![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_darcy posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsDarcy chose the target, and Kevin has her see the task through to the end. Time for cleanup and hot dogs.
Content Warning: The aftermath of murder. Dismembering a body.
The harbor was finally calm. The water still stunk of crab and fish and litter and rotten seaweed, but it was calm, the waves and rainstorm of the last day finally over.
Darcy looked at the body at their feet, then looked at the distance to the boat. "Fuck, we can't just drag him that far. Blood trail would be like a beacon." She tilted her face towards Kevin. "What's the plan, Boss?"
"We're not. I'm going to carry him into that little closed hotdog stand over there. You are going to go back to the flooded hardware store we passed about a mile back and grab me a garbage can, duct tape, garbage bags and a sawzall. One with a battery and not a cord." He said, already hoisting the body up over his shoulder. A kick snapped open the locked door as Kevin set the body down on the counter, mostly obscured by the drawn down panels.
She set off down the road, returning about 35 minutes later with the requested items. Her hip nudged the door open, and the garbage can met the floor with a quiet thunk. "Can, tape, bags, 18-volt reciprocating with an extra battery pack, as requested." The door shut with a push of her hand. "Am I on wrapping duty?"
"Not yet. Hot dog?" In the time waiting, Kevin had managed to get the electric autogriller working and several hotdogs were slowly turning on them, filling up the small shack with the aroma. "Buns are in the warmer under the lid." He took a bite from his own, redolent with mustard, as if the body beside him on the counter wasn't even there.
"Absolutely not, they're probably not kosher," Darcy said firmly, wrinkling her nose. "Were you just peckish, or does actually cooking a batch of these serve a purpose?"
"It smells a lot better than what is coming." Kevin took another bite and then put it down to one side. "There's a couple of big masonry blocks behind the shack. Grab them and put them in the bottom of the can. Then you can give me a hand." He started stripping the rest of the clothes from the corpse, putting them to one side. Once she was back, he muscled the body over and began to slit open the garbage bags and wrap him. Thick bands of duct tape went over the joints and the neck.
"They smell fine, I'm just snobby about hotdogs." She left him to his work, stepping behind the shack and hefting one of the masonry blocks. Grimacing at the weight, she slowly moved back inside to drop it in the garbage can, then went back for the other. It got dropped in with a grunt, and she leaned lightly on the garbage can to catch her breath.
Meanwhile, Kevin continued to wrap the body, finally concealing the head in black plastic before wrapping it at the forehead, under the nose and across the neck. He shifted the body around a few times before nodding to himself. "This will do."
Darcy eyed the body. "Well, he's definitely well-wrapped. Honestly thought you'd want to put him in bits first, then wrap. I've obviously been watching the wrong murder dramas for information."
"That's considerably messier. Watch." Kevin started up the sawzall and started at the man's right knee. Instead of trying to cut straight through, he worked the blade through the tendons and soft tissues, shifting around the joint. He then put the blade aside and leaned his weight on the calf. With a wet crunch, the knee gave way, like tearing a drumstick off a whole chicken. He picked it up and passed it over to her. "The pressure of the tape restricts blood flow. Less pooling. Cover and tape the wet end and into the can." He bent to work on the other side of the joint, wrapping the knee.
Darcy grimaced at the noise, accepting the piece and wrapping it tightly in another bag before taping it shut. "Less mess than butchering a farm animal, but the noise is more visceral." She slit a few more of the garbage bags, then turned for the next piece.
"I grew up in Chicago. It was a long way from Sinclair's 'The Jungle', but even when I was a teen, every late summer, early fall, all the slaughterhouses hired thousands of extra hands to deal with the rush of cattle and pig markets." He was working on the junction of the thigh and the hip, moving the blade carefully, sawing out space and splitting away tendons and flesh from the joint. "Three years on the floor, mostly taking off hooves and trotters." The blood splatter on the bright yellow Bernie's Dogs aporn he'd donned making the already grisly act seem a bit worse. "Every poor kid in my neighbourhood did it before school started. For some it was so important to the family income they started school six weeks late. Twelve hours of this, but will mostly manual tools."
