by Jerome Sitko
Two teenage Latino boys are sitting on the steps of a Catholic church when she walks by them. They’ve been there for about an hour drinking Mad Dog 20/20 and at this point are pretty wasted. The older boy is tall and chunky and his younger counterpart is short and stout. Everyone calls them Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Hawk. The young one sees Amy first.
“Yo, mama you lookin good,” he cat-calls to her as he grinds his elbow into the older boy’s ribs who looks up from picking his big toenail. The bigger one smiles at her and rubs his fingers under the younger boy’s nose and laughs.
“Jorge, what the fuck is wrong with you, nasty puta,” Chicken Hawk yells as he jumps up from the step and blocks Amy’s path. “Damn chica you arrre fine.” He whistles.
Jorge stands and slides his foot into his cheap flip-flops and jumps down next to his partner so he can get a better look.
“Yeah, mama, you are fine. You want to party?” he says, shaking the half bottle of 20/20.
On a normal night Amy would shred these two punks and stuff their balls into their mouths. But tonight is not a normal night. She’s in a good mood so she decides to give them a chance to save themselves. She can smell the boys and knows that hygiene is not a priority and their booze breath is angering her.
“Boys, you really don’t want to do this. Your odor is putting me in a bad mood,” she says as she pinches her perfect cosmetically altered nose.
“Bitch, you sayin’ we stink? You’re going to smell real bad when we skull fuck you to death,” little Chicken Hawk says as he moves to her side like he’s going to try and grab her from behind.
At that moment a brown Toyota Corolla turns the corner and the driver, Dave, sees the three on the sidewalk and realizes what is about to happen. He slams on the brakes and comes to a screeching halt. He is a big man, about six-foot, and he’s wearing a black Oakland Raiders baseball cap turned backward. His long brown hair nearly reaches his shoulders. He jumps out of the car and before he can even say a word, Foghorn and Chicken Hawk take off running down the sidewalk and turn into an alley.
“You okay, miss?” Dave asks, staring down the sidewalk in the direction of the vanished boys.
“I am now,” Amy says as she sizes up Dave as her new victim. He’s tall, handsome, and smells good. Just what she wanted.
Too bad for him, he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was trying to do what he thought was a good deed and it might unknowingly cost him his life.
“It looked like those kids were up to no good. A girl as pretty as you should not be walking around this neighborhood alone. I’m Dave by the way.”
“I’m Amy,” she says. She has made up her mind that this is the one. She noticed that Dave is not wearing a wedding ring. “You married or have a girlfriend?”
“I have a girlfriend, but she’s in California visiting her family. I know this is kind of forward, but would you want to go have a drink or come over to my place?”
“I would love to but I’m working right now.”
“Working? Where do you work?”
“Right here. Well, actually about two blocks over. Men pay me to go out with them.” She winks at him and flips her hair over her shoulder.
Normally, Amy wouldn’t pretend to be a prostitute. The degenerates under the overpass wouldn’t have a nickel to their name. But tonight she’s feeling frisky and this guy looks like he can afford it and she feels like playing.
Dave breaks out with a big grin. “I get it. How much do you charge? It has to be a lot as pretty as you are.”
“Since you saved my life, I’ll give you a discount. How about a Benji for a full ride?”
“So, what does that mean?”
“Let me be blunt. For a hundred bucks, I’ll fuck you.”
“Let’s go. Do you have a place or do you want to go to my apartment?”
“My place, it’s about a quarter mile down the road,” she says as she slides into the passenger seat of the Toyota.
As soon as they pull out the flashing blue lights of a Ford LTD Crown Victoria bounce off the buildings on the narrow street. The police officer watched the altercation with the young boys and then the exchange of money between Amy and Dave. He thinks they made a drug deal and wants to search the car. Plus, Amy looks stunning and he really wants to pat her down. Maybe she will be willing to exchange a service for her freedom. It’s not the first time the eight-year veteran has helped out his community this way.
