"How did you do it?" David asked, as he eyeballed his friend coming out of the water. Marky was completely soaked, and he was shivering.

"Man, I'm freezing," he said, and wrapped his arms together. "I just did it. I had to." He looked directly into David's eyes and continued to explain, "I went there like I said I would, just to get the old man's money. It was there, in the cellar, right behind the coal bin, right where Sissy said he kept it hidden." As he spoke he noticed his friend's expression of disapproval. "Oh man, you wouldn't believe the strange shit that that old sick fuck keeps in there!"

"Really, like what?"

"Like human skulls! Dead animal parts! All kinds of knives and razors and things."

David shook his head, saying, "Aww, that shit's probably not real. The old man likes to hunt, that's all."

"Yeah, well, wait till you hear what else I found down there," Marky said with enthusiasm.

"What?"

"As I was digging in the coal, I found a hand! Shit, it scared me something awful! It was so pale. I must have yelped without knowing it, cause that's when I heard him moving around upstairs. The only thing I could think of was getting the money fast and getting out of there. I dug deeper and discovered that the hand belonged to that girl that worked at that video store." David shook his head to indicate confusion. "You know her . . . what's her name . . . Cindy, yeah that's it. The redheaded girl that has been missing for a little over a month."

"But I heard that the mother found her living in Florida with her dad, or something?"

"Well you heard wrong, because she ain't living with no one—she ain't living at all!"

David's mind went blank, he didn't know how to make sense out of it.

"The girl's body was blocking the safe, and my hands hurt like hell. They were filthy and cut. Before I could get the crowbar wedged into the money box door, I heard him behind me!"

"What was he doing?" David asked.

"I turned around and there he was, standing at the bottom of the steps holding a big fucking knife! Sissy told me the bastard was crazy! He beat her a lot, did you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, you told me. But what happened then?"

"I can still see his crazy eyes, staring at me! He said something about killing me, and I knew that he would do it. He had killed that girl!" He took in a deep breath, and made a stabbing motion with both hands as he described what happened next. "I kind of just reacted without thinking. I drove the crowbar into the psycho's gut! I disemboweled the old nut! Man, did he bleed! Allover the place."

David started to feel nauseated—thinking about the blood, and picturing Marky standing in the creek just moments before.

"You okay?" Marky asked.

David had placed a hand over his stomach and said, "Yep, I'll be okay."

He focused on his friend's wet brown hair, then the clothes that he was wearing—a "Cure" tee-shirt, red baggy shorts, white socks and white "Nikes".

"The police are going to know that you did it. They have high-tech methods these days. Don't you ever watch those 'crime stories' on cable?" He gave Marky a serious look. "And how can you be so sure that Sissy won't rat you out, huh?"

"Fuck you asshole, don't ever say shit like that about her again!" Marky got angry.

"Sorry, but you said yourself that you cut your hands digging in the coal."

Marky held his hands up and inspected them, turning them over and then back again.

"It doesn't matter, because once they find out what that crazy man was hiding down there, they won't charge me. And Sissy will tell them about what he did to her, and how he tried to kill her before."

"Well, you have a good point there," David said.

Marky reached down into the tall grass and picked up a black colored duffel bag. It looked full and heavy.

"So how much money is in there?" David asked.

"A lot . . . enough to get Sissy and me far away from here, and a place to live," Marky replied. "Listen David, you're my best friend, swear that you won't tell anyone why I was at that house. I trust you, man."

He reached out to David with one hand, while straining to hold the bag with the other. After a few seconds, David extended his hand forward and they shook on it.

David thought about how late it was, and knew that his parents would be worried about him. As he walked the opposite direction, away from Marky, he heard him call out, "I'll let you know what story I come up with, that way you'll know what to say if you're questioned. Okay?"

Aside from hearing his parents mention something about the old man's murder on the 'News', David hadn't been informed or questioned.

It was Monday, that meant he had to go to school, and this morning it took him forever to mobilize. As he gathered up his books and grabbed a chocolate donut (one of many, his mother had brought home with her from work) from the kitchen counter, he wondered what had happened with Marky and Sissy. He felt inclined to believe that he might not hear from his friend for a long time. Knowing Marky, he had probably already split with his girlfriend and was looking for a job in another state. If that was the case(and he hoped it wasn't), then the police would definitely be looking for him. Maybe he'd see him at school, he was thinking, as he climbed inside his dad's van.

Standing at his locker, rooting for his next class textbooks, his concentration now centered on his grades. The Marky 'situation' had completely slipped his mind, until a metallic bang startled him. Someone had fallen into the locker next to his. He moved his locker-door to see who it was and there he saw Marky.

"Marky, what the . . ." he started to say, but fell silent as he realized something was wrong. His friend looked bad. He appeared ill, out-of-sorts—his hair looked as if it hadn't been combed in months, clothes—the same ones he had worn the other night, and his flesh was pasty. His body stank of excrement! But it was the look in his eyes that made David most concerned—they reflected terror. Marky leaned exhaustingly against the red-colored locker as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling onto the hard floor.