"We did some butchering on the farm, but not much. Grandma kept to some level of eating kosher or doing it ourselves, so mostly chicken and lake fish, sometimes deer. Cow or lamb was usually a holiday purchase from the kosher butcher in the city." She wrapped and taped parts methodically as he finished each section, dumping them into the garbage can. She went to wipe her forehead, saw the blood on her hands, and reconsidered. "I would consider murdering another man for some wet wipes right now," she muttered.
"Under the counter." He said, nudging a box beside a carton of napkins. He put down the blade and once again leaned in hard. There was a tearing crack as the hip parted from the body, torn free and passed over to Darcy. Kevin methodically finished the other leg in the same fashion and then paused for a moment to catch his breath and finish off his hot dog. "Are you still observant? I know your background is Jewish but I haven't seen any indication you practice?"
"Knew you were my favorite old man for a reason," she replied, wrapping the hip unceremoniously. "I'm not very observant. Sometimes I'll go to service or observe the holidays, but it depends on what's happening. I stopped being very observant when I went to Culver, and I got into the habit of keeping my religious practices to myself." She pulled out a few of the napkins, carefully wiping her hands and face before dumping the lot into the trash. "If I ever look more buttoned up than usual on a Friday, I'm probably planning on going. What about you? I'd guess maybe raised nominally Protestant, unless your family was Irish."
"Poor Irish from the literal wrong side of the tracks. Literal. My old man worked for the railroad until he injured his back and ended up working for the union. So every Sunday at St.James Cathedral." Kevin said, grunting as he manhandled the corpse around. "Even had a rosary in my pack when I shipped out to Korea. However, when the padre told me after I'd killed 17 men in a three day deployment that I was 'doing God's work', I decided religion wasn't for me."
He stretched out both hands and sawed off the fingers and thumbs. "There's a metal mop bucket over in the corner. Toss this in with some cooking oil and burn them out back until you see bone. Then they just go in the can. You don't want to be here when I take care of the teeth."
"Super gross primitive dentistry?" Darcy asked, grabbing the mop bucket and holding it out. Two hands later, she was staring at the cooking oil. "Shallow or deep fry on these?"
"If you see bone, the prints are gone." He said before passing over a lighter. "Out back though. I don't want to smoke up the place." He said, picking up a heavy frying pan. Darcy had just walked out the door when she heard the first of several wet cracks.
She cringed at the sound, getting a few steps away from the door before setting fire to her bucket. The smell of burning flesh made her stomach roll, so she took a step back, keeping an eye on the bucket. The noise stopped before the fire was done, and she sat in the quiet of the evening until she could poke around the bucket safely. Bone, ash. A glisten of oil. She took it back inside, dumping it quietly into the trashcan. "Did you crush the teeth?" Her voice sounded weary, even to her own ears.
"In the can with the head." He said casually, already at work jointing the arms. They worked together quietly for a while, paused only by having her collect the victim's clothes, duct taped them into a ball and tossed them into the can. Finally, the last limb went into the can followed by the wrapped torso. As he put the lid on, he caught her eye.
"Have you figured out why I needed your help specifically to do this?"
Darcy's first instinct was a quip, but she pushed it down ruthlessly. "I chose him. I helped kidnap him. I should see it all the way through." She tapped the lid gently. "He was a piece of shit legislator and not an entirely great human being, but I did this. I offered him up." She closed her eyes briefly, head bowed. "You were made from soil, and you'll become soil again. The consequences of our actions."
"Good. He was a piece of shit who doesn't deserve even a moment of guilt from you. But he is your responsibility and it's important to understand the consequences. Otherwise, people become things. And the term for people who consider people things is 'monster'." Kevin said, pleased with her response. "Alright, let's get this can to the boat." He stuffed the rest of their materials, including the tools into the can. He paused only to grab a jug of bleach from the cleaning supplies and dump it on the counter they'd used, clearing away the last traces.
