The InkWell Writing Challenge | THE BODY

The man wakes up with the sunlight hitting him from the front. It seems that a whirlwind has made his head spin. He feels some nausea and he vomits on the floor. He still does not recognize the place where he is. He looks around. He is on a couch. The white walls, a small window in the shape of a rectangle, are covered with beige curtains. In the bed another man. His friend and colleague. Then he begins to remember the events of the previous day.

This time they went too far. He thinks he remembers killing someone. A fight. A few screams. The fear of not knowing what to do. The plan seemed perfect but it was up to there: until the murder. It was as if with the death of the enemy all the problems disappeared. And the body, now, was another problem. But they hadn't had it in mind. Not at all. From then on, everything would be improvised.

–The body has to disappear–, He remembers his colleague said.

He also remembers that, after a while, his colleague got the idea to go to one of those guys who are in charge of organizing lowlifes in a building in the center of the city, to a gray and marginal area, and he said:

–Let's go to Leon to see what he says, whether he knows anyone or not.

He doubted that option. No one can know about the mess they've gotten themselves into, they're supposed to be the ones they go to to deal with any kind of complication, especially if it has to do with the underworld un society. He accepts, but on the condition of not mentioning that it's their problem, it's a job for a client. The other one agrees with the idea. They tour part of the city. They approach Baralt Avenue. They get out of the car and start walking. Even though the heat of the afternoon seemed unbearable, the streets remain crowded with people. They all seem to be enveloped in an atmosphere of anxiety that manifests itself, amidst the hubbub, in shouts, impetuous gestures and malevolent looks. Life has spurred them on and thrown them all into a daily war that takes place in the open air and on all fronts: while some sell the most unimaginable things, others buy, or dream of buying; when some expel the last sweat, others smile, fresh, behind their cold beers; and when some leave church, different people leave the joint where they made horse bets.

It is not yet night, however that part of the city is in darkness, but they know their way by heart. Two half-dressed young women wave their hands as if asking for a ride, ready to start their night and body work. They look at them as they pass by and tell them some obscenities. A one-legged homeless man is one the edge of the sidewalk asking for alms; he brings a glass with some coins so that they deposit their kindness in the form of a bill. Some men are around the hood of an old convertible jeep checking the engine while they are passing shots of rum in a small disposable plastic cup; two boys are taking care of a fighting cock, talking about the money they will win in bets at the expense of the beak and spurs of the animal. They look at the building they are looking for, old and semi-ruined; anyone would think that it has not recovered since the last earthquake. At the entrance, they are stopped by a strong black man, whose neck is full of chains with crucifixes and virgins living happily together with rudimentary Santeria necklaces.

–Where is Leon? –they ask and enter the building.

A rather ugly woman approaches them and offers them sex. One of them pushes her. They look around and in the place are all drunk or drugged. Then Leon appears, a small man with accentuated indigenous features.

The most clever of the men intervenes and says they need his help, puts his hand on Leon's shoulder and takes him to a corner where he tells, among whispers, the situation.

–I have heard of people who take care of disappearing these problems, but I, in particular, do not know how to find them– they get the answer.

The men leave the place and walk around discouraged, self-absorbed. They visit other places similar to Leon's lair, but the result is the same. In El Valle, a place where they have had to hide on more than one occasion, in Petare or elsewhere, they know they can find anyone willing to kill for anything, but they do not know of anyone who does the work of making the bodies disappear, for it seems that the system of operations of the criminals and murderers reaches the stage of the corpse. After that it is God's work.

–It's almost night–, says one of the men.

–Yes, I noticed.

The men groan and curse at each other. Then they remain silent, thoughtful. At once, one says:

–We're going to have to call the boss.

The other is upset; the mere thought of having to go to that instance disturbs him. The one with the idea withdraws, as if apologizing. They continue to be absorbed, as if they had left the world. The one with the idea of calling the chief appeals again to the same exit and adds:

–Because if not, what do you propose?

At that moment both look at each other's faces. They know they have no way out. After thinking about it for a while, they decide to make the call. The tone of the man they call, though cordial, is of unusual sobriety. They try to appear normal. They hint at a complication, but nothing that cannot be resolved. The guy they call is stingy and doesn't want to commit to anything over the phone, so they agree to a meeting to explain the situation.

They storm out to meet the man. After a while they walk through Sabana Grande. The place is full of people walking in all directions. They are absorbed and worried, unaccustomed to having to call the attention of the boss. At the end of one of the blocks they recognize the car. They already know it's the one waiting for them. They board the car. A guy with dark glasses and a face with raw acne marks, like a TV show bully, is driving. The boss takes the place of the co-pilot. He is a man of about forty-five, serious; looking like a politician or businessman, but not like a common criminal.

They get into the back of the car. The guy with glasses turns the ignition cylinder and they start up. They drive through that part of town while telling the man about it with many detours, as if apologizing. The guy listens to them in silence. When the story ends, the man insults them and pulls out a gun.

–I should kill you right here because you are incompetent–, He says convincingly since one of them almost cries with fright. Finally he takes out a piece of paper and writes down an address and name.

–For the services rendered–he says, –but don't look for me again.

Pixabay

They return happily to the place where they have stayed the last few days and where they left the body. A building of modest apartments between Chacao and Chacaíto. They wait until it is a little later. They wrap the body in bags and mount it in the car. As they leave, one of them proposes not to return to that place for the next few days until the waters calm down.

They leave in the car. The tour of the city at this time is very peaceful. The coolness in the air urges more than one to wear coats. There is very little flow of cars and the roads are practically free of traffic. There are more shaded areas than usual. The failures in the public lighting are more and more noticeable. The few people who travel are walking in a festive way. At some point on the road, near one of the bridges that crosses the Guaire, they see a group of women or transsexuals who are gathered to offer their services.

They continue to walk until they find the address written on the paper. The site is an isolated cars workshop, near a popular commercial area. They recognize the location by name, but doubt whether or not it is the place where they will solve their problems. They both find it a strange place to do what they imagine, but at the same time, they say to themselves, it is a good facade to do, precisely, the most unthinkable crimes.

They get out of the car and cautiously approach the site. A ramshackle brass door seems to be the best place to knock. They knock gently until the frequency of the blows and the sound they produce increases. After a while, they are received by a middle-aged, tall and fat man. The guy looks good and speaks softly. He greets them and asks:

-Are you the ones with the problem?

They are surprised at the fat man's knowledge of their situation, but at the same time they assume that the boss has already taken care of announcing it, in order to facilitate and speed up the work they are going to request. They rush to agree on the terms of the job. They agree on the amount to be paid and the way to collect it, half at the time and the other half when they withdraw the car without any trace of the problem. Then the man urges them to leave soon and adds that no calls or approaching the site until he calls them.

They board a Fairlane 500 that does cab work. When they arrive at their destination, in Chacaíto, they walk around observing the place. They look for a place to relax and celebrate. They enter the first bar they get on the way. They toast with a couple of beers. They get a little bored with the tranquility of the place, so they move to a discotheque nearby. They move towards the dance floor where almost everyone dances that is customary in those places. They act with arrogance, running over the people there. They feel untouchable and lucky. Although smoking is not allowed, they light their cigars, indifferent to the signs of some customers in the place.

After a while, when they feel a little lonely and unhappy, they call to make an appointment with a couple of prostitutes, who, a little later, help them contact a dealer who sells them a new drug in the form of a pill. They leave the place. They go to a hotel nearby. They choose a room for the four of them. They stay right where he just woke up. He then turns on the television to confirm that the world is still going on and that it has nothing to do with them anymore, that they are still floating in a different atmosphere.