Cinder Block Pond

When I was a little girl, I had a plan. A plan to get out of that small town and away from my abusive family. I used to think the bad stuff wouldn't follow me if I could get far enough away. As it turned out, bad stuff was everywhere. There was no escaping it.

The gun was still in my hand. Blood pooled on the wood floor under the man I just shot. The wrong man. His body was awkwardly slumped in the doorway, exposing us to the outside world. Yellow porch lights cast an eerie glow over his body and into our living room. At my feet was the woman barely clinging to life. In her left hand was the bull's horn. What was with the bulls, I wondered? Bull tattoo. Bull horn. While I contemplated her tattoo, she stared up at me. Her eyes told me she was afraid to die. Her face told me she was too young. Crimson stained her pink lips and white teeth. Each breath shallower than the last until her final wheeze. Her eyes frozen on me in the final moments of her life would haunt me forever.

Petrified of what I had done, the gun fell out of my hand, clattering to the floor. Oh my god! What had I done? Panic slowly set in as I realized the weight of my actions. Slumping to my knees, I felt dizzy. I was going to be sick. The walls began to spin. A distant echo calling my name brought me back to reality. Amy was still tied up, calling for my help.

Scuttling on my hands and knees to her side, I quickly untied the ropes. I threw my arms around her and began to cry. She held me for a short moment before taking me by the shoulders and gently pushing me away. She softly placed her hands on either side of my face.

"Do you hear me? Breathe. Everything is going to be fine, but I need you to help me right now, okay? Can you do that?" Rapidly, I shook my head in her hands. Amy mustered a nervous smile. "You can do this. We can do this." Soaking in her urgency, I lightly nodded.

We each grabbed one of his arms, dragging him from the doorway. He was so heavy. As his feet cleared the frame, the door latched shut. I watched Amy run to the other room and come back with a bag. As she tossed in evidence, a muffled ringtone came from where the woman lay. Hurrying over to the woman, I ransacked her pockets. A phone. Three missed texts. Swiping unlock, it asked for the password. My fingertips smeared blood across the screen. After a brief hesitation, I held the phone over the woman's face to unlock the messages. The phone clicked open. He was on his way back. We only had seventeen minutes before he returned! Hysteria took a back seat to my adrenaline.

Amy spread out a large blue tarp by the back door. We wrapped them up inside and dragged them to the porch. Eleven minutes. Wiping the gun clean, I told Amy to bury it under the roses in the backyard. While she buried the murder weapon, I gathered some clothes and necessities. Under our bed was a beautiful wooden box with intricate carvings along the sides. It was a gift from my sister. I emptied its contents onto the bed. This should be perfect, I whispered. Eight minutes. I collected the bull's horn and the book in the living room. They fit perfectly into the box. Turning the woman's phone off, I tossed it in.

In the kitchen, I found a broom and a bottle of vodka. After taking a large swig, I shoved the vodka into the bag. Sweeping up the glass, I dumped the shards over the book and closed the lid. Five minutes. Putting the chairs back in their places, I took the rope from each chair and shoved them in the bag. Amy emerged from the back porch covered in dirt.

"I know where we can go." The words barely escaped her before she dragged the tarp out the back gate. Three minutes. Behind our back gate was a dark, unkept courtyard that was hardly used. Beyond that was the forest. Amy hid with the tarp as I ran back inside. One minute. I grabbed the bag, shut off the lights, and ran back. Thirty seconds.

Reaching the back door, I heard the keys. Fifteen seconds. My heart violently pounded as I quietly shut the sliding glass door. Standing in the back courtyard, I latched the gate behind me as a light turned on inside. Our faces jerked towards each other. The gentle glow of the moon outlined the panic on both our faces. We dragged the tarp to the wooded area behind the complex without skipping a beat.

Almost to the tree line, Amy collapsed onto the grass, exhausted. Panting, I hunched over to catch my breath. That's when we heard a loud crash! Echoing across the back courtyard came the man's raging clamor. He wasn't alone. I heard another man's voice. It was only a matter of time before they came looking for us. Amy scurried to her feet. Running backward into the forest, hauling our heavy secret, we didn't stop until their voices could no longer be heard.

We came to a clearing. Amy staggered backward to the ground. Leaning against a tree, I slowly began to catch my breath. Was this really happening? A profound thirst left my tongue sticky and my throat dry. My muscles ached, and my stomach roared. The dinner reservation! The police were going to know that we didn't show. We needed an alibi. Nearby, a twig snapped, scaring me! That's when I felt Amy's hand grab mine.

