Calle Me Stone by Sherman T. L

Author:Sherman, T. L.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

I sat back against the rain barrel and cradled Winston in my arms, Buddha standing above me.

'Come on, brother; you have work to do.' His eye bore into me expectantly.

I didn’t move; I didn’t want to get up. Who was a ghost, mirage, or psychotic vision to tell me what to do? Winston deserved to be taken care of, however. I rolled him gently to the ground and stood. I shuffled to the shed, grabbed a shovel, picked a shady spot under the old oak tree in the yard, and dug. The blood had soaked my clothes, congealed, and dried; now, it cracked and flaked off as I worked. I dug a two-foot-deep grave and threw the shovel to the side. I carried Winston over and lowered him in. Placing the dirt back over the brave companion didn’t take long.

'Now the garbage,' I said. Buddha followed silently as I wheeled the deer cart over the back door threshold into the living room. The man who killed Winston posted where he had fallen, his eyes gazing straight ahead, back against the wall. I rolled him to his gut and searched his person. I felt a bulge in his hoodie pocket and found several protein bars and a can of dip. The orange coveralls had Mason County Corrections stenciled in white on the hip. What was he doing this far out of town? They must have broken out and been on the run. They stopped here, thinking they had found somewhere to lay low.

I grabbed him around his chest under his armpits, drug him over the rug to the cart, and pulled him into it. I lifted the cart and pushed it out the front door and down the porch steps. I wheeled the cart down the long driveway, across the road to the timberline to the south side of the road. I unceremoniously dumped him into the dirt. I pushed the cart back to the house and into the kitchen. I completed the same process with the red-haired man. I dumped man two and headed back to the house for the third. After discarding the third man on top of the other two, I pushed the cart back to the house and into the shed.

I panted; my clothes were drenched in sweat from the exertion of the last several hours. I stripped my clothes in the yard and threw them onto the trash burn pile, picked up my gear and pistol, and went to the well-hand pump. I pumped and washed under the brisk well water that gushed out. I shook myself dry and walked inside.

I set my gear on the counter, some of it covered in Winston's blood. I went to my room and put on some old jeans and Justin boots. I stood at the kitchen counter and popped two Percocet with a swig from a newly opened Buffalo Trace. Feeling warmed, I walked back outside to chop firewood; the bottle's neck hung loose in my grasp. I didn’t want to stop working.

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