The Doorstep Diaries, Part II (2)

The plan was to get Tom dressed and walk out as if nothing happened. There was no corpse, at least not so far as anyone could see except Tom, who wasn’t quite sure whether Death had succumbed to the poison or whether he had suffocated himself on his mother’s jubblies. Still, they all figured that in the case of murder, it was best to flee the crime scene as soon as possible.

It took some time to unplug the IVs, and there was the matter of getting a pair of pants over Tom’s leg cast, but soon enough he looked like any other visitor to the hospital. He laid Death down on the linoleum. He closed his open mouth and shut the lids of his open eyes, well, what he figured were Death’s eyes, and tried to make him as presentable as possible. Strange how happy he looked.

“Sorry,” Tom said.

“Sorry? Not as sorry as he is. Bastard.” Grandpa said.

They managed to appear like a normal—if not fast-walking—family when they exited the Emergency Room.

They breathed heavily. For everyone but Grandpa it was their first murder. In the parking lot, Father put the car into drive. Sally squeezed his thigh. Grandpa and the boy gazed through the rear window looking for pursuers—police, god, whoever it was that chased you down when you killed Death.

Two miles down the road life was back to normal. Sally told Father to take Route 2. He insisted Evergreen Road would be faster. Grandpa’s bladder acted up.

Safe.

(Get Caught Up! Read Part I here.)