I synthesized an obnoxious laugh.
“And now here we are! The lisping mongoloid whose jaw I broke so wonderfully, whose face is so thoroughly smashed up and who can barely function without waving his little antique phallus around the place. And the fat man - whose skull I beat in while he tried to make friends with a feral. Do you remember that? Do you remember anything? Or did I scramble your brains with the tyre iron?”
He pulled the hammer back. My heart beat fast but my voice was steady.
“Go on. Shoot me. Do it. Waste a bullet on a man who can’t even stand up. Go on. You’d better kill me in here, because I guarantee that if you try to pull some of your justice on me outside of this cage I’ll kill you all. Gun or no gun. This wire door is the only thing holding your boring little world together.”
I kicked the door. The padlock shook against the metal.
He leveled the pistol at me. I doubled over and pushed my face into the wire. Fats leapt up and grabbed his wrist.
“If you shoot him in there, Jesus will judge you. You know what he’s like. He would judge you gladly.”
Junior shook the fat paw from his wrist and hit Fats across the face with the back of his hand. The slap was loud and sharp. Fats recoiled and stepped backward. Junior gestured to him with the gun.
“Nobody can judge me. I’m the right hand of Jesus. Without me, there is no justice.”
Fats shook his head - his face flushed. I shook the cage door.
“Right hand of Jesus? Justice? You said it yourself. I’m the monster of the new world. The people know me. The people fear me. And you? You’re nobody. Just some child running after Jesus. You shoot me in this cage and no matter what - you’ll know that you were the man who was too weak to fight a monster.”
He looked at Fats and back at me. Fats shook his head.
“He’s baiting you. If you let him out he’ll kill us both.”
Junior laughed and put one hand on Fats’ chest, pushing him down into his chair.
“If I let him out he’ll fall on his knees and beg me to let him go. That cage is the only thing holding his body together. He’s nothing. A monster. And I’m here to kill monsters.”
He put the pistol on the table and turned a key in the padlock. The door slowly swung open. He bent his head down and looked at me.
“Come on then. Come on out. Let’s see what you can do.”
I straightened my legs. My knees cracked and a sharp pain ran through my body. Junior grabbed my ankles and pulled me from the cage. I crumpled to the floor in a heap, gasping for air.
“See? He’s nothing.”
He stood over me. A burning pain exploded in my stomach. My veins twisted in agony. Needles shot through my muscles. My body felt like a coiled spring. I turned to face him. He looked down at me with an arrogant smirk. I broke into a broad smile, tapping my teeth together.
“I told you. Game over.”
I shot a fist up and hit him in the crotch - he buckled and staggered backward. I sprung to my feet - my knees locked - my body was tearing apart.
I threw myself at him and sunk my teeth into his neck, wrapping my arms around his head. We crashed into the wall.
He beat the back of my skull with his fists but I felt nothing - just distant, mute thudding. His blood flooded my mouth, running down my chest.
I tore my teeth away and spat a wet chunk of flesh on the floor, headbutting him between his fading eyes and clamping my teeth down on his neck again.
He tried to yell but his lips sprayed bubbles and blood. Fats was whimpering behind me. I heard the tyre iron scrape against the table and felt it across my back. Fats lashed at me with the iron, painful and sharp, sobbing in fear.
I ground my teeth against Junior’s neck and dropped him to the floor - throwing myself backward and into Fats.
He lost his footing and I fell over him - the tyre iron clattered against the floor.
I rolled over and spat a mouthful of skin and blood in his face.
His mouth opened and closed in mute horror. Tears streamed down his face.
I stood, swaying, and put my foot on his chest.
He didn’t struggle.
Junior slowly twisted on the floor behind us, clumsily trying to plug the gaping holes in his neck with his fingers.
I looked down at Fats.
“I have no problem with you. Do you want to go free?”
He nodded, still frozen in place.
I took my foot from his chest and held out my hand. He took it and I pulled him to his feet. I kept my grip on his hand.
“What was it you said to me? I could be the angel of the city? Something about anger and energy?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes clenched as he tried to process what I was saying.
I grinned.
“I like that.”
He smiled and his body deflated; a salty cloud of air engulfed us. I pulled him close to me.
“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever want a career change.”
I swept his feet out from under him and he crashed to the floor. The cages shook. He put his hands in front of his face and pleaded in a wet, rolling chant.
“No, no, no, please no, no no…”
I scooped up the tyre iron and flipped it against my palm. He watched me with wet eyes, his body shuddering with every word.
I kicked him to punctuate each action. I moved slowly and deliberately - grabbing my jacket from the table and pulling it over my torn shirt. My boots were against the wall, soaking in a steady pool of Junior’s blood.
I held a warning finger to Fats and pulled them on.
Junior had stopped moving. His glazed eyes followed me around the room. His blood had thickened in my mouth and I swallowed a heavy, sweet lump.
The pistol lay on the table. I turned the barrel toward the door and smashed it with the tyre iron until the frame bent and the handle split in two, sweeping the pieces onto the floor and threading the iron back beneath my belt.
