by Shook, J. E.
"It didn't take you long to get to the progress speech, but I suppose you have a point there," Reginald said.
"Have you ever seen your father try to use a cell phone? It is one of the funniest things I have ever seen. I truly respect Anthony, but I struggle to keep from laughing every time I see him get confused. He's finally learned how to use a computer, but he still calls me whenever he has problems. He's too proud to say it's him. He always blames the technology for not being right."
Reginald grunted. "That sounds like him."
"When was the last time you two spoke?"
"One hundred and four years ago," Reginald replied without hesitation.
After a moment of silence, Michael said, "You should keep in touch with him more often."
"He is the one who lost interest in me. He never really cared for the idea of having a son. It was mostly Mother who convinced him to turn me, so when he saw no use in me, he just chose to ignore me. I am glad that he still cares for you though."
"You know I didn't mean for him to like me more, right?"
"I know. You don't even have to ask," Reginald answered, looking up. "He seeks out strength. There is no doubting that you are the one of us who was truly superior. In a fight, we know who would win."
Michael laughed. "Is that what you think? I bet you could beat me in a one-on-one fight. You discredit yourself too harshly. I do not deny my strength, but you don't know yours. We might have to put that to the test sometime."
Reginald laughed out loud. "That's something I wouldn't dare test now, Mr President. The secret service would have me down before I could lay another punch."
"True," Michael said, chuckling. "Still that's something we'll have to test when this is over. Let's say that you, me, and Corey get back together when we go back in for new IDs. We grew up together. There's no need for us to stay apart."
Reginald hesitated. "That does sound like fun," he finally said.
"How is Corey these days?" Michael asked.
"Umm, I don't know," Reginald asked, startled by the question. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you should know. He is the chief of police there. I'm sure you speak every so often."
"Not really," Reginald admitted. "He has settled down and has two kids now. You know that, I'm sure. The little time that his job allows him to have is spent with his family. He should be with them as long as he can. There can be time for us to be friends in another lifetime. But the last time I spoke to him, he seemed well. Just tired."
"Really," Michael pondered. "I hate to hear that. I will make sure to call him tomorrow and see if there's anything I can do to help him."
"Thanks," Reginald said. "That would be nice."
"You call him too. You don't have a right to think like that. I'm sure he has room for you as well. If nothing else, you could tutor his kids. We all know you are the wisest of the group."
"I suppose."
"There's no point in you hiding yourself away flipping burgers for fifty years."
"Actually I usually don't do the burger flipping," Reginald said. "I do a bit of this and that."
"That is not the point," Michael said, his voice getting sharper. "We both know you have far more potential than that. Start doing something grand. All three of us spoke of dreams to accomplish when we were young. I've worked hard and made one of those happen. Corey has made him into something as well. You know, forget grand. Whether you would admit it or not, I can tell you are not happy. Stop doing something that makes you miserable, and do something that makes you happy. Alright?"
"I'm happy enough," Reginald said, trying to sound confident.
"Okay," Michael said, sighing irritatedly. "Just think about it."
"I will," Reginald answered.
Reginald heard some other voices on the other side of the phone. "Reginald, a meeting just came up. I have to let you go. Let's not let so much time pass before we speak again."
"Is that an order, sir?"
Michael laughed. "No, but don't tempt me. Goodbye, old friend."
"Bye, Michael," Reginald said, ending the call. Smiling, he put his phone back in his pocket. He was surprised that he was feeling better after speaking to his friend. 'Maybe I really should have called him sooner,' he thought to himself.
Reginald had few moments to mull over his thoughts before he heard a dinging sound. He stood up straight and brushed the wrinkles from his shirt. He leaned over his microphone and said, "Welcome to Captain Burger. What are your orders, sir or madam?"
