This wasn’t professional. It was a
dumb idea to get involved with these amateur thieves. Carson had pulled tons of
jobs with the best kind of thieves, but times were getting pretty lean and good
jobs were getting harder to come by. So when Randy suggested they knock off the
new shipment of Gems & Jewels of Egypt from the museum, Carson jumped at
the chance. He was a little drunk when he initially agreed to the plan. He’d
been drinking too much lately. He was drinking to forget his debts, which only
created more debts, which made him drink more and agree to stupid burglary
plans.
He checked the alley in the rear
view and looked back and forth across the cross street for any cops or other
security guards. Fifteen minutes had now passed and Carson was sweating. He had
a feeling that the fat night watchman wasn’t perhaps as big of a lazy slob as
Randy and Jerry had promised. “It’ll be like taking candy from a fat, lazy
baby,” were Randy’s exact words.
Carson cringed and shook his head.
This was dumb. He felt the urge to just
speed off and let Randy and Jerry take the fall. It was already 4:45 in the
morning and a beat up old Hyundai parked behind the museum’s loading bay doors
was bound to draw attention sooner or later. He looked down at the gas gauge and considered
how much gas it would take to get to the other side of town without stopping
for a re-fill. He should have had Randy pony up the cash for the gas. Carson
chuckled a bit at that since he figured dumb ass Randy probably would have paid
with a credit card and leave a paper trail miles long.
The rear driver’s side door opened
behind Carson and Randy jumped in. Carson jumped and nearly gagged on his toothpick. He wasn’t ready for that. He spit the toothpick out. He
thought both Randy and Jerry would get in on the passenger side.
“Drive. Now,” said Randy.
“What about Jerry,” asked Carson.“Go. Just go,” said Randy.
Carson put the car in drive and took
off down the alley. How could Randy leave Jerry behind? They were like
brothers.
“How could leave Jerry behind man,” asked Carson as they peeled around the corner toward the highway.
“I didn’t leave Jerry. Jerry’s gone,” said Randy.
“What? He took off on you,” asked Carson.
“No. Yes. I mean, he’s, gone,” said Randy.
Carson looked up at Randy in the
rear view mirror. Randy was pale. His eyes looked deeply sunken.
“Are you okay man,” asked Carson.
Randy didn’t respond. He kept looking out the window.
“Did you at least get the gems,”
asked Carson.
“We had them. Jerry had them.
Something. Got him. He’s gone. The gems, yeah. I got them,” said Randy.“What do you mean something got him?”
Carson pulled to a red light and
stopped hard. He turned around in the driver’s seat and looked back at Randy.
Randy was holding his stomach and blood was seeping between his fingers.
“Oh man! You’re bleeding man,”
shouted Carson.
“Huh,” said Randy and he looked down
at his stomach.“Dude! You’re bleeding everywhere,” shouted Carson.
“Oh, yeah. I got… scratched,” said Randy.
The light changed to green casting a
sickly aura on Randy’s face. His eyes were glassy and far away. Carson turned
forward and hit the gas.
“We’re going to a hospital man.
Screw it man,” said Carson.
Carson made a U-turn at the intersection and started speeding back toward town.
“You hear me man, we’re going to a
hospital,” said Carson.
Carson looked again in the mirror
and saw Randy’s head had fallen backwards and his mouth was gaping wide open
toward the car’s ceiling. Carson swerved
and Randy slumped over in the seat. Carson pulled the car over and nearly smashed
into the curb. He put the car in park and jumped from the driver’s seat and
opened the rear driver’s side door.
“Randy man. Randy!”
Randy’s hand had fallen away from his stomach and Carson saw the eviscerating slashes across Randy’s belly. Randy’s small intestine, or what Carson thought was Randy’s small intestine, was hanging out. Carson felt the hot sick rumbling up from his own stomach and he wretched the chili fries and two bears he had for dinner up next to the rear tire. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and tried to catch his breath. He looked back at Randy. He could see he was clearly dead. Carson had seen dead bodies before.
“Oh Randy. This was such a bad idea.
I’m sorry man,” said Carson.
Carson reached across Randy’s body
and started checking his pockets. He’d said they’d had the jewels. Maybe he was
just in shock and didn’t remember where they were. There was so much blood
coating Randy’s body. It made it difficult to rifle though his pockets in the
dark. In Randy’s front right jacket pocket Carson found a small muslin bag.
