Max bolted into the room, gun in hand. But nothing. Empty, save of course the red jacket thrown atop the couch carelessly. Max took tentative steps forward, and soon noticed the shirt, bag, cardigan, and shoes that accompanied it. Obviously Nathans but why… another step forward, and Max gasped, almost losing her grip on the gun.
There he was. But under the sick conditions, Jefferson applied to the rest of his subjects. Nathan was shirtless, with bare feet, and thick belted black jeans. His body was sprawled out on the floor, his flesh lined with sweat and body twitched rigidly as if he were trying to move. A moan, then a grunt, and Nathans' head rocked suddenly, his eyes searching. They locked on max, and flickered back and forth to the distance behind her.
"Max!" A loud voice and a sharp tinge in her neck. Strong arms wrapped around her as her knees buckled, and the gun fell from her fingers, "I wasn't expecting to see you so early," Jefferson smiled over her, supporting her head as her vision blurred "But, this gives us an opportunity, doesn't it?"
He didn't look her in the eye as he spoke, only held her head up with one hand and probed her face with the next "Yes…" he muttered "Nathan? What do you think?" he asked jovially, before Max lost her grip the hand of Mark, regrettably, once again.
…
Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouches
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens
Max shivered herself awake, but there was a steady warmth beside her.
Eyes. Open. Open motherfuckers. Eventually they did, but not as quickly as Max had hoped. Body, on her back, hands, on her lap, and bound tightly in a black cloth. Shockingly, she was dressed in the same attire as Nathan now. No shoes, no shirt, but thick belted black pants, and a black bra. Not hers, but she couldn't fucking think of that shit now. She glanced the room, the best she could manage, straining to just barely lift her head.
Jefferson was nowhere to be seen, and she dropped her head in relief, cushioned by Nathans arm. He was limp on his side, chest facing Max, and his arms tied around her shoulders. One of his own legs was on top of hers but for the life of her she couldn't move it, too drugged out of her mind.
Sick. it was probably some pose Mark left them in. She shivered again, and was startled when it caused Nathan to stir. She didn't move, it was Nathan whose body twitched with slight convulsions.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
With nothing to do, Max shut her eyes, and tried to adjust the crook of her neck against Nathans' arm, but this changed his breathing, and the convulsions got more intense. Soon, Nathans entire leg moved off, and away from hers. She used all her energy then to loll her head in Nathans direction. It wasn't entirely shocking to see him awake either, looking at her through foggy eyes.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his face distorted with his next convulsion "Sorry- so sorr…"
"I got your message…" Max whispered, unsure if Nathan could hear her. He did, and replied with a loud groan, trying hopelessly to turn his body away. This jolted his arms, and in turn Max's head, causing a sharp pain in her neck, making her gasp sharply. Nathan soon gave up his effort, and lay limp panting at the previous effort.
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
Minutes passed, and Nathans breathing eventually evened, the convulsions ceasing.
"Sorry…. So... " he began again, but Max had enough, turning herself on her side, not getting carried away with the control she exerted over her body.
Faceing him once again, Max silenced him with a single 'fuck off'. His eyebrows twitched slightly and he kept his mouth shut. They held their gaze, Nathan frankly, alittle shocked. Max learned Nathans' eyes were blue then. Realizing the intensity on the gaze a little late, she looked up, aways.
"Mark-" she spat.
"Gone." Nathan closed his eyes and shook his head miserably "gone, gone…" he mumbled.
"Bastard…" Max choked "... he'll die"
"nn..… go-"
"Yes." Max interrupted flatly.
"No." Nathan insistied, "nn… gun,"
Max looked at him again. "Oh"
Nathan's eyes rolled back and he cleared his throat, "Third shelf… behind stereo,"
Max instantly rolled her head about, searching for the selves he was insisting. His words continued, slow and gravely "Black, next to- to tripods…. Behind me,"
She looked past him and over the crook of his neck. There. On the wall behind him, were a handful of tripods, stacked against the wall, and a thick, black book shelf. The third shelf up, a fat stereo humming in the room.
Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
Suddenly there were firm footsteps approaching, and Jefferson was peering over them, a camera slung about his neck. He tsked and knelt down to the two "i thought i heard mumbles…"
Max slipped her lids shut instantly and willed her body limp. She was awake. Enough to cling to consciousness. And turn her body.
Max evened her breathing and prayed she appeared unconscious, Soon enough, she would get her hands on that gun... but that would become impossible if Jefferson happened to inject her, so for now, she'd bide her time an play the rag doll.
...
Nathan on the other hand, mumbled unintelligibly and tried to move his legs, doing his best to appear mobile. He knew as well as Max that she was the only chance they had. If anything, the stab of the needle had a pang of justice for Nathan.
As he slipped from consciousness, he thought then of how he found himself here in the first place.
Stupidly, he came back to the dark room, thinking Mark wouldn't show up. This most obvious thing would be to flee, and never think of that god awful dungeon again, but Mark would just have too much dirt on Nathan if he didn't go in there and clear the place out. He had to, regardless of other intentions. But then… he thought of Rachel.
On a whim he stormed to the cupboard with the red binders. He pulled out Rachels specifically, and tore out every last page. Every last picture he ripped to shreds, dumped them in the metal trash bin, he then recovered flammable developing chemicals to pour over the remains of the pictures, and light.
Rachels ashes. But it wasn't enough. He went back to the cupboard and began to throw all the filled binders on the floor around him. Every one of them would be destroyed, he vowed silently. This shit… it's been going on for too long. And he's condoned it.
Feeling sick, he continued smashing the binders on the floor before him. Pages upon pages scattered on the floor around him... but there were still plenty of empty binders left. The empty ones, in order of appearance the girls would make.
Victoria Chase.
His best friend, as good as next. He buckled to the floor, retching then, and couldn't stop, spluttering on saliva and tears. He smashed his fist on the floor, but it was done sloppily, due to his 'condition'.
He was high. All the time.
He was right now, he was when Mark made the decision to abduct Vitoria… and even when Rachel was dying. He'd been chilling on the couch, while Jefferson worked, after popping some pills and smoking a blunt. Of course Mark condoned it, your drug problem, you fucking idiot. He wanted you compliant. That psychopath was sober 100% of the time, and such sobriety gave him an edge.
He bolted upright and ran his hands across his face, wiping away the fluids and groaning into his palms. He breathed in heavily and turned back to the remaining binders. Next to Victorias, was Max Caulfield.
That girl knew shit. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd found out about Mark and this place at some point this week. No, she definitely knew. That comment about 'running away to Jefferson' earlier made it clear enough.
So, Jefferson would photograph Victoria, and probably Caulfeild, after he'd disposed of Nathan. He was going to die. At the hands of Mark nonetheless… just another teenager added to the list. Nathan felt he might puke again. Mark would come for him, and he knew he wouldn't be ready when Mark did. His mind raced with ways to escape as he pulled his hair.
Family, what family? Kristine was on the other side of the world, couldn't help him. And he didn't have friends so much as they were clients. Peers. Fuck. He still had to warn Victoria… but he had to get the fuck out of Arcadia. He needed money… his things, but fuck. Was it safe to go back to his dorm? He could always just go directly to his home, take some valuables, steal a safe… no, break into it? Fuck no.
He suddenly felt unsafe, hanging around in this basement.
Should he just leave? Try to sell what drugs he had and start somewhere else? Just drive out of Arcadia and never look back? He could use his real identity but… would Jefferson find him? He couldn't turn Mark in, Nathan was in too deep himself. He'd have to go very far. Nathan couldn't help but think about how frequently Jefferson moved around the country. Fuck.
