A husband and wife unexpectedly meet in the same spot, both trying to bury a body
I hear the quietest creak up ahead, and my heart began to pound heavily at the thought of getting caught. No, no—not like this! How could I even allow somebody to catch me while I’m dragging this big ass (literally) dead weight? No!
I quickly hold my shotgun, aiming at the source of the noise. I see the silhouette slowly coming into view, and it’s a figure that reminds me of a religious devotee I saw one time lugging a huge crucifix in procession… but instead of stiff angles on a wooden cross, the thing they were dragging seemed… lumpy.
To tell honestly, the shadow looked so familiar the longer I stared. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. The curves, the height… No, it’s impossible.
I dare to leave the body to take a closer peek at this, I don’t know, creature. Ever so lightly, I took one step and another, wanting to shake off this gut feeling that I know this… man (I finally made up my mind).
A faint light cast over the person’s face, just for a second, but it was enough to make me gasp. My husband! The love of my life, the gentlest, kindest, sweetest man I know, out in the woods— carrying a dead body like I was moments ago.
What is happening?
I saw his eyes grow bigger as he laid eyes on me with a shotgun in my hand. “W-w-wait? H-how…?”
I don’t dare answer. Still aiming at him.
“Wait—please. I can explain,” he paused.
I gave a slight nod. “I-I’ll listen. Speak, and please, please, no lies.”
“I’m not who you think I am, honey.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Ok, I deserve that. Okay. This is like… a side hustle. I don’t kill people. I just bury them. The pay is great. I never ask questions—they just tell me where to pick up the body, I take it, bury it, and get on my way.”
This unlikely revelation is something I never dreamed of hearing in my lifetime. “Is this where you usually go whenever you tell me that you’re with the boys?”
“Yes.”
“And when you’re late during the weekends, saying it’s traffic from your parent’s place to ours?”
“No, that one is real. I do have Wednesdays off but I never told you. It’s the usual day I have to bury at least three bodies, so I often tell you that midweek is for overtime work, like now. This is the third one today,” shrugging his right shoulder to point at the weight.
Shocked does not even cover whatever this reaction my mind decided to settle on. “But that means… you were lying, all this time…”
“Look,” he slowly lowered the body to the ground. “I’ve been doing this ever since—it’s what got me through life. I couldn’t leave this part of me behind. Even with everything going so well career wise, and the wonderful family life I have with you, I just couldn’t…” he shook his head, dropping his gaze as if he suddenly felt ashamed.
I didn’t even realize that I already dropped the shotgun I was holding because I felt numb at that moment. My jumbled thoughts made it hard to think of anything, but I was certainly aware that it was time I explained.
My husband, heaven (or hell) bless his patience, kept quiet while I gathered myself. I knew he already saw the body bag a few paces behind me.
“I’m sorry,” the first two words I blurted out were prompted by guilt. “I don’t have the right to judge you because I know I’m worse—much, much worse.”
He was now closer, only at an arm’s length. “Can I… hold you?”
I’m in disbelief, not expecting this offer at all. “What?”
“Listen,” he said, forcing me to stare at him eye-to-eye. “I’m your man. For better or worse. We promised. I promised. I’d protect you from everything that’s trying to hurt you, and I mean it.”
“I-I don’t u-understand…” I was shaking at this point, tears threatening to escape.
He took tiny steps, never breaking eye contact. “Love,” he placed his hands gently on my shoulders, caressing lightly. “I know.”
“Y-you know? W-what do you… k-know?”
He took a deep, steady breath, cradled my nape, and pulled me closer. “This part of your life… I know. I’ve always known, even before we got married.”
I felt the words rumbling in his chest. Felt it settle in my own chest, enveloping my heart, giving it a sudden relief from that vise-like secret that made it hard to breathe, to live.
“A few months into this job, I made a rookie mistake that almost cost me my life. I pried into one dead man’s file because it got me curious. The scene was unlike any I worked on so far. It was messy. Saw the details of the contract, including who did it. It was their first time.”
I looked up, seeing honesty in his eyes. He really knew.
“It was you. The boss saw me reading the document and I almost got shot point-blank if not for the desperate begging I made. I got on my knees crying, saying ‘sorry, please don’t kill me,’ like a pitiful chant…” he chuckled.
“…and I must’ve looked so pathetic because he spared me with a promise: I’d have to bury the people you killed from then on and become your personal secret bodyguard of sorts. If your job needed cleaning up, I had to be there, no excuses.”
I released another gasp at this confession. So, he knew from the start?
“Yes, I was always there for you when you were starting out at the organization. Remember that one job you did with that abusive father? I had to burn their house down because you tortured him excessively and left your mark on almost everything,” he smiled. “but over the years you got better at it, and managed to control your temper. That was when you needed me less, and the boss saw that, too.”
“Wait, did you also clean up that one with the lawyer? Where I left a limb accidentally in his car?” I asked.
“Had to cross the interstate twice for that one,” he let out a laugh. “Anyway… when you got the hang of it, I didn’t have to get involved so often anymore. Boss made me take on other cases, but then I found myself wondering what you were doing while I was busy burying bodies for other people…”
“You know that cliche, absence makes the heart grow fonder? That shit happened and I couldn’t help it.” he mused.
It was my turn to laugh. “Stop, that’s not gonna make my heart flutter!”
“Seriously, that’s how I felt. I couldn’t stand it—I kept missing you and so I got closer to you and thank goodness you also fell in love and married me—that solved all my worries away!”
There was no doubt that this man, my dear husband, was the love I needed in my twisted, broken life. I’m a criminal, a misfit in this society, but he somehow became the puzzle piece that fit my imperfections.
Do I dare to call myself lucky, even if I’m a murderer? Even if I don’t deserve to say that word?
“I do have a question, though…” his voice pulled me back from my faraway thoughts. “Why are you the one doing this,” he pointed at the body bag, “…and not one of the cleaners?”
“This is my last job,” I explained. “I told them I wanted to do everything just as some dumb ceremonial thing to signify that I’m finally quitting.”
“Ah. Pulling a Mr. H classic. Heard that story from one of ours, some retirement rite, correct?”
“Kind of, yes… but I did not in a million years expect to find you here.”
“Neither did I!” he exclaimed with a goofy grin on his face. “So… should we…”
“I… guess?”
“Yes, yes, before it gets too late. Should I do it for you?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t look it but I’m strong, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” he winked. Then, he picked up my gun to sling it on his left, lifting the body on the other. “You ready?”
I nodded. “Let’s eat ramen after, okay?”
“Anything you want, love.”