"Marky? What's wrong? What Happened?"

David stared in shock at his friend's dehydrated lips as they struggled to produce sound.

"David . . . I'm in trouble, big time."

"What is it?" he questioned, placing a hand on Marky's left shoulder.

"That old man . . ."

"Yes?" For a second, David thought Marky might pass-out.

"He's not dead! He's after me! I'm as good as dead, man!"

David was bewildered by what he had just heard. Quickly, he seized his smelly friend by the shirt sleeves and yanked him into the restroom. He was determined to make some sense out of it all. Forcefully, he pushed him toward the sink, and then turned the water on. Marky was reacting like a life size child's doll—lifeless with cotton for brains. He slumped over the sink. David began splashing cold water into his face. It seemed to work a little because suddenly Marky jerked backward and stood more firm.

"Now what in the hell is going on?" David asked.

First, he started wiping the water out of his eyes, then he spoke, "The old, 'crazy' man, isn't dead!"

"But you said you killed him. You said you gutted him. How do you know he's not dead?" Just then he remembered something. "My parent's said they found his body . . . it was on the 'News'."

Marky started shaking and looked right at him.

"He called me on the phone! He answered the phone when I tried to call Sissy. He said he was going to kill me!"

"That can't be," David said.

"I have to go far away, David. Sissy can't talk to me, and I'm too scared to go back to that house!"

"So you haven't seen Sissy since that night?"

"No."

"You don't know where she is?"

"He's got her in that house! I just know it, he's going to kill her!" Marky began to jitter like a 'bad boy' being asked "what`ya gonna do when they come for you?" David thought that he was going to run at any moment.

"Listen, listen, you have to stay calm," David said.

"I hid the money under the tree-bridge, you know the one, David," Marky blurted out. "If something happens to me, get it and take Sissy away from here!"

All of a sudden, the restroom door swung open and someone walked in. Marky bolted out before David had any chance to grab hold of him.

"Damn," he said, and then glanced over at the obese kid everyone called "Biggie" who had just started taking a pee.

David stopped off at the 'mini-mart' on his way home from school. The whole way he was brooding over what had happened with his friend. As he reached into a cooler to get a twenty ounce soda, he had almost decided that he would go look for him, instead of going home. Unexpectantly, a voice said his name. He turned around and saw Seth. Seth on occasion hung out with him and Marky. But Seth was a big time drug user, always getting busted. The way he was going, David figured he probably wouldn't live past twenty five.

"So what do you think is going to happen to Marky? I can't believe it dude! Did you know that he was a killer?" Seth asked, giving him a goggle-eyed stare.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" At this point, David was frustrated, because everyone was coming at him from 'left field'. He had had enough of the craziness for one day.

"No way, don't tell me you haven't heard yet, dude!"

"That's what I'm telling you Seth, I haven't heard yet," he said sarcastically.

"Marky made a confession tape. The police have it. Marky said that he killed Sissy's grandpa and that girl that was missing . . . the red-haired girl. Dude, I can't remember her name."

A shock-jolt paralyzed David. To Seth, he looked like he had been hit by a 'Phaser' set on stun. He watched as the plastic pop bottle fell from David's hand, bounced on the floor, and then rolled under a nearby skid of beer.

Finally, David asked, "How did you hear about it?"

"Everyone's talking about it, there's a bunch of police hanging around the school."

"Thanks, Seth," he said, and then walked away. Seth shrugged his shoulders and went his own way.

His parents would be at the 'Bingo Hall' by the time he made it home. And he was right. The phone rang the instant he walked through the door.

"Yeah, hello?"

There was no answer, just that odd opened end silence when someone is listening but not speaking.

"Hello!" David barked.

"David," a low shaking-sounding voice said.

David immediately recognized the voice as Markys.

"Marky, where are you?"

"I need you to meet me where the money is . . . I need your help."

"Marky, we need to talk. I heard something,"

"Whatever you heard it was a lie."

The phone was abruptly hung up. David slowly set down the handset. He hadn't even removed his hand from it when it rang again. In a flash he brought it up.

"Marky?"

"No! You little punk," someone said. The voice sounded like an elderly man's voice—throaty and mean.

It frightened David.

"I know you're listening you little punk, and listen good! I want my money! I want my money! I kill you, just like I'm going to kill your friend! Gut-out the both of ya, and feed your innards to the birds!"

David stood still in almost the very same spot he had stood in that night, when Marky had told him about killing the old man. The creek had a swift current. He listened to the trickle of water splashing over the rocks. He had decided what he felt his friend should do. The money had to be returned. Obviously, the old man was still alive, so murder wasn't an issue. But, the girl, and the taped-confession was. What was with that taped-confession? he thought, and then edged along the creek in the direction of the tree-bridge.

He followed a sharp curve, and just beyond that he could see the tree-bridge. Nothing more than a rotted out 'dogwood' that had fallen across the stream many years ago. It was a spot where he and Marky sat a lot and shot-the-shit. He approached searching for a sign of his friend. There was no one around.

