Juan of the Dead

by Jacalyn Boggs

  She looked at me in silence for a few minutes. If I was lucky, she was thinking twice about what I said and the fact I wasn't running through the countryside killing and maiming all I came in contact with.

  I wasn’t lucky, so she was probably considering what part of me to cut off first. Just where do you start when you make julienne fries out of another person? Are you kind and kill them first or do you make them suffer and start at the toes? I didn't particularly want to find out.

  "You make a good argument, but I live with facts. You are what you are. At some point, you'll realize it, too."

  "I'm doing just dandy, and you seem to think I should be off killing everyone. You think if I wanted people dead, I'd just be sitting here?" She looked like she wanted to say something, but I wouldn't let her. I plowed on. "And this prophecy... Come on. It's a prophecy. Do you really expect me to believe that something someone said so many years ago is really going to happen? Like Nostradamus? End of the world? Four horsemen? All that stuff? I find that ridiculous. What kind of a hold do people have over you that they can pony around some old wives’ tale to get you to agree to go murder someone? Someone who's done absolutely nothing wrong? You seemed so kind yesterday, what changed?"

  Okay, it was over. And by over, I meant over. There would be no more verbal ping pong. Either she'd tell me what the prophecy said that had her running scared or she'd move the events of our little meeting forward. I was stronger than them and had a pretty strong desire to live. No matter how you looked at it, there was a fight brewing and it was just a matter of when.

  After a moment of my silence, she spoke. "You done?"

  I just nodded and waited. My mad fighting skills were about -30 on a scale from one to ten. Didn't bode well for me versus Leahonia and the Five Thugs. I would have to count on sheer brute strength. Funny to think of me and 'sheer brute strength' in the same context.

  "Don't mock us. The prophecy foretold of your rising from the dead. Shouldn't that be proof enough to you?"

  "Seems to me you could have saved us all a lot of trouble by I don't know... preventing my death? Instead, you sat around twiddling your thumbs. I didn't ask for any of this, it just happened and if you knew it would happen and did absolutely nothing... then I say you deal with those consequences."

  She could have ended this in ways that didn't involve me becoming worm food throughout the Mexican countryside.

  "We couldn't do that. You can't mess with fate that way." Her voice grew shrill but her statement just made my argument easier.

  "Wait. So, you gotta let the prophecy fulfill itself by letting me die and get brought back? Just to re-kill me so I don't like, take over the world or something? How does that even make sense? Either way you are making this prophecy null and void!"

  A girl could get a migraine from that sort of thinking. Migraines only brought that little crease in your forehead between your eyes. Eh, who wanted that? No thank you.

  At least it got her to stop and think. Maybe more about that than anything else I said today. I suppose at some point someone had to listen to reason. Or not.

  "If it wasn't you, it would be someone. Better to let events play out to be sure. Let's get on with things. I think I've been more than fair talking to you about why we have to do this."

  Fair would be listening to reason and letting me go. Fair would be apologizing for not stopping me from croaking and helping me get at least partway home for the trouble you caused me.

  "Nothing will change your mind? It's time for Whack-a-Bea?" I just had to be sure before I went tearing up my manicure and mussing my hair.

  "I'm really sorry. If it makes you feel better, I think we could have been friends if things had been different."

  She wanted to kill me...chop me up...scatter my remains! With friends like that... “You often kidnap and kill your friends? Must make for a lonely life.”

  The humor was lost on her. I gotta say, maybe if she took a lighter view on life we wouldn't be in this sort of predicament. Seems when you are a happy person you don't run around killing innocent earthquake victims.

  I prepared myself. It all came down to this moment. Time almost slowed down for me. None of that life flashing before your eyes sort of thing. I'd already died once this week. I suppose that I didn't need to have that whole stereotypical thing going on.

  Leahonia's gang of thugs didn't even flinch a collective muscle. They stood rock still, waiting for her orders. She came towards me, but she held no weapon. I couldn't guess her plan; I could only watch and wait.

