Something I've written and used as somewhat of a break from another story I'm working on at the moment. My friend and I came up with the idea one night and he helped me create the characters, come up with names, as well as the central theme. He suggested to me posting it somewhere and seeing what people think of it. I give a lot of credit to him, though he's not named atp since he's not really on the internet.
Constructive criticism's appreciated. Might delete this if I rewrite it fully later, then I'll post that one. I will say, me spacing out dialogue like this is kind of a new thing. I always wrote the dialogue out in paragraphs that my friend told me were boggy to look at visually, haha. If I'm doing something incorrectly there please let me know. It feels odd to look at personally because I'm so used to just having it all in a single paragraph. I also decided to go with showing this since it's a lot shorter and a lot different in topic than most of the things I write. Fair warning though, I like using run-on sentences a lot and this is definitely an unpolished story :_)
Part 1
Early Thursday morning, between the hum of the truck and the radio, he could faintly hear the morning doves. They cooed softly as he had to lean out the drivers side window to better hear them. He wasn't allowed to ride outside the truck yet, despite really wanting to. His boss simply didn't want to risk it and said he was going to have to wait the remaining year for that. Evan was riding as he drove instead.
As they approached another house, he stopped the truck again. He watched Evan hop off the back through the side mirror to collect. Evan walked up and begun hoisting the five bags left beside the full garbage can. His face grimaced in disgust to one heavy black bag as he hoisted them up one by one and chucked them in the back of the truck.
Evan walked away from the bin, pulling off his headphones and jogging over to the drivers side. "Hey Eric!" he shouted over the truck, "That's the last stop for this run."
He furrowed his brow, "Already?" he exclaimed.
Evan nodded, "Yeah. We could've had space for maybe two more houses, but this guy's tossing a lot."
Eric shrugged, "Alright."
"That shit was heavy. Let's go check them when we get back, there might be electronics or something else good to sell."
"Will Goodridge get mad about that?"
"Nah, not while you're with me."
Evan walked around and got inside the passengers seat. His long, white dreads laid against his pale, sickly face as he offered Eric his pack of cigarettes.
Eric took one and grabbed his lighter from his breast pocket, saying, "Those fucks at the yard might catch us if we're not careful."
"Relax, Goodridge knows I do this shit. You won't lose your job or anything," he assured Eric, "Grab this bin, and we'll get going."
-
They got to the dump right at the start of that afternoon. It was hot, and the humidity made the trash smell that much worse. Rotting eggs, curdled milk, and spoiled meat filled the air as Evan made him pull into the back where the gravel parking lot was instead of where they were usually supposed to go.
"We can sell anything worthwhile. Actually, maybe just keep it, I've found pretty good stuff sometimes," he rambled.
"Like what?" Eric asked.
"Perfectly working TV.. I check every CD and DVD I find, I've gotten a couple that weren't scratched to shit. My bed frame's from here, too. Nothing wrong with any of it other than people didn't want it anymore. They could've easily sold it. But, y'know, free stuff's free stuff," he shrugged.
They could hear their coworker driving the forklift in the distance on the other side of the chainlink fence. Occasionally, it'd beep loudly as he went in reverse rolling along the pebbles as he sorted materials. Evan wasted no time opening the back of the dump truck and sifting through the bags. Eric pulled out his pocket knife to cut them open before Evan stopped him.
"Feel them up first, make sure you're not just cutting into food and shit from the kitchen."
"Got it," he nodded.
They had already begun sweating heavily after just a few minutes, the sun beaming on their skin. Eric's long dark hair began sticking to the back of his neck, his head feeling like it was cooking in an oven as he cut open one random bag after the next, finding nothing of use to him.
Then, he cut into a bag with a CB radio in it, "Aw, sweet!" he grinned.
"Fuck."
He saw Evan clutching something tight in a black trash bag. He was silent, never taking his eyes off whatever it was he gripped onto.
"What?" Eric asked.
"Hand me your knife."
He did as he was told, dropping the radio.
"Get back," Evan ordered him.
He cut the bag open, carefully holding it upright as he did so, before quickly covering what was in it back up.