From his left cane a voice. It startled him enough to cause him to trip over a twig.

"You have my money, boy?!"

It was the old man's voice but David couldn't see him. His first instinctual reaction was to run, but then he thought about Marky, and what might happen to him if he left him out there with the man. He quickly searched the ground for a rock, and found one. He palmed it and looked around, waiting.

From the surrounding woods came another voice.

"David, he's going to kill me!"

It was Marky's voice, and he sounded scared.

"Marky, just give him the money!" he yelled out, moving his head excitedly from side to side, facing the direction Marky's voice had seemed to come from.

There was sudden laughter. The same laughter he had heard over the phone. Movement caught his eye, and he saw a figure step out from behind a tree. At first glance he noticed it was a feminine shape. Then as the person came closer and into a clear view, he could see that it was someone familiar—it was Sissy.

She was wearing black and gray body-huggers with her belly showing, tennis shoes, and had her long curly blond locks positioned on the back of her head—pulled into a bun. She walked forward with her hands hidden behind her back. She was laughing. David stared and listened in complete disbelief at the sound emanating from her mouth. It was the chortle of an old man! He felt as though he was watching a dubbed film—an unreal effect.

"What's the matter boy?" she said, laughing at him in the strange old man's voice. Her voiced changed, "Looks like you've seen a ghost, buddy." It was exactly the same as Marky's voice, now!

"I don't understand . . ." he said, letting his words trail off until they became inaudible.

She stopped and smiled a devilish grin. Her baby-blue eyes were wide and electrified.

"Of course you don't, silly David," she said in her own squeaky voice. "It's really cool if you think about it, really."

She watched him for a moment, silently. Then seeing his confusion, tilted her head to the side and said, "It was me stupid. I killed that pathetic bitch . . . Miss 'I'm better than everyone else' video girl. She flirted with Marky, right in front of my face! Oh, she was asking for it." The look on her face became twisted and berserk as she spoke. "Tearing a big fucking hole into her head was a pleasure!"

David continued to stare in shock.

"My Grandpa, my sweet . . . dear . . . God fearing son-of a-bitch Grand-daddy. That bastard was a fool with money. I got so sick of his religious gobbledygook, day in and day out! Why should l have to wait until I'm in my damn thirties or older to get what I deserve? That man would have lived everyday of it . . . every fucking day of it!"

David gathered up some of his wits and asked, "Why did you set up Marky?"

Sissy chuckled and spoke in the eerie voice of her dead Grandpa, saying, "Because boy, I didn't love him. He loved me. He was a sucker. A whippersnapper that thought only with his penis. He's in jail 'now' though . . . for killing me and that red hair slut! Ha, Ha, Ha . . . "

Her eyes narrowed and became menacing.

"David, where's the money? I know it's here because I followed you. You see it doesn't really matter if you tell me or not because I'll ask Marky when I write him a letter and send it to whatever prison they send him to. He loves me, you know? David, you're the only person that knows why Marky was at my house."

"Go fuck yourself!" he screamed at her, showing her the rock he held.

"So we're not going to be friends then?" she asked sardonically.

Without warning, she pulled her arms out in front of her. She held a gun. A second later she pulled the trigger and fired it at him. A bullet struck him in the neck. He fell backward onto the ground, dropping the rock. With both hands he grasped his throat. Blood spurt out of the wound, covering his hands, arms, and soaking his shirt. She walked over and stood above him. He tried to speak but could only produce a thick gurgle.

"Your voice doesn't sound too good, man," she said, mimicking Marky's voice to an exact copy.

David died.

Police Officer Giles Martin drove his car toward the woods, responding to a 9-1-1 call. He was the closest unit in that area and he would be the first officer to arrive on the scene. Apparently, dispatch had gotten a call from an upset girl that said she was being held, with a gun, out in the woods by a kid named David Jaspers who was the friend of the young man who had confessed to killing her Grandfather—just days ago. She was said to be using a cell-phone that the kidnapper was yet aware of. This was a dangerous situation.

He pulled up into the grass, got out of his car, and then proceeded to walk into the woods. He could hear the rush of water in the distance. About fifty feet into the trees he heard shouting. A young man's voice saying that he was going to kill someone. Holding his gun out, he began to jog in the direction of the sound. As he came closer he heard a girl scream, and then the loud 'pop' of a single gunfire! He froze for a second, and then moved with extreme caution. As he made his way out of the trees he saw a girl standing near a creek. She was holding a pistol and crying. He could see the body of a young man not far from her on the ground—not moving.

"Drop the gun, miss . . . now," he instructed her, aiming his pistol at her.

She did.

He slowly walked over to her and grabbed the weapon.

"It'll be okay," he told her. She was hysterically crying.

She rushed over to him and hugged him.

"He was going to kill me . . ." she said as she sobbed with her mouth muted by his shirt sleeve.

"I know, but you're going to be okay," he said, and then he pulled her away.