"I don't want to ever think of people as things." Darcy admitted quietly as she helped him clean. She felt a tacky pull from her shirt, and looked down with a grimace. "Oh eurgh, I think his hip dripped on me."
"Toss it into the can. There's some brand t-shirts in the back if you need a replacement." Kevin said, stripping off his apron and tossing it into the can.
She grabbed a replacement, pulling her shirt off carefully to avoid blood on her face, and balled it up into the can. The clean shirt slipped over her head, and she eyed the garbage can. "Are we carrying that?"
"We are. All the way to the boat. Hang on." Kevin took a second hotdog from the grill, placed it in a bun and wrapped it in foil before putting it in his pocket before he came back over. "Alright, grab the other side and... lift!" He grunted as they pulled it up. 185 pounds of human with a couple of masonry bricks turned into a hefty load that they carefully walked out of the shack and towards the boat.
"Strength training," Darcy grunted out about halfway through the trek, with no follow up. The last of the walk to the ocean was mostly silent, the occasional shift of material inside the can or brush against the sides breaking the ambient noise of ocean crashing on the shore.
Kevin directed them to the stern of the boat as they walked on, finally depositing the can near the end. "I'll get the boat started. Grab a bucket and start filling the can up with water. We want it almost full." He said before heading for the cabin.
"Oh jeez." Darcy grabbed the bucket, tired arms filling the can as requested. Once it was about 80% full she stopped, waiting on Kevin's opinion before they continued.
Kevin had already started the boat and was calmly tracking out into the bay. He moved with the assurance of deep experience at the helm, and as she came up beside him, he indicated back at the can with his chin. "We good? I'm heading out into deeper water."
"It's about eighty percent to full, if that works for almost." She watched him move for a minute, eyes on his hands and the wheel under it. "You're skilled at this. When did you learn how to pilot a boat?"
"Decades before you were born. I actually used to live on the water not all that far from here. Although I prefer sail. I used to have a 14 footer for tooling around the bay." Kevin said, taking them away from Baltimore. "There's an ocean channel that runs through Chesapeake. We'll dump the body there. Even if the current grabs it, it's more likely to send it to the ocean as opposed to on shore anywhere nearby."
"What are sailboats like? What's the navigation like compared to this?" She stepped more into his space as she asked, eyes on the screens and buttons in front of them. "What's living on the bay like?"
"Those are several questions. Which one do you want answered?" Kevin said, although not unkindly. "I used to live about forty minutes from here. And that's where the CIA killed me and dumped me into the bottom of the bay wrapped in chicken wire for a decade."
"You look really good for a dead guy," Darcy quipped, mouth running ahead of her brain. "Have you returned the favor yet? Maybe with something better than chicken wire, obviously it didn't stick for you."
"No. Because they followed the doctrine I helped write." Kevin said quietly. "I was a danger to the Agency. So they eliminated me and put me into the Bay. They didn't know that my powers meant I wouldn't really die. Just wake up in that torture every time enough of me found the sun."
Her hands were around his waist before she really registered she was hugging him, head tucked under his arm so she could bury her face into his side. "That sounds unbearable. I'm glad you're here, but I hate that you had to be tortured for a decade along the way."
"I uh-" Kevin said, looking puzzled. For a moment, he was going to push her away but she's hung on with the worst chore he'd ever given her. Finally, he slipped an arm around her. "No one knew. Every so often, parts of me would break off. When they got to the surface, they've start everything else replicating and wake me up long enough to thrash around for a bit. Eventually, it broke me out."
"Fuck, that's worse," she moaned out, lifting her head but keeping an arm around him. "I'd apologize for hugging you, but," she let out a breath, staring into the water. "That's a story that needs several hugs, Boss."
"It's reality, kid. This is the job." He said, motioning her back towards the can. "Seal that up and I'll teach you how it goes underwater."
"It can be reality and still need hugs," she replied as she moved to the can. "How do I seal this up? Just tape, or something with the garbage bags too?"
"No. We need to get out in the right spot. Just leave it alone for now."