Now Amy is pissed. This is not how tonight was supposed to play out. God help these two pitiful unknowing bastards.
The cop places Amy and Dave in handcuffs and sits them on the curb. He told them they are not under arrest, just detained for his safety until he can figure out what happened. He stands Dave up, who hovers above him by a good four inches and places him in the back of his cruiser. Then he turns his attention to Amy.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to pat you down to make sure you don’t have any illegal drugs or weapons hiding in that tight skirt.” He smirks, visibly excited.
The cop stands her up and starts his search. First, her lady bumps. His hands linger on her firm breasts and he leans in closer to her. So close his crotch is rubbing against her butt.
He moves his hands down her sides and across her abdomen and notes how firm her stomach feels. The cop spins her around and starts over down her backside and his hands rest on her rock-hard buttocks. Amy’s eyes are level with his badge so he does not see the hatred brewing inside her. Even if he did, he would not care. He’s done this many times before and they all comply and no one has ever filed on him. One, because they are ashamed and embarrassed. Two, because he threatens them when he’s done and had his way.
He lifts her short skirt and notices her underwear matches her bra and he likes that. He sees a bulge that should not be there and fishes it out. A little brown leather wrap.
“Hmm, what do we have here?” he says as he unrolls the package. It’s a syringe with an orange cap and a little vial of heroin.
“Tell you what sweetie, if you do me a favor, I’ll let you and your friend go tonight. No reason to go to jail and I don’t feel like doing the paperwork. What do you think?”
He knows he has her now.
“What do you have in mind?” she asks.
“Give me a BJ and all of this never happened.”
“You have to take my cuffs off of me so I can stroke it,” she says, looking up at him and licking her glossy red lips.
“Good try, but no. The cuffs stay on until we’re done. If your friend is into it, he can watch.”
Ryan appears next to the cop seemingly out of thin air and Amy sees him first. She cracks a wicked smile. Ryan summons his new partner without speaking a word. A shadow specter appears behind the cop and wraps its long black fingers around his neck and places its knee on the small of his back and leans back. Way back. The cop’s vertebrae snaps like a twig releasing a gruesomely loud craack and an equally morbid scream from his mouth. When his spine snapped, it instantly killed him. His lower body fell toward Amy while his upper torso fell back looking up toward the sky. The force was so violent the poor cops stomach split wide open.
“We have to go; Charlie wants us back. He said we need to be ready to go to another portal when he summons us.” Ryan directs Amy.
As they leave the grisly scene Amy is disappointed she did not get to kill the cop, but she thinks she still has Dave. She walks to the cop car and her smile turns to a frown. The rear windows are pasted with flesh and blood. She doesn’t need to see inside to know that Dave is already dead. The shadow specter made quick work of him, too. Ryan and Amy silently walk back to the drug den to await Charlie’s order. Ryan is glad that he did not have to kill them with his own hands.
S
Another thirty minutes go by when Joey suddenly spins around on his heels and starts pointing. “Look, a car. A fucking car
is finally coming. The son-of-a-bitch better stop for us.”
Instantly, everyone gets a shot of adrenaline, even Jeremy, and they all perk up.
“Safe at last, safe at last, thank you baby Jesus, we are safe at last!” Joey is yelling at the car. “Shit, we need to signal or it’s going to zip right past us. What do we do?”
He looks at Lance. Lance doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t answer. Reno suddenly jumps into the car’s lane and starts cycling her flashlight on-off-on-off. It’s still coming in hot and all of them think the worst. It’s going to drive right past them. It suddenly starts to slow down a couple of hundred feet behind them. As it creeps closer, they can make out that it’s a van or pickup truck. When it finally stops about twenty feet from them, the headlights temporarily blind them but it’s definitely a van.
Of course, Joey says out loud what all of them are thinking.
“Fuck, it’s a chomo van. I hope there’s not a child molester in there,” he says as he fishes his pocket knife out and flicks the blade open twisting it up to hide it behind his hand and wrist.