"Wait here." She whispered. "I'll be right back." Before I could ask, she was gone. The darkness cocooned me like a bad dream. The bright blue tarp was barely visible by moonlight. Owls and crickets carried on without a care in the world. Sinking to the ground, I pulled my knees in tight. Alone in the woods, inches from two dead bodies. I began to panic. Behind me, footsteps quickly approached. I squeezed my knees harder and clamped my eyes shut, bracing for whatever found me in the dark. Amy.

Once again, we hauled the tarp and hustled away from the complex. When we reached the road, I saw Amy's car pulled off to the side. When we were sure no one was coming, we stuffed the bodies into the trunk and everything else on top. It wasn't until I was in the passenger seat that I realized how much pain I was in. As we drove into the night, I wondered if the police would have believed us. The woman was in self-defense, but the man was an accident. I couldn't help but feel like we had done the right thing. There was more to our capture than we could see. I could feel it.

We drove for hours without speaking, but I knew where we were going. Pulling off the main road down a hidden path, an unpaved driveway met us with a jolt. Around a slight bend about a mile in, Amy stopped the car and popped the trunk. Wait here, she said. She got out, leaving the door ajar. I hardly noticed the incessant dinging. My body turned in my seat, eyes following every move she made. Bright high beams soaked her backside with light as she walked towards the shed.

Her cabin on the pond. I loved it there. The private pond out back froze over every winter. Ice skating and hot cocoa. This place was a haven for us. Losing myself in the memories, I almost forgot we were there to bury two bodies.

Heavy clunks shook the cab of the car. A final slam of the trunk, and she was back in the driver's seat. "Cinder blocks." She mused. I couldn't help but laugh. Was I losing my mind, or was I grateful we didn't have to dig two graves?

Five more minutes on the bumpy driveway, and we were at the pond. We loaded everything onto a rowboat. It was so cold. Amy was still wearing the scarf I gave her. Watching it flap in the cold made me wish we could go back.

Amy stopped the rowboat over the middle of the pond. We used the same ropes the woman used on us to secure the cinder blocks. Before we sent her to a watery grave, I snapped a photo of her bull tattoo. Amy didn't like that. She said it was evidence. Despite that, my gut told me it meant something.

Plunk. Plunk. Quickly, they disappeared, sinking horizontally to the bottom. Our secret was buried. We sat on the cold, dark pond for what felt like forever. Nobody said a word. Nobody moved a muscle. Until Amy broke the silence.

"My parents died when I was eighteen. I had no siblings. No family. And all of a sudden, I had to deal with their estate. I was supposed to go to college. Instead, I got a job and learned all about escrow. This place is the only thing I kept of theirs. That's the part I tell people. The part I leave out is my daddy was a mean drunk. One night, it was so bad I thought he was going to kill Mama. So, I grabbed the nearest heavy object I could find and smashed it over his head. I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted him to stop. Mama was never the same after that. One day, I came home from school, and she was gone. All she left me was a note. I've been on my own ever since. Until I met you."

It occurred to me that Amy's plan to escape the bad stuff never worked out, either. Oddly, I felt a little better. I felt less alone. We sat in silence as she stared into the darkness. I could tell something had changed. An unshakable bond was formed between us that night. Before I could think of anything to say, she continued with a shaky voice. "I'm so sorry that you know what this feels like. To take a life. I wouldn't wish it on anybody." She fell into my arms as she uncontrollably wept. I never asked what they did with the body. Until that night, Amy had never told another living soul the truth about what happened to her parents. How awful it must have been to carry that alone.

On the grass, we watched the sun come up under a blanket. Soon, the pond would freeze, and we could feel safe. Even if it was just for a little while.

~ ~ ~

Back at the complex, police swarmed the apartment. Officer Pruitt walked gingerly through the crime scene with his coffee. Smugness was in his air. His strut was boastful. As he walked past the bedroom, something caught his eye. Making sure no one saw him, he got closer. It was a jagged knife with a bullhorn for a handle. He hid the knife under his jacket and headed back towards the door. His colleagues were so preoccupied that no one noticed him slip out. Walking up to a car on the street, he menacingly tapped the glass. The man rolled down his window. Officer Pruitt tossed him the knife and arrogantly said, "I can't cover up for you if you don't clean up. Find them."