In Need of Assistance? (TF2)

Seventy-Five: Solace

My own personal dune, the team my so-called friends. Pouring more water on the structure and slapping on more sand to encase me further and further in a shell that is built to do nothing more but isolate me.

Mick'll get it soon enough.

I stare down the dark abyss. Unsure if it's six feet exactly, but it's deep enough to ensure he won't get out so easily. I bend over and let him fall in with little tact or remorse. Something prominent hits a rock on the way down, so let's hope it's his skull. My shovel is still behind the boulder I entrusted with concealing it. With that, I push the boulder, hoping those visits four times a week at the gym paid off and my leg strength is enough to aid my endeavor. It shifts and wobbles as I get it places. I'm forced to resort to treating it almost like a tire flip by squatting down and pushing up with my arms and legs to get it standing upward and letting it fall forward to get places. It teeters at the edge of the hole, and one last shove gets it in. I take off my flashlight and shine it into the pit. Blood seeps out.

Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Faster. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck. Scoop, chuck.

Prone to erosion and flooding, Salado Canyon is. But under that large boulder? There's no way Mick is going to be found under there. Especially when it's a thirty-minute hike off of the beaten trail. One can never be too sure. Normally, I'd give him the pamper package. Shave his head, rip out his teeth, burn his fingerprints, and take a sledgehammer to his skull to prevent reconstruction. Beetles and ants will clean him, though. I have no significant tie to this place, and I'll simply tell the boys that Mick had to go to work, so the field trip is postponed.

They're the cover for my ploy. Why would sweet and weak little Mona endanger four boys, including her own, to murder a man in the woods? Would she be so cruel as to drug a man?

Yes. She absolutely would.

I draw my shovel over the recently filled ravine, trying to make the gravel difference unnoticeable. Scan the area. Leave nothing behind. I stand on top of Mick. The ground stretches. Earth is pivoting and taking my legs with it. My face aches, and it's taken me this long to notice the smile on my face. How long have I been smiling?

Back to the car.

There was nothing that went wrong. No mounting crescendo of unlucky scenarios that led to my untimely demise, nor my inevitable comeuppance of the people I've wronged in my life fell upon me. Perhaps God has other plans for me. Perhaps I have others to do in. That's for certain, what a stupid reflection.