Chapter 10
I dumped his body
Dina
The sun is rising, but it’s dark enough to dump a body under the bridge.
The man is unconscious, and I prop him against a concrete pillar in case he throws up. I don’t want him to choke on his puke. I consider covering him with a blanket, but it’s pretty hot outside, so he’ll be okay.
He told me I have to walk away and do exactly as he says.
That it is a matter of life and death. I can tell it’s serious.
This man might not make it, and it’s because of me.
While there are clearly other things on his mind, I’m the reason he’s dying.
And I have no idea what to do besides listen to the dying man’s last wishes.
I hope I’m making the correct choice by doing what he asked me and not doing what I think he needs, which is to take him to a hospital where medical staff can try to save his life.
But then again, if people are trying to kill him, I can’t be the reason this man gets killed when I’m already the reason he’s hurt.
So I’ll do what he wants: take my thirty-five grand and bring my divorce closer to a close. After that, I’m going on a ski trip. I hear it snows in Zlabot year-round.
“Be well,” I tell him, and get behind the wheel. With a final glance at the man, who appears as if he’s sleeping under the bridge, I drive away.
There’s a Stop-Go store that he said I should visit right after I drop him off.
It’s open twenty-four seven. I can’t park at the store, though.
The man told me to park a block away, inside an underground parking garage.
I follow his instructions and find Chi-chi’s hoodie in the trunk.
I throw the hoodie over my head and head out onto the street.
Between having my head covered and constantly looking over my shoulder, I feel like a criminal, sneaking around Selnoa at four in the morning. I probably am a criminal since I might be looking for a phone to call the man’s capo about the drop under the bridge.
The clerk’s not at the station when I walk into the Stop-Go store.
I’m relieved. I rush to the back and pick up the telephone.
It wants five coins. I barely have enough money to cover the phone call.
In this day and age, when everyone owns a phone, why is it so expensive to use a public one?
I can buy a bag of peanuts for this price.
I turn up my palm and read the number. The man wouldn’t even let me call or put the number into my phone. He made me write it down. On my skin. I dial. It rings only once before someone picks up.
They say nothing, and neither do I, but I can hear them breathing before they hang up.
That’s it. That’s all I had to do. I lick my skin and wipe off the ink with the number.
That wasn’t so bad. The man told me it would be easy. Simple. And I’ll never see him again.
The clerk is at the counter now, so before I leave, I buy a few bottles of energy drink and capsules so I can make it through my twelve-hour day after not sleeping all night.
There’s a gas station nearby. I check the gauge as I sit in my car and twist the cap off the energy drink. I chase the energy pill with it.
Tangerine flavor. Gross. I should’ve gotten the watermelon, but I’m not sure if it would make any difference. The drink itself tastes nasty in any flavor, I’m afraid. I shift into reverse, turn my body to look behind me like a responsible driver, and spot his bag on the back seat.
My shoulders slump. Damn me. The man said to leave him and his big-ass bag under the bridge. I forgot the bag. Maybe I really am as airheaded as my ex says I am.
I chew on my thumb. The man also said not to look back. I’m sure he meant for me to drive away and forget he existed, which would work out great for me since I struck him with my car, gave him a concussion, and got away with it.
But he’s attached to whatever is inside this bag, or he wouldn’t have dragged it with him when he was sick and about to die. It’s only been ten or fifteen minutes since I dropped him off, so it’s probably fine if I go back. Yeah, I’ll just go back and drop it off like he asked.
I start the car and get on the road. Selnoa’s starting to wake up.
Daylight breaks through the night. I’m tired as hell and yawn as I slide down the one-way street and drive under the underpass.
A massive SUV is speeding my way and kicking up dust in its wake.
It’s a one-way street, and I’m going the right way, but I can’t play chicken with that monstrosity.
As it gets near, I pull off the road and let it zip past me.
“Someone’s in a rush,” I whisper before shifting into first and moving along.
I dropped him off at the last pillar. That’s the one farthest out, the one drug addicts don’t use. That’s what he told me. I’m sure I followed his instructions. I am sure. I can’t be that dumb. I’m not. Am I?
Oh God. I run a hand through my hair. The space under the pillar is lit more than the others, so I can see that there’s nobody there.
What the hell? Did he just wake up and walk away? Where did he go? Oh no. What if he asked me to drop him off so he could walk to the river and drown?
No. Do not catastrophize.
I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for him not being where he’s supposed to be.
Like, for example, the person on the other end of the phone call I made picked him up.
But this fast? They had to have been standing by and waiting just for this phone call.
And they had to have been near the bridge.
Unless they dispatched units.
What units? He’s not SWAT.
If I circle under the bridge in the car, I’ll draw attention to myself, which I don’t want.
I grab the bag from the back seat just in case I find him as I walk around.
I’ll look for a few minutes, and then if I can’t find him, I’ll take the bag back to the apartment.
If he wants it, he’ll know where he can get it.
In addition, when he comes for the bag, I’ll also know he made it.
So now if he doesn’t come back for the bag, I’ll know.
This is bad.
I’m a mess.
He told me to drive away.
I couldn’t follow simple instructions.
Airhead.
I walk to the riverbank. The bag is bulky, heavy, and awkward, and I can’t carry it for very long. A couple of men in jeans but no shirts crawl from the tents under the bridge. They’re looking right at me.
I’m done here.
I throw the bag into the car and drive home.