A Shrine to an Unknown God

THE RIVER

"JESUS FUCK," says Ezra, still crying. "Is he dead?"

Alekos lays on his back with his eyes open and his throat slit. The blood sizzles on the hot sidewalk beside him.

Dahlia pales. "That's a lot of fucking blood."

"We need to do something with the body," Marisol orders, her chest heaving. "Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking—oh, my God."

"Yes," I say. "We need to take it to his parents—or his spouse, if they've passed—so they can give him a proper burial."

Ezra is sitting shock-silent, his eyes locked on Alekos' body.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Marisol whisper-yells. "And get our asses sent straight to prison?"

"We need to go to the cops," Ezra says. "It was—it was self-defense."

"And you really think that'll work?" Dahlia asks. "Three brown girls and a queer junkie walk into a bar, dragging the body of an old white guy with a slit throat, claiming it was self-defense... there's not a punchline to this joke. The bar's prison. That's what would happen to us if we tried that."

"But he attacked us first," I point out. "We weren't in the wrong to fight back."

"Antigone, that isn't how justice works in our world anymore." Tears spring to Marisol's eyes. "What matters is we have the murder weapon and there's a dead white guy in the street in the middle of broad fucking daylight and we need to get the fuck out of here before somebody sees us and calls the cops."

"What about security cameras?" Dahlia says. "They probably already have our faces—and his—on video, oh, my God."

"In this area? I doubt it," Ezra replies. "Any footage they'd get would only incriminate themselves."

"What about all the witnesses?" Marisol asks. "All those guys at the currency exchange."

"None of them saw me kill him," I say.

"Don't say that out loud!" Marisol snaps.

"And even if they did, they couldn't testify," Ezra adds. "Again, not without incriminating themselves."

"So we need to stay on task," Marisol orders. "We need to"—she rubs her temple—"Jesus fuck, my heart's pounding so loud I can't think."

"Fire," Dahlia suggests. "We need to burn the body."

"No," says Ezra. "We need to drown him in bleach and toss him in a river."

"With rocks tied to him," Marisol adds. "So he'll sink."

"We should just bury him," I offer. "Like, in the ground."

"No," Ezra repeats. "We need the bleach to wash him of your fingerprints."

"Here's what we're gonna do," Marisol decides. "We're going to pour bleach all over him. Ezra's right. I saw it on Tumblr once. Then we're going to..."

"Toss the bitch in a river!" Ezra says.

"Don't disrespect the dead," I remind him.

"I still think we should burn him," Dahlia says.

"Where?" Marisol asks. "In the woods, and start a wildfire that burns all of Athens?"

"On the beach," Dahlia suggests.

Marisol places a hand on her hip. "Where everyone can see us."

"They'll think we're just a couple of drunk teenagers having a bonfire," Dahlia says, nonchalant.

"And burning a body," Marisol points out. "It has a smell, you know. I think."

"That's why we should bury him!" I offer. "If we bury him in a real graveyard people will just think we're gravediggers."

"And where are we supposed to get a coffin?" Marisol asks.

"Amazon Prime," Dahlia suggests. "Overnight shipping."

"The rivvvvvvvver," Ezra says. "By the time the cops think to drag it, his body'll be so fucked up they won't even be able to recognize him."

"Maybe he's onto something," Dahlia mumbles.

"I refuse to admit that he could be right." Marisol crosses her arms. "Ezra, how good are you at thievery?"

"What is it that your heart desires?"

"Bleach. Sponges. Rope. And plastic gloves, the kind they use in hospitals. We can't risk having those attached to my card."

"Antigone!" Ezra claps twice. "Care to join me?"

"I'm not going to help you rob someone."

"You killed a man!"

"I didn't realize that it was a crime here!"

"Fine." Ezra sighs. "I work better on my own, anyways."

"Guys," Marisol says. "How are we going to move the body?"

"Chillax, dude." Dahlia tells her. "I've got a plan. Come with me."

"Antigone," Marisol says, picking the passport up from off the ground, "you stay with the body. If anyone comes by, distract them, so that they don't see him as they're walking past."

"Stay with the body." I nod. "I can do that."