Page 13 of Reno

Now, with two dead bodies to get rid of, I was pleased that I had the Filthy Fuckers’ clubhouse at my disposal.

Everyone else had gone, leaving Crip, Pee Bee, and me to get rid of the bodies. A few months earlier, Crip purchased a large kiln for the sole purpose of turning bodies to ash. His repeated run-ins with local factions of the MS-13 gang produced numerous dead bodies, and it was the best way he’d found to eliminate the evidence, entirely.

I peeled off my rubber gloves and tossed them into the kiln. “Good thing those two fuckers were short. If they were regular-sized, they’d have never fit in there at the same time.”

“We’ve fit a couple normal-sized people in there at once,” Pee Bee said, closing the lid of the kiln. “But you’ve got to chunk ‘em up.”

I gave him a look. “Chunk ‘em up?”

“Yeah.” He made a motion like he was swinging an axe. “Cut ‘em in pieces that you can stack on top of one another.”

“I don’t mind burning these two assholes, but hacking ‘em into pieces?” I shook my head. “I’d have left that to you.”

“They don’t give a fuck,” he said. “They’re dead.”

“You don’t think their soul’s give a fuck?” I asked.

Crip folded his arms across his chest. He alternated glances between us. “Don’t!”

“Don’t what?” I asked.

“Don’t get into a philosophical conversation with that idiot right now,” he growled. “It’s three in the fucking morning. I’m ready to call it a night.”

Pee Bee folded his arms over his chest, mimicking Crip. “Fuck you. I’m not an idiot.”

I looked at Crip. “I was just asking. In my opinion, cutting a guy up into chunks is crossing a line.”

Crip’s eyes narrowed in opposition of my claim. “What line?”

“Unacceptable behavior,” I responded.

He looked me up and down. “Killing a man is acceptable behavior?”

“Yep.”

“But cutting him up isn’t?”

“Nope.”

“I’d like to hear this.” He laughed a dry laugh. “Explain it to me.”

Crip was a good leader of men. His MC was a testament to that fact. He was, however, a little on the arrogant side. His opinion was right and anyone who opposed his thoughts was wrong.

Opinions were nothing more than that. Opinions. Not fact. Not specific knowledge. Just a personal view. Every man is entitled to his opinion, including me.

“If killing a man is justified, it’s justified,” I explained. “There’s no need to dwell on it, think about it, or try and understand it. It is what it is. But, once they’re dead, there needs to be a little decency. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“Killing the man in the first place isn’t crossing a line?” Crip asked.

“If I was just walking around town shooting random fuckers in the face, it’d be wrong. Shooting a man in self-defense isn’t.”

He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at me. “So, as long as you can justify the killing in your mind, it’s okay?”

“My mind is all that fucking matters,” I insisted. “It’s not my responsibility to justify my actions in the minds of others. Arguing with hard-headed fuckers like you about what’s right and what’s wrong gets on my nerves.”

“Well, I’m of the opinion that hacking a man into pieces once he’s dead isn’t a big fucking deal. Ever carved a fucking turkey?”

I gave him a look of disbelief. “Don’t even try to compare carving a turkey to cutting a man into pieces.”