  Would the goon squad all jump to action and descend on me at once? Did the team of brutes hide knives in their pants? Would they turn on me like rabid dogs? Or would they attempt to be more humane and try to kill me before going about their gruesome task?

  Leahonia stood right beside me, bent so her mouth was at my ear. Her hot breath made me want to pull away, but instead I listened. "I really am sorry. They'll make it quick."

  With that she walked away, her footfalls on the hard floor receding. Chicken. She could order my death and dismemberment, but she couldn't witness it?

  The gaggle of goons looked at me as though they were a hive mind working together as one in five separate bodies. Hello, creepy? Damn, these cult-like people. They really were mindless sheep. If only I had some red Kool-Aid to ply them with.

  Let them drink and then wait for them to drop. No, I'd have to rely on myself instead. Not really a concept I trusted enough to put a lot of faith into. With as little movement as possible, I prepared myself. With my hands tied behind me, there wasn't a lot to try, but my legs were mostly free. It wasn't much of a plan, but I could kick, scream, and bite. If these mindless fools were dumb enough to give me more leverage by cutting me loose, all the better. I might fight like a girl, but I would fight. Or run. Really, it didn't matter so long as I saved my skin.

  I had some superhuman strength, and despite the extreme disadvantage I was currently at, I could still make something work. Five to one were not favorable odds, but hey... I had to try

  As the first reached me, I went for the psych out stare down. Lucky me, I didn't need to blink like normal people. Yay for being not-quite-dead girl! I refused to turn away and he began blinking and couldn't stop. Blinkie got a little too close and I kicked him. Hard. I didn't get more than kneecap high, but kneecap was all it took to get him to back off. Super powered super kick resulted in a nasty crunching sound moments before Blinkie hit the floor. I flashed his buddies a friendly smile.

  Dead Girl 1 - Cult Brutes 0.

  I knew better than to let my attention stay on Blinkie. I ignored him as he clutched his knee. He wasn't totally out of commission, but less of a worry for the moment. Even stuck in a chair, I could probably get away faster than he could crawl after me.

  His four buddies knew I wasn't totally on board with the whole "let's kill Bea" bandwagon and planned to fight to live. Sure, they had the advantage, but they were smart enough to realize that a caged animal can still cause some damage.

  I was never very good at strategy games like chess. I stunk at guessing what someone else would do. My planning abilities were sorely lacking. I flexed my arms, hoping to see if I could bust through whatever they bound me with. It would be a phenomenal time to discover I could bust free like Superman in handcuffs.

  I could bust a kneecap without breaking a sweat but forget the ties that bind. I was stuck with them, at least for now. That's fine, I'd keep with my kicking and biting plan until something better came up. They might win, but they would have to work for it.

  The four finally encircled me. Keeping pace with one another, they approached me. Four brutes versus me. The angles would make it difficult for me to do a lot, but I would do what I could.

  Muscles tensed again, I tried my best at a poker face. A flirty and cute poker face. All smiles and big innocent eyes. After all, I was sitting in a chair with my arms tied behind me. How much damage could I really do? I hoped that these impressions I wanted them to get woul
d flow right out of me and to them. Sure, I hurt their buddy, but there's no way I would hurt them.

  My right leg shot out and whacked another guy. It knocked him to the side and he fell into one of his buddies. As quick as my leg had gone out it was back under me and I hoisted myself up, chair and all. I heard the cry of a brute as I hit him with the chair leg.

  I'm sure I looked quite the site, rather hunched with the chair on me. I was ready to rumble, as much as anyone could in such a situation. Lucky for me, the cavalry showed up.

  c

  chapter twenty-two

  Looking at the brutes, I weighed my options. Slim. None. Got anything for me? Nope? That's what I thought. I opened my mouth, not really sure what I was going to say, when the most horrible sound I'd ever heard came from outside.

  Just in time, too. Could they have waited any longer? I think not. But hey, I wasn't chopped into little pieces and dumped into some kind of pit yet, so I was all good with them showing up. Anything to help me stay in the land of the living. Or I suppose that's really the land of the not-quite-living-but-still-intact.

