• He sneered as he pictured William and Roy both bound together, sitting in the chicken coop with gasoline drenched rags stuffed down their oesophagus’ with tears streaming their faces, looking up at him, begging for mercy. No matter how pleasing this sight was, Bret knew he couldn’t just leave them together bound in the coop, they would escape too easily.
    Replacing his book and pencil in their proper place, he decided to get to work on the trencher. It sat unused in the old barn, a good distance away from the house. He would have to cut through the pasture to get to it quick enough, but that wasn’t much of a problem. The only thing that really stood in his way was William. He stood dead center of the pasture, looking out at all the animals he let out. Bret knew this would be hard to just pass by, he had too many thoughts going already. If you don’t hold on God damn it you’ll be going with them!
    Stalking through the grass scattered with brightly coloured leaves, he came up to the electric fence. Jumping over wouldn’t make a problem, because knowing William like he did, Bret knew, he wouldn’t have remembered to turn it on when the cows and pigs were let out. He slowly reached out a hand and clamped his hand down on the wire. No shock. He pushed it down and climbed over.
    “What was that all about?” The screeching of the fence must have caught William’s attention as Bret hopped over. “In trouble with the boss?”
    Mind your own business…
    “No. I just have another job I figured needed done, so I cleared it with him.”
    Before William had time to ask what it was Bret needed done, he continued to stride on his way to the old barn. By this point the could see the shingles hanging on to the snug roof for dear life, some already lost in the breeze leaving patches of uncovered wood sheets rotting to a tinged red-brown. Every step revealed more space for a view. Soon enough the metal walls began to show; the tall sheets of steel that were deficiently stood up against rows of two by fours nailed together and stacked on one another, rust peeking out of cracks between sheets, thick silver bolts beginning to brown as well. A small wind blew, sending eerie squeaking noises echoing through the air as the detached walls bent and swayed.
    He smirked at the defective building. To any other person they would call it creepy, but he fell in love with it’s outer shell. Imaging the treasures the inside holds. The riches inside are better than the shell that holds it…
    The happiness that filled him caused him to break into a sort of merry skip, making him look psychotic, or at least more than what he already was. The doors to the magical building were on the other side, only giving more opportunity for sneaking around and keeping hidden. He brought his hands up to the cold metal walls and brushed them with his finger tips. This encouraged him to start jogging, he couldn’t hold back and wait for much longer, he had to occupy himself and his thoughts.
    The doors already blew open on their own, revealing all the so called ‘treasures’ inside. There was the seed drill he was thinking about using earlier when he was stumped, a few old forklifts used for hay bailing, the chicken cages he planned on using when he tied up William, and there, almost as if in God’s light from the hole on the roof of the building, sat the old trencher.
    The rust began to build up and crust over on the blades, paint on the body chipped off, revealing even more of the reddish-brown rust. The chain wasn’t in very good shape either, leaving the blades to hang an unsafe distance from it. This machine was the ugliest thing to look at, let alone the fact that it would be the last thing anyone would want to keep to use on their farm. To Bret it was a brilliant piece of technical work in all of its glory.
    “Once I fix you up, you’ll be good as new.” He slowly crept up to the machine and glazed the surface of it with his right hand. “And when I’m done with you, I’m hoping that in return you can do me a really big favour.”
    His smile was twisted up in his cheeks. It was as if he was actually talking to and making a deal with a person. If the trencher had been a person it may have known just what job it was about to be asked to do, but it required a lot of work on Bret’s behalf.
    “For starters, we don’t want you to go out looking like this! It’s like seeing a fine lady without her makeup on and hair in a scuffle. A new paint job will fix that right up. But first…” He scrounged around looking for a can of paint and a scraper. “We don’t want to just paint right on ahead, it won’t look good. That’s like covering up a rotten cake with fresh icing. It’s no good. That rust has to go.”
    There was a scraper in a tool belt that was left on one of the forklifts and three cans of paint, all blue, supposedly used to repaint the forklifts seeing as they were all the same brilliant blue. He picked them up and carried them over to his weapon of choice and set them next to the front tire. Fumbling his hands in his pockets he pulled out a brass keys that ignited the engine and started up the trencher.
    “Let’s see just how up to speed you are for now. A little test run always helps for fine tuning.” He pushed the keys in and started it up, or at least tried. The first time he turned it on the engine squealed and stopped immediately, scaring Bret into a bit of a jump.