In the back of Joey’s mind, there’s a little part of him that hopes the driver is a chomo so he can use his blade to teach him a lesson. The van creeps closer and comes to a rest next to the kids.
The driver leans over and rolls down the passenger window. “You need help?”
“Yeah, do you have any gas?” Lance asks, trying to get a better look inside the van. It’s a brown 70s panel van so it does not have windows other than the driver and passenger doors, and its dark inside.
“No, little buddy, I don’t have any gas. Is that what’s wrong? You kids run out of gas?”
“Yes, do you have room in there to give us a ride to Baker City?” Lance asks as the other kids are looking over the exterior of the van trying to decide if it’s safe. Both Lance and Joey think to themselves that if needed, all of them could take this one man. He doesn’t look very big, but they haven’t seen him standing.
“Yeah, of course, jump in. My name’s Carter,” the man says. He smiles.
All of the kids go through their own quick mental assessment and decide that he’s safe and Joey opens the side door. The inside of the van looks normal. A few buckets, some tools scattered on the floor, and a big roll of plastic, the kind you use to put down on the floor when painting walls. Joey crawls to the passenger seat while the rest settle in the back.
“Bear come on, boy. Jump in,” Reno calls.
Bear looks at her and whimpers but does not move to get in the van.
“Whoa, you kids got a dog? I don’t usually allow animals in the Love Machine. Can you leave it with the car?”
“No, Bear comes with us. He’s potty trained and won’t bother you. How far is Baker from here anyways?” Lance asks as he gets out to pick up Bear.
“About fifty or sixty miles is my guess,” Carter replies.
Bear is backing up as Lance advances and Lance thinks, What is wrong with Bear? He never acts like this. “Come on boy, we have to go.”
He finally corrals him and scoops him up in his arms and crawls back into the van. As soon as he loosens his grip, Bear makes a break for the door. Reno swings it closed just in time. Trapped, Bear begins running around the back of the van sniffing, and Carter pulls out onto the freeway.
“So, why are you kids going to Baker? Seems kind of odd this late at night and all,” Carter asks, hoping they make up some bullshit story.
He knows that kids driving in the middle of the night without an adult are up to something. Hell, they didn’t even make sure they had gas. Staring straight ahead, but glancing in the rearview mirror, Carter starts to get excited but he doesn’t show it, and he hopes the kid in the passenger seat can’t see his little chub growing between his legs.
What the kids don’t know will kill them. They got into a van in the middle of the night with what Joey was hoping for: a chomo.
“To meet Diana’s dad, he’s a cop over there and he was expecting us about an hour ago so he’ll be worried,” Joey explains, looking back at Lance and giving him a secret wink that Carter sees. “Lance and Diana are boyfriend/girlfriend and her dad wants to meet his future son-in-law,” Joey finishes satisfied with himself that if this guy is a murderer he’ll think twice.
“Wow, okay then, I need to get you kids there as quick as I can, safe and sound,” Carter says, smiling. Fucking ridiculous, this little snot nosed kid is going first.
They drive for about twenty-five minutes when Carter decides that it’s time. He’s concocted a plan in his head to get all of the kids and that damn dog out of the van and he’s going take the snot-nosed kid and have his way with him.
Carter starts kneading the gas pedal making the van lurch.
“Damn, I think somethings wrong with Gee-Gee,” he says, still kneading the pedal.
“What’s wrong? You run out of gas too?” Joey asks.
“No, kid. I think I’m running out of blinker fluid,” he says, trying not to laugh out loud, looking around expecting one of them to call him out on his bullshit. But, when they don’t, he keeps going. “Fuck, I have to pull over and check it. Oh well, it will give us all a chance to stretch and go to the bathroom. Make sure that dog gets out too. I don’t want it pissing in my van,” he says, pulling off the road and parking, leaving the van running. Good none of them asked why I left it on. “Alright kids, get out and stretch.”
