the two men in the car full of glass, dead bodies and blood hadn’t said a word until they stopped.
‘what the fuck?’
‘no shit, what the fuck? we’re covered with blood and no windshield is gonna get us pulled over in a heart beat.’
‘yeah. ok. i was gonna suggest we drive it up into the foothills and push it off some cliff and down into a ravine but i dunno now.’
‘that still might work. let’s check the trunk.’
inside the trunk the men found some beach towels and a blanket. ‘ok. we’re in luck. we wipe the car down and stick the dead ladies in the trunk. we just have blood on our backsides. if we make it without getting pulled over and don’t have to get out of the car we’ll be ok.’
‘man, if we get pulled over we’re off to the lethal injection room faster than you can say the lapd planted all this evidence on us.’
the men had been very lucky so far. no sirens sounded in the night other than the normal stuff but it was off in the distance. nothing anywhere close. they had been lucky indeed. one of the men walked out to the street and told the third man to follow them and if they got pulled over to just keep on going. no sense in all of them going down. the men had decided to take the freeway and hope the late hour wouldn’t have many highway patrolmen out or if there were they would hopefully be busy with drunks. plus, it was the quickest way up to the foothills. as it turned out their luck held and they made it up into the foothills in no time.
the road was deserted as they wound their way up into the san gabriel mountains unmolested. they found a good spot after about 15 minutes of driving. a turn out with no guard rail. they pulled in and wiped down the car once more making sure there were no fingerprints or shoe prints in or on the car. even with gloves it paid to be careful. they left the two bodies in the trunk and pushed it over the edge and into the ravine. the car fell several hundred feet and landed on it’s roof. thankfully, no explosion like in the movies. with that they all got into the other car and made their way back home. by the time they got back to their homes it was almost 2am. the two bloodied men showered and bagged up their clothes for later disposal.
the insanity of a summer saturday night continued unabated as the men went about taking care of their business. one of the men phoned the other two and they met again near the dumpster. ‘look. i say we do some more of these bastards. we may never get another chance. if we get popped. we get popped. we been through this before. screw it.’
‘ok. yeah, why not?’
‘alright. let’s do this thing.’
almost 3am and the parade of human stupidity was still in full swing out on the street. perhaps even more so at that late night or early morning hour. a night of drinking and drugs having taken control of the already stupid assholes vapid minds. the men were loaded up and ready to go once again. they didn’t have long to wait. the car was moving down the street with more noise than they had heard in some time. the plan worked again perfectly. two more dead and disposed of assholes.
on their way back from the disposal of the last bodies and car. the men decided to do one more job and make it a statement. they would leave the car in the street with the radio blaring and the dead left were they died in the car.
simple enough but would anyone figure out their insane statement? the three men didn’t care. they were high on all the adrenaline and death.
‘only thing is we don’t do the last one on our street. to close for comfort. we can’t take that chance.’
‘sure we should be able to find something just about anywhere.’
and they did find something very quickly in the next town over. it hadn’t taken any time at all.
they had pulled to the curb when they heard a car coming from behind them. radio blasting. 4am on a sunday morning and the soon to be terminally stupid were still working at being the assholes they were. the three friends decided to just stop the car and waste whoever was in it. they got out of the car and stood in the street. 3 abreast. blocking the road with their bodies. the car approached and slowed to a stop. the two shooters went to each side of the car and the third held his ground holding a tire iron he had pulled from the trunk.
the three men had hit the jack pot. the car was full. the two shooters emptied their weapons into the car. it was over in a few seconds. though amazingly one of the occupants in the car made it through the killing zone and ran from the car. the friend with the tire iron went after the kid and caught him with a flying tackle. army training kicked in and he broke the kid’s neck with the simple technique he had been taught many years before. he picked the dead kid up and brought him back to the car and laid him out on the hood. the other friends were in their car and had it ready to go. he picked up the tire iron from the street and joined his three friends. they left the scene and headed home.
the car sat there in the street with it’s stereo blasting and the dead kid on the hood for five minutes or so before another car load of assholes came down the street and found what had been left there. the police were called and they spent well into the the daylight hours of sunday morning trying to figure out just what had happened.
of course they never did. they thought it was this or maybe that but it really wasn’t any of those things. then the other cars started turning up. or more precisely parents started to finally wonder where their stupid children were and called the police. all the cars turned up and the dead bodies found. the last to turn up was the car in the ravine. it took several weeks before some one pulled off into the turnout, got out of their car, and actually looked down over the edge.
all the killings made a big splash in the media. there was the usual tsk tsking, along with smirking feigned outrage at the carnage but it was good for ratings and the sharks that they were kept it up for as long as they could. the late development of the car in the ravine added fuel to their sanctimonious eye brow raising. however, in the end, the story just faded away like they all eventually do. the police gave up and went about their business of trying to quell the turning tide of insanity that seemed to have a death grip on the local society.
the three friends? they never spoke of that night again. not even when it was just the three of them sitting and sipping a beverage out on the patio during the patio drinking season. they had made their point though no one actually got what the point was. but they knew and that after all that was all that really mattered.
though separately they did often think and wonder if it might not be a bad idea to do it all over again. one day. perhaps one day.