Kill Whitey

“So,” I continued, “we’ll hop a bus and ride out of town—some place where Whitey can never find us. You said it yourself. He’s getting weaker. If we keep running, and he doesn’t get the baby, maybe he’ll just fall down and die. I mean, even Rasputin hadn’t taken the damage that son of a bitch has today. Maybe he’s close to death.”

“That would be nice.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It would.”

The tunnel intersected with several other pipes. All of them varied in size. After a quick debate, we decided to stick to the main passageway. More traffic rumbled by overhead. The sounds and light were getting louder and brighter by the minute.

“To take this bus,” Sondra asked. “Will they not see our clothes?”

I hadn’t thought about that. No way we were getting on a bus or even hitching a ride along the highway with the way we looked. If anything, someone passing by would think we were accident victims and call the cops. We were covered from head to toe in blood and grime—some of it fresh and some of it dried. Sondra was shoeless. I was hairless and blistered and had spent most of the day getting the shit kicked out of me. We looked like hell.

“We’ll steal some clothes,” I said, leading her forward. “Just like we did this morning. Find a stream or a pond and clean ourselves up some. Don’t worry. That’s the least of our problems.”

“Saaaaaahhhhhhnnnnnddddaaaaaa…”

Whitey’s voice was faint, but insistent. He was still back there, still on our trail, following us like a determined beagle tracking a rabbit. He was the hunter and we were the prey.

Yeah. Our appearance really was the least of our problems.

We had more pressing matters to contend with.

I wondered what it would take to put Whitey down once and for all.

How did you kill a man who was death?

twenty-one

Ten minutes later, we came to a vertical shaft. Rusty iron rungs were embedded in the wall, leading to a manhole cover twelve feet over our heads. Thin beams of daylight shone through the small access holes in the lid. I climbed up the ladder. My shoes were wet and I slipped on the rungs a few times, but managed to hold on. When I reached the top, I listened for traffic. I heard a distant ‘Beep Beep Beep’, like the sound a garbage truck makes when its backing up, but that was all.

Looping my left arm around one of the rungs, I pressed against the manhole cover with my arm and shoulder, and shoved. It wasn’t bolted down, but it was heavy as hell. Grunting, I strained with the effort. The pain in my back and neck flared up again, but I ignored it. We hadn’t come this far just to end up trapped because I was too weak. Fuck that shit. I looked down at Sondra. She peered up at me from the bottom of the shaft. Her face was a perfect oval. I’d always thought you had to look towards Heaven to see an angel, but my angel was down the other way. When she smiled at me, I found my strength. I pushed harder and the iron lid slid to the left, revealing more daylight. I blinked, temporarily blinded, and shoved the cover the rest of the way. Then I climbed out of the hole and wiped my hands on my pants. When Sondra reached the top, I gave her my hand and pulled her out. We collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath.

We lay on our backs, staring up at the sun. Its warmth radiated over our bodies. I don’t know that I had ever felt anything so wonderful. I smelled wildflowers and grass, fragrant and sweet. A black and yellow butterfly landed on Sondra’s toe and fluttered its wings. She giggled and sighed. An ant crawled up my arm and I shooed it away, careful not to crush it. There had been enough death for one day, and I couldn’t stomach anymore—not even an insect’s. Maybe I’d found religion after all. Birds chirped and whistled overhead. The beeping sound continued from across the field, faint enough to be unobtrusive. Sondra kissed me and I kissed her back. Our tongues entwined. Her mouth was wet and warm. I shivered. She cooed softly. We embraced, and I ran my fingers through her soft hair.

Heaven.

It was the perfect moment, but there was no time to enjoy it.

Breaking our kiss, I rolled over and sat up, studying our surroundings. We were in a vacant lot, about five-hundred feet from a lumber yard. I recognized the place right away. I’d gone there with Darryl a few months ago, when we’d picked up some plywood and two-by-fours that his father needed to build a rabbit hutch. The memory made me sad. I wondered if Darryl’s parents knew yet what had happened to their son, and if so, did they blame me?

“What are you thinking?” Sondra asked.