Nathan would just have to keep running, and running… and for that, he'd need his essentials. In his dorm. Passport, meds, dope, health records, social security, even his wallet. Nathan might as well leave the country, fly to Canada-
His racing mind halted then. What the fuck was he thinking? Thinking he should run from a criminal past for the rest of his life? Waste it in the fear of that man? Never to see this place, or the people here, ever again. It occurred to him then, Kristine… if Nathan ran... Jefferson knows how much he cares about his sister, the only family he has. Kristine in the dark room was probably the most terrifying thing he thought he'd come up with in his entire life.
Something became blatantly obvious to him then. He pulled his hair so hard tears formed in his eyes. He could always-
"Fuck" Nathan cried out into the air, unable to finish his thought. He hung his head to the floor and rubbed his eyes.
He sighed, and slowly, reached for the gun tucked under his jacket. He pulled it out, turned it over in his hands and toyed with the weight. Nathan clicked off the safety, thinking, about how Mark could die, just as easily as him.
Nathan swallowed, and closed his eyes.
After a moment, he stood to set the gun lightly down on the glass desk near him, and sighed. He would die a lot easier then Jefferson. Drugged up psycho waste that he was. Jefferson was no better, but Nathan knew he couldn't kill him. Months ago the man was his best friend. Nathan envisioned himself, pointing the gun at Mark… but he could never pull the trigger. He knew- knew that Jefferson would get the better of him. He'd jump him, or coax him into changing his mind.
Jefferson had plans, even if he was an asshole, and Nathan was directionless. He wasn't even sure anymore if he wanted to kill him, or was just overly mental from his lingering high. It frightened him how appealing the idea of safety was, how thirsty it made him, but at a cost. He didn't need to feel any emptier… say he did kill Mark... he would be absolutely alone in it.
Either way, he put the gun down, and slid it away from himself. More trouble than it's worth.
He walked slowly to the stereo, turning it up softly so old-timey music hummed softly in the background. Making his way out to the couch he flopped down, pulling out his phone and beginning to text Victoria; stay the fuck away from Jefferson tonight… he's not who you think he is. Seriously. Watch your back.
Sent.
Two seconds later- nathan wtf
Thinking on his feet, he typed; serious drugs. Blackmailing me to sell them to him
Vic; o shit
Nathan; yeah. Do you have caulfields number. He mentioned her.
Vic; wtf why?
He thought a moment, simply sending 'idk'.
Another minute, and the seven digits showed up on his screen. He scrolled to his keypad and punched in the area code and following numbers. A few solid rings and then voicemail.
"At the tone, please record your message- beeeep!"
"Max, it's… it's Nathan."
"I just wanted to say… i'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt Kate or Rachel, or… didn't want to hurt anybody. Everybody used me. Mr. Jefferson is coming for me now. All this shit..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself not to get worked up. He shouldn't even be blabbing anything personal anyhow.
"... it'll be over soon. Watch out. He's coming for you next." He shut his eyes and let his head fall back on the couch, finishing with a 'sorry' before hanging up.
Soon, in the stillness of the room, his pulse lessened, and he decided to stay here awhile. He wasn't going anywhere.
As he'd expected, after a blurred amount of time, there was a loud tone, before the heavy metal entrance swung open. The sharp clip clap of footsteps grew louder, and closer, until they stopped altogether. Nathan shut his eyes and drew a deep breath, finding himself unable to swallow.
"I was looking for you."
"I had a feeling…"
"Don't be smart you little shit!" Jefferson stomped his way to face Nathan. He glowered over Nate, looking at every inch of him. This set Nathan off. He stood up straight, brushed off his coat. Jefferson, in turn, snatched Nathan's phone off the coffee table, waving it in his face, "I've been trying to contact you all day!"
As soon as he said it, he threw the phone to the nearest wall where it smashed into several pieces.
Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets "Saves me the trouble of throwing it away. Hasn't been working all day," he walked over casually to the remains and gestured to them, "this glass won't be easy to clean up Mark, you should watch your temper,"
At this, Jefferson ran at Nathan and shoved him back, once, twice, until he was against the wall "Where the fuck have you been all day, huh?"
