Deviation Read online

“If you went with me, you'd be getting a much needed vacation from society. If you'd stop worrying about everything you'd be much happier.”

  She smiled. “Well, that's certainly true.”

  “It is true.”

  “So... you're saying we'd live outside of society?”

  “I'm not so sure it's that easy. I mean, we're all born into it without a choice, and there's really no acceptable way out of it. But there is a fringe...”

  “You mean, live like nomads?”

  “I mean live free. Without worry or concern. No group health plans, no state taxes. We can do whatever we want, whenever we want. It's not something to fear, Dianne. It's something to aspire toward.”

  “I still don't see how we'd do it without getting jobs.”

  “Ah, Dianne. There's a lot you don't see. Not yet, anyway. But I'm confident that you will, in time.”

  She smiled, burying her face in the hollow of his arm. “It sounds better than hanging myself.”

  “It is better. It's far better.”

  “Then I guess I'd better go with you.”

  “You don't have to.”

  “I know. I want to.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Good. It will be a lot more fun with the two of us.”

  She moaned and slid her leg up on top of Frank's.

  They relaxed that way for several moments, not speaking. Frank was just about to ask her about her car, but before he got the chance she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  When Dianne awoke, she was alone. The bedroom was dark and there were no signs of Frank. She got up off the bed and opened the door to the hall.

  In the kitchen, she found him sitting at the same table, drinking beer and looking through his road atlas. She walked over and sat down beside him.

  “Have a nice nap?” Frank asked.

  “I guess. Sorry I fell asleep.”

  “No need to apologize. You obviously needed it.” He closed his book. “We've still got a lot of work to do tonight.”

  She looked at him thoughtfully. “We do?”

  “Of course.”

  “What work do you mean?”

  “We've got to clean up your apartment. That's going to be one hell of a job.”

  “How are we going to do that? We can't just... carry him out. He's huge. Bigger than Lester.” It occurred to her that Cliff's would be the second corpse she moved that day. It was not something she wanted to dwell on too extensively.

  “There are ways.” He glanced at the wall clock above the refrigerator. “It's a little past eleven. I say we give it another hour and then head over there. Give everyone a chance to get to bed, so we're less likely to be observed.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Frank took a drink of Pabst. “I don't know yet. We'll work with the materials at hand. That's all we can ever do.”

  “I suppose so.” She glanced at his book. “Did you pick a destination?”

  “No. I thought maybe you could do that. Is there anyplace you've always wanted to go?”

  She thought about it. “Kind of. But anywhere would be nice.” She leaned forward. “Are we really just going to take off?”

  “We are indeed. Are you ready for such a thing?”

  “Yes.” She felt a lot better after her nap and was actually excited about heading out. “Which direction do you think we should head in?”

  “That's up to you. Anyplace you'd like.”

  “How about west? Or south?” She looked again at the book. “Either one.”

  “That's fine. Why don't we head southwest and just see where we end up?”

  She nodded. “Okay. God, this is going to be fun!”

  “It sure is. Oh, I'd been meaning to ask about your car.”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you think it's reliable enough for a trip such as this? Or shall we help ourselves to Lester's?”

  “I think it will be okay. There's nothing really wrong with it, as far as I know. And I just got new brakes and tires last year.”

  “That's encouraging. Do you like to drive?”

  “Not in the city. But out on the open roads, sure.” She leaned back in her chair. “We can take turns. Are we really leaving tonight?”

  “I'm not sure. Let's see how we feel after we dispose of your friend.”

  Dianne got up and helped herself to a soda from the refrigerator. As she sat back down, she cracked it open and took a drink. “Are you going to be ready to leave here tonight? I mean... permanently? Aren't there things you need to take care of?”

  “Not really. I packed a suitcase while you were asleep. I've got your money, too.” He glanced around briefly, sipping his beer. “There's not much I want from this place. It was home for many years, but they weren't particularly good years. I'm hoping for better years ahead.”

  “Me too.”

  Frank lifted his can and they toasted. “Something tells me we're going to have a remarkable time together, Dianne. A time like no other.”

  She smiled. “I hope so.”

  13. Cleaning up

  It was difficult finding a place to park on the city streets at 12:27 in the morning, but Dianne managed to find one three blocks from her apartment. She squeezed into it on her first attempt, the bumpers of the other cars practically touching her own.

  “Very well done,” Frank commented from the passenger seat. “I don't think I would have been able to do that.”

  “I get lots of practice.”

  They opened the doors and climbed out. The night was very cool, almost cold, and the streets were dark and deserted. The nearly full moon looked like a painting, illuminating a collection of cumulus clouds spread out over Lake Michigan. They began walking east, toward Dianne's apartment.

  “Thank you for helping me with this,” she said. “I know it's a big risk.”

  “It's the least I can do.” Frank slipped his hands into the pockets of his cassock, wishing he'd brought a jacket. “It was on my advice you happened to... extinguish him.”