"Go get Billy now!" Evan barked, "Get Billy and go inside and call the cops!"
Eric's heart dropped as he slowly backed away.
"Go!"
He turned around and started sprinting.
"Billy!" he shouted, rushing to the chainlink fence, yelling his name and waving his hands. He had to climb up the fence and hop over, continuing to run up to the forklift until finally Billy shut it off and pulled off his headphones. The old man's one open eye looked up, "What son?" he asked in an annoyed tone.
"We gotta call the cops! Where's your phone?"
-
After ten minutes, three Cherokee tribal cops surrounded the dump truck, looking in the bag and talking amongst one another. A fourth one stood beside Eric and Evan, and the three of them watched as one cop recoiled at the sight.
"How old are you boys?" the mustashed cop asked.
Evan sighed, "I'm 26, he's 17," his voice was shaky.
"Alright. Both of you gotta come down to the station. Eric, right?" he pointed at him.
Eric nodded.
"Call your folks. We can't talk to you without a parent and a counselor present."
"Could I drive myself there?" Eric asked.
"You're not in any trouble, but you both gotta come in my patrol car."
-
Eric could feel his mother glaring daggers into him as he stared up at the clock. The detectives had kept him waiting for about an hour at that point. While he had tried his best to avoid looking at it, he couldn't resist glancing back and forth from the clock to the camera pointed right at him as he sat in the uncomfortable chair.
Finally, he breathed in deeply once the door opened, and a man with a clipboard walked in. "Sorry about that," he smiled, letting a blond woman in a dress and cardigan follow him inside before he shut the door, "We just got done speaking speaking to Evan. You'll both be on your way once we make sure of some things and go over everything from your point of view."
Eric's mother interjected, "Does he need to sign anything?"
"We'll get to that," he nodded as he sat down, "My name's Detective Cassidy, this is Mrs. Jones. We're here to help you."
He set down a tape recorder Eric hadn't seen sitting on his clipboard. He hit record. "This is Jay Cassidy. The time is 4:43 PM. I'm here with Eric Damon Windtaker and his mother, Veronica Daniels. Eric, this is just standard policy, something we have to do with everyone. I need to go over your rights, especially so since you're still a juvenile. Mrs. Jones is here in case you have any questions about these rights." Eric pulled his hair back behind his ears as Cassidy listed them out, folding his arms as his leg quietly tapped along the floor furiously.
Eric could feel everybody looking at him, especially his mother. He kept his eyes glued to the table as he nodded along to his rights. "Having understood these rights, are you -and your mother- willing to have you speak with us today?"
"We are," she said. Eric nodded yes. "I need an auditory confirmation, Eric," Cassidy said.
"Yes," Eric mumbled back.
"Okay, good. Eric, to give us a place to start, why don't you go over the whole morning with us? Start from when you woke up."
He went over everything as he was told, his tone casual as he did so up until he got to when Evan talked about looking through the bags.
"Evan suggested we look and see if there was anything we could keep in the bags, I think that was when the sun was just coming up. We waited until the truck was just about full, and I drove us back. We parked and started looking, and that's when Evan found it. It had to be from one of the last houses we went to."
"What makes you say that?" Cassidy asked.
"I know black bags are common, but I remembered seeing a few at one of the last houses we went to. The body was in a black bag."
Cassidy nodded, saying, "We can get back to that part later. Just for some clarification, since I was just wondering, how come they let you drive the dump truck?"
"Is my boss gonna get in trouble?" Eric asked.
"No. It's just, you know, somewhat unusual to see someone your age not in school, waking up at 4 to get to work..."
Eric lowered his head even more, "I dropped outta school last year. I get paid under the table."
"That's fine," Cassidy softly replied, "You making good money?"
"It's enough for rent and my car."
"Alright. You got any friends? Evan seemed real chummy about you."
"Yeah, we're friends," Eric nodded, briefly glancing up before his eyes looked away again.
"Anyone else besides Evan?" he asked.
Eric nodded yes, "A couple."
"Could I ask what their names are?"
Eric sighed, "Dax Littlejohn, Cliff Dawson, Gerri Wayne... Dax's brother hangs out with us, but I'm not really friends with him."
