The Wash

by Cary Christopher

  Randall whimpered in a ball and clutched at his gut. Derek lay flat and weakly tried to push himself up. The figure chambered a shell and pointed the barrel at the crook of Derek’s arm.

  “We’ll have none of that,” it said and blew the elbow out.

  Randall screamed as he watched his brother’s arm disintegrate. He felt sticky and wet where his hands were clutched and he tried hard to get a look at the man with the shotgun but couldn’t blink away the tears in his eyes.

  The figure turned away from them and walked back toward the door. In the faint glow from outside, Randall saw the silhouette of a ponytail. Then the man was gone and the Thompson boys lay dying.

  XIV

  The next day was cold and overcast. Robert woke up around ten and immediately thought about Anderson. He reached for his phone, dialed Javier’s number and when it went to voicemail, he hung up and dialed J.B.

  “Hello,” came the groggy voice.

  “J.B., it’s Robert.”

  “Hey, man.”

  “Do you know where Javier is?”

  “Probably home asleep.”

  “He’s not answering his phone. I need to get hold of him.”

  “Uh-huh,” J.B. muttered. Robert could hear the man moving, probably sitting up in bed.

  “You want me to come get you and we’ll wake him up?”

  “No, I’ll wait a little longer and try him again. If I can’t get hold of him in an hour or so, I’ll call you back.”

  “Sounds good,” J.B. said. “Dude, you really need a car.”

  “I’m beginning to think so too.”

  Robert hung up, climbed out of bed and walked naked into the bathroom. He didn’t feel much like shaving this morning, or even combing his hair. Instead, he brushed his teeth, threw on some clean clothes and made some coffee. This morning, his priorities were getting hold of Javier and fixing his bike. Part of him wanted to go by Anderson’s. Being Sunday, the lot would be closed for business, but Robert wondered if there would be anything blatantly out of the ordinary about the place. He tried Javier one more time but still got no answer.

  “Wake up, you lazy son of a bitch,” he said under his breath and turned his attention to his bike.

  Twenty minutes later, the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “My phone says you called three times, bro. What’s going on?” Javier’s voice was anxious and hungover.

  “We need to talk. It’s important.”

  “Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come by and get you.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” replied Robert and hung up.

  Javier had a strict rule about phone conversations. The phone was for making contact only. It was not something to talk on like a teenager. He’d learned that by watching one of his mentors go down for it. The man ended up with a bullet in the back of his head shortly after a trial date was set. Therefore, anything of substance, particularly with regard to Jim’s, was to be talked about in person, away from The Wash and away from buildings that could hide snoops. Ogden Wash was surrounded by open land. There were numerous dirt tracks out to places that seemed to be dead ends but were prime dirt bike areas in the summer. In these vast open spaces, Robert and Javier buried bodies, mostly figuratively but a few times, literally over the last four years. In all that time, Robert had never pulled the trigger. He’d never harmed someone outside of the occasional fistfight. That was Javier’s domain. Still, he’d had to help clean up more than once.

  Robert finished with his bike and rolled it outside before drinking the rest of his coffee. The room was mostly empty. Even the walls were nearly bare of pictures save one of his abuela. It sat above a shelf near a small altar of two candles and an empty dish. He was not a religious man, but on the dia de los muertos, he lit the candles and offered vanilla cookies on the plate. That was what he remembered her giving him as a child. Otherwise, there was a small television with a built in DVD player against one paneled wall. The couch sat in front of it and behind that was the counter separating the small living room from the kitchen. There was no dining room. In contrast to the sparse living area, Robert’s bedroom was a maze of books in stacks. He had texts in English and Spanish, some sitting neatly and others strewn over the foot of his bed and onto the floor. While there were still no pictures on the wall, there was an eight by ten piece of paper tacked into the wood paneling over his nightstand.

  It read, “I have been sent here for a reason I have not yet been able to fathom. – Henry Miller (Tropic of Cancer)”.

  Almost every time Javier had been in Robert’s home, he had given him grief over the altar and the lack of other decoration.

  “This place is not a home, it’s a monastery,” he would say. “Man, you need a woman in the worst way.”

  When Cindy had seen the place she’d said it was more like he was camping there than living there. Robert had to admit it was true.

  The sound of the car engine woke him from his reverie. Javier’s primer gray 1969 Dodge Charger, pulled into the path between Ruth’s house and his. While the outside of the car looked neglected and unfinished, the engine had been completely overhauled. The interior was finished with black leather seats and new fabric had been put on the ceiling and door panels. The stereo was very basic but had an elaborate faceplate designed to hide a state of the art radar detector.

  Robert locked the door behind him and jogged out across the icy path to the car.

  “Fucking cold out there today, bro,” said Javier as Robert climbed in.

  “Tell me about it. I walked home in it last night.”

  Javier laughed at him and backed the car back out onto the road, “When are you going to buy a car?”

  “Sooner than later.”

  Within a minute they were passing the cemetery. Robert looked but nothing seemed strange or out of place. He reached forward to turn on the stereo but Javier grabbed his hand.

  “Not today. My head is about to burst.”