  “It was his own fault. He would have been hitting me and torturing me for the rest of my life if I didn't do something about it.”

  “Exactly. Let us feel fortunate his reign of terror is over. We'll dispose of him once and for all and enable you to move on.”

  They walked in silence for a moment, the apartment coming into view. Frank was feeling fairly good, having smoked the last of his meth before heading out. He'd only gotten a single hit out of it, but it was enough to temper his withdrawal symptoms and provide him with a little extra vitality. He knew it was likely to be a long time before he smoked it again and he was doing his best not to think about it.

  “This is the place,” Dianne said, pulling out her keys.

  Frank stopped her before she reached the front steps. “Which windows are yours?”

  She had to backtrack several paces in order to point them out. They were all on the north side of the building, facing the alley. “Those four,” she said. “Third floor.”

  Frank glanced up at them approvingly and then took notice of the row of disposal units lined up along the perimeter fence. “A fitting resting place for the king.”

  Dianne noted where he was looking. “You want to put him in the dumpster?”

  “It would be easiest, and perfectly effective. The sanitation workers will provide him with his final burial when they get him to the landfill. Does he deserve any better?”

  She didn't hesitate. “No.”

  “I didn't think so.” He glanced back up at the building. Almost every window on the north side was dark, as were the
windows in the building across the alley. “We may as well get started. This won't take long at all.”

  * * *

  Upstairs, they were greeted with plenty of fresh air. The apartment was cold, a moderate breeze gusting in through the windows and billowing the curtains. When Dianne switched on the lights, she gasped as the scene of the massacre came into view. The butchered corpse looked even more horrifying than she remembered; it was bloated and discolored, the countless cuts and gashes crusted over with dried blood.

  “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, staring at the blood-splattered walls. “I'd forgotten how horrible it was.”

  Frank stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind him. His eyes went everywhere, taking it all in. He smiled. “You did quite a job on him.”

  She felt suddenly sick. “I don't think I'm going to be able to do this.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “Get yourself something to drink. And get me a utility knife, if you have one. I'll take care of this, Dianne.”

  She nodded, feeling very grateful. Averting her eyes, she stepped past the worst of the gore and entered the kitchen. The refrigerator was stocked with soda and beer. She pulled out two cans of High Life and set them on the counter. There was a drawer near the sink in which she kept an assortment of random tools, and she opened it and rifled through the contents, looking for a utility knife. Just when she thought she wasn't going to be able to find one, she found two of them. She grabbed them both and closed the drawer. Then, after pausing to gather the beer, she returned to the living room and found Frank sliding the couch across the room. He'd dumped Cliff's body onto the badly stained carpeting.

  “You're pretty strong,” she commented. “I'd never have been able to do that.”

  “It's not difficult.” He shoved the couch against the bedroom doorway and stepped back over to her. “Are one of those for me?”

  She handed him a can of beer and one of the knives, and they both opened their cans and drank. Then Frank set his beer on an end table and slid the end of the razor blade out from the knife handle. “This will do fine. You don't have any twine, do you? Or rope?”

  She took another drink of beer and set her can down beside his. “I'm not sure. I'll check.” She returned to the kitchen and began looking though the lower cabinets. She hoped she'd be able to find something for him there; otherwise she'd have to get her noose down from the closet, and she didn't want him to see it, despite her having told him about it earlier. She got lucky and found an old clothesline, still in the package. She took it and returned to Frank, surprised to see him crawling around on the floor near Cliff's corpse, slicing through the carpet with the razor knife.

  She stood watching him until he noticed she was there.

  “Any luck with the rope?” he asked.

  Dianne held up the clothesline.

  “Good. That will be fine.” He lowered his head and continued cutting through the carpet. He cut a large square of it, which held virtually all of the bloodstains and the corpse itself. Then he set the knife aside and stood up, stretching his back. Something popped audibly and it caused him to wince. He rubbed at it and crossed the room, reclaiming his beer and taking a long drink.

  “Are you okay?” Dianne asked.

  “Fine. Just not as young as I once was.” He took another gulp. “All part of god's plan, of course.”

  She nodded, tearing open the clothesline. “He's got a plan for everything.”

  “Sometimes I wonder.”

  “What about this?” She held up the rope. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  “Yes. Cut it in half.” Frank set his beer down and crossed over to one end of the square he'd cut in the carpet. He began to roll it up, slowly, with Cliff's body at the center. When he reached the other end of the square, Cliff's body was no longer visible. He was wrapped up like a tamale.

  Dianne sensed what he was doing and brought over the two pieces of rope. She helped him slide one of them around each end of the roll of carpet and cinch them tightly. Frank was good at tying knots, and in no time at all the whole package was secure and ready to be transported.

  “How are we going to get him down there?” Dianne asked.

