"Ya'know, cannibalism isn't a crime," Johansson explained to the vexatious teenager. "But murder," he continued as he stretched and massaged his aching shoulder, "that's what you can be charged for, and sent to death row for, you understand?"
The teenager nodded, still looking down at his cold, dead handiwork sprawled underneath a thin layer of fertilizer in a six foot hole beneath them. Flies started to swarm to the rotting meat. Of course, the credit was shared, yet the pride was not mutual. Johansson was anxious and disgusted, while the teen was silently proud. The boy stood without moving a muscle, then spoke.
"Yeah," he replied with a hidden smile.
The man finished shoveling dirt over the broken, incomplete body, occasionally wiping his brow and gagging from the stench the poor wretch produced. He began to feel a bit uncomfortable when he looked up and saw the boy still staring at the body, as if there was more to see than just a corpse and another unfortunate, young life lost. Although the man saw the site for what it was, the boy thought there was a sort of beauty to the beastliness. The body, being crushed by hundreds of pounds of dirt, was no longer visible. Johansson let out a sigh of relief.
"There we go. Out of sight, out of mind," groaned Johansson in a tired voice. He looked up at the night sky, embracing the hot, humid weather of Lake Charles in the summer. The teenager stared at the narrow mound for a moment, then looked up at Johansson, who was taking a swig from the water bottle he had brought along with him. He screwed the cap back on the empty bottle, and looked at his watch. "Damn. It's way too late to be out here. If anyone sees us out here, they'll get suspicious." Worried, he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist and slung the shovel over his shoulder and started to walk backwards to his truck. "Well, we'd best call it a night," he said before spinning around and continuing to march.
"Mister Johansson?" the teen muttered.
Johansson spun around again, looking to be a bit annoyed. "What is it?"
"All of this, it'll be our secret, right?"
With a baffled expression, he responded, "Yeah... yeah, of course. If I ratted you out, I'd be in hot water, too." He stepped closer to the boy, and began speaking softly. "Why?"
The boy then glanced down at his shoes and said, "Well, you just seem angry and stuff."
"Nah, I'm not. Can't be. You're a good kid, it's just that," he broke his speech and studied the mound behind the teenager and the buzzing flies around both their heads, "I just wish you would've told me sooner, that's all." He recalled the image of the half nude female corpse with its eyeless face and gnawed and rotting flesh as he held back a large wave of warm bile burning the back of his throat. He walked on, now with the teenage boy following him back to his big, blue pickup truck.