    “Well then, that didn’t sound too healthy. Let’s try that again…” He turned it on again. This time the engine sputtered for a few seconds, then started to spit out popping noises, then it gave in. He looked at it for a bit, and the barn fell silent. Suddenly a loud BANG! erupted from the engine, like that of a gunshot. This was even scarier than the first sounds it made. Bret actually jumped back away from the vehicle as if he just got shot, then glared at it for a little bit.
    “Do you want to cooperate with me or will we have to do this the hard way? I’m trying to help you, then you can help me out a little. One more time, and if you don’t work for me, I’m going to have to leave you here to rust forever. I’m sure there are better machines in this building to use than you, but from the good of my heart, I picked you. The least you could do is behave…” He spoke to the hood of the machine as if he were actually convincing it that it should coax its own engine to go.
    He slowly brought the keys to the ignition one more time. Stopping just before inserting the keys, he looked up and through a thin grill into the engine and said “Last chance.”
    Stabbing the keys into the ignition and turning it hard out of fury, he held them still there. This time the engine sputtered again, then started coughing. Don’t be so stubborn, you know you want to go… It went from coughing to a sputter again, then puttered, still coughing in between. He released the keys and stepped back looking at the vehicle.
    “So this is the best you can do?” He shook his head. He snatched up the scraper and peeled open a can of the blue paint.
    “It’s depressing, but I’ll fix you good. Glad to see you’re on my side…” Bret raised his head and sneered at the chain drive on the back of the trencher before he finished with “Welcome aboard.”
    * * *
    Hours passed by, yet Bret never bothered to check the clock. The old saw shaped clock hanging on the wall was half an hour slow, but it still worked well enough to tell time, incorrect or not.
    “It says 4:30, but don’t let it fool you. It’s five o’clock my friend, which means I need to go and eat dinner before someone comes to check up on me. I hate to leave you here like this, but don’t you worry, I’ll be back. I guarantee it.” Bret said, smiling menacingly at the trencher he spent so long on. It had a fresh coat of blue paint, almost dry, the chain drive was oiled, motor filled with more oil, the tank was full of gas, and the blades were sharpened enough to break the skin by mere touch. Bret even proved it, while he was testing the sharpness he touched the tip of the blade to see if it was any good. He pricked his finger, a fairly large circle of blood pouring out of the tip of his index finger on his left hand.
    “But before I go…” He pulled out his keys again and pushed them slowly into the ignition. “Welcome to the grand unveiling.” He announced. Bret turned the keys and didn’t even need to hold them there for any more than a second to hear the engine roar loud and proud, snarling at him like some sort of wild beast.
    Bret cackled. “Now that is more like it! This is why I chose you, the most beastly machine of them all, to help me out with this one. I have a feeling we’re going to steal the show tonight, my friend.”
    With that he headed out the broken doors, turning back to take one last look at his amazing recreation, then shut them and locked the door. Nobody deserved to look at it, this was just too perfect to spoil.
    It was a good thing he left when he did too, because just as he turned the corner along came William with Elizabeth, one kid in each of their hands. Bret was confused, and surprised to see them. He hoped that nobody heard anything he was saying while he was inside.
    Don’t be such a kidder, you were in there and they were probably not even close enough to hear yet. Bret tried convincing himself.
    “Glad to see you were okay Bret,” Mrs. Blake said, blushing. “We heard the motor running and we thought you might have hurt yourself after we didn’t see you for some time…”
    “You really worried us old boy!” William chuckled. He held the hand of Jamie, Roy’s older son. Jamie was only eleven years old, but he too would sometimes be caught sneaking around playing with tools and the farm animals. Elizabeth looked over to him, raising an eyebrow.
    “Go ahead, James…” she whispered.
    “Uh,” Jamie seemed a little shy. He normally wasn’t, but most likely due to the look Bret had been giving them, still a little worried that someone had heard him, it must have made the little boy a little shaky at the knees. “We were sorta wondering if, maybe, you wanted to… would be interested in…” He began digging his heels into the ground in a circle. “Want to come to dinner up at the house tonight?!”
    The adults looked at him oddly as he burst with the question. Bret was a little confused as to why they would invite him up to the house, but he agreed.
    I suppose I could enjoy Roy and Will’s last dinner with them. It might ease the tension before we even start. He smiled. Elizabeth perked up and cracked a grin bigger than his own, and turned back to the house and walked in a quick pace.
    “Let’s hurry! We don’t want it to get cold now do we?”