  “Too much beer?”

  “Too much tequila when I left,” he replied. “You remember Tina? That chick from Panguitch who did seasonal work at the ski resort last year?”

  Robert nodded.

  “As I was walking out last night she was just about to walk in. I talked her into coming back to my place and we partied some. Dropped her at home on the way to get you.”

  “I’m guessing Tina is probably pissed right now.”

  “She expected breakfast I think,” said Javier, the inkling of a smile crawling across his face.

  The Charger reached the highway and turned away from Ogden Wash. About two miles further down, Javier pulled onto a recently plowed two-lane road that headed out toward jagged mountains about twenty miles distant. They drove on about three miles until there was nothing around them but snow in all directions. Javier parked, opened the door with the car running and turned the radio on and up as loud as it could go. He motioned Robert to follow him. They walked about thirty yards away; each man with their hands stuffed in their pockets and knit hats pulled down on their ears against the bitter wind.

  “So what’s up,” asked Javier.

  “I think we’ve got a problem,” replied Robert and began relaying the events of the previous night. Javier listened intently, never interrupting. After a moment of silence between the two, he finally spoke up.

  “You sure it was Reller coming out of the cemetery?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Javier looked down, contemplated that for a moment and then looked up again, “Well, on the way to pick you up I passed Anderson’s. There was no one there and nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Robert met his gaze, “Well, at the very least, there’s got to be a car missing from the lot. Like I said, it was a big Lincoln and it stopped not too far in front of me. It was definitely one from Anderson’s and I’m pretty sure Reller is the one who took it.”

  “When you saw Anderson, he was running back toward his lot then?”

  “That’s what it seemed like. Really h
e was just running along the highway back toward The Wash. He could have been headed anywhere but I’ll tell you this, he was running fast and scared. Some shit happened and you know as well as I do nothing happens around here.”

  Javier looked down at the crusty, icy soil around his feet. He stood quietly for a minute and then looked up and out toward the mountains in the distance.

  “You ever talk to Anderson?”

  “Once before last night,” Robert replied.

  “I’ve met him a few times. Once I tried to order a part through his lot. I have to tell you man, that guy didn’t seem all there if you know what I mean.”

  “How so?”

  “I mean he just seemed scattered. Kind of like his mind was on other things. I was the only customer on the lot. You’d think he’d have been focused on me but it seemed like he would rather have seen me leave as quick as possible. I never did order my part. That guy didn’t know jack shit about cars.”

  “So what are you thinking?” asked Robert.

  “I never thought much about it before now, but I’m thinking Anderson’s car lot is a front. I think whatever it is he’s really up to got him in trouble.”

  Robert nodded in agreement and followed Javier’s stare out to the mountains.

  “So what do you think about Reller?”

  “I think he’s paid his last visit to The Wash,” Javier turned back to Robert. “You and I need to make sure of that.”

  “Whoa,” Robert threw his hands up and waved them in front of him. “You know the deal. You’re going to have to do that one on your own.”

  Javier slapped Robert’s hands down, “You’re the sorriest excuse for a criminal I know. Motherfucker, you run a drug front, understand? What goes on in your bar with your full permission kills people every fucking day. Now man up, grow some balls and help me ENFORCE THE FUCKING RULES!”

  Robert shook his head, “No can do. I told you that from the beginning. Besides, before we even consider doing anything shouldn’t we see what he’s up to first?”

  Javier turned around and looked silently back toward the direction of The Wash. All that either could hear was the sound of the car radio blasting nearby.

  “I don’t care what he’s up to. Whatever it is, it’s designed to fuck us. Let’s get back in the car, you fucking chickenshit,” Javier turned and started walking back toward the Charger. “I need some food. Then we’ll go see what we can find.”

  XV

  Skip’s Diner was open and there were only a few booths taken when Javier and Robert walked in. The walls were covered with old laminated ads from the twenties and thirties and the acoustic tiled ceiling was stained brown from small roof leaks. It was one of three restaurants in The Wash, none of which were fast food. If you wanted that, you had to drive to the Arby’s in Panguitch. Where Dora’s pulled in a dinner crowd, Skip’s was usually the place to go for breakfast and lunch, especially if you were a local. As they walked in, Robert saw Steve and Sara in one of the booths. They waved him over and he motioned to Javier to go on ahead.

  “What’s happening?” Steve asked.

  “Not much. Javier’s hung over. He needs some of Skip’s Hangover Helper.”

  “Be careful with that one. This place walks a fine line between helping and laying you out for the rest of the day.”

  “What brings you two here in the cold and snow,” Robert asked.

  “Me,” Sara replied. She was positively glowing. In front of her was a half demolished omelet with hashbrowns smothered in ketchup.

  “She got this craving for Skip’s,” Steve said. “She never likes greasy food but this morning she practically pulled me out of bed to get some.”

  Robert furrowed his brow and gave Sara a queer smile, “You eating for two or something?”

  “No, no,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Nothing like that, believe me.”

  “No, we checked,” Steve confirmed.

  Robert smiled awkwardly at them for a beat, “Is that a good thing or…?”

