In Autumn's Wake Read online

  “Seeing Eddie always puts you in a funk,” he says.

  “Exactly why I need to be alone.” I hold the side door open, but he snubs the offer and takes the long way, trudging through the snow with his hands in his pockets, up the alley toward Ed’s Tahoe.

  “If you’re not inside in five, I’m sending Riley out to get you,” he says. “I mean it. I’ll send her out here. She’ll toss you over her shoulder and carry you inside,” he hollers. “You hear me?”

  “I hear you,” I whisper, resting alongside the building. The coldness of the bricks penetrates my flannel shirt and works its way into my bones, stealing my energy. I roll down my sleeves and set my forehead against the wall.

  Sean’s right, Ed stirs painful memories and puts me in a funk.

  I trace the bricks while remembering Jake and Heather, drained by my pent-up anger over that night. My muscles ache and my head throbs. Moving from this spot seems like agonizing work. Could be the cold causes endorphins to hibernate, causing depression—another reason why I miss Heather. She was my endorphin. Her hands were warm even in the dead of winter. She’d grip my hips when she wanted a loving kiss, slip her fingers under my shirt and massage my chest when she was frisky, and dipped her hands inside my jeans when she wanted to make love. I was on fire by the time we made it to my bed each night. The complete opposite of how frozen my body and mind feel without her now.

  I rub my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. Think, Dylan. Go over it again—one more time. What did Heather say?

  Our last kiss was no different than the thousands of other kisses we had shared. It makes no sense that she left me. I must be forgetting something. Something she said, a look, a hint, or any inkling to why this happened.

  Was she upset? Did I do something wrong?

  A lighter flicks at the end of the alley, close to the street behind the bar. The glowing tip of a cigarette zigzags alongside an approaching silhouette of a man. I know who it is by the smell of his cheap cologne. This beast must still be out searching for that girl.

  “Next time you hit me, I won’t think twice about slitting your throat,” he says, ramming my shoulder.

  My blade springs out, a centimeter from his jugular. “Who’s slitting whose throat? You’re the one who crossed a line, dragging that girl out of my bar. I don’t know what’s up with you and her, but take it somewhere else.”

  “She stole my car! I’ll do whatever I want to her, wherever I want, and that includes your ghetto bar!” He pushes me back. My head hits the wall, causing my vision to spin.

  “Lay off.” I rub the back of my head. “If she stole your car, why’d she take off on foot?”

  He wipes trickling blood from his nose with his jacket sleeve and examines his wrist, twisting it in front of me like he wants an apology. Nice try.

  After several flicks of his lighter, he sucks in a long drag and exhales a drawn-out cloud in my face.

  “Dylan?” Riley’s shrill voice shakes the alley. “Dylan. Where are you?”

  “Dammit … Riley, get outta here!”

  I’m not about to back down just because of her. This fight isn’t playtime, and Riley knows what to expect in these situations. A gutsy girl from a crime-ridden neighborhood, she can hold her own. I’ve seen her sock a guy for reaching under her skirt, twist his arm and knee his groin, all while wearing high heels and serving drinks.

  But her desensitization to it doesn’t mean she approves of it.

  “Dylan Marzniak, put that knife away right this minute.” She takes baby steps in her knee-high boots. “I’m so flipping tired of you and Sean acting like you’re in a gang. How many fights you getting into tonight? I heard you just beat up a guy. Now what? Who’s this?”

  “This chick won’t get hurt if she puts out.” The guy eyes Riley from head to toe, nothing but a piece of meat to him.

  My nails claw at the wall. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way … Riley, go back inside!” I’m about to snap from the sound of his lighter flicking to the beat of each of her steps.

  He licks his lips. “She’s asking for it coming back here. I’ll spread her wide and stick—”

  I grip his shoulder and hold my blade to his chest as a warning. He grabs my wrist and tries to twist it back on me, lunges forward and slams me against the wall.