  I really needed to figure out what the heck to call myself. If I spent any more time fiddling around with my state of being, I would develop worry lines. I decided that as soon as I got out of this predicament, I'd figure that one out. A name for myself, not wrinkles.

  The sound was more than a rumble. There was the distinct sound of metal rubbing against metal that set your teeth on edge. I didn't have time to guess what the sound was before the sound of gunfire started.

  Leahonia's voice reached us from the far side of the warehouse. “Get out there and see what is going on!” Her barking tone made Hefty, Beefy, and Brutey hustle their buns.

  Mmm, rather nice buns, too. Scratch that tThese are the dudes who want to kill me!

  “Not some of yours then?” I let the acid drip from my words. I didn't really care who was out there so long as they took care of Leahonia and her band of crazies. If they wanted a piece of me, well they'd at least knock out someone in the line. While they did that, maybe I could figure out how to get free and run. Run and not stop till I got out of this godforsaken country.

  Who cared about passports anymore? I was willing to attempt to swim across the Rio. I just wanted to go home. And once I got there, I was never going to leave again. Forget this traveling crap. I just wanted to get back to normal.

  Leahonia and I stood there, engaged in our own little stare off. It felt like that moment before the shootout at the O.K. Corral where the two cowboys’ hands hovered over their pistols, just staring at one another. Daring the other to move. What was Leahonia thinking? Was she going to try to take care of me herself?

  Maybe I could distract her with that whole catching more flies with honey thing. “It's not too late. Why don't we just get out of here. I'll go home and get back to my life. You can do whatever it is you do when you aren't harassing innocent tourists. Pick on small kids and stuff.”

  I might not be so good with the sweet. Ooops. My bad. Like she was going to buy it anyway? Right. I couldn't get that lucky. someone with good luck doesn't go on a cruise to Mexico, die, and get raised from the dead, right?

  “I think not,” she said. “Only one of us walks out of here.”

  “Well, I am sorry that you feel that way. I thought maybe we could be friends.

  Exchange Christmas cards and all that. Sorry, you don't want to leave here.” She could say only one of us was going to walk out, but I swore it would be me. I died once already. I didn't plan to do it again anytime soon, thank you very much.

  “I'm leaving here. And so are you. But you are leaving in pieces.”

  “You and what army are going to stop me?” I snarked at her. “Cuz it seems to me as though your little army of brutes might be otherwise engaged. So, I thought I'd just high tail it outta here. You can stay and hang with them or you can let me by.”

  “Not a chance. I already told you. I'm not going to let you harm any innocent people.”

  “You never give up! I haven't hurt anyone. Maybe over there in Crazy Town you have people who are awful, but over here in Sanityville we don't roll that way.”

  “You really think that your life is sane?” Her condescending tone annoyed me. Maybe that was because coming back from the dead was a little insane to begin with, but we could wrestle that one out later - after I was away and safe and not risking my ability to walk and talk anymore.

  “It's saner than yours. Don't you see how crazy it is to punish me for someone else's mistakes?”

  While engaged in the hideous conversation with Leahonia, I inched my way towards the door - not the door the brutes headed out of, but another door I'd spied. Leahonia matched me step for hobble.

  “I don't think that you would mean to. Maybe you were a nice person. But that's all changed now.”

  Who do I report Undead Discrimination to? Ibet the Board of Tourism for Mexico wouldn't really care or do anything for me.

  “Excuse me? I am a nice person.” Okay, sometimes I was a nice person. Maybe I hadn't been at my best since the accident, but could you blame me? I died! That's enough to cause anyone to get a wee bit cranky.

  “You say that now. But you are an abomination!” Her voice pierced my ears. I rubbed my ears with my finger. I tried to keep my voice calm when I replied. “What happened to two wrongs don't make a right?”

  Leahonia didn't care. “It is forgivable to rid the world of the tools of the Devil. Someone's gotta do it.”

  “Really? Tools of the Devil? So, it better be you? Look, I am not a tool of anyone. I think you really need to get out more."

