Greed

�There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.� - Oscar Wilde

          I dragged the corpse of a deer behind me. It had only been minutes since I killed it, but I already regretted it. I have taken a life, I thought. This animal seemed insignificant to most— almost inanimate— but it had a life. Thousands of memories. A family maybe. It had tried to escape. It valued it’s bind to this Earth, and I had stolen everything from it with but a few strikes with a heavy tree branch. I had transcended to become more than a thief after we left. I was a murderer.

            It was getting dark, but I could see the smoke from the camp ahead. That was my new home. Made from straw and sticks. God couldn’t spare any more bricks. I was far from the world I once knew. I had no parents left. No brothers or sisters. All ties I once held to my birthplace were either dead or dying. I could never go back there.

            My limbs were burning with pain. I had exhausted all of my fatigue, but I still pushed for more. Getting blood from stones. My arm was going numb so I tossed the leg of the animal to the other hand. The relief didn’t help ease the Burdon. I still held the evidence of shame in my hand.

            My feet were able to force themselves to the campground before falling. Another boy with a gaunt face and his bones protruding from his skin extended his shaking arm to lift me. He had dark hair and bright eyes. That’s the one thing I hated about him. He looked like my brother. At least the person who was my brother.

            “You found food,” Joseph stated in a voice far older than his body.

            I nodded.

            ‘This will last a while,” he continued. “A couple weeks if we eat in small portions.”

            “When did we last have a full meal?” I asked sarcastically.

            He grinned, “Not since we died.”

            I took a knife from a pack strapped to my waist. It’s once sharp edge was chipped and scratched from misuse. I lifted the head of our next meal, but Joseph stopped me before I could begin. “You hunted it,” he said. “So I’ll prepare it.”

            I hesitated, but in the end gave him the weapon. I had stolen it from an old farmer that lived on the outskirts of the town I used to live in. It had an inscription carved into the side. Michael Early. Now it was Samuel Black’s. Now it was mine.

            Our camp was a simple combination of necessities. One tent with two pillows— No blankets, A small pile of wood with a fire converting it to ash, a sack full of leaves and berries that we didn’t think were poisonous, and finally, the reason we were out here in the first place, a jewel.

            To truly understand the value of this rock, you need to look back hundreds of years when this area was populated by native tribes. The guide called it Tzitzuman’s tear. Catchy. I stumbled across it in a fancy museum back in town. I didn’t listen to the story behind it. I have an eye for expensive goods and I couldn’t take it off this one. It was part of his crown and, to make it more realistic, it was on display attached to a fake crown accompanied by other gems made of colored glass. The problem was that the owner wasn’t particularly keen on parting with it freely, but it was worth more than my life, so I wasn’t risking much by putting it on the line to steal it.

            Joseph didn’t plan on helping me get it. We both tried to steal it on the same night. It ended in a fight that led to a mutually beneficial agreement. We have only helped one another to avoid having bullets in hour heads ever since, but I still hesitate to trust him.

            Everyone thinks that we died a long time ago. We faked it to keep the jewel. Great scene. I’m very proud of it. They never knew that the victims were just common people. The tricky part was finding the right people and the right doctors to alter their appearance to fit ours. Almost cost us what we were in trouble for in the first place, but it worked. We’ve been traveling south ever since. We can make a life there. Once we cross the border, we’re free. We’re alive again.

 

 

            I sat at the top of the hill that hid our camp. The sun rested majestically at the tip of the horizon. A glorious mixture of color. My shadow spread behind me as it fled from the light. It was these natural beauties that made the world worth inhabiting.

            The air was thick with the smell of pine. Rich with oxygen. I could vaguely hear the sounds of small animals scampering about in between the trees. From their perch on a nearby oak, two blue birds sang a nostalgic tune from the days before. Before life became blurry. Before the smoke and blood.

            Joseph made a low pitched whistle that meant I needed to come back. I could taste the cooked meat wafting through the air as I approached the camp. The idea of worthwhile food excited the hole in my stomach, but I was too tired to hurry despite how much it pushed me.