  “Trevor.” A voice echoes from the end of the alley. He stops his attack and hunts the darkness with an uneasy look. The girl from the bar comes out of nowhere and pushes him forward, into my blade. I feel it pierce his leather jacket and slide straight into his gut. I hold it in place, looking down at the blood on my hand. Did I do that, or did she? His head rests on my shoulder. Did she push, or did I thrust? His legs shake and his cigarette drops. It was her. Not me.

  I pull the blade out, and a gasp is released as he collapses at my feet.

  There’s no room for scum in my neighborhood. Ed’s voice plagues my head. Take out infected rodents like him before they multiply and swarm the city.

  “Jesus, Dylan.” Riley spins on her heels and scurries away, her curly black hair swaying with her hips. “You’re always getting into fights, but this? This? Not in front of me, okay? Just once, I’d like to have a boring Friday night with you and Sean.” She walks faster. “I didn’t see that. I did NOT see that. I’m telling Sean. I’m getting him. He’s gonna be pissed at you for killing that girl.”

  “Girl? What girl?”

  I look at the ground. Her burgundy coat catches my eye first, spread out in the snow like a picnic blanket, black gloves on either side suggestive of monstrous ants. Wind snakes through the alley and flutters her hair over blood spots encased in crisp white snow.

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  I fall into the wall when she turns over and picks up a cigarette off the ground, holding it up to me.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “You’re not dead.”

  I shut my eyes, hands tearing at the bricks in fright. I inhale mammoth breaths and open one eye, then the other. The leather jacket is at my feet. I shut my eyes tight and open them again. It’s the guy, not the girl. Just the guy.

  The pounding in my head stops. I scan the alley but see no trace of her.

  No footprints.

  Nothing.

  4

  I haven’t dealt with a body since the night I lost Jake and Heather, the night Ed gave Sean and me a job that went terribly wrong, the same night Jake witnessed everything. The shock of seeing a body has long passed for me, but Jake was a wreck. As a city kid, he’d eventually repress such graphic sights, like Riley has. Her two brothers are in a gang and have put bullets through guy’s heads in front of her. It’s a thrill to them, something I don’t revel in. I’d prefer to fade into the low-hanging clouds of the dead city, keeping to the shade of the bar and my home. Except, that’s a fantasy. Cockeyed Eddie has me trapped in his world, and it’s way too late to get out.

  I was a good kid on the right track until Ed took me under his wing and promised he’d make me rich. Sean wanted in, and our first job was ratting out a guy who was dealing blow in our neighborhood. We made fifty bucks apiece for tracking the dealer to his supplier’s house. We told Ed where it was, he got credit for the bust, and no one knew who had snitched. Only we got greedy for more cash and fell in over our heads with the seedy cops at Ed’s station, finding out real quick that there’re more dirty cops than good in our neighborhood. Things escalated quickly, and when we were old enough to drive, we started dumping bodies in the river for them. Bodies the cops didn’t want anyone to know about, deeds kept out of the public eye. “Just cleaning up the city,” is what they said. “Do your job and don’t ask questions.” So we did. At that point, saying no wasn’t an option, cops would put the word out that we were narcs and we’d be dead in a week.

  Years went on, and the jobs became more dangerous. Ed started sending us inside dealer’s houses to scope out how many guys were inside and what they had to offer. It was when kill or be killed
started to matter.

  But this guy at my feet … he isn’t one of the wolves Eddie’s been hunting. Not any dealer or degenerate I know about, just some random I’ve never seen before.

  I steal his smoke off the ground before the snow snuffs it out, curious how the figure of that girl lying dead fooled my vision. I do know she pushed this guy into my blade—that was real—I’m sure of it.

  My hands shake now that it’s over, a good sign that I’m human, a reminder that I’m not a bad person and won’t end up like Riley’s brothers. I wipe my knife on the guy’s leg before I put it away. Then I drag the deadweight out of the light, leaving him face down in the darkness next to the dumpster. It’ll be best to ditch him somewhere outside of this neighborhood, far away from the bar.

