that blanket, weight it down with some rocks then wade out to sea a little and let her sink,” he said. “Then we’ll have to go to work on cleaning this fucking car.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t go on, man,” Trey groaned. “I need to go home, right now.”
Mancini sighed and reached into the Thunderbird’s backseat to retrieve his blood spattered sunshades. He wiped the excess gunk off the lenses with the blanket.
“We need to do this, Trey,” he said. “We need to get this dead body out of your car and dispose of it before somebody comes down here and sees this shitty mess. Then we need to carry on with the assignment, otherwise Oreilles is going to do far worse things to us than what happened to this unfortunate woman, right here.” He pointed to the corpse sprawled over the backseat. “You hear what I’m saying?”
Trey felt shaky and hot and he thought he was going to pass out. Instead, he plumped for vomiting onto the gravel a second time.
“Ah, Jesus,” Mancini groaned. “Why did they have to give me an amateur?”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose you’ve seen far worse than this, Mr Reservoir Dogs , huh?” Trey spat, wiping the excess vomit from his lips.
Mancini shook his head. “We can stand right here and argue about what we have or haven’t seen or done all day long but that still doesn’t deduct the fact we have a busted up woman in the back of your car. Now, we can either remove said corpse and clean up or wait until somebody calls the cops. Which would you prefer?”
Trey stood upright and attempted to psyche himself up for another gruesome task. “All right, man,” he muttered, flapping his hand at Mancini. “I’ll do it.”
“Take all your cash and valuable documents out of your pockets before we go swimming,” Mancini said.
Trey and Mancini rifled through their clothing and tossed their passports, cell phones, cash and watches onto the driver’s seat. They wrapped the corpse in the once gray blanket and struggled with the girl’s body down to the shoreline. Mancini placed some larger stones at the bottom of the blanket then tied the ends tightly over the woman’s head, and feet. They waded into the ocean up to their necks and dropped the body to the sea bed.
They returned to the car and used the sanitary spray and wipes to thoroughly clean the inside and exterior of the vehicle. At least thirty minutes ticked away by the time the whole gory mess was cleared out from the car. Mancini pulled out a roll of plastic trash bags from his rucksack and tore one off.
“Dump all those bloody wipes in here,” he said.
Trey obliged and the garbage sack was half full by the time all the blood soiled wipes were disposed of. Mancini placed the bag into the trunk of the car and closed the cover.
“Toss that stone you used into the sea and then we’ll go for a dip,” Mancini said. “We need to clean ourselves off so we don’t look like two guys who just walked off the set of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre .” He studied his and Trey’s blood stained clothing.
Trey hurled the blood spattered rock into the surf and it made a plopping sound before sinking below the surface. He followed Mancini into the shallow waves and they stood in the water, up to their waists.
“Wash all that shit off your hands and clothes,” Mancini instructed, before dipping his head under the waterline.
Trey reluctantly washed the blood off his clothes, hands and face, cringing at the coldness of his wet clothes clinging to his body.
“What happens when they find her?”
Mancini spluttered and smeared his wet hair back off his face. “With a shitload of luck, we’ll be out of the way by the time somebody finds the body. You done? Come, on, let’s go.”
They waded back to the shore , shaking off the excess water and wringing out their clothes before climbing back into the car. Trey gunned the engine and U-turned in the circular, gravel covered space. They drove in silence and turned back
“I’m sorry, I can’t go on, man,” Trey groaned. “I need to go home, right now.”
Mancini sighed and reached into the Thunderbird’s backseat to retrieve his blood spattered sunshades. He wiped the excess gunk off the lenses with the blanket.
“We need to do this, Trey,” he said. “We need to get this dead body out of your car and dispose of it before somebody comes down here and sees this shitty mess. Then we need to carry on with the assignment, otherwise Oreilles is going to do far worse things to us than what happened to this unfortunate woman, right here.” He pointed to the corpse sprawled over the backseat. “You hear what I’m saying?”
Trey felt shaky and hot and he thought he was going to pass out. Instead, he plumped for vomiting onto the gravel a second time.
“Ah, Jesus,” Mancini groaned. “Why did they have to give me an amateur?”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose you’ve seen far worse than this, Mr Reservoir Dogs , huh?” Trey spat, wiping the excess vomit from his lips.
Mancini shook his head. “We can stand right here and argue about what we have or haven’t seen or done all day long but that still doesn’t deduct the fact we have a busted up woman in the back of your car. Now, we can either remove said corpse and clean up or wait until somebody calls the cops. Which would you prefer?”
Trey stood upright and attempted to psyche himself up for another gruesome task. “All right, man,” he muttered, flapping his hand at Mancini. “I’ll do it.”
“Take all your cash and valuable documents out of your pockets before we go swimming,” Mancini said.
Trey and Mancini rifled through their clothing and tossed their passports, cell phones, cash and watches onto the driver’s seat. They wrapped the corpse in the once gray blanket and struggled with the girl’s body down to the shoreline. Mancini placed some larger stones at the bottom of the blanket then tied the ends tightly over the woman’s head, and feet. They waded into the ocean up to their necks and dropped the body to the sea bed.
They returned to the car and used the sanitary spray and wipes to thoroughly clean the inside and exterior of the vehicle. At least thirty minutes ticked away by the time the whole gory mess was cleared out from the car. Mancini pulled out a roll of plastic trash bags from his rucksack and tore one off.
“Dump all those bloody wipes in here,” he said.
Trey obliged and the garbage sack was half full by the time all the blood soiled wipes were disposed of. Mancini placed the bag into the trunk of the car and closed the cover.
“Toss that stone you used into the sea and then we’ll go for a dip,” Mancini said. “We need to clean ourselves off so we don’t look like two guys who just walked off the set of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre .” He studied his and Trey’s blood stained clothing.
Trey hurled the blood spattered rock into the surf and it made a plopping sound before sinking below the surface. He followed Mancini into the shallow waves and they stood in the water, up to their waists.
“Wash all that shit off your hands and clothes,” Mancini instructed, before dipping his head under the waterline.
Trey reluctantly washed the blood off his clothes, hands and face, cringing at the coldness of his wet clothes clinging to his body.
“What happens when they find her?”
Mancini spluttered and smeared his wet hair back off his face. “With a shitload of luck, we’ll be out of the way by the time somebody finds the body. You done? Come, on, let’s go.”
They waded back to the shore , shaking off the excess water and wringing out their clothes before climbing back into the car. Trey gunned the engine and U-turned in the circular, gravel covered space. They drove in silence and turned back
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