J.T. Warren - Remains

“His keys, Mikey; you’ve got to get his keys,” Kevin whisper-pleaded.

I stopped moving, and looked back over at the Sheriff. His head had gone sideways, for some reason, and had smashed a hole in the window just big enough for the top of his head to fit through. The broken glass was the only thing holding his head up. His body had gone forward into the steering wheel. As my hearing came back, I could tell that the bees I’d heard earlier was actually the car horn. Just past his shoulder, which was slammed against the wheel, I saw the sheriff’s key ring. The keys were in the ignition. I reached over to get them.

I was so weak that it took some wiggling to get the keys loose. “Okay, good; you’ve got to get out and open the door so I can get out, and then we can get away from the car,” Kevin whispered. I reached for the door handle, and didn’t have enough strength to pull it. I pulled again and again, and nothing happened.

“It’s stuck,” I mumbled.

“Hold onto it, and push yourself sideways; use your weight,” Kevin said.

I did, and the door clicked. I leaned back toward it, and couldn’t stop myself. I fell out of the car. My body was still numb enough that, while I felt the ground under me, I didn’t feel any of the pain of hitting the doorway of the car, or the stones under me. The horn was much louder outside the car than it had been inside. I looked up and saw Kevin peering out the side window. He waved and made a motion for me to hurry. I knew I needed to, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move any further.

Just then, the horn stopped. I thought maybe I’d just gone deaf, and I let my eyes loll closed. A continuous banging sound, though, brought my attention back. I opened my eyes with the certainty that the horn had stopped. Kevin was pounding on the window, yelling. Something in me moved, and for the first time I understood what the something, the mysterious something that was always alert and awake in me was.

I sat up. The world spun around me, but I knew I had to stand. I made my legs move. I managed to get the key into the slot on the door, and turn. The door flew open, and Kevin jumped out. I felt someone grabbing at my hands, and then I felt lighter. Then someone was under me, and my head was cradled against someone’s shoulder. I could hear their breathing; it was ragged and shallow. I felt like I should tell whoever it was that they needed to relax or they’d wind up dead, but I couldn’t.

That’s when I heard the shot. It sounded like the muffled thump of someone fluffing a pillow, or the snap of someone putting fresh sheets on a bed. I knew it was a gunshot, though. It didn’t sound right.

“Wha?” I asked, trying to move to see.

“Gawd dammmit, you cock suckin’ mother fucker! You twisted little nancy cock sucker!” someone was yelling from nearby.

Whoever had me, moved me against something solid. I could see over the top of an enormous white field of metal. Someone was stilling yelling mean things, but I couldn’t see who it was. I saw Kevin go in front of my eyes, then disappear below the field of white.

“Don’t you dare, you nancy cock sucker! Don’t you mother fucking do it, you faggot piece a’ trash!” someone was still yelling.

I was up against the car, my head resting on the roof. The world stopped spinning. The sheriff had been taking us to kill us. I managed to lunge for the gun, and in the fight, the sheriff had run the car into a telephone pole. Then I thought, the gun!, and I moved so I could look for it. It wasn’t in my hand.

Kevin had it.

Kevin had shot Sheriff Aiken.

Aiken was the one yelling. Kevin hadn’t killed Aiken.

“Stop!” I yelled, “Stop, Kevin; don’t!”

“Why not?! Why the fuck not?!” Kevin yelled back from the other side of the car. I tried to slide myself along the car so that I could see him.

“Is he down?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s down. And I’m about to fucking kill him!” Kevin said.

“Don’t. You can’t. Come—get me over there,” I said.

“What? Why not?” Kevin said, but I heard the crunching of gravel. He was moving toward me when his head popped up from the other side of the car. He came over and put his shoulder under my arm. The gun was still in his hand.

“Take me over there,” I said. My head was clearing very fast, and my body was screaming at me to stop moving, but I couldn’t; not now.

When I came around the car, I could see the sheriff. He was covered in blood, and the side of his face was barely held on. It almost flapped loose. There was also a large spot of blood near his left knee, and it was getting steadily darker. “Stop,” I said, and Kevin stopped moving. He leaned me against the car. He took a second to look at me, and I nodded to him.

“You boys better stop this horseshit right now, I mean. This innit—,” the sheriff started.

“Shut up,” I said, nearly whispering. Kevin turned and pointed the gun at him.

We stood that way for a few moments, me watching the sheriff, the sheriff watching me. Kevin stood with the gun on him, and it shook, but never lowered. “So,” the sheriff said, “what is it you plan to accomplish with this little show, boys? Do you think this somehow makes everything even-steven?”

“I said shut up,” I nearly whispered, then closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the thing that was inside me was at the front. I relaxed and let it come up. I knew what it was, now; I knew it wouldn’t hurt me. “And I meant it.” When I opened my eyes again, the sheriff’s face flinched.

“We gotta’ shoot him, Mikey. We gotta shoot him and figure out what to—,” Kevin started.

“You shut up, too,” I said.

The silence fell. The wind moved through the branches, like breath.

“My sister?” I asked the sheriff.

“What the fuck are you—,” he started to ask.

“Kevin,” I said, and Kevin understood. He pulled the trigger, and the sheriff’s other leg exploded. Blood flew all over the ground and onto the car’s paint.

“Shit! Fuck you, oh mah gawd! I’m gonna’ fuckin’ kill you, you cock suckin’—,” the sheriff continued, his eyes closed and his hands moving in vain toward his leg.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time. My sister?” I asked.

He quieted down some, and moved around less. “Your sister what?”

“Kevin,” I said.

When Kevin raised the gun to fire again, the sheriff burst out “I didn’t fuck her. I wouldn’ta never! She was too young!” I put my hand up, and Kevin didn’t fire. The gun stayed trained on the sheriff’s head, though.

“You did kill her, though,” I said.

“I had to,” the sheriff said, “I had to.”

I closed my eyes. “Why?”

“Your sister,” the sheriff said, and laughed, still squirming and trying to reach his shattered legs. “Your sister was the town whore, boy. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. She was pregnant by that boy Tommy Lyndon; the half-retard. She was always lettin’ him play with her, and I was gonna’ be gawd damned if I was gonna’ have another half-retard runnin’ around the streets of my town—,”

“Enough,” I said, and closed my eyes. The thing in me knew it wasn’t enough, though. I opened my eyes again, “and Randy?” I asked.

His eyes closed. I knew already, but that put the seal on it. Something in me sighed, and relaxed. This was the beginning of the end of it. I could rest, soon. It had all gone crazy, and there was no way to fix it back how it had been, but at least it would be over soon.

“Mikey?” Kevin asked, and the note in his voice said he didn’t know.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“You boys ain’t never gonna’ get away with this. Y’all can’t run forever, and soon enough, someone is gonna’—,” he was building up steam, and I knew I couldn’t let him. I knew I couldn’t let him get where he was about to go.