He waited while he heard a several men muttering and grumbling. Finally a deep voice answered him. "Yeah, I'd like ten majors. Four of them should have everything. Two will have just cheese and mayo. The last four should have everything except pickles. I can't stand pickles. I got pickles the last time. All of them with large orders of fries. Don't skimp on the salt. Four sodas and a strawberry milkshake should be enough to wash it down. Anything else guys?" He heard more muttering. "Ah, and a small salad to take home to Ralph's girl."
"Umm," Reginald said, quickly tallying the order into the machine. "What size would you like your drinks? Private, corporal, or sergeant?"
"What's the biggest?"
"Four sergeants for you," Reginald said. "Your total is thirty-five dollars and twenty cents. Please pull to the next window." Turning off his mic, he asked Hector, "Did you get all of that?"
Hector nodded, quickly gathering the large order. He assembled the burgers, neatly wrapped them, and placed them into a couple bags. He then scooped up the french fries and put them in their containers. Reginald smiled as he noticed one eye kept firmly on the television.
"Are they done yet?" the voice from earlier asked from behind Reginald. He turned and saw a dark SUV with four men inside. Each one was muscular and wearing team jackets. 'They must have just got through playing a game,' Reginald thought. The driver appeared to be the biggest one of them.
"It will be done very shortly," he said.
"Cool, better be, it's been a long night."
Reginald nodded at Hector as he was handed the bags of food. "Here you go," he said, handing them to the driver. "Your drinks will be filled in just a moment. Thirty-five dollars and twenty cents, please."
The driver took out his wallet and opened it. "Hmm, I only have thirty dollars," he said, taking the money out. "Any of you guys got any money?"
"I think I've got a five, but not any change," one of them said. After a moment, the man handed a five to the driver.
"Sorry, that's all we've got," he said, handing the money to Reginald.
Reginald turned to Mr Davis and said, "They're short twenty cents. Permission to continue?"
Mr Davis sighed. "Sure, whatever. We may as well give all the food away since we're going out of business anyways."
Hector handed Reginald the carton of drinks. "Thanks," Reginald said. Turning he held them out for the driver to take. "Here are your drinks, gentlemen."
The driver had already unwrapped one of the burgers and bitten into it. "This one is supposed to be mine, right?" he asked, holding it up for Reginald to see.
"I suppose so," Reginald said, wondering what the problem was.
"Then what is this?" he said, taking the top bun off.
"That would be a burger with everything," Reginald said, sighing. "Including pickles."
"That's right," the driver said. "I asked for a simple order, and you failed to deliver. Disgraceful."
"Yeah, and it tastes like shit," one of the guys from the backseat said, hungrily eating his. The passengers didn't even try to hide their snickering.
"I agree," the driver said, smiling. "I think I'm owed my money back."
Reginald felt his fingers twitch as he managed to control his temper. "You said yourself you have eaten here before. The food has not changed in years."
The man's cruel smile grew. "Well, only for the worse anyways. I was hoping it would be better by now. I was wrong, I see now. No give us our money back." The driver finished his demand by taking
the pickle and flicking at Reginald. It landed with a splat on his forehead where the melted cheese and mayonnaise held it in place.
"Sir," he started, feeling his muscles tense up as his vision began to fade to red. Inside his mind's eye he saw him leaping outside the window and ripping the car door open. He pictured himself, bashing the driver's head in with the steering wheel while his buddies screamed in horror. Then he slowly drank the blood of the driver as the others ran away, messing up their clothes in the process. "Sir," he repeated, taking a deep breath. His fangs that had begun to move downwards stopped and retreated, and his vision cleared. "Sir, if that is your wish, then you shall have your money back. Please hand the food back over."
"What so you can throw it away, or worse give to other unsuspecting customers? No, we'll go give this to the homeless shelter ourselves. Maybe they can stomach this garbage."
Reginald felt another wave of anger begin to surge over him, but his temper was cooled when an arm reached out and grabbed one of the drinks from the carton. With a heave, the soda cup smashed into the driver's face. As dark, sticky soda was flowing down his face, the driver angrily turned and stared past him at his unexpected attacker.