  I kick snow over the trail of blood while inhaling the cigarette, flicking it at his head as I exhale. There’s time to figure this out. In the darkness, passing cars and pedestrians can’t see this far in from the street, and it’s rare for anyone to come back here at night, only Ed, my dad, and the guys working at Big Daddy’s Pizzeria. With the fresh footprints leading from Big Daddy’s door to the dumpster, I’d say I’m in the clear. Their trash was just taken out.

  “I don’t see him.” Riley’s surging voice echoes through the alley. “Sean, he was by the door under the light, but I don’t see him now. What if he’s dead?”

  “He’s not dead,” Sean says.

  “I’m not dead,” I repeat.

  “See, told ya. Where you at?” Sean asks.

  Their footfalls become increasingly louder. I can tell Sean’s on my left, his stride longer than Riley’s. She’s a good six inches shorter than him, five four or so.

  “Him?” Sean stops next to me and kicks the guy’s boot. “He’s dead, huh?”

  “Yeah, dummy, he’s dead. Help me get him to Ed’s SUV.”

  “You’re kidding, right? We’re not putting him in there.”

  I lift his arms and wait for Sean to take his legs.

  “Okay, you’re not kidding.”

  We carry him to the Tahoe and drop him on the ground. Sean checks the doors—all locked. We roll him under the bumper, then I work on the back window, trying to get the liftgate open.

  “Sean, make sure we didn’t leave a blood trail, check where we picked him up and cover any spots you come across. Riley, go inside.”

  “I can help,” she says.

  “You can help by getting our coats, not by standing there gawping.”

  “Eddie knows where you live. He’ll break your face for doing this.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Where we gonna go?”

  I love it that she doesn’t ask what the guy did, only what our plans are for the rest of the night.

  I move to the front door on the driver’s side, straining to open the window while I think. “We’ll get a case of beer and head to our house for the night. Just forget what you saw, Sean and I will take care of it.”

  “Is this what Jake saw?”

  I stop and turn slowly back, caught off guard by her question. Jake and Heather weren’t in Ed’s circle. Heather knew about a handful of jobs I’d done, but neither of them knew that I’d killed anyone.

  Riley avoids eye contact, ashamed by what she said.

  “What Jake saw is none of your damn business.” I take out my knife. “I don’t want to talk about my brother after dealing with this lowlife. Go get our coats.”

  She takes a step back and hurries inside.

  I continue toiling with the window, getting enough space to jam my blade between it and the door. If I had a long piece of wire or a coat hanger, I could shimmy it down to press the lock or grab the handle.

  “Sean, we need a piece of wire.” I hear his boots coming up from behind. “Check the dumpster for—” I turn, coming face to face with Ed.

  He mutters “fucker” while I mutter, “fuck.”

  He grabs my neck and forces me behind his Tahoe, bringing out his baton and torpedoing it into my gut. Pain shoots from my groin to my throat, sending me to my knees in less than a second.

  “You’d make a great cop, you crooked little twit.” My knife is yanked out of the window and flung at my feet. “Do you know this guy?” Ed searches the clod on the ground, finding his wallet, lighter, and a pack of cigarettes in his leather jacket.

  A group of women walks past, college-aged, wasted, belting out lyrics to some pop song, something about a heartbroken girl. One of them points to the guy under the back of the SUV and breaks into snorting laughter. “At least we’re not that drunk.” She slips and falls on her ass, laughs harder before raising her hand for help.

  I cradle my stomach and stand, spying Ed pocketing the guy’s stuff before waving the women on. “Have a good night, ladies. Stay safe. On you go.” He swings his baton, a habit when he’s impatient. “Go find some nice fellas to keep you warm.”

  They file into the pizzeria, too drunk to figure out the guy under the back of the Tahoe is dead, too drunk to notice Sean picking my knife off the ground. I dread the moment they’re out of sight because Ed’s bogus smile is about to drop.

  “Dylan, some days I love you for being so sly, and other days I want to cut your head off for acting like such a dumb kid.” He pushes the baton against my neck, our boots toe to toe, his jacket and breath smelling of greasy fish fry. “I seem to recall I’m the one who decides who lives and who dies on these streets. Not you.” A morsel of fish that was stuck between his teeth lands on the side of my face. I turn away, seeing Riley on her way out with our coats. Ed catches my chin, irritated that I’m not paying attention. “This is a major problem. Your problem, not mine. Figure it out. I’ve got enough on my plate tonight without having to clean up your shit.”