    They all broke out into a trot up to the house, then hurried to get their coats off in the mud room, then headed straight for the kitchen to sit down and eat. Already at the table was Roy, glaring at his farmhands and wife.
    “What took you all so God damn long?” he asked. They all looked at him, stunned. The only thing they could do is sit there and look back at him shrugging their shoulders. Everything was silent until Roy decided to speak again. “So how’s the trencher coming along?”
    “Good.” Bret said, looking up from his clean white plate. Elizabeth looked over at him.
    “Better than good, dear. He had it running like new again just a few moments ago, and it sounded fabulous.” she explained. She again, tilted her glance in Bret’s direction and mouthed the words “You deserve more recognition than just ‘Good’.”
    “Good. Something got done around here that was supposed to. Congratulations Bret, job well done.” Roy took a glimpse at his plate as well, and grabbed his napkin. “Let’s eat.”
    * * *
    Dinner was marvellous. Chicken, peas, potatoes, mushroom gravy, fresh baked bread baskets, and corn on the cob. All fit for a perfect last meal. Bret thought to himself.
    “That was just perfect, Liz.” William said, kissing her hand. “Just perfect.”
    You probably said the same thing to my Melissa, you womanizer! Bret couldn’t help but gag at the thought of him bending to kiss Melissa’s pale hand.
    She didn’t seem to care much for William’s opinion, she just quickly turned to Bret. “What did you think Mr. Sheardon? Was it cooked right? Anything wrong? Something over cooked? Undercooked?”
    “No. Nothing wrong. That was the best meal I have ever had made for me. Thank you very much.” he answered. Why does she care so much about what I think?
    She let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s good. Perhaps we should have the two of you come up to the house more often.”
    “Or maybe we should have them go back out to work, that would do just fine.” Mr. Blake stepped in. “Alright you two, we fed you, now get out there and finish what you started.”
    “Yeah. The animals should be brought in for the night, it gets cold out here.” William said, descending the steps to the pasture.
    “I have just a little bit more sharpening to do before I can really get that trencher up and running again. But don’t worry, I should be done by the time the night is out. I can do something else tomorrow, I’m just really caught up in this right now is all.”
    “Yeah, yeah. I don’t need to hear a graphic novel about it just go and get it done.” Roy waved him away, like he did earlier, and headed back into the house. Bret too departed, leaving Elizabeth and the kids standing on the porch looking out at the sun beginning to set.
    Bret journeyed out back to the old barn, wind picking up and scratching the walls together more vigorously than before. The trencher sat around, the engine getting cold from lack of activity. He opened the front doors and waltzed in and sat on the seat perched on top of the machine.
    “I’m back. Miss me?” he asked, laughing. He patted the back of the chair and grabbed hold of the keys again. “Now that you feel better, it’s time you did your part. My favour. You have to wait for a little bit, but I’ll get you warmed up. Give me some time, but I have to leave you here again. I’ll come back in a little while, and you can fulfil your half of the bargain, like you have a choice.” Bret snarled as he twisted the key and left the motor running. He vacated the seat and went back out the doors. It got quite nippy and chilly very fast, like it did in the morning.
    He didn’t care much. His quick paced steps carried him over to the pasture decently fast, and he saw William struggling with one stubborn cow that didn’t want back into the barn.
    “Come on now, Bessie. Get on in there, it’s late! Don’t make me do this…” he complained as he turned his back and pushed the cow’s behind with all of his weight. Beads of sweat formed across his brow as he struggled to get the large animal to budge even an inch.
    “Need some help there Bill?” Bret laughed. He grabbed the tail swaying around in the breeze, then brought it close to the electric fence.
    “CHRIST NO! Bret don’t do it, that’s cruel!” William’s eyes went wide with hysteria. He turned at an odd angle on the cow’s backside and reached out for Bret.
    “No, it’s not Will. The wires aren’t that high of an amperage to actually kill these cows. It just gives them a small warning shock to say ‘Hey you! Get on in there, or else.’ Nothing wrong with a little reinforcement is there?” He brought the tail up to the fence and a quick SNAP hit their ears. A little blue light shone for half a second as the cow’s tail completed the electrical circuit. It mooed loudly and trotted into the barn, with Bret shutting the door behind it, he wiped his hands on his jeans.
    “See? No harm done.” Bret smiled. William still looked a little concerned, but this time there was interest mixed in there somewhere as well.