Reginald turned and was shocked to see a pretty woman standing behind him with a look almost angrier than the driver's. She had long, brown hair that came down to her shoulders. Her light green eyes were glaring intensely at the driver. Her lithe figure was poised like she was ready to strike again at any moment. Reginald was sure he heard an almost undetectable growling coming from her throat.
"Girl, you'll pay for that," the driver said. The men in the backseat were struggling to keep from laughing.
"How?" the woman said, pushing Reginald out of the way and stepping up to the window. He had no choice but to keep out of her way.
The driver started to say something, but closed his mouth as nothing came to mind. With a loud grunt, he slammed his hand onto the steering wheel and peeled out of the drive-thru with a loud screeching.
"That's what I thought," the woman yelled, sticking her head out the window. Turning, she leaned up against the counter. "Thank you very much, Reginald," she said, taking one of the drinks from him and sipping some. "You really have to start standing up to assholes like that Reginald, or you'll be put down your whole life."
As he struggled to find words, Mr Davis rushed up and yelled, "Rachel, you do not throw anything at customers! Nothing! Throw nothing at no one! This is something your mother should have taught. I'm not going to be the one to teach you that."
Rachel shrugged. "I already know that you don't throw stuff at people. I wasn't raised out in the woods," she said, taking another sip of the drink.
"Give me that," Mr Davis said, grabbing the cup from her. "Go, go, clock in."
"Alright," she said, walking towards the back.
"Sorry, Mr Davis," Reginald said. "I should have handled the situation better."
"Don't worry about it," he said, beginning to gather his papers. "She was right about one thing. They were assholes and they deserved the humiliation. I wanted to do something similar. Keyword though: wanted."
Reginald smiled. "I was thinking about doing the same exact thing."
As Rachel stepped back into the kitchen, Mr Davis said, "Keep it at that, a thought. Don't go picking up any bad habits from anyone."
"Yes, sir."
"Rachel, you've got the register tonight," he said, starting to walk back towards the offices. "Remember, no throwing at customers. Don't make me make a sign."
"Alright, alright," she said, casually leaning against the register. As soon as he was out of view, she pulled out her phone and began quickly typing on it.
"Thanks," Reginald said, making sure to keep his voice steady.
"For what?" she asked, looking up at him.
"For earlier," he said. He could feel his heart beating faster as they made eye contact. "You shouldn't have, but it was great to see."
Rachel laughed. "Yeah, I just can't stand those types of people." She looked back down at her phone.
A few minutes passed before he broke the silence again. "Is everything alright? You were late."
Not looking up this time, she replied, "Yeah, I know. The wiring went bad in the building again. My alarm got turned off and I overslept."
"The super needs to look at it and get it fixed."
"Tell me about it," she said.
As the kitchen became quiet except the low volume of Hector's television and the beeping as Rachel texted on her phone, he turned back and looked out of the window. Standing still, his vision faded as his mind wandered to moments long gone.
Chapter 3
The rest of Reginald's night went off without a hitch, though he found himself running late leaving the next morning. The head manager, David Browning, had shown up to work in his new car, which had been paid for with part of the store's expenses, much to Mr Davis' sorrow. By the time he could politely leave, the sky was already gaining a faint blue hue.
Reginald walked steadily towards his apartment. The sidewalk had begun to get more crowded as men and women were heading to and from work. He carefully avoided bumping into people as he kept up a steady pace forward. He continued without slowing until he reached a convenience store halfway between work and his apartment building.
'Damn,' he thought, looking at the store. 'I still need to get that money order for the rent.' Looking up at the sky, he saw that it was becoming even brighter. Uneasily, he pulled his cap down and pulled his coat tighter. 'It wouldn't kill me, not really. Besides it'll only take a second.' With that thought, he walked through the door.
He nodded at the man at the register as he stepped up. "I would like a money order for three hundred, twenty six please," he said.
