Monday, February 13, 2006
She drove all night
She got in the car, and drove. She drove all night, until the sun came up in the rearview, gassed up and drove again. She did this until she reached the ocean.
A fat red blister of a sunset was slowly sinking into the waves when she finally stopped, pulled over and parked on the beach. She'd come 2300 miles, crossed nine state lines, burned ten tanks of fuel, and drunk 20 cans of redbull.
She climbed out, and pulled the bundle from the trunk and dragged it over to the edge of the cliff, looking down below at the waves beating on the rocks, hammering everything over and over, like they had done for a million years.
Screaming gulls circled over head as she unwrapped his body.
The cold weather she'd driven through had been kind to it. It was still partly frozen, and he looked like he was sleeping more than he looked dead, although a close look would reveal that the last year had not been kind to him. He was really a shell of what he was. A grim smile crossed her face as she thought of how ill suited he'd been to the priesthood, and how strange it still seemed to see him dressed in black with the white collar.
They'd be looking for her now, although without much passion. Stealing a body from a mortuary was pretty low on the list of crimes cops liked to chase after.
She stripped him naked, pulled him over to the edge and with a single short prayer to a god she didn't think had much use for her, shoved him over the edge into the surf.
The gulls, crabs and vultures would make short work of him, and her carefully chosen spot should keep him from being found.
She dusted off her hands, got back into the car, and headed east again.
Her brother had gotten what he'd asked her for, and she was damned if she'd give the catholic church another shot at him.
She'd been pissed off at them ever since Sister Rosaria told her about the pagan babies in 1965.
"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson