Grave: Part 3

• Post By: Jason Santo
• Date: December 5, 2013
• Category: fiction, grave, serial

Abel Petty listened for a moment, then mumbled an inaudible agreement and snapped the phone closed. He then stood for a long moment and stared at the wisps of clouds burning off in the heat of the late day. There was probably an hour left of full daylight, then the shadows were going to grow long and in two hours headlights would be needed. He had to be sure Duncan would move fast with this and that everything they needed to do went  according to plan.

He didn’t turn when he heard Creamer start digging again, and he didn’t want to face the fat man. He had only met him recently, and he ran him through the usual hazing by showing him who was boss at home that morning when Creamer picked him up from Luellen’s shack. She got mouthy, just as he’d predicted and he was pretty sure he would’ve cracked her tooth had he exerted a touch more force when he clocked her in full view of Creamer. Lu was used to the violence, and more than once asked from it during sex. So he knew the knock wouldn’t cause any permanent damage to her or to them. What he did know was that it would send a message to this new partners in crime; Abel Petty gets his way. That’s the way of things. Always has been, always will be. And if the fat trucker who’d graduated from Tokena a couple years behind him was going to partake in this deal, he was damn well going to respect Abel’s role as leader.

“Are you seriously going to have us dig two graves?” Creamer asked. He sounded winded. Abel didn’t turn but kept watching the clouds disappear.

“I let you catch me off guard once, Creamer,” he said in a flat tone. “Don’t think I’ll let it happen again. Keep working and everything will be fine. Think… money.”

The sound of digging stopped and Abel realized this wasn’t going away as easily as those distant clouds. He sighed.

“We have to do this by the book. No witnesses was the agreement and Duncan said he didn’t have his mask on when the girl saw him.” His voice lowered and he couldn’t help allowing some degree of sympathy. He’d known Lorna back when the world was still new. Back before she started smack and turning tricks to keep herself in the habit. But she’d mostly cleaned up until this whole mess went down with MacDonald. Now she was dead, and soon her eight year-old would be joining her.

“It’s his fault,” Abel added to excuse himself for the judgement he had to make.

Creamer didn’t say anything at first, and the men stood in silence as if quietly mourning the dead for whom they were responsible. Then his voice came, stern and clear.

“Call him back.”