They all get out and look around. It’s pitch black and barren desert. They stretch and the three boys walk to the back of the van to piss while Reno takes Bear further off the road into a little gully for some privacy.
“He’s not bad. That’s a good thing,” Joey says to Jeremy and Lance.
“Yeah, I guess, but I have a weird feeling about him. If he offers us alcohol or drugs turn it down,” Jeremy answers back.
When they get done, they all start walking in the direction Reno went to make sure she’s alright.
“Kid, can you come over here and help?” Carter calls out to Joey. All three boys turn around and he points at Joey.
They figure it’s safe. Joey is a guy and if he does need help, they can be over there in a matter of seconds. Joey spins on his heels and starts walking back toward the van.
“Yep, it’s the blinker fluid, just as I thought,” Carter says not hiding his shit-eating grin in the dark. “Can you grab me a can? It’s in the back of the van. Should be around the big tool box.”
“Sure, what color is it?” Joey is already in the van on his knees when Carter jumps in and slams the door shut. He begins punching Joey in the back of the head as hard as he can trying to knock him out long enough to get his handcuffs on him.
Bear hears Joey’s scream and is growling and running toward the van. When he gets there, he helplessly claws at the door, barking and crying. The other kids run toward the van, yelling for Joey as the vehicle peels out and disappears into the darkness.
Carter knows that the kid will come-to fairly quick if he didn’t accidentally kill him. He hopes not; that would be such a waste.
S
Joey regains consciousness almost immediately after being hit, but it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings.
Fuck, I’m going to die, he thinks as he fishes his knife out of his pocket and opens the blade, the only problem is his hands are cuffed.
Charlie and Joey share a special connection. They have ever since their first meeting at the Thriftway building and Charlie needs him to trap the other boys.. Lance has Emma and now Joey has…It’s not Charlie, or a groupling. It’s a specter that Charlie has charged with leading the boys back to him. Like Emma, it can communicate with Joey in his head and take on a physical form but only for a short time. It’s too taxing if its more than a few seconds.
Carter can hear Joey talking out loud to someone and the first thing that flashes in his head is one of the other kids snuck i
nto the van, but the voice isn’t right. It belongs to a man. He turns and looks into the back of the van and it’s black. There’s nothing. He focuses back on the road ahead and wonders if he imagined it, but the voice felt so real. He glances in the rearview mirror and sees Joey and something or someone staring back at him. He knows someone else is there with Joey and he gets chills down his arms and an acute flash of red as the blood rushes his brain preparing to go into flight or fight mode. It scares him so bad that he slams on the brakes and the force drives the steering wheel into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and that’s Joey’s chance.
I’m going to teach this motherfucker a lesson. You don’t ever, ever, mess with Jo-Jo, especially if you’re a fucking chomo. Joey lunges to the front seat and jams the same blade that killed Ryan into Carter’s neck and twists.
Carter clutches his neck. His life is cycling in fast-motion before his eyes, his life and that horrific image in the rearview mirror will be the last thing he sees. Carter is in no condition to fight back and Joey’s adrenaline soars as he cusses at Carter and opens the driver’s side door. He punches him a couple of times in the face before pushing him out onto the ground.
The voice calmly asks him if that’s all he wants to do to this chomo.
“No, no it’s not,” he says and leaps out and begins violently kicking him.
The voice is not satisfied, it knows it has to push Joey if it wants to take hold of him. It barks orders, morbid orders, that Joey follows. Carter will die in the dirt. His eyes will be ripped out of their sockets and stuffed down his throat. But Joey and his new friend are not done. Joey listens to the voice and pulls Carter’s 501’s down around his ankles and deflowers the mortally wounded man. He cuts his balls out of his ball sack and stuffs one in each gaping eye crevice. He stands to admire his gruesome handiwork. This chomo breathed his last useless breath and Joey is glad he is the one that took it. Joey jumps into the driver’s seat and heads back toward the other kids, his parachute pants and black muscle shirt soaking up Carter’s blood. He doesn’t even notice that his handcuffs are off.