By Darren on June 21st, 2010
Casa Diablo
First of all, thanks to all of you who voted for my story in Chuck Wendig’s “I Wanna Do Laser” flash fiction contest. My piece finished second in the voting against some tough competition. What follows is my entry for another contest, this one sponsored by Julie Summerell at her blog. It weighs in at 1,498 words. Thanks in advance for reading. I hope you enjoy.
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The left rear tire of the Buick disintegrated about six hours after Armando shot the state trooper. They were out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and now they were without a ride. Armando kicked the car door in frustration and settled on the hood while Carter paced along the dusty shoulder beside the car. Jennings was still in the back seat. The temperature in the damn car must be at least 120 degrees easy, but that crazy fuck was still back there.
Jennings chimed in from the back seat “Hey Armando, have I told you how in-fucking-credible it would be if that smart ass statie you capped back there would’ve been a sheriff?” Jennings cackled like a hyena on speed. The guy was wearing on Armando’s nerves, and fast. He’d used that same line about 40 times now. If the count got up to 50, Armando was gonna drag the crazy fuck out into the desert and beat his brains out with the tire iron.
The irony of having a tire iron and not a spare wasn’t lost on Armando. It was Carter who had come up with the idea to leave the tire. He’d figured they needed some of the goodies the cop had in his cruiser. Shotgun, laptop, road flares. Carter took the spare out of its nest in the trunk and repacked everything, including the tire iron. Then Armando drove the cruiser into a nearby ravine with the dead trooper’s body in the trunk. Somebody would find that cruiser soon, if they hadn’t already.
In the movies, Armando thought, this would be where we’d see a plume of dust and the glint of glass and chrome headed our way. It was as if his mind called it into being. “You seein’ this, or is it one of them mirage things?”
Carter broke out of his reverie and glanced down the road. “Fuck. We’re toast, man. I’m bettin’ that’s one of them staties lookin’ for our asses, so he can have himself a little fun with us for what you did to his colleague.”
“What I did to his colleague?” Armando was getting sick of taking all the responsibility for this entire situation. He felt like the motherfuckin’ babysitter here. “If I remember correctly, it was you who put the crystal in the glovebox with the registration. If I didn’t shoot him, your ass’d be playin’ pincushion in a local jail by now!”
Jenning decided to join the conversation, “You’d be on the receivin’ end of of some local hokey’s pokey, Carter! And that ain’t what it’s all about.” Another raucous cackle.
“Just play it cool guys.” Armando was thinking now. He always worked best under pressure. He could already see that it was an old stake truck on the road and not a police cruiser. Of course that didn’t mean that the driver hadn’t heard a news story about a cop with half of the left side of his had blown off found taking a long snooze in the trunk of his own cruiser.
In the car, Jennings launched into some Bob Marley. Forty-one. “Carter, I don’t care if you gotta stick your corn dog in that guy’s pie-hole, just SHUT HIM UP!”
The old stake truck had more desert on it than paint and as it slowed to a dusty stop next to the Buick, it looked like the front fenders were going to shake themselves loose. The driver, afine looking blonde, leaned over the passenger side of the ruptured bench seat. “You gents in need of some assistance?”
Things had just gotten interesting. Armando had been running with the movie script version of events, so he fully expected the driver to be an old codger headed into town for food for whatever kind of animals farmers kept out here. And while she was indeed headed into town, this driver was definitely neither old nor a codger, whatever that was.
Armando tried to sound homey, “Why yes, ma’am. My friend there,” he pointed at Jennings in his Buick cocoon, “his mom took real sick, so we’re takin’ him back home to Bakersfield to visit with her one last time. We sure could use a lift into town.” Armando didn’t have a clue where Bakerfield was, but he hoped they were headed in its general direction.
“I’m headed into town on my way to work,” the driver motioned towards the back of the truck, “but you guys just hop up in the back and hold tight. This truck’s faithful, but she bucks like a wild stallion on this
shitty excuse for a road.”
shitty excuse for a road.”
Carter led a miraculously quiet Jennings out of the car and into the truck. It wasn’t until he climbed up into the back and looked at the Buick that he burst into song, “You picked a fine time to leave me, loose wheel…” If Jennings knew more of the words, Armando never found out. He was asleep before the girl forced the truck into drive.
When Armando woke up, it was night. Carter and Jennings were still snoring. The truck was parked outside of some dingy roadside diner. He spotted their driver working behind the counter. Armando wasn’t sure if she had left them asleep out of kindness or a hope that she wouldn’t have to deal with them again. Oh, she’d deal with us, he thought. But for now, they had time to kill. Armando chuckled at the thought and kicked at his two compatriots awake.
After hashing out their plan for the girl, they took stock of what they might find to occupy them until the diner closed. The town consisted of no more than a dozen buildings clustered in a few blocks of scant sodium light as if they were scared of the dark expanse of desert. It was Carter who spotted the strip club. Armando thought it looked like the place in that old Tarantino vampire flick, but there were a few bikes in the lot, about a half-dozen dirty pick-up trucks and even a couple of big rigs snoring side-by-side under a large flashing sign. Casa Diablo. Fitting name. It might a decent enough place to blow a few hours and some of their stolen cash. If they could score some cute strippers, it would be a bonus.
As their eyes adjusted to the dim haze of the club, Armand saw his hopes evaporate. There wasn’t a female in the place who had even recently been considered young. The “girl” who was lethargically working a pole on the main stage had visible needle tracks and a large purple bruise on one cheek. And stretch marks. The place was like Shrivel Tits’ House of Chicks Who’ve Bred. But they needed to kill some time, so they kept buying table dances for Jennings, who actually seemed to be enjoying himself. At least he wasn’t singing.
After Jennings returned from a stint in some nether room of the club, Armando decided it was time to finish the business with their driver. The three men were hiding themselves the best they could as the diner’s lights shut down and their driver emerged. Armando congratulated himself on his sense of timing. She didn’t even bother to check the back of the truck before climbing into the cab and starting the engine.
It was at least twenty minutes before the truck turned off the main road and onto a trail through the desert scrub. Armando saw a farmhouse bounce past as they slowed. The girl brought the truck to a stop inside a barn before she cut the engine and jumped down from the cab. As she walked along the side of the truck, Armando and Carter were waiting for their moment to pounce. They had planned this before the Casa Diablo. Jennings was asleep again.
As they jumped down from the truck on either side of her, the girl sighed. “I sure am glad you boys decided to come home for a visit with me tonight.” As she spoke, her form seemed to lengthen in the darkness of the barn. A large dark pair of leathery wings unfurled from behind her as a pair of dark bony horns split the skin on either side of her forehead, sending a trickle of blood curling seductively down each side of her face. Her fingernails lengthened. She glanced at Jennings, still sleeping in the back of the truck, a slight smile on his idiot face. “I see my daughters treated your friend well.”
There was no chance to run. One moment she was speaking; the next, she had her fingers in Carter’s chest, digging out his heart meat. Armando saw her take a bite out of Carter’s still quivering heart even as she advanced on him like a storm across an open field. His bladder let go as she closed the distance. Her talons sliced through muscle and bone with ease. Her impossibly red lips, beautiful and terrible, followed him into perfect darkness.
She's hot!
Seriously though, very well done. Some
great visuals in there. Also, the picture,
very nice.
Holy God I didn't expect that ending. Fantastic. : D
Thank you Snapper & Carmen!