No one moved a muscle. Not a sound could be heard. The girl was motionless. They all knew she was dead. “Okay, okay.” Rubbing his hand down his face, he had to think and think fast. Pointing to the photographer, “You, go get a sheet.” The boy did not move. “Now, damn it!” He jumped, and then rushed off to get the sheet. Everyone else was frozen in disbelief. How could this happen?
Lorna slowly approached Rorlo, her hands running up and down her arms. “She can’t be dead; she can’t.” She was shaking, her voice barely above a whisper.
Turning toward her, “Get a hold of yourself; this is no time to lose it. I’ll fix this.” His mind was racing. No one can know about this. No one.
Amber’s young body was gleaming under the lights. Her eyes were still open; shouldn’t they be closed? People’s eyes close when they die, don’t they? Maybe she wasn’t…the thought trailed off as Lorna tentatively touched Amber’s arm.
“Oh gawd! Oh gawd!” jerking her hand away. “How Rorlo? How are you going to fix this? She is dead!” Her frantic eyes searched his. His icy calm frightened her. Rorlo’s face showed no emotions.
The boy came back with the sheet. He called himself Jeff, not his real name; no one cared. They didn’t care that he was only fifteen years old. The boy was a genius when he had a camera in his hand. He knew how to make pictures come alive. Rorlo wanted the best. The kid is the best. He didn’t care about his age. Anyway, who would find out? He paid the kid too well for him to blab.
Pointing to Ray, who handled the lighting, “You, wrap her in this,” throwing the sheet at him. Everyone will have a part in this, he decided; it was the only way, other than killing them, to ensure that no one talked.
“No way man, no way!” Voice quivering from the scene before him, Ray turned his back and started packing his equipment; he was getting out of there. A shot sounding like a firecracker split the air. Ray fell to the floor, and he was dead.
Pointing the gun at no one in particular, “Anyone else want to join him?” Rorlo asked softly; death was in his eyes. He was not going back to prison, not for anyone. “I’ll say this only once.” Looking at each of them, “If word of this gets out, I’ll find you, I’ll kill you.”
No one moved. Their eyes were on Ray, lying in a pool of blood, dead. Still pointing the gun at the dead man on the floor, “Does anyone here doubt me?” he asked softly. No one did. They all knew he would kill his own mama if he had to. Rumor had it that he did.
Hearts were pumping and sweat beaded on foreheads. “Now,” still holding the pistol as if it were a part of his hands, “you,” he pointed at Jeff, “wrap the girl in the sheet.” Looking at Tiffany, the makeup artist, “You…get another sheet.” Wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf, she ran out of the room.
Lorna still frozen in shock, began to visibly tremble as if she were cold. A girl was dead from strangulation and he shot Ray to death without blinking an eye. Looking at Rorlo, and realizing for the first time just how dangerous he really was, Lorna’s eyes reflected the horror of it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he sneered. She quickly averted her eyes. Trying not to look at the bed where Amber once laid, staring at the blood still fresh on the floor where Ray was, poor Ray she thought and closed her eyes. Tears silently streamed down her face.
With both bodies wrapped, Rorlo instructed both Dan and Jeff to put the bodies in the van. “We’re all going to take a little trip.” He pointed the pistol at Lorna’s forehead; there was a gasp from someone in the room. “Anyone move… anyone cry out for help, or if anyone so much as draws attention to us when we leave this building…I’ll kill her.” No one doubted him.
They all loaded into the van, each in their own thoughts wondering if they were on their way to their own funeral. No one spoke except Dan, who was driving; he needed to know where they were going. Rorlo sat next to him, arm resting on Dan’s right thigh, the gun pointing down toward his most private part. Dan swallowed an imaginary lump in his throat. Rorlo smiled at Dan. “To the dump, my man, to the dump.” The smile slowly fell from his face. “We have some trash to put out.” There was death in his eyes as he pointedly looked at each of them. “Let’s hope we don’t pick up any more trash on the way.” The warning was clear.