  “By the food stuck between your teeth, I’d say you did a pretty decent job cleaning up whatever was on your plate. You can floss later and have seconds.” My spiteful remark sends the baton farther into my neck. I pant, feeling deep pressure on my windpipe. “Riley, get my truck.” I toss her my keys and point at the black Silverado parked across the street, an older model with an extended cab we can put the body in.

  “We got this, Eddie,” Sean says, watching Riley. He crosses his arms to warm his hands under his armpits, marching two steps forward and two steps back, a bundle of nerves again. I swear a little Ritalin would do the guy a whole lot of good.

  “We got this,” Ed rags Sean in a high-pitched voice. “Screw you both. Get the body out of my district. Find a way through the ice and put him in the river, let the water gobble him up. It makes the perfect grave.”

  My chest tightens with a sharp intake of breath. That comment was a massive slip-up on his part, in poor taste after Jake. “Tell me, Ed, do you care about my dad and our family? Show a little respect and watch what you say.”

  He chuckles. “A little respect?” He looks down at the body. “Hmph.” He rubs the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. “Respect?”

  “You know what?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Do me a favor and take this guy somewhere. You owe me.”

  “Your problem, your job.” He hocks a loogie onto my boot.

  Now I’m furious. “Sean, you better keep my knife. I don’t want to a kill a cop tonight.”

  Sean steps in and rams Ed’s baton away, then pulls me aside before Ed has a chance to send me to the ground. “Don’t listen to Eddie. Pick up the body and let’s get a move on before your dad, or somebody else walks outside.”

  Riley backs my truck into the alley and puts it in park, the brake lights painting our skin crimson red.

  “All right.” I rub my forehead. My voice strained. “Get his feet.”

  Ed settles into the driver’s seat of his Tahoe and speaks into his shoulder mic, his window open, tires rolling forward slowly. He gives us a headshake as we cram the body into my back seat. Once the guy’s inside, I throw on my coat and huddle deep below the wool collar, wishing I could disappear.

 
; “Hey, Dylan.” Ed stops the Tahoe. He puts his hand out the window and tilts the side mirror in my direction. “Dylan,” he starts again, “you twisted my words to be about Jake. You did that.” He points at my reflection. “Don’t get unhinged and misconstrue what I say. I’d never mock Jake’s death.”

  “Then don’t talk about water gobbling men up or the river making a good grave.” I glare back at him in the mirror.

  Ed mourned alongside my family when Jake died. He’s being straight up about this, merely saying to put the guy where he won’t surface for a long time. But he could’ve chosen his words better.

  “You’re rusty.” His hand slips inside the window. “Toughen up, so you don’t get arrested or killed. There’s no need to make such juvenile mistakes. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” I cross my arms and press my lips tight. His SUV crawls onto the street, headed toward Northland College. “Let’s go.” I open my door and slump in the driver’s seat. Riley sits on Sean’s lap on the passenger side, neither one of them wanting to be in the back with the body. “He’s dead. He’s not gonna bite.”

  “Not true,” Riley says, staring at him. “My brother said severed heads of snakes can bite.”

  “He’s not a snake.” Sean looks at him too. “Not really.”

  I turn to Riley. “Hey, why’d you say it was a girl?”

  “Say who was a girl?” she asks.

  “When you saw him dead in the alley, you said I killed a girl.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  I run my hands through my hair and rub the spot where the guy knocked my head into the wall. “Never mind. I must be hearing things.”

  “Where are we taking him?” Sean asks.

  “I don’t know yet. South of here for now.” I pull out of the alley.

  This is more complicated than one of Ed’s dump jobs. The honest cops are already searching for those men, generally dealers; it’s no surprise when they turn up dead, shrugged off as the downside of distributing. This guy has that dealer look about him, but he could just as easily be a college professor or a lawyer.