes the hair from her face, the strands clinging to her pale skin. We each grab hold of her—Kit slides his hands beneath her armpits, and I take her by the legs, and we carefully lift her out of the truck. The side door to the room with the furnace is already open, and I let him lead me inside where a cold metal table sits waiting and ready for Heather’s body.
Dead weight is heavy, but between the two of us we easily place her on the slab, and after quickly giving Kit a friendly slap on the shoulder, I hastily make my way to the exit without looking back. I’ve barely closed the door when I hear the sound of metal and material against concrete as his jeans and belt hit the floor.
I hastily make my way back to my truck before any more noises can reach my ears. I slam the driver’s side door shut and switch on the engine, smiling as the familiar rumble fills my ears. Reversing out of the driveway and back onto the main road, I head home to take care of the only other urges that matter after a kill. Tomorrow I’ll be able to collect Heather’s remains, and then my newest flower will be planted in my garden.
Chapter Two
Zach
Needing to collect a special order of seeds, bulbs, and small plants that I placed at the nursery in the next town, I decide to kill two birds with one stone and grab some groceries while I’m there. I’m unfamiliar with the layout of this particular store, although it’s owned by the same company as my local branch. Why can’t they lay them all out the same way and keep things simple?
I’ve been wandering around for much longer than I care to spend in a shop, looking for a few items. I’m almost ready to give up and go without when I enter the next aisle and notice a young woman reaching for a high shelf. She glances up and with her concentration broken overbalances, knocking into me as she falls and lands on
