We walk toward the house, but I already know they’re not inside. Trigger doesn’t let anyone in there. At least not any of us,because he barely tolerates us and our criminal acts as it is. Plus, knowing how many animals he has crammed into the space out here, I shudder to think how many there must be inside.
Instead, we walk past the porch, ignoring the low din of scratching and whining, and the constant horror-movie sound of big, rusty exercise wheels being used by… something.
I don’t want to know what needs an exercise wheel big enough to make that much noise.
On the other side of the building, there are some more outdoor enclosures made out of wire frames. Fallow keeps stopping to look at them, trying to see whatever godforsaken critters are inside, but they all have little wooden hide boxes, and no one seems to want to come out. I, personally, am not here on a field trip. I have shit to do—namely, figuring out how to get Fallow out of my life before he blows it the fuck up.
Not for the first time, I have to resist the urge to grab his arm and bodily drag him with me. But it seems to keep his attention if I just growl at him every few yards to keep moving.
Eventually, we get to the back part. Past the backyard, through some trees, to the place where Trigger stashes shit that he probably can’t legally keep on his property. Possums and rabbits and shit are one thing, especially because he seems to have some kind of license for whatever he’s doing here, but I can’t imagine there’s any license that lets you keep gators in your backyard. Even in Missouri.
As soon as we make it back there, the sound of yelling is loud enough that it leads us the rest of the way to Trigger and Lucky.
They’re standing at the edge of a pond or lake or some shit. A creek.
I don’t know the fucking difference, but it’s water and it’s brown and it disappears off into the trees. Trigger and Lucky are at the edge—Lucky waving his hands in the air and ranting at an incoherent speed, Trigger with his arms crossed, leaning backand looking down at Lucky like this whole situation is beneath him, two dead bodies lying on the ground at their feet and a third fucking floating in the water.
All our evidence right there, just bobbing away. Like it’s totally normal.
“Alright, what the fuck is going on?”
I’m snappy, but my patience is already threadbare. I hate being outside, there are mosquitos coming for me with the tenacity of a Spartan legion, the humidity out here is stifling, and it’s been a long fucking day.
Lucky turns to me with his whole body, oozing exasperation.
“It’s not my fault, boss,” is all he said, and it makes me feel even more like a kindergarten teacher than before. I suppress a sigh.
“Well, it’s not mine,” Trigger says, his voice deep and significantly more calm.
“I’ll say it one more time,whatis the problem? And why is my evidence still lying around? Isn’t this what I pay both of you to deal with?”
Trigger’s lip curls, but he stays silent. Lucky frowns, before crossing his arms to mirror Trigger’s posture for about a half a second, until his endless twitchy energy gets him moving again.
“I did my fucking job. I drove out to this shithole, fought my way through hordes of rabid honey badgers?—”
“They’re skunks, you moron, and the only thing here that’s rabid is you,” Trigger interrupts.
Lucky half smiles before leaning forward to snap his teeth at him like an animal, clearly happy he got a rise out of the man, and Trigger pulls his mask of impassivity back down in return.
“What. Is. The problem?” I repeat myself, feeling my temper flare for the millionth time today.
“Look!” Lucky points at the floating body. “They won’t fucking eat it. His stupid pets are supposed to eat the bodies, and instead they’re just sitting there like useless little dinosaurs.”
My gaze goes back to the water, and this time I notice what I missed before—several pairs of greenish-brown eyes are peering back at me from just above the surface of the water.
I guess I never actually asked how he disposed of the bodies. I inherited this resource, and all I knew was that they were gone, and not buried or lying around in a way that could be traced back to us. I’m not totally sure what I was picturing or why I hadn’t asked before, but fuck it. We’re here now.
“Phenomenal,” Fallow whispers beside me, gazing out at the water as awe slips into his voice. “These motherfuckers lived with fucking dinosaurs, and they’re right here in front of us.”
Great. Apparently, he finds basically every animal we encounter amazing, but thinks of me as his personal sex toy that he sometimes chews on.
Clearly, he’s the rabid one.
“You can’t… make them hungry, or something?”
Trigger shrugs, like this happens all the time.
“Usually, you give me a little warning, and I can cut their food back. They’re not feeling it today, obviously. Your bodies must be defective.” He tips one body at an angle with his foot, a look of disdain on his face as he sees the “1488” tattoo on the guy’s neck. “Or maybe they just have discerning taste. You’re bringing me fucking Nazis now?”
