Crime Story – An eye for an eye

By Irena Pearse

The breeze shifted the fingers of the trees against the moon, as he dragged the body to the edge. He let go and looked down, pulling deep breaths. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Something thudded at his feet. He started. Stood back and made a swift bend down. The metal glinted, and he exhaled, reached for the stone cold pocket knife, wiped it on his trousers and slipped it carefully back in his pocket, easing his legs straight as he stood tall again. He wiped the handkerchief across his brow, staring at the glinting, running water below and feeling the breeze now cooling him down.

It had been a tough job getting the body down here. He’d worked in the mines before and was used to heavy loads, but for some reason a human body of 100kg was more of a burden to shift than precious sand of the same weight. Maybe the soul weighed something when it needed to be felt. The soul. He reflected on this for a moment. How can he think this man had a soul? After what he’d done. He kicked at the chest. The body juddered. The hands and feet were trussed together, like a pig ready for the spit. Perfect.

He packed his moist handkerchief into his pocket and with his other hand pulled out his phone. Flipped it open. Began to text. The blue glow of the screen drew long shadows on his face, like a villain of melodrama in front of the footlights. The body groaned. The play was about to begin. He snapped the phone shut and fiddled with the knife in his pocket, turning it round in his hand, feeling the smoothness of the metal with his thumb. Waiting and watching. The body started to turn now, come to life. That ‘soul’ must be doing something, he thought. He let go the knife and lit a cigarette, drawing the tobacco slowly into his lungs. This would be a night to remember.

“Wakey, wakey.”

The body’s eyes opened and suddenly violently pulled against the rope.

“I wouldn’t move too much. There’s quite a drop below, some nasty looking sharp rocks along the way – ouch!” He flicked the cigarette stub over the ravine and watched the glow diminish into dark air. The body grunted, its mouth distorting on the gag, saliva seeped out and it started choking, spluttering. “Calm down, calm down, you’ll suffocate yourself, and that will ruin our little party tonight.”

To increase the dramatic effect he took out the knife and flicked it. The body froze.

“I should really have sharpened this before I came out, the blade will cause such a mess as it is. Oh well ‘beggars can’t be choosers’. The body’s eyes opened wide, the white’s shining under the moon. It was shaking its head frantically.

“We’ve done the others already. Distributed the parts we didn’t need down the river. That’s why my knife’s so blunt. We should really get a machete. Maybe the others will bring one tonight, or it will be such a long process.” The body shuddered. “We can’t start without them I’m afraid, so you’ll have to be patient.”

The body’s chest was heaving up and down, the nostrils flaring with each breath in order to drag the oxygen in. The man looked impassively at the body struggling, then a decision was made and he reached down. The body flinched as the man slit the gag with one violent cut, then gulped the fresh air through a fish-like mouth.

“No one to hear you scream, and like I said, we can’t have you suffocating.”

The body moved its jaws, drawing its tongue across its teeth and lips, willing the numbness away. The eyes stared, appealing, at the man.

“You’re making a big mistake” the voice rasped. “I’m connected - I’ve done nothing - you’ve nothing to prove. I was in town. I know what you’re thinking but I’m innocent. Really. An innocent man. Think of my wife. Children. I have an old mother at home. Three orphans I’m putting through school. It’s a mistake - I know those criminals; we were going to get them – we were double bluffing, just waiting for the evidence – to catch them red-handed, you know. You’ve acted too soon. Let me go, we can deal with this together within the law. Take me back to my station. You’re a ……umpf.”

The man had smashed the nose. Blood started to pour out. The body screamed in panic.

“Shut up you worm. What was it you and your friends did? First the beating? A broken rib here, a smashed tooth there, a cigarette burn somewhere else. Did gin numb the humanity in you? Did you ever have any? Did you take part, or just stand and watch the show? Did you think the entertainment would reward you with magic? Or did you only believe in the magic of the money you’d get? What happened next? The ritual slaughter, the slow razor over the throat, letting the blood seep out, slowly, painfully until the life had seeped out too. More gin. Sharpened knives. The legs, then the head? Did you take off the finger nails and hair before or after death? Which carries a higher value? But the head is most precious, uh. How did you decide who to trust with that? You weren’t very careful about how you packed up the pieces, so easy to trace your steps. But we’ll be much more careful, I assure you officer.”

A car door slammed in the distance. Then, as if in echo, three more.

“Ah ha. They must be here. You’re long wait is over, my friend.”

Against the blue moonlight the body looked wide-eyed at the gnarled horizon and through the trees, made out a host of angels. In unison they moved closer. White faces, white hands, curly white hair, white lashes, pink eyes. They were carrying sacks which clinked ready to reap a moonlight harvest.

The end.