"Alright, just tell me when." Darcy hovered near it awkwardly until a rock of the boat had her almost slipping. She found a post to lean against that would keep her upright but let her keep an eye on Kevin and settled in.
"We're close. Put the lid on." Once she did, he came back with a hammer and a marlin spike. His violent blows sealed the lid, denting the can inside. He used the spike to punch holes in the top until he tossed them aside,
"Give me a hand. We need to drop it overboard."
She hefted up the other side, following his lead until they were dropping it over the side. It landed in the water with a quiet splash, slowly sinking out of sight. Darcy took a step back, rubbing her arms as she watched the spot. "Back to shore?"
"In a minute." He said, watching the thin trail of bubbles. Spiking the lid meant very little air was inside, so once underwater, it should sink straight down into the mud, but he wanted to be sure. However, the trail didn't waver before it disappeared entirely. Close as he could tell without a tracker. He fished out the hotdog from his coat and unwrapped the foil. "Sure you don't want a bite?"
'Loaded question.'She shook her head in the negative. "Not of that," she murmured, raising her voice to conversational levels to tack on "I'll find something to eat when we get back. Worst case I've got a protein bar in my bag."
"Fair enough." He headed back to the helm. "I know a place on Porter Point we can leave the boat to be found without any questions. Call Colbert and tell her that she'll need to bring the jet into Essex Skypark for a pickup."
Darcy pulled her phone out, walking off until the noise was manageable. "It's done. Porter Point, bring the jet into Essex Skypark for pickup." She listened for a minute, "Just a sec, let me ask." She put the phone on mute, moving back to Kevin. "What's our ETA?"
Kevin actually paused to check the weather. "Let's say an hour."
A thumbs up, and she was unmuting her phone. "Marie-Ange? We're an hour out. Are you in the position to rummage through my purple bag? Yeah, the protein bar in the side pocket. Thanks!" The phone was slipped back into her pocket. "Think there's a jacket laying around somewhere? I didn't plan for ocean breeze."
"Just a little Chesapeake fresher. Here." He passed over his rumpled and stained suit jacket. "Anything on here is going to reek of shellfish and frankly, I've had enough of that for one day."
Content Warning: The aftermath of murder. Dismembering a body.
The harbor was finally calm. The water still stunk of crab and fish and litter and rotten seaweed, but it was calm, the waves and rainstorm of the last day finally over.
Darcy looked at the body at their feet, then looked at the distance to the boat. "Fuck, we can't just drag him that far. Blood trail would be like a beacon." She tilted her face towards Kevin. "What's the plan, Boss?"
"We're not. I'm going to carry him into that little closed hotdog stand over there. You are going to go back to the flooded hardware store we passed about a mile back and grab me a garbage can, duct tape, garbage bags and a sawzall. One with a battery and not a cord." He said, already hoisting the body up over his shoulder. A kick snapped open the locked door as Kevin set the body down on the counter, mostly obscured by the drawn down panels.
She set off down the road, returning about 35 minutes later with the requested items. Her hip nudged the door open, and the garbage can met the floor with a quiet thunk. "Can, tape, bags, 18-volt reciprocating with an extra battery pack, as requested." The door shut with a push of her hand. "Am I on wrapping duty?"
"Not yet. Hot dog?" In the time waiting, Kevin had managed to get the electric autogriller working and several hotdogs were slowly turning on them, filling up the small shack with the aroma. "Buns are in the warmer under the lid." He took a bite from his own, redolent with mustard, as if the body beside him on the counter wasn't even there.
"Absolutely not, they're probably not kosher," Darcy said firmly, wrinkling her nose. "Were you just peckish, or does actually cooking a batch of these serve a purpose?"
"It smells a lot better than what is coming." Kevin took another bite and then put it down to one side. "There's a couple of big masonry blocks behind the shack. Grab them and put them in the bottom of the can. Then you can give me a hand." He started stripping the rest of the clothes from the corpse, putting them to one side. Once she was back, he muscled the body over and began to slit open the garbage bags and wrap him. Thick bands of duct tape went over the joints and the neck.
