The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 80

                 

Three roughnecks shovel into the RV like a snowplow clearing a path. All huge.

I try closing the door on them. Doesn't work. They could come through the wall if they wanted.

I stop resisting and let them enter. Start barking before they can react. Doesn't even matter if the words make sense. It's more important to throw them off balance.

"Shut the fuck up," I say. Aim the revolver between the first roughneck's eyes. "Who's got it?"

That catches him off guard. He stammers. Tries to make sense of me.

Being a strong arm for farmers, I learned a lot about this moment. That in between time that lasts only a fraction of a second. Things can either go to shit or roses.  It all depends on who does what in that tiny moment of hesitation. And how each person perceives it.

I read the meth in his eyes. It's in the way he can't seem to focus. He isn't here to logically unpack the situation. He's here to fuck something up. That's enough justification for me.

I kill him.

I pull the trigger and I fucking kill him.

This time the full metal jacket bullet exits at the front of the RV after passing through the roughneck's head. Puts a hole in windshield.

The other two roughnecks go blank. Like their faces forgot how to look.

"You were coming for samples, right? Right?" I say to them. Can't tell if the bullet nicked their arms or it's just the blood from the first one.

Neither makes a move. Their minds are on pause.

"Samples, you motherfuckers? Samples?" I say. Shouting so loud I can't hear myself anymore.

I think one of them shakes his head. Can't tell.

"I want your money. Your dope. Everything. Now," I say.

They tear out their pockets. Baggies of meth, pills and all manner of ingestible sin hit the floor. Money, wallets, truck keys, too. Right down to the lint.

They keep clawing at their pockets even though they're empty. I tell them to stop.

"Now get the fuck out," I say.

They turn to leave. I stop them.

"Hold it," I say. "Say you're sorry to my friend."

The words don't make sense to me. So I say them louder. Grow more incoherent with each repetition.

I see that look in their eyes. Like they're saying, "Seriously?"

Brings me back to the grain bin.

"Say you're sorry," I say again. Start mumbling.

And the eyes.

"Get over there and say you're sorry."

And the sight.

"Say you're fucking sorry."

And the smell.

"Do it. You won't get another chance."

And the wind.

"Fuck...just...I'm sorry, OK? Watching you die like that. Standing there. Fuck...I'm sorry...just...fuck."

And the guilt. Oh, the guilt.

"I'll kill you to get rid of it."

The two men shuffle over to the bedroom. Sam looks up.

"Sorry," the men say as quiet as moonlight painting the prairie.

It's not good enough.

"Say, 'I'm sorry I didn't try harder to save you,'" I say.

They repeat it, more or less.

"Get out," I say.

They repeat that, too.

"No, I mean get out. Leave. Now," I say. They do it.

Then I sit down next to Sam. Study her face. She starts sobbing.

I weave our arms together. And I cry with her.

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This story will only be posted on Wattpad for a limited time. If you'd like the full version, head to your favorite online e-book/book retailer and pick up your own digital/print copy. Search for "Invisible Hand Sobieck." Or leave a review of the book on Amazon once you're finished reading on Wattpad. Thank you. ~Ben