            When I arrived, Joseph was almost finished. I sat next to the meat he had placed on the leaves for me with a few berries and began eating. Each bite was a new layer of bliss. It had been so long— too long— since I had eaten.

 

 

            The moon had replaced the sun and the world was dimly illuminated, but the stars hung high. I traced the constellations with my finger. I had no idea what they meant, but I had mapped the night sky as an open compass. Three dots in a row with a square around them meant southwest. The shiny star pointed west, but from this revealed east as well. I reviewed it all in my head.

            It was late. Joseph was sound asleep. It was time. I rubbed my eyes and brought my self upright. I had surprisingly more strength than before. After checking to assure myself that Joseph wouldn’t get up, I searched the bag for the tear. We had put it in a pouch on the inside of the berry and leaf sack. It was like a hidden pocket. I reached my hand inside and felt my heartbeat halt. My hand met stale air. The tear was gone.

            Joseph! I thought. The b*****d has it with him! Cursing at him silently, I snuck into the tent. He lay on his side with both hands under his pillow. For once I felt lucky that we had no blankets. I dropped my hand lightly on his jean pockets. They were empty. The back pockets. Empty. The pocket on his vest. Empty. I was frustrated and on the verge of giving up. Was this really worth it? Then I remembered. There’s a secret pocket on everyone. His shoes were by the unzipped door to the tent. I pulled the soles from both and there it was. A massive diamond in the right shoe. Flat but long. I put it in my waist pack and headed for the door. My foot tripped on the bottom of the door and I made a thud as I hit the ground.

            A snorting noise sounded behind me. I turned in fear, but his eyes were still closed. He turned in his sleep.

            I was far too cautious than necessary throughout the rest of the plan. I packed a few berries and leaves into my personal pack and prepared to leave. Most importantly I took Mr. Early’s knife from where Joseph had placed it. I couldn’t afford to be ambiguous. I couldn’t f**k this up, but somehow, I managed to.

            The first thing I noticed was a large amount of weight on my back. I was off balance and my eyes were blurred, but I could see an arm wrap around my neck. He had me pinned and I couldn’t breath. I was going to die.

            “You don’t rob a thief!” he shouted from above.

            The voice confirmed my initial thoughts. It was Joseph. He was never asleep. He was only waiting. His legs had me pinned, his right arm was strangling me and his left was beating my side. I tried to roll him off, but it was hopeless. At least I was going to make the public unknowingly happy. I was really going to die this time.

            My senses were losing focus as the blood flow stopped reaching my brain. Joseph shouted insult after insult from above, his arm relentlessly shaking my head as I lost air. Listening close, I could still here those birds… That tune… That laugh… That plea.

            God must have smiled on me in that moment. I don’t know why he would pity someone like me. Maybe I was the lesser of two evils. I grabbed Joseph’s leg and twisted his ankle. It felt odd. The way it cracked beneath the pressure of my force. He yelped from the pain. Back on my feet, I took Mr. Early’s knife from my pack and thrust it into Joseph’s gut. This time he screamed. I gave the knife one more stab into Joseph’s open mouth. He didn’t scream much more after that.

            That proved it to myself. Now I really was a murderer. I had taken another life, but this one belonged to a man. I had killed Joseph. There is some honor that follows a thief, but a killer… This time, there was no remorse. Joseph was far from innocent, but so was I… Maybe God saw that too.

            I took the tear from my pack and stared at it. This is what men die over, I thought. I started to laugh lightly. Tear. I never would cry a tear for this man, but this stone would.

The rest started with a small pain in my stomach that slowly spread through my body. I lost my strength. A headache formed and my eyes blurred into near blindness. I had dropped the tear. I didn’t see it clearly, but I could tell what I heard. It was the sound of something breaking. It sounded like glass. I always hesitated to trust him. I guess I should have hesitated then. I should have been more careful.

 

            “You hunted it,” he said. “So I’ll prepare it.”

 

Reviews

[Bella-Marie]

Wow.
Great work! Loved the start about how the deer might have had a family, etc.