My work here is done.
— A Virginia Slim
Jojo was dead.
I fled the house and crawled behind the bushes across the street, still shaking but begging myself to be calm. I needed to be calm. And methodical. Jojo was a mistake. There could be no more mistakes.
The men were gone, but surely they'd be back. How many though?
Around 9 p.m., my question was answered. Four men returned. They went inside.
Would they leave again?
Minutes passed. Then hours.
They didn't.
It was midnight.
The house went dark, but I didn't move. I waited.
I imagined myself, like Beanie counting the seconds, as I counted the hours that passed. "When you're counting, you've gotta do it like rhythm," she'd said. "Like music."
One hour, pause...
Two hours, pause...
Three...
Around 3 a.m., long after I'd seen any evidence of lights on, inside the house, or the entire neighborhood, the silence got so loud I could stand the roar no more.
I knew it was time to do what needed to be done.
There was a 7-Eleven a mile up the road. I walked in like it was just another cigarette run. I bought a pack of Virginia Slims and the dumbest hunting magazine I could find. Something redneck cosplay fucks might buy. Backwoods Hunter, I think. It didn't matter.
Back at the house, I crept to the office window. It was still open, but only a little, and the screen would only budge an inch or two.
That'd be enough.
When I was in the office, I'd seen a trash can with some paper, next to the desk where I'd found the pens and pencils. The window was above it. There were curtains too.
I knew that would do.
I pushed the screen in, an inch or so. I lit a cigarette and dropped it down. I was hoping to hear a slight "plung" to let me know it fell into the trash can, but I heard nothing.
The only thing to do was go back to the bushes across the street, and wait.
And wait.
I figured, ten minutes. If I didn't see results, I'd try again.
I counted the minutes as they passed.
One minute, pause...
Two minutes, pause...
Three... it was excruciating.
Ten minutes later... still nothing.
I scampered back to the window, lit another cigarette, and dropped it in.
Then, back across the street, I waited.
One minute, pause...
Two minutes, pause...
Three... the wait was worse.
Ten minutes later... again, nothing.
Back to the window. I rolled up the magazine and dropped it in with a lit cigarette inside. I lit the magazine too. I could hear it slide along the curtains, followed by what sounded like a direct hit, in the trash can.
FWEEEET! CLUNG.
I ran back across the street, hoping I was the only one who'd heard that.
And I waited.
The minutes passed.
One angry Dandy...
Pause...
Two times as angry Shay...
Pause...
Three, it's all me...
Infuriated...
Hellen, Phoebe, me, me, me...
Enraged!!!
At 4am, I was about to go back and send the entire fucking pack of cigarettes down, all of them not just lit but on fire, when I noticed a flicker of light in the window. And then another.
I switched to a different spot a little further down the street, this time behind a tree, so I could have a better view of the front and side doors. I didn't need to watch the office window anymore, because by now, the house was clearly on fire. I ran to hide behind another tree, in a darker spot, a little further away.
I watched the house, keeping my eyes on the front and side doors.
I knew there were four men inside. I'd seen them go in.
I waited to see how many came out.
None did.
Flames jumped from what I assumed was a bedroom window to the roof. I could see more flames on the far side of the roof. The whole house was fully ablaze.
Surely, the men would come out?
None did.
I backed up further when I finally heard sirens. The only thing behind me was a hillside, leading down to another street with more houses. I didn't want to scurry down the hill until I knew if any of the men would make it out.
None did.
Firemen arrived. I saw one of them try to kick the front door in. It wouldn't budge. He attacked it with an ax until it broke, but he didn't go in. He couldn't. The blaze was too much.
No one went in.
No one came out.
Controlled chaos ensued as the firemen battled the blaze, their water flying through the early morning sky. Another firetruck arrived, and then another.
I thought, "My work here is done."
I imagined myself again, like Beanie counting the seconds, as I counted the bodies in my wake.
One: Steve. Pause.
Two: Boogie. Pause.
Three: Jojo. Pause.
And four assholes, for cause.
Plus Otto makes eight.
And nine's gotta wait.
...Pause.
I'm a monster.