“It’s not like it used to be… you can’t mess around anymore.”

I look to Ryan, blood dripping down the side of his face as we heave the heavy garbage bag over the edge of the boat.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

He grunts, and shakes his head, moving to the edge of the boat and watching as the bag sinks deep into the lake.

“You really screwed up this time bud. The boss is gonna find out about this sooner or later.”

Ever since our gang was taken over by a new boss, things have been in turmoil. His enforcers were more violent, more brutal and ready to do more than break bones. He’d systematically taken everyone he thought was a threat and either made them prove their loyalty or sent his enforcers to eliminate the threat all together. One of the enforcers, a brute of a man, is now sitting in my boat. Well. Pieces of him are.

Ryan gives me a nod, and I kick the motor back to life, moving a few hundred feet before dumping the next bag. It goes on like this for a while until the evidence has been disposed of, scattered across the bottom of the lake and tied down with weights to make sure nothing floats to the surface before the body parts are completely desecrated and unrecognizable.

I feel a pang of guilt in my chest, but my broken, stinging arm reminds me that the man had in fact tried to kill me. I’m damn lucky that Ryan was there, and that he pulled the trigger when he did. As I drive the boat deeper out into the lake, he files serial numbers off of the weapon, a Beretta M9, and systematically disassembles it. Once each piece is off, he wipes it clean of fingerprints and throws it overboard, scattering the pieces off the side.
It’s early morning by the time we finish, 3am, and as I dock the boat, Ryan gives me a stark look.

“You need to get outta town. Boss is gon’ notice his man is gone, and he’s gonna come lookin.”

“I know. But what about you?”

Ryan shrugs, pulling out and lighting a cigarette as he gets in the front seat of his truck.

“He don’ know I was there. M’ sposed to be upstate at aunt Laura’s weddin.”

“You really saved my ass man.”

“Yeah yeah I know.”
“Thanks bro.”

“Don’ thank me just yet. Get outta state first. Y’know where the go bag is?”

“Yeah. New IDs and everything still in there?”

“Yup.”

“Ok. Drop me at home and I’ll go.”

“Good lad. I’ll see if I can make it out soon. Take the burner in th’ bag. My number’s in it. Don’t call me; I’ll call first.”

I just nod, and soon enough Ryan has pulled up to my house and we’ve ditched the boat in the driveway. I hop out, and he gives me a stark nod before speeding away, probably to get to a motel himself. I grab my stuff and a new gun, serial numbers already scratched off and clip loaded, and head for the bus stop. I pay in cash, and get on the 4am to Boston. Ryan was right. It’s not like it used to be. But I’m not like I used to be either.