Tweeprose: ‘Death Watch’ by A. N. Gretly (for @Shelou3)

The rumbling sound of motorcycles echoed in the streets of Creekwell City like gargles from the burning throat of Satan himself. Three gang members rode in a triangular formation followed by a large black pickup truck. The truck had a sticker on its wide hood baring the image of a skull-faced grim reaper with a sinister grin holding the words ‘Death Watch’, which were made of bones and looked very three dimensional. The gang rolled through 62nd street past the Meat Market where the ladies sold themselves as used products, and then parked at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. The three members stepped off their bikes, took off their helmets, and placed them on the seats of their individual bikes. One of the gang members, the leader who was riding at the vertex of the triangular formation walked to the pickup truck, the driver opened the tinted glass, and offered the leader a hand-rolled cigarette. The Leader took it, and allowed the driver to light it for him.

“Is this the place?” He grunted through the smoke.

“Yeah,” The driver said “That’s what that rat-faced kid said.”

“Alright then, let’s do this.”

The driver opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Seven foot five, the driver was, a bald tower of a man who wore a black leather jacket like all the other gang members that bore the Death Watch logo. He walked behind his truck, and opened the truck’s lid. The leader of the gang walked past the other two members, and motioned them to follow him inside the alley. A few steps from the street, the naked body of a man lay face down on the ground with his brain blown to bits.

“Look at this shit,” The Leader said “Flip him over, Jimmy.”

Jimmy, one of the two gang members flipped the body over with one black booted foot. Half of the dead man’s head was missing. That top half of his skull, starting from right above his nose was blown away. His brian, or what was left of it, hung by a string and rested on his right ear.

“What is this shit?” The Leader grunted “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Boss,” The third gang member said “We could cut off his head, and sell the rest of the body. It’d be cheaper, but it’s better than nothin’.”

The Leader thought for a moment, then nodded his head.

“Alright,” He said “Jimmy, you hold the body, and Bones, you cut off the head.”

Without another word, Jimmy stood over the body, and placed one foot on the dead man’s chest; he placed his right hand on the man’s mouth, and held him in place in an awkward angle. Bones, a big fellow who was the driver’s brother took out a blade (which was more of a hatchet than a knife), and held it with both hands over the dead man’s neck.

“On the count of three,” Bones said “One, two, three!”

He raised the hatchet, and came down with it on the man’s neck, separating the head from the rest of the body in one go. There wasn’t much blood splatter. Bones produced a black bandana, and wiped the blade clean, then placed it back in its sheath. Jimmy grabbed the headless man’s arms, and Bones grabbed him by the legs.

“Let’s go.” The Leader said.

The two gang members carried the body and followed the Leader to the truck.

“God-damn!” The driver said.

“It’s alright,” The Leader said “Someone’s bound to pay good money for this one, the hospital, or the school maybe.”

The driver helped the other two get the body inside the back of the truck, they laid it next to the body of a young man with a knife wound in his belly. The driver closed the truck’s lid, and climbed back into his seat. The three gang members got on there bikes, and the rumbling started once more. They all rolled off through the streets of Creekwell City, looking for other dead bodies to scavenge, because the Death Watch were always on the move.


About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
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