"They smell fine, I'm just snobby about hotdogs." She left him to his work, stepping behind the shack and hefting one of the masonry blocks. Grimacing at the weight, she slowly moved back inside to drop it in the garbage can, then went back for the other. It got dropped in with a grunt, and she leaned lightly on the garbage can to catch her breath.
Meanwhile, Kevin continued to wrap the body, finally concealing the head in black plastic before wrapping it at the forehead, under the nose and across the neck. He shifted the body around a few times before nodding to himself. "This will do."
Darcy eyed the body. "Well, he's definitely well-wrapped. Honestly thought you'd want to put him in bits first, then wrap. I've obviously been watching the wrong murder dramas for information."
"That's considerably messier. Watch." Kevin started up the sawzall and started at the man's right knee. Instead of trying to cut straight through, he worked the blade through the tendons and soft tissues, shifting around the joint. He then put the blade aside and leaned his weight on the calf. With a wet crunch, the knee gave way, like tearing a drumstick off a whole chicken. He picked it up and passed it over to her. "The pressure of the tape restricts blood flow. Less pooling. Cover and tape the wet end and into the can." He bent to work on the other side of the joint, wrapping the knee.
Darcy grimaced at the noise, accepting the piece and wrapping it tightly in another bag before taping it shut. "Less mess than butchering a farm animal, but the noise is more visceral." She slit a few more of the garbage bags, then turned for the next piece.
"I grew up in Chicago. It was a long way from Sinclair's 'The Jungle', but even when I was a teen, every late summer, early fall, all the slaughterhouses hired thousands of extra hands to deal with the rush of cattle and pig markets." He was working on the junction of the thigh and the hip, moving the blade carefully, sawing out space and splitting away tendons and flesh from the joint. "Three years on the floor, mostly taking off hooves and trotters." The blood splatter on the bright yellow Bernie's Dogs aporn he'd donned making the already grisly act seem a bit worse. "Every poor kid in my neighbourhood did it before school started. For some it was so important to the family income they started school six weeks late. Twelve hours of this, but will mostly manual tools."
"We did some butchering on the farm, but not much. Grandma kept to some level of eating kosher or doing it ourselves, so mostly chicken and lake fish, sometimes deer. Cow or lamb was usually a holiday purchase from the kosher butcher in the city." She wrapped and taped parts methodically as he finished each section, dumping them into the garbage can. She went to wipe her forehead, saw the blood on her hands, and reconsidered. "I would consider murdering another man for some wet wipes right now," she muttered.
"Under the counter." He said, nudging a box beside a carton of napkins. He put down the blade and once again leaned in hard. There was a tearing crack as the hip parted from the body, torn free and passed over to Darcy. Kevin methodically finished the other leg in the same fashion and then paused for a moment to catch his breath and finish off his hot dog. "Are you still observant? I know your background is Jewish but I haven't seen any indication you practice?"
"Knew you were my favorite old man for a reason," she replied, wrapping the hip unceremoniously. "I'm not very observant. Sometimes I'll go to service or observe the holidays, but it depends on what's happening. I stopped being very observant when I went to Culver, and I got into the habit of keeping my religious practices to myself." She pulled out a few of the napkins, carefully wiping her hands and face before dumping the lot into the trash. "If I ever look more buttoned up than usual on a Friday, I'm probably planning on going. What about you? I'd guess maybe raised nominally Protestant, unless your family was Irish."
"Poor Irish from the literal wrong side of the tracks. Literal. My old man worked for the railroad until he injured his back and ended up working for the union. So every Sunday at St.James Cathedral." Kevin said, grunting as he manhandled the corpse around. "Even had a rosary in my pack when I shipped out to Korea. However, when the padre told me after I'd killed 17 men in a three day deployment that I was 'doing God's work', I decided religion wasn't for me."
He stretched out both hands and sawed off the fingers and thumbs. "There's a metal mop bucket over in the corner. Toss this in with some cooking oil and burn them out back until you see bone. Then they just go in the can. You don't want to be here when I take care of the teeth."
