Yes… They won't find me here… Certainly.
A strange shelter, but what can I do? And it's so good that I managed to find one in this messed-up neighborhood!
Well, there might be a coffin… I just need to wait here for a few hours until the chase dies down. If only it weren't so damn cold… I've never liked this cold in cemeteries. Everything else suits me – the scenery, the silence, the peaceful company. I don't know why, but no matter the season, even the smallest cemetery is always cold. Even if it's the middle of summer and it's forty degrees in the sun – I'll always freeze in the cemetery…
Good thing I found this coffin. It's not certain yet, though; if one of these curbs decides to look in here, I'll be done for. I can already picture the cop's delighted face as he carefully opens the lid and finds me inside – with a bullet in my arm, almost defenseless… He'd be sorely mistaken! I'm not giving up my hide. He'd be very surprised if he saw my .44 aimed straight at his happy face!
What bad luck with that patrol! How did they even recognize me? I'd only been in town two days, how could they have known about me? Wait! I bet that mutt—Loomis—had his hands in this! Definitely him! Who else… Fatty didn't… Freddy didn't either… and I didn't snitch on myself! Let me get him… I'll teach him not to snitch on his friends once and for all! Definitely. I just have to wait out the raid first… By the way, I wonder how the others fared?
When we entered the house at night, it was supposed to be empty. It was a friendly tip from an old friend of Freddy's, back in the penitentiary. I don't even remember the name of that thug... Crazy Mike, or something like that... Never mind. He'll get his share of the blame too. The important thing is that, contrary to his information, someone was in the house. More precisely, there was a couple there. Freddy and I both freaked out when we discovered them messing around in the upstairs bed. They were pretty surprised too. At first, I just wanted to run. At most, scare them a little so they'd keep their mouths shut. Everything would have been fine if Spooner hadn't followed us in, completely wasted. He pulled out a huge machete like some goddamn Jason Voorhees and started swinging it over our heads. He was screaming, yelling, "This is the night of death!" and other such nonsense. I thought he'd completely lost his mind and wanted to kill us, but later Crazy Mike told us that Spooner always pulled these kinds of stunts and liked to run around with a machete, scaring people with it. He definitely scared us with it then! Unfortunately, he also scared the guy who was in bed with his girlfriend so much that he suddenly pulled a huge gun from under his pillow and blew the whole drum out of poor Spooner. The bastard did it quickly, very quickly. Not much was left of the guy. What were we supposed to do then? We beat the both of us on the spot, and that was it. I won't go into details. It's not worth it. The heist didn't turn out to be as profitable as Mike promised. We only got half of what we were supposed to get. A few trinkets, some money...
I remember returning to our hideout. Out of breath, because we'd taken a bullet-riddled Spooner with us. We didn't want to leave him there like that. He was heavy, even though he'd probably lost all his blood along the way. We were so pissed off from the failed jump that we didn't speak to each other for a good few hours. Finally, one of us asked what we were doing with the body. Maybe it was me? Never mind. We had to deal with Spooner's body somehow. We didn't feel like using shovels, so we decided to take him to the lake and, weighed down with rocks, throw him out of the boat. He didn't care anymore, and we couldn't afford for anyone to find his body and connect it with us. It would take the dumbest cop, Jason, to me, or Freddy, at most, a few hours.
Damn! I think they're coming. I have to try to be quiet. Blood is pouring from my arm in a steady stream. It's pounding the bottom of this damn box like a drum! If they get any closer, they'll definitely hear me. As long as they don't have their dogs with them. These would definitely sniff me out.
Okay. They left. But they gave me a real scare. They almost had me. I heard them. A few of them walked mere centimeters away from the coffin I was hiding in. Luckily, they were more occupied talking about some TV show than looking for me. When they knocked something over on "my" coffin, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Like bulls in a china shop. They were probably throwing over everything I could hide under.
I don't like cops, but that's not why I shot the other one! I just shot him to scare him, to stop him from chasing me. I ended up hitting him right between the eyes, like a pro. Did he have to chase me? What was he doing? Damn, I probably robbed some family of their father... Stupid jerk. He could have been sitting on his ass in his patrol car. His fault. He climbed onto the fence behind me (by the way, I wonder how such a fat man climbed the three-meter fence so skillfully...), took out his pistol, and started with that police "stop or I'll shoot" look. He threw it in the air about three times, forcing me to the ground. My injured arm began to throb with a hot pain. I thought the cop was about to shoot me dead center. I didn't even think twice. I drew my gun and, without even looking, fired back. Just once. Then I heard a crash and... silence. Staying as close to the ground as possible, I looked back and saw the cop's body under the fence. His legs were somewhere behind his head, broken like sticks. I went to the fence to look at him. He was lying face up, his eyes open, his new eye spitting red blood between them. I even felt a little sorry for him. He lay there, so surprised... After a moment, I heard the other one. He was zipping through the bushes straight towards me, but he wasn't shouting "stop or I'll shoot!" he was shouting a name, probably that dead cop's. I wasn't going to wait for him, so I ran. I ran here – to the cemetery. Initially, I wanted to hide behind a tombstone and wait it out. It was dark, the sky was covered with clouds, the entire moon, and it might work. I doubted that plan when I heard the sirens. I think every damn police car in the whole damn city had arrived! I had to find another hiding place, and fast. I ran, crouching, to that shed on the edge of the cemetery. I spotted that coffin in the very corner of the room and decided it would be the best shelter for me.
