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The bumpy dirt road rattled the old Impala, shaking every loose bolt and making the doors rattle where the weather stripping was a little warn out. Even only doing 35 it was a rough ride. But not as bad as some other roads in Pennsylvania. James rolled the window, the the night air was a little cooler than usual for fall, but it was refreshing. This whole night had been refreshing. He turned off the dirt road onto a narrow path, you might not even see it if you weren't looking. The inconspicuous little trail looked more like a jeep path than a driveway. But it was a driveway, and after about a quarter mile of driving it ended in a little clearing with cabin on one side, and an old shed on the other. James pulled up by the cabin and shut the car off.

Getting out of the car he stretched mightily, he'd been in the drivers seat for a few hours and was all but numb from the ass down. Pulling out a cigarette and lighter he lit up and took a little stroll around inspecting the place. It had been a while since he was last at the little cabin, which looked like something cobbled together out of the remains of a camping trailer and one of those build your own add on projects you see a lot in the backwoods. Aluminum siding met up with painted plywood, different sized windows dotted around it and a small chimney poked out the roof as the electric heater had been replaced with a little pot belly stove. There was no power here, no telephone, nothing but the quiet of the woods. A perfect spot to get away from it all. Surrounding the little cabin was a ring of pine trees, he was in the middle of a pretty large stretch of forest here and the nearest neighbor was miles away. James sighed, the slightest hint of a smile on his face and then walked back to the car to retrieve his flashlight. The moon was shining brightly, and there was only a few high clouds in the sky, he didn't even need the light to open the door, but inside the cabin was black, so as soon as he turned the creaking handle he flicked the light on. Walking into the small entrance way he grabbed an oil lamp and lit it, there was always at least one there, and some fuel. The stove was soon lit and a little pile of wood stacked next to it. The main room brightened up quite nicely with a lamp or two and a fire going, But James didn't have much time to sit and enjoy it, not yet. Grabbing his flashlight he went back outside and then into the shed. Scanning around the old wheelbarrow he kept there came into view, but somewhere along the line spiders had made a lot of webs in there. James was always unnerved by spiders, he'd had a couple bad experiences with them dropping down from the ceiling of his childhood home on a thin strand of silk and waking him in the night. With a shiver, he grabbed an old push broom and swept the webbing out of the way. Taking the wheelbarrow and a shovel he left the shed hastily, checking himself over once he was outside to be sure he wasn't bringing any unwanted passengers along. Then shivered again at the thought. A little breeze started to pick up, just enough to be audible as it coursed through the trees, and blew the leaves that had fallen off the deciduous trees around as they gave way to the pines for the winter. The tire on the wheelbarrow was a little low, but it was alright for now James thought as he walked over next to his car. He fished for the keys in his pocket and popped the trunk open, then lit another cigarette. Resting his hands on the open trunk lid he blew a plume of smoke into the night air. "You'd have loved this Bobby", that little hint of a smile creeped across his face again as he looked down into the trunk. "Never saw it coming". The body in his trunk stared blankly up at him then turned over as James grabbed it by the legs and turned it sideways, then flipped it so it was doubled over in the open trunk of his car, legs hanging to the ground. "Damn that is a waste" he patted the rump of the corpse, his loins stirred with his admiration, but it just wasn't as fun after the fact. He brought the wheelbarrow around and lined it up, then flipped the body onto it's back and into the wheelbarrow. "Here, hold this for me" he chuckled, laying the shovel on top of the body and crossing it's arms over the handle.

James stuck the flashlight to the side of the wheelbarrow by it's magnets and walked around behind the shed. There was a little trail back there, not very well trodden but it was next to a tree that he used as a landmark so he could find it at night. The path wandered for nearly five miles out into the woods meandering around the trees and in and out of the moonlight as it flowed around the trees. After a while he cut off the trail and wandered out between the trees until he found just the right spot, then brushed the leaves aside and started digging. Memories flew around in his head, not only of that evening but of the first time. Of when he'd met Bobby, how things were, and how they changed. The first time Bobby killed someone in front of him. After a party, one of Bobby's friends stayed behind to "help clean up". As drunk as we all were it wasn't 30 minutes later they were all in bed. Then, out of nowhere, Bobby broke that guy's neck. It's hard to describe what that's like, watching someone you thought was sane and decent just kill someone with his bare hands. James stopped for a second to light another cigarette, then went back to his memories, stomping the shovel into the dirt particularly hard. He wanted to call the cops, but Bobby knew he was over a barrel. There was enough DNA on the dead guy that it would have damned them both and Bobby knew it. 20 years later Bobby still held that over him. He put the shovel aside and crawled out of the hole he'd dug. He'd gone on autopilot while his mind wandered and was surprised how quickly he'd dug what looked to be about a five foot deep hole. He scooped the body up out of the wheelbarrow and laid it on the edge of the hole, then hopped in and brought it to rest at the bottom. Remembering that morning, how he'd laid this person down on the bed the same way, how he didn't see when James pulled the little section of rope from beneath the blankets. how he'd clenched down as he tried to fight his way free with James on top of him, throttling him. He shoveled dirt onto the body, filling the hole back in, then covered it up with leaves. Not that anyone would ever stumble across the makeshift grave out here, then he took a hefty piss on it. Partly out of spite, partly just because he really had to go. He found his way back to the path and meandered his way back out, returning the wheelbarrow and shovel to the shed, then walked back to the tree at the head of the trail behind it. He put his hand on it and counted to himself. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight." His finger gently brushing across the knife marks in the tree. He pulled out a little pocket knife and carved one last mark into the tree. "Nine." As he walked back to his car, he slid the knife into his pocket, then pulled a cooler out of the trunk and headed for the cabin.