Frankly, Nathan had gone to the beach to contemplate shit, and Caulfield, after he almost got his ass beat by Graham. Later he's taken one too many pills and fell asleep in the front seat of his truck.
"Get the fuck off me-"
"You don't leave me in the dark! You let me know, always!"
"Yeah-"
"You report to me!"
"Yes! I said yes!" Nathan shoved Mark back a step roughly, and eyed him while he brushed off his jacket "Whatever you say 'Mark'," flatly this time, "you're the boss, right?"
Jefferson frowned at Nathan's tone, and rushed in, trapping Nathan's shoulders against the cement wall "You know, I just get the feeling that your heart isn't in this,". The was a stab of pain in his abdomen then. Jefferson took a few swift steps back, and watched Nathan expectantly.
Fuck.
He lost control of his arms first, before his left leg gave out, toppling him to the floor. His flesh buzzed all over, writing on the floor for a few seconds before his body became uncontrollable to him, except for his head, which his tried furiously to keep facing upwards while he lay on his back.
"Don't worry, Natey," Jefferson loomed over Nathan, talking slowly, holding Nathans head in place with one hand so he could maintain a gaze "You and I both know you've been slipping… quite some time, really... tsk, but what the heck? Let's you and I do one last photo shoot, for old times sake?" No hint of a question in his voice, only mocking malice, as he dragged Nathan by his torso across the floor.
Nathan twitched his legs and body frantically in response. It was a lame attempt, and was enough to annoy Jefferson into ripping off Nates coat by the sleeves, and letting him fall back to the floor. Jefferson tossed Nathans jacket atop the couch, then his shirt, socks and shoes, until he was only in his jeans.
Nathan meanwhile, lost all feeling, even his own thoughts were hardly intelligible to him… but with eyes half open, he lay fully awake, as Jefferson finished dragging him the rest of the way.
Nathan sprawled out on the white spread, watching Mark prepare the printer and his favorite camera, just wishing he'd fall unconscious already.
…
Time lost relevance, all Nathan was thinking about was every last girl he's photographed this sick way himself. He deserved this. He'd cry, he thought, but his body was incontrollable. Now his arms and ankles were bound, and he was stretched out on his back. Jefferson mumbled to himself as he took the pictures, while Nathan looked at the opening of the entrance, wondering what it'd be like to walk out of it.
The tone. The swing of the heavy metal.
Nathan thought the noise was his own hallucination, but Jefferson clearly heard it too, whipping his head around and jumping back from what he was doing. Quickly, with the camera still draped around his neck, Jefferson ran to hide inside to large free standing closet, shutting the door softly so the hinges wouldn't sound. Nathan knew very well that's where they'd kept the ketamine.
He tried to roll his head, to move anything. Max Caulfield stepped around the corner.
...
Max sang along in her thoughts to the slow music playing from the stereo.
C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie
Nathan had gone completely limp, his eyes rolling back and breathing slowing at the fresh injection. Max didn't think or feel at all, just listened to the music.
Et dès que je l'aperçois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon cœur qui bat
Jefferson sighed, satisfied, and moved slowly but steadily, continuing his work. Max felt his arms beginning to move her and she did everything in her power to not tense at his grasp, telling herself it was the music that moved her.
Des nuits d'amour à plus finir
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place
Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent
Heureux, heureux à en mourir
Jefferson sat her against the wall, sitting her upright and lifting her knees to her chest. Once she posed to his satisfaction, he went about seating Nathan beside her. Mark grunted from the effort, accidentally stepping on Nathans wrist and thumb and nearly tripping himself.
In a single tug, he pushed Nate up against the wall. He slumped towards Max and nearly fell on her lap before Jefferson caught him quickly, straightened him, and set his forehead gently against Max's shoulder.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Mark stepped back to inspect his work, huffed, satisfied. He turned on his heels sharply and they clicked loudly on the floor, making their way to the other end of the room. Max dared to open and eyelid just a slit, stealing her shaking fingers. Mark sighed disappointedly, kneeling over a large papered mess of the red binders. He shook his head and slowly set about picking up the papers at random, stacking them neatly and shaking his head.