I remember it took us the longest to find a rock large enough. We didn't want Spooner's corpse to suddenly surface, announcing to the world, "Hey! I'm here!" We poked around the lake, groping in the dark for every rock we could find. It must have taken us about two hours. You see, the rock had to be just right; we didn't want to botch another job—the mishap with that couple was enough. Finally, we rolled a rock into the boat, and Loomis pushed us out onto the lake. He quickly threw us a rope from the shore, which we'd forgotten about. Luckily, we'd remembered the oars. Right in the middle of the lake, we stopped the boat and started tying the rock to Spooner, who was wrapped in a carpet. We even got a nice cocoon out of it. Freddy and I picked up the body and tipped it to the side of the boat. Unfortunately, that damn rock rolled right after it. The lake suddenly burst in. Without wasting time, we pulled out the rug with our dead friend, and after it, we threw out a rock securely tied to it. There was a loud splash, and the water rippled violently around us. The circles spread out and disappeared a moment later. At least that was taken care of. Now we just had to get to shore in a boat full of water. It wasn't as bad as we'd feared. We finally waddled ashore, soaking wet, and headed for the car. Loomis was sitting inside, dry, listening to some stupid music on the radio. When he saw us, he started laughing. He stuck out his stinking tongue and made fun of us in every way he knew how. He only stopped when Freddy threatened him with a gun. In the early morning, we reached the den. We had to decide quickly—the local radio station was reporting the news. It turned out the couple we'd killed were the son of a city council member and his fiancée. We were completely in trouble. We knew everyone would be looking for us now. We decided to flee the city, splitting up just to be safe. We hid our meager loot under the floorboards of the den, and without further ado, each of us went our separate ways that same day.
I decided to hide out in an old lumberjack's shack, unused for years. The old log building stood in the middle of the forest, over a hundred miles from our town. No one ever set foot there. No one but me. None of my buddies knew about this hideout. Man, how I wish I was there right now… I reached the shack around noon, extending my journey and stopping at a large supermarket on the outskirts of one of the towns along the way. Large stores are more anonymous. I stocked up on supplies for a few weeks—I didn't know how long I'd have to hide. Upon arrival, I carefully covered the car with branches, just in case anyone did venture into the area. I spent nearly two months there. I listened intently to the radio every day, waiting for any news about the search and police suspicions. Initially, the city officials' comments made it clear that the capture of the perpetrators of this "savage murder" (I wonder what they would call what one of their sons did to Spooner?) was only a matter of days. After those "few days," rumors began to circulate that new evidence had emerged in the investigation and that it would take longer than expected. After two or three weeks, only vague mention of the whole incident could be heard. I decided to wait a while longer until the matter died down completely. I had food and water. I spent those weeks as much as I could. I woke up late in the afternoon, wandered through the woods, and read a bit (fortunately, I managed to find a few books in the supermarket, which, as it turned out, saved more than one evening). About seven weeks passed, and I decided it was time to return to the city. I drove to my apartment. I didn't see a single cop. I calmly showered and called Freddy. He'd been in town for a few days. We arranged to meet at a bar the following evening. I also called Loomis, who had also been there for a while. He said it was perfectly safe, but he didn't want to meet us. He said he was busy, that he'd been a father for a month, and that he had little Loomis to take care of. I bet he immediately informed the person he needed help after I called…
When Freddy and I left the bar, a police car was parked across the street. We lowered our heads and headed toward the car. Someone was shouting behind us. Freddy turned and waved at him, and to me, with a smile on his face, still looking back and waving, he curtly said, "Get lost." We took off running. God, how we were going! At the second intersection, Freddy veered right, and I ran straight ahead. From the area where Freddy had run, I could hear gunfire ringing out. I hoped they hadn't caught him... At some point, while running, I realized I was approaching the city limits. Outside the city, there wasn't really anywhere to run. So I turned into an abandoned factory of some sort (it had probably closed before I was born, and I don't remember anyone ever telling me what kind of factory it was). In the middle of the huge square stood a large, dilapidated building. Everything around it was overgrown with large bushes. Only the streetlights by the building were somehow still on. At first, I wanted to hide inside, but I decided to run for the cemetery. I ran through the bushes toward the fence. As I ran past those damn streetlights, I felt a hot blow to my left arm, actually my shoulder. That was my first shot. A few centimeters to the side and I would have hit my lung…
I've already described the rest of my escape, the one with my "sniper shot"…
And that's how I found myself here, in a coffin. I've been sitting here for almost three hours. I'm getting colder and colder. Did I mention I always freeze in cemeteries? Even in the goddamn summer… My arm hurts more and more; I'm afraid it won't just heal on its own… A few more minutes and I'm out of here. I'll run to… where am I supposed to go? To a den? They're definitely waiting there… Home? Even more so there… Holy shit, I have nowhere to go! Damn Loomis! Damn cops... Blood keeps pouring out of me like a stuck pig... I'll try to get out of here... Hey, what's wrong? Something's blocking the lid! Damn it!
No... it's no use... This arm is killing me... I'll rest a bit first... I'll gather my strength and try again later, I'm sure I'll succeed... Yes - I think I should rest...
My whole...
side...
is wet...
with blood...
I'll rest here...
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