"Super gross primitive dentistry?" Darcy asked, grabbing the mop bucket and holding it out. Two hands later, she was staring at the cooking oil. "Shallow or deep fry on these?"
"If you see bone, the prints are gone." He said before passing over a lighter. "Out back though. I don't want to smoke up the place." He said, picking up a heavy frying pan. Darcy had just walked out the door when she heard the first of several wet cracks.
She cringed at the sound, getting a few steps away from the door before setting fire to her bucket. The smell of burning flesh made her stomach roll, so she took a step back, keeping an eye on the bucket. The noise stopped before the fire was done, and she sat in the quiet of the evening until she could poke around the bucket safely. Bone, ash. A glisten of oil. She took it back inside, dumping it quietly into the trashcan. "Did you crush the teeth?" Her voice sounded weary, even to her own ears.
"In the can with the head." He said casually, already at work jointing the arms. They worked together quietly for a while, paused only by having her collect the victim's clothes, duct taped them into a ball and tossed them into the can. Finally, the last limb went into the can followed by the wrapped torso. As he put the lid on, he caught her eye.
"Have you figured out why I needed your help specifically to do this?"
Darcy's first instinct was a quip, but she pushed it down ruthlessly. "I chose him. I helped kidnap him. I should see it all the way through." She tapped the lid gently. "He was a piece of shit legislator and not an entirely great human being, but I did this. I offered him up." She closed her eyes briefly, head bowed. "You were made from soil, and you'll become soil again. The consequences of our actions."
"Good. He was a piece of shit who doesn't deserve even a moment of guilt from you. But he is your responsibility and it's important to understand the consequences. Otherwise, people become things. And the term for people who consider people things is 'monster'." Kevin said, pleased with her response. "Alright, let's get this can to the boat." He stuffed the rest of their materials, including the tools into the can. He paused only to grab a jug of bleach from the cleaning supplies and dump it on the counter they'd used, clearing away the last traces.
"I don't want to ever think of people as things." Darcy admitted quietly as she helped him clean. She felt a tacky pull from her shirt, and looked down with a grimace. "Oh eurgh, I think his hip dripped on me."
"Toss it into the can. There's some brand t-shirts in the back if you need a replacement." Kevin said, stripping off his apron and tossing it into the can.
She grabbed a replacement, pulling her shirt off carefully to avoid blood on her face, and balled it up into the can. The clean shirt slipped over her head, and she eyed the garbage can. "Are we carrying that?"
"We are. All the way to the boat. Hang on." Kevin took a second hotdog from the grill, placed it in a bun and wrapped it in foil before putting it in his pocket before he came back over. "Alright, grab the other side and... lift!" He grunted as they pulled it up. 185 pounds of human with a couple of masonry bricks turned into a hefty load that they carefully walked out of the shack and towards the boat.
"Strength training," Darcy grunted out about halfway through the trek, with no follow up. The last of the walk to the ocean was mostly silent, the occasional shift of material inside the can or brush against the sides breaking the ambient noise of ocean crashing on the shore.
Kevin directed them to the stern of the boat as they walked on, finally depositing the can near the end. "I'll get the boat started. Grab a bucket and start filling the can up with water. We want it almost full." He said before heading for the cabin.
"Oh jeez." Darcy grabbed the bucket, tired arms filling the can as requested. Once it was about 80% full she stopped, waiting on Kevin's opinion before they continued.
Kevin had already started the boat and was calmly tracking out into the bay. He moved with the assurance of deep experience at the helm, and as she came up beside him, he indicated back at the can with his chin. "We good? I'm heading out into deeper water."
"It's about eighty percent to full, if that works for almost." She watched him move for a minute, eyes on his hands and the wheel under it. "You're skilled at this. When did you learn how to pilot a boat?"
"Decades before you were born. I actually used to live on the water not all that far from here. Although I prefer sail. I used to have a 14 footer for tooling around the bay." Kevin said, taking them away from Baltimore. "There's an ocean channel that runs through Chesapeake. We'll dump the body there. Even if the current grabs it, it's more likely to send it to the ocean as opposed to on shore anywhere nearby."