  “Yes, you are his tool. You leave death and destruction in your wake. That furthers his plan, not the plan of God.”

  Egads. I hated religious zealots, even before all this went down. You just couldn’t reason with them. I lived too close to the Bible Belt. Don't get me wrong. I felt like God and I were okay and all that, but I wasn't about to go around thumping on any Bibles. I'll leave that to the J Dubs and those cute guys on bikes.

  I knew that she wasn't completely stupid, so she had to know what I was going for, but I still didn't look at the door for risk of giving myself away. With my peripheral vision I judged the distance to the doorknob and lunged, not sure how I'd open it while tied to the chair. I had to try something, this conversation was old, and like something from a bad horror movie. Who knew bad guys really carried on conversations like that?

  I lunged a half second before her, but she was closer to the door than me when it flew open. Jon stood on the other side and I'd never been so glad to see a man before in my life. Jon looked fierce and I was glad he came ready to rumble. I ducked behind him as he leveled a pipe. I thought about sticking around to watch him deal a beating on Leahonia, but I just wasn't interested. More than ready to kiss this mess goodbye, my plan was to hoof it out of there while she was otherwise engaged.

  I ran as best I could with the chair tied to me. Behind me, I heard Jon grunt and the sound of the pipe hitting what I could only imagine was Leahonia. I wasn't gonna look behind me to make sure. I was maybe only halfway down the hallway on the other side of my exit door, when I heard Jon calling my name.

  “Bea, wait up!” Jon called out.

  Wait up, my ass. No way. After I got out of here, I still had to get past the Brute Squad, and I wanted all the momentum I could get. He could just catch up.

  If he couldn't keep up with one girl tied to a chair, then what kind of man was he, anyway? Okay, so I was an undead superhuman kinda girl with uber mad-dog fighting skills, but that was no excuse.

  You know what they needed in Mexico? They needed their buildings to have proper electricity and an exit sign. I had no idea what the Spanish word for exit was, but all I needed was a large, glowing red sign. The hallway was pretty dim, but luckily, I had my new awesome night vision to help me see better.

  I finally spied a door and I plowed into it. I probably could have used a doorknob, but that's totally too m
uch effort when running for your life. Super strength deployed, and I busted the door right in two. Go me. It opened to stairs and I flew down them at a breakneck pace. Didn't really worry since I'd already broken my neck once this week and hey look, I survived it. Right?

  “Bea!” He was huffing now and I could tell it cost him to cry my name. I looked up and saw he was coming down the stairs after me.

  “Catch up, but I'm not stopping! That chick is psycho and so are her friends!” I tossed the words over my shoulder and didn't slow down my momentum. Chair hunchback helped gravity move me along. Reaching the bottom of the stairs I kicked at the next door and it also broke in two.

  Super strength rocks my socks. I'm just saying. Lucky for me, I was now within a few feet of the door outta this hellhole. The door in front of me looked like it was made out of some sort of rusty metal. Deciding that might tax my newfound strength too much, I debated what to do which gave Jon time to catch up to me.

  “Bea, she's down,” he panted in an effort to get the words out. “I think you are okay. You can slow down.”

  I kicked the door, but nothing happened. “Yeah well, she might wake up or her goons might show up. I just wanna get out of here. And then I don't care. If I gotta get in a rowboat with some illegals, I'm outta this godforsaken hellhole of a country. I wish I'd never come here.”

  He looked a little sad. I tried to care, but in that moment I just wanted to wallow. I kept on. “All I wanted was a nice little vacation. A relaxing cruise. Is that too much to ask? Oh no, I am the person who goes to Mexico, gets killed, brought back from the dead, and then I have psycho freaks chasing after me wanting to hack me up and return me to the dead! I'm too young to die! This is just too much!”

  “Bea, I'm so sorry,” he said again for the zillionth. He was still panting, though not as hard. His eyes turned to the floor, I really thought he meant it. I bet he was sorry. I don't think he ever planned for my life to go down the toilet with one quick flush. It just happened.