"What's his name?"
"Devin. They're twins," Eric clarified.
"Alright," Cassidy nodded again. Eric noticed Mrs. Jones wrote something down in a notebook, still having not said a word. He briefly wondered if she even had a purpose aside from being there, given it'd be a year until he was an adult.
"Eric, how old is everyone?" Cassidy asked, "Do you all hang out together? Evan's a bit older than you are."
Eric shrugged, pausing before he answered, "Dax and Devin are nineteen. Cliff's twenty, and I honestly don't know how old Gerri is, but he's still in school, so about my age."
"Ah, got it."
"Why does it matter?" Eric hesitantly asked.
"Well, we're just trying to gather background. Let me ask you something: Did you actually see the body?"
"No, why?" Eric's eyes darted up, looking directly at Cassidy.
"Evan indicated to us he might know who it is," Cassidy said plainly, "We're still waiting for the body to be properly identified, but Evan seemed certain he knew who it might be."
"Who'd he say?" Eric's voice cracked.
Cassidy shook his head, "As of right now, I can't tell you who Evan said. Could you tell me what Evan's reaction was to seeing the body?"
Eric shuddered, "He said something like 'Oh fuck!' and asked for my work knife. He had felt something I guess. Then when he looked in the bag he covered it up so I couldn't see it. Just shouted at me to get Billy and call the cops since neither of us had our phones."
"Okay," Cassidy paused, "Did he say anything to you while you both were in the squad car on the way here?"
"No," Eric shook his head, his eyes wide, "He just looked freaked out, just looking up ahead. We didn't say say anything to each other. I just figured he'd seen something really bad and was shaken up."
Cassidy nodded, "Eric, you drive that route every week, right? Do you know anything about those last couple of houses you mentioned?"
Eric sat there silent for a while, his foot tapping and the ticking of the clock the only noises in the tiny, echoey room.
"Cliff's house is on that street," he stammered, "We just drove by it, I didn't think anything of it."
"You pick up the garbage from Cliff's house?"
"I don't remember," Eric mumbled.
"When was the last time you saw Cliff?"
"Saturday."
"That the last time you spoke to him?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you can give us his address so we can check on him?"
"Yeah," Eric nodded, breathing loudly as he shook.
-
Eric threw open the door to his truck, snatching his Blackberry off the passenger seat as he got in. It was pitch black in the parking lot except for the light in his truck. The door rang its annoying dinging as he left it open, clicking on the keyboard arrow furiously to get down to Cliff's number in his phone. Every ring that played and wasn't ceased with an answer made him hold his breath until finally the screen transitioned.
"Hello?"
"Cliff! Thank fucking God you're okay."
"Why would I not be?" he heard the confusion in his voice.
"Dude, Evan found a body in a bag while we were searching the trash and said it was someone we know! The cops wouldn't tell me who it was, and then they picked Evan up on a warrant he had! The body was at the top of the pile and it was on your street! I thought it was you."
There was a silence that hung for a moment before Cliff finally let out, "What the actual fuck?"
"When the cop told me Evan said it was someone we knew I just about had a heart attack," Eric emphasized.
There was another brief silence over the phone.
"I'm sorry, but holy shit! What warrant did they get Evan on?" Cliff asked, "I don't remember him ever saying he had one out for him."
"Assault and battery," Eric simply replied, "But, dude, someone on your street's fucking dead!"
"Did you get to hear anything about him?"
"Nobody'll tell me anything!" Eric shouted, "Even when we were still together in the cop car, Evan was just quiet. Shit's getting fuckin' weird, Cliff."
"It is. If it's actually from my street, cops haven't come by yet. You'd think they'd have turned up by now."
"They probably will," Eric sighed, "If you got anything you gotta hide, do it now, 'cause I gave them your address thinking you were dead or something."
"You motherfucker! I'm cooking meth!"
"Right now?!" Eric's eyes widened.
"Yes!" Cliff yelled, "The whole house smells like it!"
"Fuck," Eric rubbed his brow, "I'll be right over. They can't charge you if they don't find anything."
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