"What are sailboats like? What's the navigation like compared to this?" She stepped more into his space as she asked, eyes on the screens and buttons in front of them. "What's living on the bay like?"
"Those are several questions. Which one do you want answered?" Kevin said, although not unkindly. "I used to live about forty minutes from here. And that's where the CIA killed me and dumped me into the bottom of the bay wrapped in chicken wire for a decade."
"You look really good for a dead guy," Darcy quipped, mouth running ahead of her brain. "Have you returned the favor yet? Maybe with something better than chicken wire, obviously it didn't stick for you."
"No. Because they followed the doctrine I helped write." Kevin said quietly. "I was a danger to the Agency. So they eliminated me and put me into the Bay. They didn't know that my powers meant I wouldn't really die. Just wake up in that torture every time enough of me found the sun."
Her hands were around his waist before she really registered she was hugging him, head tucked under his arm so she could bury her face into his side. "That sounds unbearable. I'm glad you're here, but I hate that you had to be tortured for a decade along the way."
"I uh-" Kevin said, looking puzzled. For a moment, he was going to push her away but she's hung on with the worst chore he'd ever given her. Finally, he slipped an arm around her. "No one knew. Every so often, parts of me would break off. When they got to the surface, they've start everything else replicating and wake me up long enough to thrash around for a bit. Eventually, it broke me out."
"Fuck, that's worse," she moaned out, lifting her head but keeping an arm around him. "I'd apologize for hugging you, but," she let out a breath, staring into the water. "That's a story that needs several hugs, Boss."
"It's reality, kid. This is the job." He said, motioning her back towards the can. "Seal that up and I'll teach you how it goes underwater."
"It can be reality and still need hugs," she replied as she moved to the can. "How do I seal this up? Just tape, or something with the garbage bags too?"
"No. We need to get out in the right spot. Just leave it alone for now."
"Alright, just tell me when." Darcy hovered near it awkwardly until a rock of the boat had her almost slipping. She found a post to lean against that would keep her upright but let her keep an eye on Kevin and settled in.
"We're close. Put the lid on." Once she did, he came back with a hammer and a marlin spike. His violent blows sealed the lid, denting the can inside. He used the spike to punch holes in the top until he tossed them aside,
"Give me a hand. We need to drop it overboard."
She hefted up the other side, following his lead until they were dropping it over the side. It landed in the water with a quiet splash, slowly sinking out of sight. Darcy took a step back, rubbing her arms as she watched the spot. "Back to shore?"
"In a minute." He said, watching the thin trail of bubbles. Spiking the lid meant very little air was inside, so once underwater, it should sink straight down into the mud, but he wanted to be sure. However, the trail didn't waver before it disappeared entirely. Close as he could tell without a tracker. He fished out the hotdog from his coat and unwrapped the foil. "Sure you don't want a bite?"
'Loaded question.'She shook her head in the negative. "Not of that," she murmured, raising her voice to conversational levels to tack on "I'll find something to eat when we get back. Worst case I've got a protein bar in my bag."
"Fair enough." He headed back to the helm. "I know a place on Porter Point we can leave the boat to be found without any questions. Call Colbert and tell her that she'll need to bring the jet into Essex Skypark for a pickup."
Darcy pulled her phone out, walking off until the noise was manageable. "It's done. Porter Point, bring the jet into Essex Skypark for pickup." She listened for a minute, "Just a sec, let me ask." She put the phone on mute, moving back to Kevin. "What's our ETA?"
Kevin actually paused to check the weather. "Let's say an hour."
A thumbs up, and she was unmuting her phone. "Marie-Ange? We're an hour out. Are you in the position to rummage through my purple bag? Yeah, the protein bar in the side pocket. Thanks!" The phone was slipped back into her pocket. "Think there's a jacket laying around somewhere? I didn't plan for ocean breeze."
"Just a little Chesapeake fresher. Here." He passed over his rumpled and stained suit jacket. "Anything on here is going to reek of shellfish and frankly, I've had enough of that for one day."