  Frank was stretching his back again. “Hold off on that. There are a few other things we ought to take care of as well.”

  The upholstered couch, at one time a uniform blue, was heavily stained with blood. He quickly pulled the three cushions from it and stacked them in the corner. Then, after retrieving his utility knife, he began slicing through the fabric and ripping away the worst of the stains.

  Dianne stood sipping her beer, watching. “I'm starting to feel useless. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

  “Yes. When you're finished with your beer, please go back downstairs. Make sure no one is lurking around in the alley, or observing from anywhere nearby. Signal me and I'll start tossing this stuff down.” He ripped another piece of fabric from the couch and threw it on the pile. “It will be much faster than carrying it down all those steps.”

  “I'll go down now.”

  “Whenever you're ready. Be sure to stay out of the way so I don't accidentally drop anything on you.”

  “Alright.” She took another long drink of High Life and set the can down on the table. Then she checked to make sure she had her keys and exited the apartment.

  Frank finished stripping down the couch. He then removed most of the fabric from the big chair, which was also covered in blood. When he was done he stepped over to the windows and studied them, trying to determine which one would work most efficiently. They all looked about the same. He chose the one closest to the corpse and raised it as far as it would go. There was a screen behind it, and he spent a moment figuring out how to remove it. When he succeeded in getting it loose he noticed Dianne stepping into view down below; she was giving him a thumbs-up.

  He returned the signal and set the screen aside. Then he began tossing out the couch cushions and scraps of bloody fabric. When he was finished he signaled Dianne again and watched as she went about gathering the mess and loading it into the dumpster.

  Not wanting to waste time, Frank turned away from the window and braced himself for the real job. It was going to be extremely difficult without any help. He bent over, grabbed one end of the rolled-up carpet and pulled it as close to the window as possible.

  “Alright, my lord,” he said aloud. “I'm not really sure how you're perceiving all this, but please let these ropes hold. The alternative is simply too much for me to deal with right now.”

  He lifted the end of the roll higher and dragged it further toward the window, poking it partially outside. Below, he could see Dianne tossing the last of the fabric into the dumpster. It looked as though there was still plenty of room inside for Cliff. He pulled further and shoved outward, the roll now hanging out the window by a good two feet.

  Dianne was looking up at him, appearing surprised. She did a quick pantomime with her hands, seemingly asking if he was really going to drop Cliff out the window.

  Rather than answer, Frank hoisted the bundle up and out another foot. It was almost halfway out the window now. One more good shove and its own weight would send it sliding over the edge.

  He peeked out at Dianne again, making certain she wasn't standing beneath the window where she could get hit. She wasn't. She had her back to the dumpster, glancing around to ensure no one was observing them. When Frank caught her eye, he shrugged.

  Dianne hesitated, looking around again. Then she nodded.

  Frank lifted the tail end of his bundle and gave it a mighty shove. It slid out the window rapidly, the end of the carpet striking against the lower portion of the frame with enough force to crack the wood and glass. Then it was gone, disa
ppearing into the night.

  He heard it crash to the ground before he had a chance to look outside. It had made a surprisingly loud smack when it struck the concrete. From his view at the window, it appeared that the ropes had held. The corpse was still concealed within the carpet.

  “Thank you, my lord. Thy will be done.”

  Dianne was staring up at him. He held up one finger, signaling he'd be right down to help. Pausing for a moment to finish his beer, Frank stretched his back again. It was really beginning to hurt. Then he hurried across the room and let himself out of the apartment.

  * * *

  In the alley, he found Dianne pulling bags of trash out of the dumpster. He watched her for a moment before he realized what she was doing.

  “Good idea,” he whispered. “Are you sure you've never done this before?”

  She appeared to smile in the faint light of the moon. “Positive.” She pulled out two more bags and set them aside.

  “I think that's good enough. Let's get this over with.”

  She stepped over to him, her long hair whipping in a sudden gust of wind. “I didn't realize you were going to throw him out the window. I should have helped you with that.”

  “I needed you down here, watching. Suppose someone walked by?”

  “I guess.”

  “Come on. You can help me now.” He bent down and grabbed the rope at the end of the bundle closest to the dumpster. Dianne grabbed the other side and they half-carried, half-dragged it as close as they could. She then joined Frank and helped him lift his end until they had the roll of carpet standing almost upright and leaning on the edge of the dumpster.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Frank was laboring for breath. He hadn't worked this hard in a long time. “I'm fine. I'll probably just be sore in the morning.”

  “Maybe we should take a quick break.”

  “No. Not now. Let's get him in there.”

  They each bent lower and got a hold of the bottom rope. With Dianne helping, it was much easier than Frank had feared. They lifted the lower end up and out, and as they lifted they slid the roll sideways so that it drooped lengthwise into the dumpster. It was over before they allowed themselves to realized how heavy it was.