I lifted the mirror from the table and caught a brief glimpse of myself. My face was tar-stained and etched with deep cuts. Dull blue tendrils crawled over the wounds like a mold.
Purple veins crawled across my eyes.
My pupils were pure black.
I smashed the mirror against the table and picked out a choice sliver, wrapping it in my sleeve.
I turned to Fats. His eyes were blank and his mouth was stretched wide - his grotesque pink tongue worked at his teeth. The words just wouldn’t come. I bent down over him.
“Pick a number between one and ten.”
His tongue waved in futility. I slapped him across the face with my palm.
“Pick a number between one and ten.”
He sputtered, choking on his fear. I tapped my fingers on his forehead. He coughed out a weak word.
“Six… Six…”
I laughed. And rapped my knuckles on his forehead.
“That was an excellent guess!”
I jammed the broken mirror into his eye socket and beat it into his skull with my jacket-wrapped palm. He convulsed on the hard floor and gasped for air.
I pushed the glass deeper with my boot and turned away. His heels hit the linoleum with no discernible beat.
Junior was still paralyzed and wedged up against the wall. He had stopped bleeding and I could see his throat furiously trying to fill his lungs.
I propped myself against the wall with both hands and kicked his head until his neck tore clean across. His skull beat against the wall and left it polka-dotted with blood.
I was tired. My arms and legs ached. My stomach was ice-cold. My shirt no longer covered my wounds. They were black and festering with the same blue mold that grew on my face. I scratched it with my fingernail but it was thick like carpet.
My limbs were heavy. I needed shine and blues and somewhere to recover. My eyes were blurring. I rubbed them with my knuckles but it didn’t help.
The front door slammed. I turned toward it. Jesus stood in the doorway. The room con
vulsed. His face contorted with violence. He took a long stride toward me and I staggered head-first across the room, throwing myself out the window and into the alley.
I clawed my way along the dust and regained my footing - snaking blindly through empty buildings, consciousness slowly bleeding away, the twisted face of Jesus burnt into my eyelids.
I’d somehow dragged myself into the tar-damp basement of a long-dead cafe. I passed out in a nest of rotten wood. The tar was falling when I awoke - slowly crawling down the walls. The sky outside was a deep green, so dark that I had to navigate by silhouette and sound.
Fats and Junior were already in the meatbin. The bin echoed with the automatic wheezing of Fats’ lungs. I tried to make out their eyes but the bodies were lit by a single slice of dull green light that illuminated nothing but their naked skin.
They smelled salty and fresh.
The vents blew a steady stream of black smoke and chemical fumes from the Doctor’s house. Warm light leaked out between the ill-fitting boards on the windows.
I beat on the back door and his footsteps stopped on the other side the heavy wood. The peep-hole shot a pin of light at my face and went black.
Silence.
I beat against the door again.
“It’s me. I’m hurt. I need you to clean me up. There’s something going on with my wounds. I think I’ve got gangrene.”
I scratched the carpet growing over my wounds.
“Blue gangrene.”
Silence. I cleared my throat.
“Gang-blue.”
He sighed. A dry, slow exhalation.
“I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
I kicked the door hard. The walls shuddered.
“Goddamnit you had better open this door. I protected you from those people. They would have killed you. You’d be on the slab if I hadn’t found you when I did.”
The door groaned. I assumed he was leaning against it.
“I’m sorry. Everything is dying. Bad things are happening and everytime they do, you are there. I know you. I have too much to lose. It’s a delicate ecosystem and you’re disturbing it. I just want peace and quiet and warmth.”
My heart beat hard. My face flushed with blood. I ground my teeth together.
“You saw what they did to me. They locked me up like an animal. They shot a hole in my gut. Before they arrived everything was perfect. It’s not me that is threatening the system. Open your eyes.”
There was silence. My muscles were tense and frustrated. I kicked the door one last time.
“Fine. Whatever. You old fuck. Goddamnit. Let’s just fuck the morality and fuck the goddamned system. You owe me. Pure economics. Pay me. Give me blues. Give me two heaping handfuls of blues or I will pry this door off its hinges and beat you so thoroughly that you’ll only be good for rough.”
I tapped the door with the tyre iron.
“Listen to my voice. You know what I am. You know what is going to happen.”
He walked away from the door, his voice fluctuated as he moved from room to room.
“Okay. That’s fair. Fine. I will leave the blues at the front door. You stay there. Keep tapping on the door. If the tapping stops, I won’t open the door.”
I tapped the wood in a slow beat. The front door opened and slammed shut again.
“The blues are on the doorstep. This is the end of it. We’re even. Leave me alone.”
I put the tyre iron back through my belt and walked to the front door. I scooped the blues up and put them in my pocket, popping four into my mouth.
“Listen up, Doc.”
I tapped the front door with the toe of my boot. My voice shook. I stood back and addressed the dark facade of the building.
“We are nowhere near even. Not even close. I’ll be back when I’ve fixed everything. And you are going to apologize. And I will take my full rewards. And if not - I’m going to tear this entire house down, boil your books to rough and cut off your legs for blue meat. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”
Silence.
The tar gently embraced the street and the blues hissed against my gums.
