A Dead Man's Burrito Ted kissed his date goodnight but didn’t invite her in on account that he had somewhere else to be. Rose had been a fine woman and he wouldn’t mind seeing her again. Maybe next time he’d have her inside. For now he watched her drive away and give a little wave, which he returned, then pulled out his keys and inserted the proper one into his lock. The moment Rose’s Toyota was out of sight he removed the key, stuck it back into his pocket and took a short jog down to where the Nissan was waiting. Once under the glow of the streetlight the back door opened and Ted climbed in. Jose and Markus were up front, Markus behind the wheel. Philip sat in the back next to Ted, his mask resting on his lap and a twelve gauge between his knees, barrel pointed up. Ted told him he should point the barrel at the floor. Philip said he knew what he was doing. Jose turned around in his seat and extended a mask back to Ted, a cyclops with pointy ears he’d picked up at the drugstore last Halloween. A little P-32 was on the floor at Ted’s feet and Ted wanted to voice that he didn’t like the idea of Philip being the one with the shotgun, especially since the guy insisted on having the barrel pointed up. But he kept his mouth shut and waited for Jose to give instructions. Jose didn’t feel much like talking yet. Markus steered the car onto I-25 and drove it a short while then took the second exit they came to, which brought them to the outskirts of Cerrillos and a stone’s throw away from the state penitentiary. "Ain’t that where Jules is?" Markus asked. "Si," said Jose, who rarely spoke Spanish but occasionally slipped a word or phrase in, usually when he was excited or nervous. "Guy keeps talking about breaking outta there." Ted had only met Jules once, just before the guy got picked up for his loss of self-control at Taco Bell. If only there hadn’t been onions on his burrito those pimply employees would still be alive and Jules wouldn’t be behind bars, never to have another burrito as long as he lived, with or without onions. About two miles down Markus made a left turn onto a lonely road where the streetlights disappeared and trees took their place. The house they were headed for was a quarter mile down. The first right turn after the first set of mailboxes. Philip giggled. Ted always found Philip to be damn annoying and pretty irresponsible; and he really didn’t like him being the one with the shotgun. "Okay," Jose said, inspecting his Dracula mask in the moonlight, "we wanna be in and out in under five minutes. When we go in we have to go full force. Don is a short tempered man who sleeps with his wife beside him and his Uzi beneath him." Ted briefly thought about having Rose sleep beside him-maybe next time. "So’s we gotta be quick," Jose continued. "In and out, ASAP. We get what the bastard owes me, plus everything else he has as interest." Then he turned around in his seat again and shifted a cold, hard stare between Philip and Ted. "Just don’t touch his wife unless it’s in self-defense. His lady hasn’t done nothing wrong." Philip giggled again. Ted wanted to slap him across the face. Markus started whistling, as he always did just before an attack. Jose told him to shut up. Ted wished he’d tell Philip the same thing. Don and Jose had pulled a heist together about two months back. Some sort of armored car deal they’d cooked up between just the two of them. They’d pulled it off well enough, but Don took off with all the money and left Jose in the dust. Jose didn’t much care for that. Making the right turn after the mailboxes the pavement was gone and the road got bumpy. Markus started whistling again but checked himself and stopped before Jose could say anything. In the near distance the porch light was on but other than that the house up ahead was dark. It was late but Ted didn’t know exactly how late. He’d had a lot of fun with Rose and lost track of time. He lifted his wrist and tried aiming it so the moonlight could hit upon his watch. Just as he got it angled properly the car hit a deep trench and Ted’s arm flew up then down and a thunderous boom exploded beside him. A good chunk of the rear windshield was gone and most of Philip’s head with it, all except some chunky bits at the neck. "What the hell was that?" Markus shouted. "Philip just blew his head off," said Ted, half frightened, half pleased and completely disgusted. With the light the way it was it looked like someone had thrown a pot of chunky beef stew on the ceiling and seat. Philip’s neck was still totally in tact, just splintered and shredded at the top with little bits dripping off it. Panicked, Markus turned for a better look. Jose yelled for him to watch the fucking road. A split second later the left front tire hit a bump and the car lost control right in front of the house and slammed sideways into a BMW, pinning Philip’s door closed. Jose called Markus an idiot then cussed in Spanish and climbed out. As he reached for his gun and mask in the front seat the door of the house opened and a man in a nice bathrobe came out with a cigar in his mouth and an Uzi in his hands. Jose had told the others that Don was a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy. Proof was shown as the man emptied the entire Uzi into Jose, who collapsed to the ground with more holes than a fly swatter. Ted aimed his P-32 through the seats, pulled the trigger three times and the man in the bathrobe lost his cigar and did a sort of spastic dance before falling backwards and cracking his head on the ground. A woman came out with her hair up in curlers. Seeing both Don and Jose, she let out a Yoko Onoesque scream and raced back into the house. Markus reached across and pulled Jose’s door shut, then hit the gas and steered the car back up the driveway, hitting