There were two of them, masked, holding shotguns.One of the men was tall, slim,his hands looked like they had been photo shopped, they looked so huge. The other was short and stocky,silent,I heard slight wheezing as if he had some kind of breathing problem. His right eye twitched uncontrollably, his hands trembled.He had a right to be nervous because I knew him.
It was Marcus, used to work here a few weeks ago,until I fired him for stealing food from the freezer. MacsBurg was a small hamburger joint located on the edge of Oberlin,Oh, near Wellington. It's a small place where you can get great burgers,fries, dogs,chicken,shakes,and soft ice cream. Doesn't do the best of business,can't compete with Mickey D's, or BK, but ,it does alright. It was almost closing time, so we where winding down, starting to put things away. We only had one customer, Mr Wilson, who always stopped for his Oburg (cheeseburger with all the fixin's)and fries after he got off work. There was me, of course, I manage the place for Mrs Mackinty,who's husband opened Macsburg in 1978,Stella was working the till, Jamie was on the grill, and Steve was the fryman. Didn't need too many people on a Wednesday night since that's the night we're least busy.
But, it's the night I count the takings for the week.I usually take the money to the bank Thursday morning as soon as it opens. Marcus knew that. We had a couple of thousand in the safe. It was a weak week, terrible in fact. Hardly anyone stopped for a meal, or even an ice cream.We at least figured since it was hot and humid all week, we'd have some customers wanting to cool down. But, hardly anyone. Saturday was good,Sunday, not too bad.Weekdays? You could hear the crickets it was so empty.
"Why you still standin'?" said the tall one
Everyone else was laying prone on the ground,hands behind their heads,I could see Stella shaking,tears dropping from her face, terrified.Everyone was scared.I was scared, too, but, I was staring at Marcus,trying to get eye contact with him, but, his eyes shifted all over the place, avoiding any contact with mine. He knew I knew.
The tall man stepped over Stella,Mr Wilson,Jamie,and Steve. He pointed the shotgun at the back of Steve's head and pulled the trigger.Steve's head just disappeared in cloud of blood, matter, and brains.His body jerked, then lay still. Stella screamed,a scream that tore apart your soul, that will stay in your mind forever. Urine flowed from between her legs, and I could smell feces. Fear evacuates, fear immobilizes, fear kills.
Marcus,jumped back.
"Jesus, Jeff!Jesus!"
"Why you still standin'?
Shock, total shock, that's why I was still standing. My mind shut down,my mouth opened in a silent scream, and my eyes dropped tears. Steve was gone. Just like that.All that was left was a headless body, the stump of his neck still slowly pulsing blood.
I crumpled to the ground, gasping,I could hardly breathe, There was a sharp pain in my belly. I didn't even realize that he had punched me in the stomach with the stock of the shotgun.I lay my head on the ground and vomited.
"Fuckin' stay there." said Jeff
"Get his keys for the safe, they're on his belt"
"Hand over the keys,please." He smiled and I could see that he had a couple of gold teeth, something to tell the cops after this nightmare is over.I unhooked the keys from my belt and handed them to him. As he reached for them, the sleeve of his black jacket rode up revealing a tattoo of skeleton dancing round a stripper pole.Underneath it said "DOT"
Oh, I got you, motherfucker, I got you.
" Where's the office?"
I was about to tell him when I realized he was asking Marcus. That sealed the deal for me. I found myself getting angry. This little piece of shit was responsible for the death of a good kid who worked to save up for a motorcycle, a kid who was doing great in school,a hard worker,who was just 16 years old. Not once did he ever call off.Not once, no matter what happened, he showed up for work. And he's dead, and that fucker Marcus was still breathing,still walking the earth, that vile scumbag, that miserable excuse for life. I wanted to kill him.I wanted to tear him apart. Fuck justice, the law, fuck life in prison,he doesn't deserve any humane treatment. He deserves death, right here, right now.I want to rip his throat out with my teeth.I want to watch his eyes fade as he dies. I want me to be the last thing he sees. I want-
"This is it? This is all? Are you shitting me?"
The one called Jeff came out furious,lifted the shotgun, aimed and shot Mr Wilson in the back. Mr Wilson's body leapt in the air, and he yelled. He gasped as he tried to get away. Coughing up copious amounts of blood, he tried to stand, fell and lay still. Stella screamed and screamed and then was silent as the one called Jeff shot her in the head.
Jamie didn't move, just lay there prone with his hands behind his head, silently praying to his God.He had just turned 17,and was going to have a birthday party with all his friends this weekend. "Lots of kegs, lots of babes, maybe some smokes, no parents allowed," he had said, laughing that strange donkey like he haw that was infectious.
He turned his head toward me and I will never forget the look of terror on his face for it was the last thing I saw as his head turned to a red mist.
I knew then, I was going to die, and I was strangely calm.I was fueled by rage.All these deaths for a few thousand? That's what our life was worth? And, they're going to get away with it? There's going to be no justice for us, no vengeance? I felt a dark rage coming over me. A pure black feeling that chilled me to the bone.My mind was clear.
You're going to die, take one with you.