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
Max's entire body was shivering, her fingers twitching uncontrollably. Now! Everything in her was screaming- Now! Right now! He heart was fleeting and with the drive, she felt... she was sure, if she tried hard enough.
She tested putting pressure on the pads of her feet. She could stand it. Now! Right now! Mark now sat cross-legged on the floor, making himself comfortable and beginning to organize the scattered photos.
Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
Quiet and quick, if not a little sloppy, she used Nathans shoulder and the wall to push off of, supporting herself to stand. Once up on her feet, she settled that she could bear it before she pursued. She smiled briefly, taking her hand off the wall, she took a step over Nathans outstretched legs, keeping her eyes on Jefferson.
C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie
She was there. Right there. She could see the handle of the gun poking out from behind the stereo. There were cords at her feet, one happening to graze over her foot. She stumbled forward, and grabbed the shelf quickly to stabilize herself. It shook the shelf and cords. It wasn't much noise at all, really… but it was enough. Jefferson whipped his head back.
Et dès que je t'aperçois
He bolts up right as Max snatched the hand gun.
Alors je sens dans moi
She points it and steadies herself, Jefferson starts to run at her.
Mon cœur qui bat
It only makes him a bigger target, and she pulls the trigger before he's even near her.
La la, la la, la la
La la, la la, ah la
La la la la
He fell like a tree. Instantly. And that was that. Max only felt relief, and dareda sense of satisfaction. His blood pooled on the floor and soaked into her clothes and bag that were piled against the wall. She dropped the gun and looked back to Nathan, who had fallen to the floor since she'd last seen him. He actually looked pretty uncomfortable.
She staggered over to his form and dropped on her knees, tuning him over on his side and fixing the position of his arms and legs, so he would lay normally. She almost collapsed at the effort, but settled for resting back against the wall once again, near Nathan. She rested her head against it, for just a moment, but ended up falling asleep.
…
Max woke to the stereo. Not the classics this time. It was rock n' roll.
Max bolted upright. Nathan. He was gone from the vast white photo canvas. Now it was thick spreads of clear plastic on top of the canvas. On top of that, Jeffersons pale body and little pools of his blood forming atop the plastic sheets. Jefferson had been stripped of his shoes, glasses, watch, his pockets emptied and inside out. He was also without his dress coat.
"Hey,"
It was low and gravely.
Max whipped her head around, and there was Nathan, sitting on the glass desk and smoking a cigarette. He looked at her blankly, through bagged, puffy eyes, his lips so dry they cracked with blood. On his lap, a pair of yellow rubber gloves, smears of blood on them. Beneath him on the floor, near Mark's initial blood-pool, was a soapy scrub bucket, rolls of paper towels, rags, bristled brushes, an empty trash bag, and a liter or so of bleach.
He'd barely made a dent in it.
Max looked away and laid back, looking around the room, realizing for the first time she'd been moved to the couch, Nathans red jacket draped over her. There were several boxes and bags about the room, and Max noticed that Nathan had begun to clear out some of the shelves and drawers, as they lay opened and emptied.
The floor had been cleared of all the red binders and their contents.
Nathan took a long drag and leaned back, flicking it "I woke up maybe an hour ago. It looks like you made quick work of him," he nodded at the corpse.
Max looked away and around the room once again, "So what's this, disposing of the evidence?"
She looked back to see him finish a drag. He's climbed back into his own clothes already, she, on the other hand, was still in Jefferson's attire, only drapped by Nates jacket. He got up off the table and walked slowly to her.
"I wanted to talk to you about that actually," he finished making his way and stood a step back from her, behind the couch "people's body's only last so long after they've croaked, and I'm sure you want to go to prison as much as I do."