bumps and trenches but keeping it on the path. "She’s gonna call the cops," Markus said, more to himself than to Ted or Philip, not that Philip could hear him. "Just keep your cool, man," Ted told him, trying to find the cool within himself. They got to the paved road. Markus didn’t stop or even slow down. He hung a left and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Just as he did he saw a large construction cone with arms and a head directly in front of him. Slamming the brakes he was too late. The cone flip-flopped over the windshield and roof, then the car came to a complete stop and Markus climbed out, for some reason cursing his mother. "What the hell are you doing?" Ted shouted. "We’re leaving a trail, man. Gotta cover our asses. Gonna be something every five feet if we’re not careful." "Dammit." Ted climbed out, glad to at least be away from Philip’s headless body, and joined Markus twenty feet back at the construction cone, which was moving and coughing occasionally. Then he realized it wasn’t a cone at all. "Son of a whore," Markus said. "It’s Jules." When it came to detail Ted’s night vision wasn’t too good. From what he could make out there was a dark flat place where the guy’s nose should have been. One leg was bent clear up sideways, the ankle almost touching his ear. Jules coughed again, spit to the side then asked Markus why he’d hit him. "Didn’t see you, Jules. Didn’t know it was you. What you doing walking in the center of the road?" Jules had no answer for this. Markus and Ted bent his leg down, tolerating his screams, then picked him up and carried him to the car, where they put him in the back with Philip. Jules tried protesting being in back with a guy who’d blown his own head off but didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He told Markus and Ted that he was paralyzed from the waist down and the rest of him didn’t feel too good either. "It’s raining blood back here," Jules said. "Not on your side it isn’t," Ted told him. "And it smells like crap." "I don’t have control of what Philip did after he blew his head off." "Damn, that’s Philip?" "That’s right. It’s raining Philip." They started up the road again. Staring out the side window, Ted thought about how he’d told that asshole Philip not to aim that shotgun up towards his own head. Christ, hadn’t the guy learned anything in his years of this kind of work? Obviously not, the dumbass. Markus noticed something strange at the bottom of the windshield. At first it was hard to make out what it was, then once he figured it out he didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up-Jules’ nose. He wondered how it had gotten such a clean cut. Flipping on the wipers Markus watched the nose slide up the glass then stop in the left corner. He put the wipers at full speed but they wouldn’t touch it, and even with lots of wiper fluid it stayed where it was. Markus sighed, then in one swift motion he rolled down the window, reached out, grabbed Jules’ nose and flung it onto the road. "I feel awful," said Jules. "So what happened to you?" Ted asked, then added, "Other than you’ve been hit by a car?" "Broke outta jail. Gave one of the guards my sister’s number-God, she’s a whore-and he didn’t notice when I slipped through a little hole in the fence. The hole’s been there forever. Guards and the warden kept meaning to have it fixed but could never find the time." He laughed pathetically. "This should be a lesson to them." "Damn, Jules, I’m sorry." Markus got onto I-25 and headed back to town. "What do you need? What can we do for you? I mean, if there’s anything at all, just name it." Jules thought a moment. "Well," he said, "I could sure use a burrito. One without onions." Then he coughed and asked, "You still see Jose? How’s old Jose doing?" "Actually, he was killed about two minutes before we hit you." "That sucks." When they got back into town they took the quickest route to Taco Bell, opting for the drive-thru rather than going inside, since Jules couldn’t walk. Markus emphasized no onions on the burrito, "and I mean not a one," he said. Waiting in line Ted suddenly remembered that Philip was still in the back with no head. Others might frown upon seeing him. Good thing no one was behind them in line, given that the back window was half smashed and dripping with blood, brains and skull fragments. Thinking quickly before they got up to the window, Ted reached into the back and grabbed both his cyclops mask and Philip’s Creature from the Black Lagoon mask. He snatched Jose’s Dracula mask from the floor and stuffed both cyclops and Dracula into the Creature, giving it a bit more form. Turning around again he fitted the mask over Philip’s neck, pulling it down to the shoulders and wanting to throw up. Boy, he thought, if Rose could see me now. Of course one never knows; maybe Rose was into kinky stuff like rubber masks. At the drive-up window the pimpled-faced teenager looked curiously into the back at the crippled man with no nose and the dude with the monster mask who didn’t seem to have a neck. He either didn’t notice the blood in the back seat or wasn’t saying anything about it. He handed Markus their food and told them to have a good night. Jules spit. He couldn’t move enough to roll down his window so he just spit into Philip’s lap, losing two teeth. Philip didn’t seem to mind. Actually, with the mask on, the guy looked rather chipper. Ted thought it was an improvement. Markus parked in the parking lot away from the other cars. The food helped cover up the coppery smell of blood, which was appreciated by all. Ted fed Jules his burrito, every so often turning back to eat some of his Double Decker taco. Both couldn’t help worrying that the burrito might have an onion lurking in it somewhere. "Well," Markus said after some