He paced in the parking lot, panicked, wiping continuous drops of sweat off his forehead, jolted by what just happened.
Every day he would come home at this hour, park his car, call his mom, and have his dinner in solitude, all in that order. But tonight he had two bland spots of blood on his car’s rear end, distorted curved doodles of thick red lines on the sides, a machete in the passenger seat and a cadaver in the trunk.
Victor wouldn't have done this, had his boss been any nicer. But he wasn't, not even today, when victor stopped him at the highway with the intentions of pulling a threat on him at first and if it did not work out then hurting him, mildly and if that did not work out then inducing fear with a rusted machete. That was the only weapon he had, easier to buy and easier to hide, not everywhere but at least in a sedan.
Fifteen minutes of wiping his car sincerely like Samuel L Jackson in Pulp Fiction, he realized, a dead man in his car was significantly a bigger problem in comparison to the blood marks on his windshields.
‘Plastic wraps or garbage bags? Duct tapes or ropes? Or maybe just burn the damn thing in the oven, slicing him in pieces and later feed him to vultures?’Too many wild ideas and yet no answers, Victor had lost it, his feet trembled and he gulped his saliva way too many times within a minute.
‘Maybe I should throw him in the river. Damn it! Why did it not strike me before? I might as well wash my car while I am at it’, too easy it all sounded to him.
‘But before that, let me just assure that the blood isn't dripping out of the trunk and leaving trace marks all over.’
With trembling hands he opened the trunk, tilting his head forty something degrees to sneak a look at his boss’s dead body.It was too dark inside, lights in the parking lot were cut-out and a corner parking spot did not help either, nothing could be seen. He opened it further, still nothing, then he opened it wide, all the way up, exposing everything that he possibly had hidden inside.
He was gone, the body was gone.
But In the background, there was a sharp noise, of a metal striking against the cemented floor, probably a machete being dragged and then there was a mild tap on Victor’s neck.