"I thought...Why did you take her now," Stan asked, now that he'd had time to really think about what Hank had done.
"Opportunity, baby. I was going to knock on doors to find where her apartment was and damned if she didn't come out right then and there with her trash. So I followed her to the end of the hall and offered to open the door for her, which gave me the chance to grab her and knock her out. I stuffed her in a maintenance closet and went back to her apartment. Stupid bitch didn't even lock her door. I was going to get a blanket or something to wrap her in but got lucky. She had that rug right by the front door. When I was wrapping her up in it I spotted the plastic. End of story and soon the end of our problems."
They continued driving, each man lost in their own thoughts until there was a loud banging from the trunk of the car.
Hank scowled, saying, "Guess she's still alive."
"She can't kick her way out can she?" Stan asked worriedly.
"That little thing, not likely. But I can pull over and shut her up if you want me too."
Stan shook his head hard. "No. Let's just... just get there and get this over with."
By the time they got to the area of the bayou where they'd left their last victim the noise from the trunk had subsided. Hank parked and got out, shooting Stan an exasperated look when he just sat there. "It's going to take the two of us so how about you get moving," he grumbled.
After a moment's hesitation Stan opened his door and slid out. Together they lifted the rug onto the ground behind the car. The girl's feet were free, the result of her trying to kick her way out of the trunk, and despite being tightly bound in the rug still she did her best to kick out at them now.
"Feisty kid," Hank said, his tone holding a bit of admiration for her. "Not that it'll do her any good." He grabbed the edge of the rug and pulled hard, rolling her free. Before she could get her bearings he pulled her up, twisting her arm behind her back. "Behave and I'll make this easy on you," he growled when she tried to pull away. When she ignored his words, stamping down heavily on his instep he swore viciously, using his free hand to grab her hair and twist it hard enough that she cried out in pain.
"Stop it Hank," Stan shouted. "Let her be."
"Not yet, not until you've killed her. Get my knife off my belt and use it." The look he shot Stan would have quelled stronger men than him.
Stan bowed his head in submission, slowly going behind Hank to unclip the folder from his belt. He shuddered as he opened it, the black serrated blade glinting in the light of the moon.
"Well?" Hank said, anger lacing his voice. "Are you going to stand there all night?"
"No," Stan whispered miserably as he came around to face the girl.
Her eyes widened in terror. "Please, I'll do anything you want but please don't kill me."
"Now!" Hank pulled her head back, baring her throat.
"No! Enough, Hank! We've killed too many already. Let her go." Stan held the knife defensively as he stared at his partner.
Hank's eyes widened in surprise. With one swift movement he yanked the girl's arm up, feeling it dislocate as she screamed and then fainted. Tossing her aside he descended on Stan, emitting a feral growl. "Give me the knife."
Stan froze, a deer in the headlights look on his face, but shook his head. "No more, Hank."
Red rage took over. Hank sprang, twisting the knife out of Stan's hand easily and then turning in on him, stabbing him repeated. "You stupid fuck, this isn't a game," he shouted as he watched the blood pouring from the wounds he was inflicting.
"No," Stan whispered as he fell to the ground, "it was never a game, was it?"
"Oh gods, baby, baby." Hank dropped to his knees, pulling Stan into his arms. "Don't...don't die," he cried out as he watched the life drain from Stan's eyes. He sobbed, rocking back and forth as he kissed every inch of his dead lover's face.
After what seemed like hours Hank returned to some sort of sanity. He heard something shuffling, scuttling away behind him. Gently laying Stan down, he turned and stood. A few yards away the girl was gamely trying to disappear into the underbrush. Seconds later he was beside her, looking down into her terror-filled eyes.
"This is all your fault you bitch, yours and your bastard boyfriend's. Why couldn't you have left us alone?" Not giving her a chance to reply he drew his foot back and slammed it into her head. Then he grabbed her arm, dragging her to the edge of the water. "Go join your boyfriend in Hell," he muttered as he lifted her body and tossed it as far as he could, turning away before it even hit the water.
Scrubbing a blood coated hand over his face, he stared blindly at the body of his lover for long moments. Then, slowly, he approached it. "I don't...it shouldn't have ended this way baby," he murmured as he picked up the body, cradling it in his arms. With measured paces he walked back to the water's edge. Then, after placing one last, lingering kiss on Stan's lips he let the body roll from his arms into the dark water, kneeling to push it further out.
He stood, watching, waiting, until he saw the first flick of a tail in the water, and then another. The carrion eaters had arrived. Bowing his head he returned to the car. Mechanically he picked up the rug, throwing it into the trunk before closing the lid. As he started towards the front his foot hit something. He looked down, seeing the blood encrusted knife. Picking it up, he went back to the water's edge and threw it as far as he could, watching as it fell with a small splash.