time had passed, "what do we do now?" "I’m thinking," Ted said with his mouth full, "maybe we should just go home and never see or talk to each other again. Forget we ever did any of this stuff and forget we ever knew Philip or Jose." "Can’t believe Jose is really gone." They chewed their food in a moment of silence. Ted chewed with his mouth open because Philip didn’t deserve no damn silence from him. "What about Jules?" "How you doing, Jules?" "Uhh," said Jules. "I guess we could take him to the hospital," Ted said. "But if they fix him they’ll be throwing him right back in the slammer." Markus remembered being in the hospital with a broken leg when he was a kid. His mother was pushing him down the hall in a wheelchair and a nurse came from out of nowhere and tripped over his busted leg, simultaneously smacking him in the head with her clipboard. No, he couldn’t live with himself if he put Jules in that kind of situation. Ted finished his taco and realized he was still hungry. Jules still had half a burrito but Ted didn’t feel right eating any of it. Not when the man was in the shape he was, with no nose and all. He was debating whether he wanted to go inside and get another taco when Jules coughed blood against the back of the seat in front of him and said, "Gimme another bite…quick." Ted turned around and granted Jules’ request, then watched as Jules’ eyes rolled up into his head and the beans, beef, cheese and tortilla oozed out of his mouth, most of it clinging to his chin. Turning in his seat, Markus saw Jules, then cursed and wiped a tear from his eye as he’d wiped Jules’ nose from the windshield. "Can’t believe of all people, Jules was the one who happened to get in front of our car." "It’s a damn shame," Ted said, seeing the bright side of the moment as well because now there was half a burrito no one else was going to eat. "All the guy ever wanted was to be a painter," said Markus, thumbing another tear. "Just wanted to paint and eat Taco Bell every day." He looked at Ted. "I went to visit him one time in prison. Said they never served Mexican food at all, and the only paints he could get were finger paints." "A damn shame," Ted said again, and looked anxiously at the burrito in his hand. He wondered how tacky it would be if he were to eat a dead man’s burrito. "Man, he loved this place." Markus looked through the brains and bone shrapnel to the Taco Bell behind them. An idea crossed his mind. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the right thing to do. He had to do it. Jules would want it this way. "At least he died with burrito in his mouth," said Ted, then decided to hell with it, and started eating the burrito. Hell, no one else was going to. Markus wiped away one more tear then started the car, climbed out, opened the back door, checked for onlookers, grabbed Jules by his orange shirt and flopped him to the pavement. Before the body had settled on the asphalt he got back in and drove away. "I think he’s happier there," Ted remarked, finishing the last of the burrito. He wondered if Rose would want to see him again if she knew all he had done tonight. "What about Philip?" Markus asked. "He’s gonna start stinking before too long." "Maybe we should go put him with Jose and that other guy." "No way. I’m not going anywhere near that place again." "Well," Ted thought a moment-"Is he married?" "I believe so. Yes, I’m sure of it." "You know where his house is?" Markus turned the car around and started whistling. There was no Jose to tell him to shut up anymore and Ted didn’t seem to mind. It took a little time to remember where Philip’s house was because he’d only been there once and it was a while ago. They parked alongside the curb. Ted saw a gray Toyota with a bumper sticker on the back that said Make New Friends But Keep The Old parked in the driveway. He only now recalled that sticker being on the back of Rose’s car. Climbing out, they took Philip out of the back, making sure to keep the mask around his neck. They carried him up to the porch and sat him down in one of the chairs. Even with a rubber monster mask on he looked very much at home. His shirt was soaked with blood but it seemed to add to his disposition. Ted went back to the car and collected all the Taco Bell wrappers, put them in the bag then brought the bag to the porch and tossed it into Philip’s lap, figuring they might as well clean out the car a bit while they were at it. As they drove away Markus struggled with the guilt of hitting Jules with his car. He was also angry because cleaning the inside was going to be a pain in the ass, and he was gonna have to replace the rear window. It was nice of Ted to take the Taco Bell wrappers out at least. Ted was often considerate with things like that. Ted thought about seeing Rose’s car at Philip’s house. Markus could have had the wrong place, given he’d only been there once before; but either way, Rose was there. If indeed it wasn’t Philip’s house then Rose merely had a big surprise coming to her next time she stepped out onto her porch, and Ted didn’t like the potential shame he might feel over that. On the other hand, if Rose was married to Philip, it meant she was a cheating whore, while on the bright side, she was now truly available. Markus dropped Ted off at home. Ted offered to help clean out the car but Markus said no thanks and he’d do it in the morning. He just wanted to get to bed for the night. Right then and there, they agreed to never speak again, and admit complete ignorance of one another’s existence. They said goodnight and Markus drove down to the corner and ran the stop sign. A siren blared and lights flashed and pulled Markus to the side of the road. Ted inserted his key into the lock, turned it, then went inside and got ready for bed. ©2002 Trent Zelazny |