She didn't react to his sarcasm, she only glanced at Jefferson and allowed her head to fall into her palms to groan.
Nathan stood unmoving, not being able to look away from her as he hung on her decision.
But she'd killed the bastard herself, so it wasn't all that surprising, when she gave him the look he needed, and demanded a cigarette from him.
…
First, they scrubbed the floor, then emptied out the dresser the blood had seeped to. After it was empty they tipped it on its side and cleared it of all blood from its edges and underside.
Next, organizing. This bin was disguisable garbage, that bin was things that would be pawned, the general valuables. All of Mark's personal possessions. There was a pile of things that would have to be individually destroyed. The computer and its hard drive, Jefferson's personal camera. Nathan pulled out screwdrivers and a hammer so Max could take the things apart and smash the individual pieces.
As she swept up, Nathan took apart every needle, metal tips here, plastic ends in a mixed garbage bag. All the ketamine, chloroform, were discarded of their labels. He poured all the drugs down the sink after he mixed it with development fluid, then smashed each glass bottle and had Max sweep it up, while he went to round up everything that was linked to him personally from this room.
Spare cloths, car keys, notes, letters, Jeffersons phone, the remnants of his own, and anything that had the Prescott name on it. Everything that appeared to be useless was put in a box and stacked in a corner. All of the cords laying across the floor were wiped clean, wrapped up, put in their own box, and all photography equipment was organized and stacked against the wall. Soon every single piece of furniture was cleared, the contents sorted, and left against the walls to collect dust.
There was a pile of garbage bags Nate would sneak into a county dump himself, and another two boxes, filled with documents and Max's bloodied clothes and satchel, and Marks personal and flammable possessions. They planned to take out into the forest to burn.
She's salvaged what she could from her bag and lined it in the pockets of the red jacket she now wore.
Max pushed the couch, audimine, and glass desk in a corner and set about clearing the walls of every photo, putting the pictures in the burn box, and the frames on the audimine.
Clear. It looked like someone was just moving in. Or out. Save ofcourse the body spread out on the canvas.
"Still have though screwdrivers?" Nathan asked as he ripped off his gloves.
Soon, the two were removing the base-support that held the canvas from the ceiling, and setting it gently on the ground. Nathan stepped around to the edge of the canvas and pulled it back across the floor, so Max could stretch it out and cut the canvas away from it support with a box cutter. She took the support away, started dismembering it, and smashing the individual pieces.
Natha started to tuck Jefferson tightly into the plastic sheets, using duct tape to seal it. He grabbed the broom and his car keys. Max finished demolishing the wall-support, and Nathan chucked her his keys.
"Get my truck and back into the barn, I'll sweep this up and open the doors,"
She only ran out, putting away the hammer as she did. Once Nate finished sweeping he stepped briskly to the barn, smiling to himself as he resurfaced.
For how awful, every single second of this was... He'd never felt happier, as when he faced the sky again. The sun, still in the early hours from rising, cast a greenish glow, and on the darker side of the horizon, the stars still shone in the early hours. The wind carried honey, and the caw of a crow was the sweetest song he thought he'd ever heard.
…
The two had worked on filling Nathans trunk with everything they intended to dispose of and/or burn from the dark room, concealed behind the closed doors of the barn. When finished, a green tarp from the barn was thrown over it all, secured with rope.
Out the barn and on the road, Nate grabbing two shovels from the barn after opening the doors wide on his way out.
Firstly, they drove to a camping site twenty minutes out of arcadia, finding the most desolate spot they could, and then walking into the forest a hundred meters or so. Max carried a bag of trashed photos, a small jerry can, and the shovels, while Nathan carried the boxes with the majority of the dirt, was. Happening upon a patch of soft ground, the two set to digging silently.
When the pit was sandboxed sized, they tossed the shovels and dumped every last photo, chemical, sheet of paper and film, etc, and laid evenly in the pit. Max poured an even layer of gasoline over the whole of it.
