SIX WEEKS EARLIER


"I'm sorry, Vince. She's gone."

The little trailer, pulled over at the side of the highway in the dead of night, was full of the sound of howling. Just one of a long convoy consisting of trucks, vans and moving vehicles, the door was held open, allowing the hot summer breeze to waft in. Every driver and passenger was arranged in or around the trailer, heads bowed in respect for the dead.

A tall, burly man in a housecoat stood next to the little camp bed, where a blanket covered a gruesome mass. One hand poked out from under the blanket, lifeless and cold; another rested upon the pillow. A third was being held by a man, kneeling next to the mattress, his head buried in the blanket. The howls, even muffled, were loud and piercing, full of melancholy; from a distance, one might have thought they belonged to a wolf or some other wild animal. The man himself seemed damaged and warped, but was nothing compared to the mangled creature under the quilt.

Half-formed words poured from the weeping man's mouth, completely uncomprehendable.

"What was that, sweetheart?" a woman asked, peeking out from behind the burly man in a calm, quiet voice.

The sobs softened, and then the weeping man raised his head. An old, worn-out eyepatch covered his left eye, and the other was red with tears. Scars and scratches marked his stubbly face; he looked like a terror.

"I said… leave me alone," he whimpered, his body wracked with sobs.

The sweet woman sighed loudly and waved her hands around impatiently. "Well, Vince… sweetie, we can't just leave her here. She'll start to rot, and –"

"I said, leave me alone!" the scarred man shouted, his one eye flashing; it was so loud and unexpected that everyone in the trailer jolted, startled. He turned his head fully towards the burly man and the woman behind him, mouth open in a snarl, whole body shaking. His teeth were chipped and sharp, like shards of glass stuck into his gums; it only added to his feral, wild look.

The burly man raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Everybody out!" he shouted, turning around. One by one the crew stepped off the trailer; the woman behind him groaned in frustration and waddled off pretentiously. Finally, he closed the door behind him and turned to the crowd, all standing in the tall grass next to the highway.

"We roll out in half an hour," the burly man shouted in a growl, still standing on the steps to the trailer. "On the dot. If you're not ready, we leave without you."

With a heavy groan, he plunked down the steps. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man leaning against a large apple tree far into the field; even in the distance he could see the wafts of smoke drifting into the night sky from the man's cigarette. With yet another uncomfortable groan, he waddled towards the tree, the howls continuing behind him with absolute abandon.

The smoking man had his arms crossed and was looking into the night sky, seemingly disinterested with the world. "So?" he asked simply in a sharp, clear voice that always managed to send shivers down the burly man's spine.

"Dead," Burly Man grunted. "It's been coming for months."

Smoking Man didn't say a word, and instead continued puffing on his cigarette and looking up at the stars. Burly Man pulled a fat, thick cigar out of his housecoat pocket and lit up as well, his hands fidgeting uncomfortably. A few minutes passed in complete silence, just the two men smoking.

"We gonna bury her?" Smoking Man asked simply after a while.

A deep, throaty laugh came from Burly Man's throat, which quickly descended into hearty coughs. Once his fit passed, the Burly Man straightened up and sighed.

"Naw," he answered. "That girl's more valuable in death than she ever was in life… that's for fuckin' sure."

Smoking Man finally moved, turning his head slightly to fix one eye on his friend. He frowned just slightly, tossing the butt of his cigarette to the ground and promptly extinguishing it with his heel. "What do you mean?"

Burly Man turned to Smoking Man, leaning against the tree with his side. "The fuck do you think I mean? We haven't had an addition to the museum for… shit, two years I think. And Vince isn't letting her go that easily."

Smoking Man turned fully to Burly Man, eyebrows raised. "You're kidding."

Burly Man shook his head, a pompous smile on his thick face.

Another minute or so of silence followed as Smoking Man lit up another cigarette.

"That's fucked up, Fred," Smoking Man said finally, shaking his head. "Real fucked up. Vince'll never agree to that."

Burly Man turned, frowning as well now. "Well, I'm not giving Vince much of a fuckin' choice, am I?" He dropped the butt of his cigar to the ground as well, stamping on it viciously, before pointing a fat finger in his friend's face. "And you mind your own fuckin' business, you understand? This is my show. My show."

Smoking Man returned his gaze steadily for a few seconds, looking for something in his partner's eyes… and then he simply shrugged, looking back up at the sky. "Alright."

Burly Man huffed pretentiously, straightening up and wrapping his housecoat tighter around him. "We leave in twenty. If you're not on the bus, we're leaving without you. Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, Burly Man marched off, his thick body wobbling through the field. Smoking Man shook his head again, watching his friend leave, feeling the heavy pressure of the stars above him, staring down… judging all of them.