I gritted my teeth and-
Blackness...,cold....,so cold....,never felt a cold like this...,never felt so...,disconnected...I could see nothing...,darkness all around me...,I was floating in a seas of nothing..., was I dead? Is this what it's like? Where's the light? Shouldn't there be a light for me to follow?I screamed, but there was no sound. I felt my soul, open, raw, render into little pieces, felt my whole being tear apart...,
NO! NO NO!
How is this fair? Where's the justice? We all die and they live? They get to breathe, drink,eat,sleep,fuck? HELL NO! I WON'T ALLOW IT! I will not go quietly into this night,I will not stand down, I will not go to the Pearly Gates and wait for Judgment. I must have blood,I need retribution,vengeance,I will NOT pass over, do you hear me? I WILL NOT!
I WILL NOT-
Darkness again...,feel confined...,air's stuffy....,my bones ache, and I feel something missing on the right side of my head.My eyes are open, but it's complete darkness, I attempt to move my arms,they are crossed over my chest, but something above prevents it. My head feels as if it is laying on something soft, in fact my whole body feels as if it's laying on something cushiony. Pins and needles start in my legs, the numbness starts to leave me,and the roaring in my ears dissipates, and I can hear someone sobbing,though muted.
"Veronica, love, come on, you need to sleep, you need to rest..."
Veronica, my Veronica?
"I can't sleep, I can't leave him. Oh,Mom, I can't get it into my head he's dead.I feel as if we've made a mistake and he's in there wanting to get out. Can't I open the lid?See him one more time?"
Lid? Oh, shit I'm in a coffin.They think I'm dead, they think I'm dead! I'm not dead, Veronica, I'm not dead.
" Hon, you saw him at the morgue. You had to identify him. I know it's hard,but, he's gone love,he's at peace,now."
Peace?I'm not at peace, I'm alive...,aren't I?
"C'mon,hon, let's go home and lay down just for a little bit.You'll need your strength for the funeral tomorrow. C'mon, there's a dear,"
I hear a chair scraping, and more sobbing that slowly fades away, then silence.
I lay there trying to work out the possibility. Maybe I'm alive, maybe there was a major fuck-up in the morgue, maybe the doctor who pronounced me dead isn't great at taking vital signs,or, maybe I'm one of those poor people who show all the signs of death, but are catatonic, like in that old movie, Premature Burial with Ray Milland.
Or, maybe I am truly dead and am laying in my coffin in a funeral home, with my wife sobbing over my remains.
Only one way to find out.
I try to sway back and forth, it isn't easy, but eventually I get a kind of a rhythm going. I can feel the coffin move slowly back and forth, back and forth, I can feel it sort of rock to and fro, then-
I feel it toppling.It feels like a long time before it hits the ground, but I feel the impact, and hear a loud crack, but it doesn't explode into pieces like it would in the movies. I definitely heard a crack, though. I slowly move my hands along the lid, and on the left side by my chest I feel a little give. I push with my left hand and some light enters, not much, but enough to render me blind for a minute or two.I let my eyes get used to the light, then I try again to push. No use, no use,I slam my fist into the lid again and again and again, I feel the rage building within me, rage at the helplessness, at the futility and I slam my fist again,kick with my legs,yell and holler and moan and scream and keep slamming, and kicking, and punching and the rage builds and builds and I feel like I'm ready to explode, and suddenly the lid shoots open and I scream at the blinding light emanating from the candles.I cover my eyes, whimpering at the pain, and lay down, and slowly try to calm myself, and try to get used to the light.
The coffin is on it's side,facing toward a small table filled with candles, surrounding a photo of me. It was a head shot (Oh, Jesus!),taken when I turned 21. My hair was longer then, and my smile was genuine and my outlook in life was positive and glowing. 10 years later, I'm dead, but, somehow alive.
Dark thoughts enter my mind as I think of what Marcus and his pal, Jeff, did. The expulsion of live without a care. The viciousness, the violence, without any feeling,any humanity. How do they sleep at night? How could any human being sleep after being responsible for all that carnage?
Because they are not human
Or because they are human, and that's what humans' have done through the beginning of time. Murder each other for money, or,prestige,or, power. Our propensity for violence is in our genes, our very being. We lash out,punch, kick,pummel, fight,scratch,stab, shoot,destroy each other.We maul,we war,we rape,and pillage.We covet our neighbors goods,and land, and women.We enslave, we torture,we lie, we cheat,we steal. We pray to our Gods, ask for the destruction of another race, we prey on the weak, the powerless, those that show fear.We make them bow, and scrape,and prostrate before us.We humiliate them,denigrate them,strip them of all dignity, all hope.We dehumanize them so we can kill them easier, without conscious,without feeling.We fuck them,sodomize them,rape them with bottles,and bats, and bayonets. We behead them,hang them,burn them,electrocute them,drown them. They are the lower form of life and do not deserve our pity. They are our playthings, our sex toys, our boy toys.Their life is in our hands and we look on them with such contempt,and derision that we laugh at their cries and pleas for mercy. We have no mercy,no love,no remorse, no regret, and no shame. We have the gun, and you don't.You do as we say, or we hurt you.We'll hurt you anyway, for we see that you are helpless.You deserve the violence,the pain.You can't fight back, you won't fight back, and that gives us the right to bring you to your knees and demand you suck the cock of the powerful.
Patricide, Matricide, Infanticide, Homicide, Genocide, so many cides
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