A pickup starts across the street. Engine has trouble turning. Smoke coming out of the tailpipe.

He scrapes frost off the windshield and side windows. It makes a crackling sound. There are voices.

Just bring him out, the kid says to his partner. We’ll put him here in the back. You got him covered? The young man nods his head and goes back inside the trailer. Morning sunlight peeks through clouds. The kid places his hands inside pockets and waits.

Could you give me a hand? his partner says, struggling with the body over his shoulder. The kid starts to laugh.

He don’t weigh nothing but a buck and a quarter, the kid says. A line of blood appears from the door to the snow-covered gravel driveway. The kid kicks the snow and tries to make blood disappear. Black and white mixed with traces of red.

The two boys throw the old man’s body in the bed of the pickup. They cover the bed and body with a yellow plastic tarp. They jump in the front seat of the Ford. The kid shifts into drive, and back tires begin to spin.

Come on now, kid says. Damn it. Get a shovel and dig us out, he tells his partner. Go on now. We gotta get out of here.

Kid puts all he’s got to the pedal. The other boy digs around the wheel. Snow and mud kick up in his face.

The wheel now moves with traction. He throws the shovel to the side and jumps back in the truck; blowing on his raw red hands.

I close the curtains.