Page 27 of Sleeping with the Dark (The Righteous 3)
“For fuck’s sake, pick the fuck up,” he yelled, slamming his hand off the steering wheel. As it began to ring once more, it cut off a groggy voice answering. “Hello?”
“I’m calling in a special order,” Arek swallowed hard. He’d never met this contact, but The Righteous had given him the number in case of an emergency, and this constituted as a mother-fucking emergency in his book.
“What would you like to order?” the man asked.
“Codeword bagpiper. I need a number three with hot sauce.”
“Very well, you will find what you need at 555 Parkside Drive.” The line went dead.
“Sweet Delilah, plot fastest route to 555 Parkside Drive.” The windshield flashed, and the place he was heading to glowed as a green dot. It looked like a farmhouse just outside of the city limits. It took only a few seconds for the computer to take in all the stoplights, cameras, police, and anything else that could be a potential issue before plotting the course across the windshield.
Shit, twenty minutes. He prayed that Trev could hang on that long. He should never have backed off from the missions. Trev had been out of this part of the game for too long. Arek smacked his hand against the steering wheel until his hand was numb, the fear bubbling into an acidic taste in his mouth. This was all his fault.
Trev made a whimpering moan from the back seat. Arek looked back at his brother and knew he was in the throes of a dream. In their case, it was more like a nightmare. The whimpers became louder, and Trev’s body jerked on the bench seat.
“Hang in there, Trev. I’ve got you, brother.”
The black beast flew down the highway, and soon, he was pulling off past a rundown motel, its red glowing light unsurprisingly flashing vacancy. There were no other buildings that could be seen for miles, which suited him just fine.
“Destination one mile ahead on the right-hand side.”
Arek had to force his foot off the gas to be able to make the turn onto the unmarked driveway—it was lined with thick trees and shrubs, creating a dense wall of foliage. There was a fresh set of tracks in the dry dirt, and he traced their entry until the old farmhouse came into view.
He parked the Hummer and jumped out to be greeted by an older white-haired man with glasses coming out of the house. “Bring him in this way,” the man called out and then disappeared back inside.
“We’re here. You’re going to be alright,” he said as he gingerly pulled Trev from the vehicle. Trev’s forehead was sweaty, his skin clammy as he shivered and mumbled in his passed-out state. Some of the blood on his chest had wiped off, and Arek could clearly see the electrical burns, bruises, and other cuts marring his skin.
One thing was certain, if Trev died, his soul would go with him.
* * *
By the time he pulled the last of the dead bodies into the main portion of the warehouse, Cody’s muscles shook. He wasn’t taking any chances, and it was a good thing he made another sweep as he found a very intoxicated and passed-out member that had tried to stumble in another door and ended up snoring half in and half out the doorway.
After shooting the annoying fucker, he dragged him in as well and dropped him on the growing pile. He stood back and stared at the mountain of bodies and couldn’t help but think back. Tyson had him do this anytime he decided to dispose of a large group. It was sad that this was a normal occurrence for him.
He wandered away in search of anything useful and found an office that didn’t have a lot, but he took what it had and loaded it in his car that he’d pulled up. Once he was certain he was ready, he walked back inside. After soaking the pile of flesh in gasoline, he walked a line to the back door. Dropping the can, Cody pulled a lighter out of his pocket—flicking on the little wheel, he stared at the dancing flame. For the first time, he didn’t feel any guilt for the deaths that happened here tonight.
The scent of gasoline was strong in his nose, and he smiled as he tossed the lighter toward the line he made on the floor. It ignited in a rush that had him covering his eyes, and then it stormed away down the hall and around the corner. Dashing out the door, he jumped in his car and was just pulling out of the parking lot when the building exploded and rocked the car as flames blew out the high windows. Glass rained down on his vehicle, the little pieces making a tinkling sound on the roof of his car.
He stared in the rearview mirror as the car streaked away from the scene and then smiled at his own reflection. He wasn’t like Tyson, but some of the same darkness had certainly crawled inside his soul.
Trev held the reins of his pony, giving him a pat on his dappled coat. He’d learned to ride almost before he learned to walk. This was his second pony. The first one got too old and had to be retired when he was six. Now, at the age of eight, he had a larger pony, Doc’s Dancing Devil, who was as fast as lightning.
“Are you scared,” he asked Melissa. Her blonde braids whipped back and forth as she shook her head no.
“I’m not afraid of anything. When I grow up, I’m going to be a professional cowgirl and win all the buckles,” she said and fixed the pretty pink Stetson on her head. “Help me up, and I’ll show you.”
Trev smiled at his best friend. “Alright, give me your leg, and I’ll toss you up.”
Mel bent her left leg, and he gripped her knee, giving her a boost into the saddle. Before he could give any further instruction, she pulled the reins out of his hands with a jerk and gave the pony a hard kick. “Hee yeah.”
Doc leaped forward, with a wicked burst of speed, almost knocking him over. Mel and his pony raced right for the open fields. He could hear Mel’s cheers of excitement from the barn as he stomped inside to get a ride for himself.
The barn melted away, and he found himself on his bike instead. He leaned forward on the handlebars as he watched Mel roll in the dark brown pig shit with his brother. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he laughed so hard he couldn’t see. He’d never laughed so much, and his stomach hurt, but he couldn’t stop. Arek tried to run out of the slop, the pigs scattering and making a racket as Mel yelled like a wildling and jumped on his brother again. Her once pretty Sunday dress was black and brown with layers of caked on muck.
“Trev, get her off of me,” Arek yelled, his hand reaching out for him from the slop.
He fell off his bike, consumed with the hysterical bouts of laughter. Arek was arrogant and had this coming. He’d been relentless in his teasing of Mel, poking fun of her at church, but Trev knew his brother was in for it when he stole one of the blue ribbons from her braid. He absolutely refused to give it back, and when she threatened to hurt him on their walk home if Arek didn’t, he’d made the mistake of asking what she could do—she was just a girl.