They both looked at it for a moment. Then each other, briefly.
The thick woods around them rustled in the wind.
Nate gently took to jerry from her hand, crouched on the ground and made a small trail of the gas leading out of the pit, and near his own feet. He poured the remained of the liquid in the small pit and dropped the can in after it. He lit the end of the trail of gas he'd made, quick, fluid, and stood back.
It engulfed in hardly a second, notes and pictures blowing away as ash, plastic sizzling and snapping, the jerrycan becoming unrecognizable, Max's bloodied clothes become a mulchy pile of ash.
Nathan turned to her suddenly and nodded to his jacket she was borrowing "Let's burn it,"
"My shit's all in your pockets, and my clothes are a pile of ash" she pointed into the pit.
Nathan only shook his head, grabbed a shovel and probed the sheets, making sure everything was evenly burned and unidentifiable before he started shoveling all the dirt back in. It didn't take Max long to snatch the next shovel and help him.
…
Next was Jefferson. They drove silently from the camp site back to Arcadia, and towards the cliffs, in the other direction out of town.
Nathan turned onto a gravel road, which soon lead to a small railed parking lot, overlooking the Arcadia cliffs. Nathan rolled in a stop and turned the engine off, Max hopping out of the vehicle before he even parked. She strided over to the railing lining the edge of the cliff, that overlooked the north bay. The south bay was where Arcadia stood, The lighthouse visible a mile or so away on a narrow ridge that separates the two bays. From where she stood, the lighthouse shone in the rising sun.
Nathan's car door slammed closed after him and she looked back to eye him down, pursing her lips and following him to the trunk, opening it and looking at the mound that was her previous teacher, wrapped tightly in canvas, that was further tied into a tight log with ropes, hidden underneath it all. She exchanged a gloomy look with Nathan who looked at it sickeningly.
"Let's get this over with,"
They snatched the ropes, Nathan heads, and Max tails, and pulled the bundled body out of the trunk. Max didn't anticipate the weight of him, and the ropes slipped from her fingers. Mark's legs slapped loudly against the ground, Nathan shot her an abhorred look.
She put a hand up to stop him before he could say anything, and reached down for the ropes. Plucking a handful, she stiffly holsted the bundle up, balancing it on her knees, and the swinging it under an arm. A stumble, steadied, a huff-
"Are you gonna pass out or some shit?" Nathan flared.
"No," Max retorted sharply. The package fell from her arms again.
"For fuck's sake! Stop dropping it!" Nathan pushed her aside and went about picking up Jefferson.
"How about you quit screaming, asshole," Max said cooly.
Nathan shook his head, but said nothing more as he prepared to fling the concealed Jefferson over his shoulder. He staggered at the weight, but soon walked to a nearby trail that led into the thin brush by the cliff. Max followed from a distance, looking over her shoulder every so often.
Soon the two reached a flat of rust colored stone, angled upward from its shear drop into the ocean, dozens of feet below. Nathan tossed the body on the ground carelessly, near the edge of the drop. He stretched his arms high and welcomed the snaps and pops of his bones.
Max eyed him as he peered over the edge of the sheer cliff, kicked a stone over, watching it disappear from sight, then pinch the bridge of his nose keenly. His arm swung limply to his side and he sighed, shaking his head
"Alright. Help me swing him over the edge,"
They both slowly made their way to an end, lifting the bundle off the ground slowly. When it hung not a foot off the ground, the pair shimmied closer to the edge, and began to swing it, back and forth.
One, two, three. High it enough to release.
The parcel swung well past the edge, and became a blur as it hurtled back down to the earth. Both Max and Nathan peered over the edge in time to see the blur of white canvas, slap and bounce grotesquely off the rocks below.
"Oooh" Max grimaced.
Nathan let out a long descending whistle.
The bundle took its last glimpse of the surface, sinking into the deep waves. A moment passed and they looked at each other. Max turned swiftly on her heels and headed for the truck.