    “Hmm. I never knew that. Thanks Bret, you really are a great guy.”
    Bret took advantage of the helping spirit between one another and grabbed on to William’s arm.
    “Now do you think you could help me with something there, Bill?” His face was pleading, eyes burning into the sockets of his co-worker.
    “Sure, what do you need?”
    Yes! Bret thought. Welcome aboard the Murder Express, please fasten your seatbelts William, because you’re in for the ride of your life…
    “Actually, could you go back to the chicken coop and grab some chicken wire for me? I have to go and get something from the shed…”
    William glanced at Bret for a moment will confusion and question stirring about his eyes. “Absolutely. Where should I take it?” He didn’t even bother to ask what it was for, but of course, he would soon figure that out the hard way.
    “Wait for me outside the old barn. I might even make it before you do.” Bret burst into a run through the wooden door that broke the fence’s circuitry and continued toward the shed. He looked back to see William walking into the chicken coop to get the wire.
    The door flew open and Bret flailed his arms around, searching for his lunch pail and a shovel. The box sitting on the shelf held his pencil and notebook, which he pulled out and shoved deep into his pocket. His eyes scanned everything in the small area, and there, behind a pile of hay they used before to take secret naps on, stood a shovel with a brown spade. He grabbed it and jumped through the door, leaving it wide open.
    William was just leaving the coop with an arm full of a roll of chicken wire. All’s well. He burst into a run again toward the old barn. His energy level was skyrocketing as he kept going, but he felt a little something inside of him, telling him that he was getting tired. He ignored it and kept on going.
    Reaching the doors first was a major accomplishment for Bret, considering he was older and not as usually energetic. He hurled these doors open as well, and listened to the content purr of the trencher engine. Approaching the vehicle, he got a little more tired. Don’t give up now you idiot, you’re so close! So close… And that was when William dragged his ankles in through the open door.
    Bret hopped up on the seat and pushed the machine into Drive. “Just set it over there somewhere, and stand back. We can begin in a minute.” William did the smart thing and did as he was told. Bret pulled the trencher into a horizontal position in the building, chain sticking out towards the wall, digging scratches into the walls. He got off again and headed over to see William. His face was pale and sweating still. This, however, was not working sweat but fear sweat.
    “I need to test out the trencher, see if it’s up to par. You know?” Bret’s eyes stabbed William like a thousand sharp daggers. “Can you help me?”
    “S-sure. I g-guess I could.” He shivered. Bret smiled, wondering if he was imagining all the possibilities. What was running through Bret’s insane mind? He was about to find out.
    “Cold, Will?” he asked, still smirking.
    “Y-yeah.” he lied. “Just a l-little.”
    Bret shook his head. “Well here, we can start by unrolling the wire. Would you do that for me, friend?”
    William really began to worry. His eyes bulged out of his sockets. The way Bret spoke was so chilling, so horrible, so sick. All he did was shake his head, and bent over, unravelling the wire. Open opportunity. You’ve got him right where you want him, now finish what you started, just like Roy told you to.
    Bret snuck over to the shovel he left with the trencher, and snatched it up in his cold, shaking hands. “I have a question for you, Bill.”
    “What’s th-that Bret?”
    “A few things actually. Do you see the way Roy treats poor Elizabeth? It’s terrible isn’t it?”
    Surprised, William turned to face Bret. “Yes. Yes it is.”
    “He doesn’t deserve her, does he?”
    “No. He really doesn’t.” They fell silent. “What does all this mean, Bret?”
    “Oh, nothing. I’m just thinking…” He paused. He went into his own little world for a bit. A black cloud of all of his thoughts. He returned again a little while later. “Thinking about things. How he treats her so terribly. What she saw in him I don’t know…”
    William nodded. “She seems to have t-taken a shine to you though, B-Bret.”
    He jerked around to see him. “You think so?” Bret began to creep up closer to him. His legs trembled as he crouched close to the ground, unravelling still.
    “I guess… maybe…”
    “Hmm.” He came closer. “One more question…”
    “Yes?”
    Breathing down his neck now, Bret smirked and asked “Could you tell me if the blade is sharp enough for me?”
    Before William could do anything, the shovel came down on his head with a heavy THUNK! He fell right over on top of the chicken wire he almost finished unrolling. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was still there. He wasn’t dead yet.
    That’s good. Bret thought. Just what I wanted. If he died on me now, I wouldn’t know if I did a good job or not…