22:53 <tom> "So what's left." 22:53 <tom> Bob sits on the lip of the grave and looks down at the mostly-headless corpse. 22:53 <tom> "Oh yeah." He uncorks the flask and drinks. 22:53 <tom> "God damn. Really thought I had 'em for a second. Then you had to go and do that..." 22:54 <tom> The bullet lodged in his spine burns white hot still, even through the drinks and the drugs. The worst is yet to come, once the shock to the deep tissue wears off over the next couple days. 22:54 <tom> And then there's the sepsis. He has another swig. There's little bits of kevlar and tore-up shirt in the wound. That'll get infected. 22:54 <tom> "So you got your wish I guess." 22:54 <tom> "And I get to go home and tell her I helped murder a suicidal man." 22:54 <tom> "Nice." 22:54 <tom> Higher register: "Comma," 22:55 <tom> Higher register: "Comma," 22:55 <tom> Higher still: "Borat Voice," 22:55 <tom> Bottoms up! The flask is getting light. 22:55 <tom> There it is: "Nauuught." 22:55 <tom> The whisky's done enough that he doesn't cry out as he shifts his weight; what bubbles up and out is more of a "Ghhuh." 22:55 <tom> The rain's mixing with sleet as it comes down in the harsh light of the earth mover parked beside the grave. 22:56 <tom> Bob sure as shit wasn't gonna dig this fuckin' grave by shovel, in the snow, with a bullet in his back. 22:56 <tom> "Sooooo here we go I guess." He claps his palms on his legs dangling over the lifeless body. 22:56 <tom> "You were kind of a shithead, dude. Without my vest you'd have put me in a wheelchair for the rest of my life." 22:56 <tom> "Instead you're dead, and I wish I could make you take back that trade, you stupid fuck." 22:56 <tom> He pours out the remaining contents of the flask into the grave, shakes out some loose droplets, thinks on it, and drops the empty container into the dirt between the corpse's feet. 22:56 <tom> "You knew exactly what you were the moment you were born, and you hated it so bad you brought everyone you could together to kill you." 22:57 <tom> "I hope you aren't in pain anymore." 22:57 <tom> He isn't going to tell her shit. She can just assume what she wants. 22:57 <tom> Bob takes the crumpled up card from his pocket and makes a long red mark across its waist. https://i.imgur.com/dVWFi7g.jpg 22:57 <tom> It flutters down into the earth. 22:57 <tom> Bob gets up, groaning, straightens his back, salutes the Human Office man in his open grave and the small rectangle of cut stone at its head. 22:57 <tom> LIAM PENBERTHY 22:58 <tom> 2021-2021 22:58 <tom> By January, the only thing in the grave will be some rusted metal and a vaguely human-shaped pile of refuse. 22:58 <tom> He smokes in the driver's seat of the rented earth mover a moment, listening to the rain on the roof of the rollover cage. 22:58 <tom> Bob throws it into gear and the machine trundles forward to empty its bucket of soil. 22:58 <tom> He checks his phone. The sun would be rising now, just over the Eastern hills, if it weren't for this fucking rain. 22:58 <tom> It's no use. 22:58 <tom> The wind swishes the grass between his legs as he leaves the lonely grave on the moor. 22:59 <tom> There's still a full case of beer left in the fridge from the Tripod fight. He smashes the bolt of his gun with a ball-peen hammer and drinks until it doesn't hurt anymore.