Chapter 14
He stared in horror, again. What was it thinking? Four heads. Four. Human. Heads. Was it taunting him? Was it angry? Hadn’t he managed to steer the deer into the pond, where it quickly disappeared? Was that not enough?
Four heads, all human. He dared not think upon it, dared not look closely at the faces. If he did, he might know who they were, as he had known the first one. He did not want to know. He would have to drop these into the river, like the first one. After dark.
Were these a gift? Perhaps he had not been clear enough with the Provider. He only wanted animal heads.
Did it see us as animals? He shuddered at the thought. He could just as easily be next. It was inhuman; it did not speak, it only radiated hunger and evil.
Jeremy put on his taxidermy gloves. Gingerly, he picked up the heads and put them into a burlap bag.
The Provider seemed to read his mind, so it was obvious he had not been precise in his thoughts. No more human heads. He would be precise. As he had with the fox.
He put the bag in the back of the truck and drove to the southernmost end of the river. He forced himself to go slower, not to panic. He opened the bag and emptied its horrible contents into the river. The current of the Martin's Way was strong here, as it flowed into the mighty Mississippi. Jeremy watched as the heads bobbed and then sank. This time he was sure they would not be found.
At home, he washed the truck bed as before, and burned the burlap bag in his fireplace, making sure that nothing was left. He got the small shovel and bucket he kept beside the fireplace, scooped up the ashes from burning the bag, and carried them out deep into the woods.
He then returned to the house, and carefully placed the bucket and shovel back in their place on the hearth. Before he went to bed, he checked everything: his tools, the house, how he had parked the truck. Everything was in its proper place. Good work requires good work habits. Mother always told him that.