Nell, and Bob, and a dead body

Writing Wednesdays. Maybe a little awful, but it’s something I’m going to do. The prompt is bolded. The rest…well…I’ve been watching Constantine…

Nell knew he was a bad man. She also knew that he wasn’t likely to stay dead. But the sight of Bob tugging at the long, thin blade protruding from the man’s chest made her vision suddenly tunnel.

Ever unphased, Bob bent low, the flaps of his coat obscuring his face. Nell heard him take a long sniff.

“Huh. What d’you know?  I jammed it in so hard, it got stuck in the bone,” he turned to look at her, the faintest trace of a grin on his lips. “Do you know how hard it is to pull a knife out of bone?

Nell moaned into her hands, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Bob shifted his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other, and stepped unceremoniously over the body. “Come over here and give me a hand with the body.”

She dropped her arms to her sides and swallowed. “We have to move him?  Why?  Can’t you just burn him here?”

“No,” he said.  “He needs a container.”

“A…container.  Why?  Is it some stupid ancient ritual thing?”

Bob gave her a dry look.  “No. There are pallets and cardboard boxes behind you. D’ you want to burn the entire building down?”

Nellie bared her teeth at him. “Oh, shut up!  Like you’ve left me with any realistic frame of reference!”

Bob ignored her, turning to look behind him. “Right. Let’s toss him in that dumpster over there.”

Reluctantly, Nell reached down and gingerly gripped his ankles, as Bob pulled the body towards the dumpster. It was slow going, and every bit as dreadful as she’d imagined carrying a dead-ish body would be. Blood from his wound trickled down his fingers, mixing with the fetid water pooling at their feet. She felt the liquid kicking up on to her bare legs, and screwed her mouth up in revulsion.

“Almost there, Nellie girl,” Bob huffed.”Just a few more – ”

The body gave a violent shudder. Nell dropped the ankles, internalizing a startled shriek. Ahead of her, she watched in horror as the man’s head lifted, eyes lolling. The jaw began working, clacking, hard, like a castanet. She heard the grinding of teeth, and a momentous exhalation began thundering its way out of the thing in front of her.

Bob lunged forward, put one booted foot on the thing’s chest, yanked out the blade with a grunt, then drove it down hard, into the clacking maw. In a moment, the head stopped moving, settling back into its faux death mask.

Nellie’s heart was bursting in her chest.  She clasped her hands on her knees, and doubled over, not quite able to retch.

Somewhere above her, Bob sighed.  “Damn. Lost a perfectly good cigarette.”