The bar looked dead. There was no trace of smoke in the air. I put my hand on the door and it was cold. I beat it with my fist and shouted at the wood.
“Wake up! Open the door! I’m home! I need your help!”
The words echoed down the street and dissipated out into the sky. I let the silence take hold. My body was shaking uncontrollably. I was falling apart. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and flexed my muscles, trying to hold myself together.
“Come on! Open up!”
I kicked the door with the toe of my boot. The trapdoor inside swung open and fell with a crash to the floor. I counted my heartbeats. The door cracked open and the scattergun came out. The lamps were silent. The bar was dark. The sky shone in Dad’s eyes but his face was hidden.
“I’m out, I’m hurt, I need to rest.”
I moved toward the door and he jerked the scattergun at me.
“Don’t move. You’re not welcome here anymore. You’re trouble.”
I tried to laugh but I couldn’t muster the energy.
“You know I’m trouble. That’s who I am. That’s how I’ve kept us safe all of these years.”
He made a low groan and kept the scattergun leveled at my chest.
“It’s too much. It’s gone too far. Wherever you go - whatever you do - things turn toxic. We’ve got a real chance here to make a nice, comfortable, safe city. It’s madness to spit in the face of that.”
I smiled and stretched my hands wide, flexing my fingers and shrugging.
“Madness? I like that. It’s a mad world. It always has been. Even before the curtain dropped. At least now it’s out in the open instead of behind closed doors.”
He shook his head. The barrel of the gun knocked against the door frame.
“You have to go. I’m sorry. I’ve made my choice.”
My eyes were burning and my cheeks were wet. I fished the copper wire and the screw and nails from my jacket and threw them at his feet.
“Get me shine. There’s your trade. I’ll wait right here. Lock the door if it makes you feel any better.”
My voice wavered. I felt a thick lump of nausea in my throat. He dragged the junk inside with his heel and the door clicked shut behind him. I doubled over and retched. A hot wave of vomit stung my lips and splashed in the tar. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and hoped he hadn’t heard it.
The door opened again - the scattergun slowly emerged with a jar of shine held beneath it. I moved slowly and purposefully - stretching one empty hand out and gently taking the shine. He started to withdraw the scattergun. I could no longer see his eyes.
“One last thing.”
I grabbed the gun and jerked it to my throat, pulling him clean out the doorway and into the light. He looked frail and impotent. I pushed the barrels into my neck and stretched my eyes wide.
“The next time I see you - you had better either apologize or shoot me. Anything else and I’ll toss you in the meatbin and see you chewed down and digested by every stinking feral who wants a piece. Do you see my face? Look at me.”
His slowly turned his face to mine. His eyes were dead and grey.
“You are no longer my family. Let’s see how far your kindness gets you without your pet to back it up.“
I threw the barrel down and walked out into the tar. I tensed my shoulders but the gunshot didn’t come. Mistake. The door closed behind me. I took a long drink of shine and let the tar run down my neck.
My stomach was empty. The blues had dissolved into dust. The shine burnt my throat.
“Dad.”
I turned the word over in my head.
It had lost all meaning.
I propped myself in the doorway. The doorman stood at attention and stared at me as if we’d never met. I was vaguely disappointed. A relationship reset to zero. The Boss-Lady crossed her arms and stood beside him. The bar was empty, the house was qu
iet.
I drank the last of the shine, turned to the alley and threw the empty jar against a wall. The sound was jarring and seemed obscene compared to the quiet of the house. I turned back to the Boss-Lady as the glass rained down into the tar.
“You used me.”
She nodded.
“I know I did. But you wanted me to.”
I leaned back against the door frame and mirrored her crossed arms.
“I did. You’re right. But you owe me, at the very least. You got out of there. You escaped. If it wasn’t for me - they would have climbed all over you and you’d be nothing but a pile of gristle in the dirt.”
I swept a sharp finger from the doorman to the Boss-Lady.
“Both of you.”
The doorman narrowed his eyes and made a slow point of laying a tar-pocked machete across his palm. I rolled my eyes and turned to the Boss-Lady.
“I need somewhere to rest up. They locked me up like an animal. They shot a hole through my stomach.”
She looked me over, her eye picked over my stomach and across my face. I remembered my brief reflection in the mirror, before I’d scrambled Fats’ brains. I was a mess. My face flushed with blood. Her eye settled back on mine.
“Have you seen yourself? You look like a monster.”
I snorted and pushed two blues into my mouth. The doorman jerked at the action and relaxed again. I winked at him.
“Monster. I’ve been hearing that word a lot recently.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked down.
“You can’t come in. I’m sorry. You scare my family. Trouble follows you around. I’ve got people to care for. I can’t risk them.”
I kept quiet and waited for her to continue. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“It’s a delicate situation. You’ve seen it. The people are starting to turn. It’s getting ugly. The balance is right on the edge. This isn’t just for me. Everything you value - everything I value, it will all burn if the people decide to side with Jesus and his… law and justice and morality.”
She looked up. Her face was bare and honest. I looked away. The bar was dark and the low lamplight from the foyer played across the glass. She sighed and shifted her feet.
Blue Meat Blues Page 15