"Alright," the young cashier said. Rubbing his forehead, he looked at the register. "No problem, sir. You need a money order." He continued to stare at the register for another minute. "How much did you say again?"
"Three hundred and twenty six dollars," Reginald said, only letting a small amount of impatience to come through his voice.
"Right, three twenty six, three twenty six," the cashier said, staring a hole into his register. After a few seconds the cashier pressed a couple buttons. After staring another moment, he pressed another button. "Whoops," he said quietly. "Back," he said, pressing the backspace key which gave off an unpleasant beeping noise. "Back. Back. Back. Back, back, back," he continued to say as he struggled to fix his error. Reginald saw his jaw twitch as he looked at the screen.
"Is there a problem?" Reginald asked.
"Umm, not a big one, no," the cashier said, picking up the phone. "Just a sec, sir." The cashier squinted as he tried to read a phone number taped to the register. After dialing it, he waited for a moment before looking confused. "Is this Mr Jackson? It's not. You don't know a Jackson? Oh, sorry for the wrong number."
Reginald looked behind him and saw three people standing in line behind him. As they gave him dirty looks, Reginald gave his most assuring smile and nodded. Turning back around, he saw the cashier pointing at the phone number. "Does this look like a nine or a four?
Reginald glanced at the man's name tag. "Leroy, that's a nine. You see how it's really obvious that the four in the first three digits is a four, because of how open the top is. Why would he change the way he wrote the number four in the middle of the number."
"Oh, that does make sense," Leroy said, nodding. He picked the phone back up and dialed the correct number. "Hey Mr Jackson. This is Leroy. No Leroy. The new guy at the service station. Yeah, everything has went well until a couple minutes ago."
Reginald glanced down at his watch. 'More than two minutes ago,' he thought to himself.
"How much longer are you going to be on lunch?" Leroy asked. "Just barely started? You've already been gone an hour. I told you I wasn't ready. I've got a money order here, can you walk me through it? Come on. I'm not supposed to know everything the first day."
"I can come back," Reg
inald said, stepping back. It's no big rush."
"I can fix this sir," Leroy said.
"No, really, I can come back later. Thanks," Reginald said, turning and walking towards the door.
"You're not going anywhere," a voice said.
"What?" Reginald asked, turning in the direction of the voice. He sighed and raised his arms as he saw the source.
"Everyone, down on the ground, now!" A man wearing a ski mask yelled while pointing a pistol towards everyone.
A second man, also wearing a ski mask, stepped from the back and took out a pistol. "He's serious! We'll shoot anyone who doesn't cooperate." Pointing the pistol at Reginald, he said, "It's not worth your lives. It's not like you can take it with you."
The first robber walked towards the register. "You, stay where I can see you!" he shouted at Leroy. "Up, up!"
"Please don't shoot me!" Leroy cried. "Take what you want. My boss is an asshole anyways." It was at that moment Leroy remembered that he still had the phone to his ear. "I'm sorry, sir, just calling it how I see it."
Meanwhile, the second robber had took out a burlap bag. "Now everyone is going to empty out their pockets like good boys and girls, aren't you?" He held it out to Reginald. "You first."
Reginald reached back and took out his wallet. "Here," he said, dropping it in the bag. He sorrowfully took off his watch and gave it up as well.
"Everything," the robber demanded, thrusting his gun forward.
"That's everything," Reginald said. "I'm not a rich guy."
The robber looked at him for a moment, then scowled. "Back on the ground!"
Reginald dropped onto his hands and face again. As his nose pressed against the floor, he slowly sighed. 'There was something spilled here, wasn't there?' he thought as he smelled the sweet smell of a lost soda. He twitched his nose, feeling the floor stick to it. 'If only the rest of my kind could see me now?"
The second robber went down the line one by one, taking everyone's possessions they had on them. Everyone was cooperating, but the robbers were acting angrier as they got less than they expected. The first one was trying to get Leroy to give them the money, but his register had locked him out.