  Steve nodded, “Either way would have been fine.”

  Sara beamed at him, “Actually, I’m glad we’re not. Something about it freaks me out now.”

  “She’s been having bad dreams,” Steve explained.

  “Keep eating like that and you’ll keep having them,” Robert smiled at her. “I’ll catch up with you later. I have to go baby-sit.”

  “See you around,” Steve waved as Robert headed back to Javier’s booth.

  Despite the diner atmosphere, things were relatively quiet. Almost immediately Andi Fleming, who had been waiting tables at Skip’s since she graduated high school came by the table. She flipped her long bangs out of her eyes with a shake of her head and leaned over putting one hand on the edge of the table.

  “What’s it going to be boys?”

  “Not so loud,” said Javier.

  “Someone partied too hard last night,” she said, a notch quieter.

  “We’ll both take coffees and if you have any aspirin for my friend here, it would be much appreciated.”

  “I’ll see what I’ve got. You know what you want already?”

  “Huevos Rancheros for him,” Robert said, “With lots of jalapenos. I’ll take the Machaca breakfast.”

  “Done and done,” Andi replied and headed back toward the kitchen.

  “That girl bugs me,” said Javier.

  “You’re just hungover. Andi’s all right.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes and Andi came around with their coffee and a small bottle of Tylenol.

  “How many do you want?”

  “Four.”

  “You know you should only take two. You’ll kill your liver.”

  “Just give me four!” Javier hissed quietly.

  “Fine,” Andi rolled her eyes as she shook them out.

  A roar came through the doors of the kitchen. Andi dropped the pills and bolted toward it with Robert pushing through the kitchen door behind her. The two almost tripped over Anderson. He lay in the middle of the kitchen floor, clothes stained with dirt, grime and what looked like blood. He was curled into a ball, weeping and Skip Simmons, the cook and owner stood leaning against the sink, a ladle in one hand.

  “What’s going on?” asked Robert.

  “He was in the dumpster,” said Skip, obviously shaken. “I went to throw some trash out there and when I flipped up the lid, he jumped out yelling. I ran in here and he followed me, so I grabbed this ladle and hit him in the balls.”

  Javier came up behind them, “You hit Anderson in the balls with a ladle?”

  Skip pushed his green trucker’s cap back on his head, “The son of a bitch scared the piss out of me. He was just yelling and yelling.”

  Robert kneeled down. The man looked even worse than he did the night before. His clothes were filthy and smelled of rotting garbage. He lay curled in a ball, eyes closed tight and whimpering softly.

  “Hey, man,” said Robert gently. “Remember me? I saw you last night.”

  Anderson opened his eyes and looked at Robert’s face.

  “You look like you need some help,” Robert said, “You’re in a good place. Nobody here is gonna hurt you. Come on and get up.”

  Robert held out his hand. Anderson lay there.

  “I’m calling the police,” said Skip.

  “Not yet,” said Robert still kneeling with his hand out. “Come on Mr. Anderson. Let me help you up. We can get you something to drink and some food.”

  Anderson ignored the hand. He slowly shifted his weight, moved onto all fours and stood up.

  “The dragon will reach its hand in help but taking it means destruction,” he said softly.

  Robert stood up with him and met the man’s eyes. They had changed from a moment before. Now they were cold, hard and seemed to look through him.

  “Well, can the dragon get you some water?” he asked.

  Anderson stared at him a moment longer and then pushed past Skip out the door to the alley behind the restaurant.r />
  “What the fuck?” asked Skip.

  “He’s lost it,” replied Andi. She was still staring at the floor where Anderson had been laying. “He looks like he slept in that dumpster last night.”

  “Where’d you see him?” Skip asked Robert.

  “On my way home last night from the bar. He was walking on the side of the road.”

  Javier shot him a quick look and then walked out of the kitchen. Andi began shooing the other few customers who had filtered into the kitchen back toward the restaurant.

  Once they were back in the booth, Robert leaned over to Javier, “That’s way worse than he looked when I found him last night.”

  “I think someone slipped him some bad shit,” said Javier. “Motherfucker has lost his mind. He’s not thinking straight at all. Gives me a real, real bad feeling.”

  The two sat in silence for a few minutes longer before their food came out. Both ate quickly, with Javier only eating half of his meal. Robert paid and the two walked back out to the battered Charger.

  “Still want to go looking through that cemetery?” asked Robert.

  “Yeah,” said Javier, “I’m feeling a little better now. Let’s see what’s out there.”

  The two climbed into the car and headed slowly back out of The Wash. As they approached the car dealership, the flashing red and blue of police lights came into view.

  “Oh shit,” said Javier. He slowed the car down to a crawl as they passed the dealership. There were four patrol cars on the lot with one parked near the road. A uniformed officer waved at Javier to pull over.

  Robert rolled down his window and the officer leaned forward to peer inside.

  “You two from around here?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Either of you seen the guy who runs this place?”

  Robert and Javier exchanged a quick look.

  “Saw him about twenty minutes ago,” said Robert. “Back at Skip’s just up the road.”