Lorna sat next to Tiffany, silently praying. It was the first time she prayed in years. She did not believe in prayers. It did not do her any good in the past. She prayed anyway. She tried not to look at Amber and Ray, both their bodies wrapped in sheets, Ray’s stained with blood, but she could not take her eyes off the bodies. The van was silent as death.
At the dumpsite, Rorlo instructed Dan and Lorna to dump the bodies. She looked up; there were gulls flying above, lots of them. She will never forget the sight she knew, looking at the two people whom she once shared smiles with, now wrapped in white sheets, one slowly turning red from blood, or this day, she thought, as long as she lived.
While they dumped the bodies, they both got the feeling Rorlo had been here before; he seemed to know the spot too well. Dumping them where they will never be found, the gulls would have a hardy dinner, Rorlo thought, or at least pick the bodies beyond description.
It took Lorna and Dan, carrying the dead bodies of their friends, twenty minutes to complete Rorlo’s demands, ten minutes for Amber and ten minutes for Ray, but for them it felt like hours.
After their first trip, they saw that Jeff was so frightened; the poor kid peed his pants. He was too afraid to be embarrassed. He was standing outside the van, hands over his ears as if to block out the sound. Jeff appeared to be in shock. Tears were streaming down his face. What did Rorlo do to him?
Rorlo had Tiffany by the hair dragging her out of the van. “Come on,” he sneered tightly, forcing her to the ground with the gun pointed at her temple. Her clothes were torn; face was bruised.
Both Dan and Lorna feared for their lives. They knew that Rorlo had no qualms about killing them all if he had to. Tiffany begging for her life, voice aching in hopeless despair, unrecognizable to Lorna’s ear. Resonating, her fingers shook violently, while clutching her once beautiful blouse.
The blouse, mere rags, now looked like it belonged here, with the rest of the trash. Amber and Ray didn’t, Lorna’s mind screamed what her lips would not.
“Shut up!” Rorlo shouted, while hitting Tiffany with the gun across her face. Jeff, hands still covering his ears, squeezing his eyes even tighter, slowly fell to the ground and curled into a ball. Dan started to move. Rorlo raised the gun toward him, and he stopped.
“Rorlo, please stop!” Lorna heard her own voice cracking. “Please, we won’t say a word!” She was so terrified; she bit her tongue so hard that it bled.
“Yeah man…please…” Dan begged, thinking of his wife and kids, “We won’t say a word, we swear…”
“Oh, I know you won’t.” He said softly. Motioning for Tiffany to move next to the others, she was in so much pain; her movements reminded him of a snail. He hated snails. He paid little attention to Jeff; the kid was definitely in shock. “There are only four people who know what happened here.” He emphasized by pointing the gun at each of them.
“Know this, I will not only kill you, but also your families as well,” he pointed and looked at Dan, “after I spend a little time with them. If by chance incarceration is my fate, from my cell I will put a contract on each of you and your family. Do you all understand me?” He was icy as death itself.
They all shook their heads in agreement too scared to speak. For a while, he said nothing, just kept looking at them as if deciding whether to end their lives or not. After a few tense moments, Rorlo commanded, “get in the van. Dan, pick up the kid…you drive.”
Dan drove carefully with white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, stealthily eyeing Tiffany in the passenger seat. She mournfully held her head, while blood crawled down her face, and dripped to her once beautiful blouse. Jeff, still curling into a tight ball on the floor of the van, started to rock back and forth, not saying a word.
Lorna sat behind Dan, with concern for both Tiffany and Jeff etched on her face. Fear for them all crying in her heart. They all asked themselves if the money was worth the mess they were in, as Rorlo sat in the back of the van, the gun pointing at the base of Lorna’s neck. When they were back at the studio, no one dared to move.
“We’ll resume shooting tomorrow, same time, and same place, don’t be late. I’ll expect to see you all here.” Momentarily looking at Jeff, Rorlo smiled, “That means you too…” Pocketing his gun, he walked off as if they all just came from a midsummer night’s strole. He was whistling the theme song from Alfred Hitchcock.
They all stared at him, as his silhouette disappeared into the night like a wispy fog. A dream? No. A living nightmare.