South Alabama

January 11th, 2011

South Alabama

                The black Cadillac pulls into the clearing at the edge of the marsh.  Tyler steps out into the muggy Alabama August night.  He pulls off his suit jacket exposing the two Colt.45s stuffed into the shoulder holsters.  Tyler rolls up his sleeves and walks over to the passenger side door.

                “Get out of the car,” Tyler yells as he opens the car door.  The passenger does not move.

                “Get the fuck out of the car!”

                Tyler grabs his hooded passenger by the arm and pulls him out of the car.  Dragging him quickly to the front of the Cadillac, Tyler pulls out one of the guns and strikes the hooded man on the back of the head but does not knock him out.

                “You know it did not have to be this way,” Tyler explains to his captive.

                “Son, this will not change anything,” Judge Adams pleads.

                “You are the one that made this happen,” explains Tyler.  “Get on your knees, now.”

                Judge Adams begins to sob.  Tyler pulls the hood off the Judges face and it is covered in blood from the whack of the pistol butt.  Tyler, now soaked in sweat from the extreme late summer heat, walks to the trunk of the car and gets the chain, two cinder blocks and the garbage bag.  His employer wanted proof the job was done or Tyler would not get paid.  Tyler did not mind this part of his work.

                “You see Judge; it is harder to identify the body without a head or hands.  I can’t get caught again.  If they get me for this I will get the needle for sure. “Tyler tells the Judge while he smokes a cigarette finally dropping it to the ground, extinguishing it with the heel of his boot.

                Tyler slams the trunk and walks back to the front of the car.  The mosquitoes and dragon flies are buzzing around the head lights and the Judges bloody head.  He drops the chains and cinder blocks and sits on top the hood of the car and lights another smoke.

                “So your honor, what do you have to say for yourself?” Tyler asks with the cigarette smoke billowing out of his nose and mouth.  Tyler ashes the cigarette with his left hand and twirls his gun with his right, waiting for a response from the Judge.

                “What could I have done, there was an eye witness?”  Judge Adams cries. 

                Tyler flicks the cigarette at the Judge.  “You were told what to do and you did not do it.  Now you have to pay the piper.”

                “Please, please, I will do anything.” Judge Adams begins to yell and scream.

                “Go ahead and scream, scream bloody murder, no one can hear you,” Tyler lights another cigarette.

                “Look, you really do not want to kill a federal Judge, they will find you.” The Judge begs.

                Tyler flicks the cigarette into the marsh.  His jaw clenches as he draws back the hammer of his pistol.

                “I hope you made your peace with your maker; God knows I did a long time ago.”  Tyler presses the pistol against the Judge’s forehead.  Crack, crack rings out into the darkness of the south Alabama swamp.