X Marks The Spot
by
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Mike asked. He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring that Derek was still in the bathroom. "I mean. He's your uncle. That doesn't bother you?"
"You don't know him like I do.” Terry sipped his beer. Budweiser, working class. He snubbed his cigarette out and lit another. “He deserves it.”
“That’s not up for question.” Mike shrugged. “What I mean is, it’s heavy, is all. Taking life. It’s not a simple thing. You don’t know. Cause you’ve never done it. So don’t be doing this deal just because Derek wants you to.”
“Don’t question me.” Terry eyed Mike, his face tensing up, his pupils dilated. Guys on meth, Mike noted.
Derek returned from the bathroom, cigarette dangling from his grinning mouth. He stretched his arms out to Mike and Terry, the gristle on his chin showing. “Boys,” he said. “Let’s get over this plan a final time, then, eh fuckers?”
Derek walked over to his bar and brought back three more beers. The empty bar, Jerry’s, had been his fathers, who, incidentally, was also not named Jerry. “Terry, what are you going to do?”
Terry sipped his beer and began. “I’m going to come along on his fishing trip that he takes every Sunday. I’ll communicate it to him in person. I’ll tag along up to his favorite fishing trip at Red Top State Park. I’ll get him nice and drunk so I drive back.”
Derek turned to Mike. “And you?”
“I’ll be ready and waiting at the gas station of the 4-1-1. I put a gun to their head and demand cash. Terry says there’s cash back at his Uncle John’s place, not far off. And, if he’s right, there is, buried in the backyard. The house is off the main road, far from neighbors, so it’ll just be the two of us."
“And I’ll be following y’all there.” Derek nodded. “We get the cash, kill the old man and make it all look like an accident.” Derek leaned in close to them. Mike could smell the cheap bourbon and cigarettes on his breath. “Now, not one of you is going to fuck this up, because I’m not going back to prison. So I’m going to make this crystal-fucking-clear for y’all. You do it all like I say. Exactly like I say, and there’s no trouble. Understand? No trouble aside from you having the problem of which hooker you want stick your Mr. Franklin into for the evenin’, undestand?”
Derek extended his hand to Mike. Mike shook it, looking him firm in the eyes. This was Derek’s ritual before a job. He’d seen it all before.
Terry was next. He took Derek’s hand. But Derek didn’t let go.
“You lying to me about your Uncle Jon burying his loot in the back yard? About what he did to you? You lying to me now, boy?”
Terry stared Derek in the eyes. “I’m not. So promise me that I get to be the one to do it.”
It seemed like a movie that went through his mind, his father dropping dead for facing the police in a bank robbery, a scene that for the last twelve years did not leave Terry alone and since childhood grew his resentment.
"I will kill him" while holding a cigarette in his hand.
Terry's father, Tomas, had a criminal gang dedicated to stealing, but they were not murderers, however Jerry one member of the gang was aggressive and could take the life of another without remorse, a few days before the bank robbery there was a confrontation between Jerry and another of the band, and decided to remove him from the band.
"I'll get even, I swear I'll get even," shouted Jerry.
The day of the robbery arrived and the band was surprised by the police, Tomás faced them, however he fell dead.
Terry's life was difficult, a child targeted by society as the delinquent's son, facing his reality and becoming increasingly aggressive, a freedom he didn't want but took advantage of to join bad companies.
After two years, Jhon, Tomás' brother, appeared and came looking for his nephew.
Terry got into the car in the back with his uncle, totally silent, with nothing to lose.
"The enemy's blood will be exterminated," said Jhon, as he placed his arm around his nephew's shoulders.
He "starts" by beckoning his driver.
Terry had eight years of preparation and studies, thanks to his uncle, and after that time there was only one left to exterminate.
"What happened Derek" asked Mike as he threw himself into the couch.
"I want you to do something, watch the old man's house tonight."
"But..."
"Move that ass."
"I'll keep an eye on Terry."
Terry approached his uncle Jhon, who was sitting in Red Top State Park, fishing.
Uncle Can I? pointing at the grass
"Yes," observing him.
"Did you remodel the loot?" by passing him a little glass of whiskey.
"Because of what happened last night, that's how it was" looking at him with a smile threw the cane into the river.
"Give me all the money."
"no, I don't."
"Give me all the fucking money, or I'll kill this old bastard." Mike pointed to John in the head.
"No, wait, at my uncle's house, there's money buried in the yard."
"Come on, and it better be true or I'll kill you both."
"Low old drunk" Mike was pointing it out.
Derek arrived and joined the assault and everyone headed for the courtyard.
"What is this?" shouted Derek, looking at a hole in the courtyard beneath some x-shaped boards.
Where's the money, you old fuck?
"my money" was sobbing Jhon in front of the hole
"Was that you, motherfucker?" Aiming at Mike.
"What are you talking about? You're crazy." Aiming his gun at Derek.
"Nobody makes fun of me," Derek said, shooting him in the head.
He turned quickly, pointing at Terry, and Terry waited for him, pointing at him.
"For my father" shot him with a smile.
Thanks to the people of
and especially to for this story that offers us to culminate Finish The Story Contest - Week #60!