Carson stood and angled himself so
the street lights could give him a little more light. He opened the bag and a
handful of rubies and emeralds and gold encrusted jewels spilled out. Carson
rolled them around in his hand. It wasn’t a huge score, but the quality and
size were impressive. They would certainly get Carson out of his money troubles
for a while. He carefully put the jewels
back into the bag and stuffed it in his pocket. He closed the rear car door and
went back to the driver’s seat. He turned the car off and started wiping down
every surface with his sleeves. He was glad he’d worn his driving gloves but he
wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d burn the gloves later.
He closed the driver’s side door and
started walking away from the car. He passed an abandoned old warehouse
building and tossed the car keys over the chain link fence. He started to work
on his alibi. People knew he was acquaintances with Randy and Jerry and
eventually the cops would come to talk to him. He had a record for burglary,
but had been pretty clean the last five years. Even so, the cops would come to
question him. His imagination started to whir and devise a cover story for what
he did that night. He hardly noticed the
shuffling noise behind him. It only caught his attention when he heard
something kick something metal.
He stopped on the sidewalk and
turned around. There was nothing of course. In real life it was probably a rat
or the wind. It was always nothing. Carson started walking again but stopped
quickly when he heard a low growl. He thought he might have wandered onto
private property and a guard dog was stalking him. He looked around but didn’t
see any signs or fences. He started walking again. a little more quickly. He
couldn’t risk someone spotting him so near the abandoned car with Randy’s
bloody body in it.
“Return it to me, thief,” said a
voice from behind Carson.
Carson spun around and stumbled a
bit. This wasn’t happening. This didn’t happen. An old lady fingered you in a
line up, no disembodied voices called you out in the street. Carson turned and
started to run.
“It is not yours to take,” said the
voice.
Carson jumped to his left; he felt
the voice directly in his right ear and dove to avoid it. He splashed through a
large puddle in the street and ran toward the sounds of heavy city traffic. He
ducked down an alley and then remembered that ducking down an alley while being
chased by a ghost or whatever was really just a dumb rookie thing to do. He
slowed his run and tried to catch his breath.
“I’m just freaked out. That’s all.
Randy’s body and no sign of Jerry. I’m just freaked out. That’s all,” said
Carson.
He rested his hands on his knees and
took a deep breath. He was trying to slow down and not be scared. There was no
reason to be scared. It was nothing. It was always nothing.
An overhead street light in front of
Carson started to buzz loudly and Carson looked up toward it. It seemed brighter
than an alley street light should be. Carson thought it was one of those new
high-efficiency bulbs that was just brighter. He looked down at his feet and
felt his breath coming back. He was calming down. He felt silly for running
from nothing. He was a professional after all and professionals don’t run. He
felt foolish and he smirked.
“God, what happened to me,” he said
under his breath.
Carson straightened up and stretched
his back. He felt his front pocket for the little bag and started walking
toward the street at the end of the alley. He heard a metal scraping sound
behind him. He told himself not to turn around. The biggest mistake people make
is when they turn around. He told himself just to keep walking like everything
was normal.
Three gold tips of a trident
suddenly burst through Carson’s chest just under his rib cage and he felt
himself lifted off his feet. He tried to scream but his diaphragm was punctured
and he couldn’t make his muscles work. He turned his head back over his
shoulder but couldn’t make out who had stabbed him. With a trident no less. He
was flung over backwards and the trident pulled out of his body. He flew and
crashed into a brick wall. He fell into a crumpled heap and he tasted pennies
in his mouth.
“Return what you stole, thief,” said
a growling voice.
Carson lifted his head and looked up
into the face of a jackal. Carson recognized Anubis immediately. He’d seen The
Mummy. He knew what it meant.
“In my pocket. My arms don’t work,”
said Carson as he coughed on his blood.
Anubis towered over Carson. His form
was slick like polished oil outlined in gold and blue. He snarled at Carson and
bent down. Carson felt the jackal headed God’s smoky breath on his face. Anubis
pulled the muslin bag from Carson’s pocket and clenched it in his giant hand.
“What did you do to Jerry and Randy,”
coughed Carson.
“Their hearts are being weighed, as
yours will be,” snarled Anubis, “and you will fail.”
Carson felt a follow up question
coming but he started to fade just as Anubis drifted into vapor.
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