The Last Drop

Richard opened the trunk.

A woman stared back at him. Her eyes were still and cloudy.

He jerked back, falling onto the dirt. “Shit.”

Joe snapped his head up. “What happened?” He stepped out of the passenger side and headed toward the back of the car, then stopped. “I told you not to take this road, but you never listen.”

He looked at Richard, frozen in place.

“What’s the matter? Just grab the spare.”

Richard didn’t answer. His face was stiff, eyes wide open.

Joe walked closer to the trunk.

“Jesus!” His face drained of color.

He shut the trunk. “You never told me this was part of the job.”

A hard kick slammed onto the tire.

“Fuck!” Richard tipped his head back, staring up at the stars, his foot tapping against the dirt.

Joe’s hands trembled. “Is… is this why you called me? I thought it was a simple drop!”

Richard stared, saying nothing. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crushed pack of cigarettes.

Joe moved closer, waving his hands. “Rich, for fuck’s sake, answer me!”

“No, man!”

Richard leaned over the car, blowing smoke, lost in thought. He walked a few steps, laced his hands behind his head, then turned back.

Joe stepped up and got in his face.

“This isn’t what I signed up for!” He clenched his fist. “I have my family, Rich.”

“I know! I know,” Richard snapped, the cigarette still clenched in his fingers. He paced. “This was a setup.”

“What?” Joe scoffed. “Why the fuck would Francisco set us up?”

“I don’t know,” Richard said. “But Leonore is in there.”

Joe swallowed. “Then we call Milo. We tell him everything.”

“Tell him what exactly?” Richard turned sharply to Joe. “That we have his dead wife in the trunk? Either way, we’re fucked.”

He took another drag and dropped the cigarette to the dirt.

“We didn’t do this,” Joe gestured back at the car.

Richard rubbed his forehead. “We fix the tire, drop the car, and disappear.”

“No. No,” Joe said. “We call Milo and tell him the truth.”

“It’s not that simple,” Richard snapped. “Milo’s not going to believe us.”

“But Milo knows you.”

Richard turned his face away. “Yes. And I work for his brother.”

He lowered his head, took a deep, shaky breath and turned back to Joe. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

Joe stared at him for a moment. “I need time to think.”

Richard nodded and turned back to the trunk. He peeled the sheet away from the body. Her hands and feet were bound with black rope. A thin trail of dried blood stained her blouse. He shifted the fabric and saw the hole near her chest.

He covered her again quickly.

He looked around and noticed a small box beside her.

He opened it.

“Sweet Jesus.”

The box slipped from his hands. A blackened human heart tumbled onto the dirt.

Richard bent over and heaved into the dry grass. He straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grabbed a used napkin and, with shaking hands, carefully placed the heart back into the box.

After a few minutes, Joe walked back slowly. He hesitated for a few seconds, just staring at Richard. He took a deep breath.

“Milo’s on his way.”

Richard’s head snapped up. “What did you do?”

“I called him. What’s the deal?”

“It’s not that simple,” Richard said. “These things never end well.”

Joe pointed to the bumper. “We’re not taking the blame for this.”

“We don’t have to. We just run and—”

“No,” Joe cut in. “He’s going to believe us. We have the calls.”

Richard stared at him in disbelief. “Those are calls from a burner phone, man.”

They fell silent.

Joe walked toward the trunk. “What’s even in this box anyway?”

“No. Don’t,” Richard said, rushing forward.

“Oh holy fuck.” Joe jerked back and threw the open box back into the trunk. “Oh, we are definitely not going down for this shit.”

He walked away, cursing into the air.

Richard paced, then stopped and crouched, his hands locked behind his head. He straightened and kicked rocks into the dirt road.

After a while, he walked to the car and grabbed the bag of money.

“Take this,” he said, holding it out. “Lay low.”

Joe took the bag. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Take it and hide,” Richard said. “I’ll come by later.”

“What? No. What about you?” Joe dropped the bag. “I ain’t leaving without you.”

Richard snatched it up and shoved it against Joe’s chest. “Stop being stubborn and go. I’ll deal with Milo.”

Joe hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Alright. I’ll catch you later.”

Richard pulled him in and gave him a quick hug.

“What are you, my girlfriend?” Joe said. “I said I’ll catch you later.”

Richard smiled.

Joe disappeared into the tall grass and trees ahead of the road.

Headlights began to glow in the distance.

Richard pulled out another cigarette. His hands shook as he placed it between his lips and watched Joe vanish down the road.

Joe continued walking, keeping to the shadows, glancing over his shoulder again and again. He stopped.

“What a stubborn bastard,” he muttered with shallow breathing. He checked the time on his phone.

“Maybe that son of a bitch believed Rich.”

He took a few more steps.

A sharp crack tore through the air.

BANG.

Birds burst from the trees in the direction he had just come from.

Joe flinched and dropped low. His heart pounded.

Silence followed. Only his ragged breathing.

Then voices. Men shouting. Beams of light slicing through the trees.

Joe crawled deeper into the woods, staying low. Eventually, the voices faded.

Moments later, smoke began to rise in the distance. Then fire.

Joe watched from afar, frozen.

A soft buzz vibrated in his pocket.

Heart still pounding, he pulled out his phone.

The screen lit up.

Milo.

His stomach dropped.

Joe stared at the screen. He picked up the money bag, glanced over his shoulder, wiped the sweat from his shaking hands, and slid the phone back into his pocket.