Disenchantment 35

As he walked through the courtyard, something seemed a bit off.

 

Hector was there, but not in his normal lounging place, which made sense because it was in direct sunlight, yet there was still something not quite right. His wife, or girlfriend, or the girl he lived with was standing near their apartment door, and she looked nervous. Mark had almost forgotten that he lived with the woman, probably because she actually worked for a living and didn’t sit around high all day mocking people. Hector was standing behind her, but it almost looked like he was hiding behind her, no smart ass words coming from him today.

 

He ascended the stairs and got to his apartment door. It was closed, but the area around the knob and bolt seemed cracked. Instead of attempting to turn the doorknob, Mark pushed the door, and it opened right up, revealing that it had been previously forced open and the piece of wood that had come loose in the process had just been placed back where it had been.

 

It was hot outside, but much hotter as he entered the apartment. The damn air conditioning had gone out again. The heat was bad, stifling.

 

Then he saw Eddie, lying motionless on the floor next to a pile of his own feces, a final pile of shit, almost like a farewell gift he had left for Mark.

 

Mark ran to the dog, picked him up, the body was limp and lifeless in his arms. Mark thought that he remembered that rigor mortis set in several hours after death, then maybe twelve hours or so later, it left again. Mark didn’t know the exact times, but there was definitely no rigor. Mark tried to smell the dog to see if there was a rotting smell, but it seemed clean, although it was difficult to tell above his own stench.

 

He stood up, holding Eddie tightly, then the tears came. He had let down his son. He had let down Nannette. He had let down Eddie. What a useless piece of shit he was. The tears came like the breaking of a dam.

 

Mark cried for a time, then stopped, then cried again, all the while walking around his living room, holding the lifeless body of Eddie. Then, for a time he just stood in the center of the room, a room that held no meaning for him in an apartment where he couldn’t ever remember feeling at home, shocked, numb, and completely lost, not even thinking for minutes.

 

Finally, he set Eddie down on the couch that he had shared a couple of movies with Nannette on a hot night that seemed so very long ago. He tried to completely close the eyes that were already partially shut. It wouldn’t work, the eyeballs having dried out and already collecting the thinnest layer of visible dust.

 

“Goodbye, buddy.”

 

Mark had always hated to be sad, to be depressed, the pain was immense and he couldn’t handle it anymore, he began working at his emotions. Depression always goes inward, hurting oneself, but hatred goes out towards others, hurts less. Mark began consciously channeling one to the other. All he needed to do to finish the process was examine his broken door again.

 

Rage reigned inside him by the time he yelled, “Hector!”

 

Mark couldn’t even remember the walk between his place and Hector’s. The next thing he knew he was banging on Hector’s door. Without almost a conscious thought he kicked the door open. He knew the doors in the place were cheap, especially the ones leading to the exterior, but he was surprised that one kick sent it in, a weak point being near the knob. Hector may have gotten into his apartment with a solitary kick as well.

 

The door opened up into the living room with an open floor plan directly next to the kitchen where Hector and the woman were. Mark made a beeline toward them almost like he was a machine.

 

“Hey man, I didn’t do nothing to the dog.”

 

The woman stepped between him and Hector. Without much of a thought, Mark picked her up and threw her onto the kitchen table, sending both her and the table clattering to the floor.

 

Hector took the opportunity to jump over the girl and run toward the front door, not even glancing to see if she was okay. “You’re going to pay for that, motherfucker.”

 

Mark did look at her briefly, to see that she was moving, before he ran after Hector. Hector was probably more than a decade younger than Mark, but Mark was faster, by the time Hector had the main door to the complex open, Mark had caught up with him. Mark grabbed him by the arm and flung him around, then he pushed him hard. Hector slammed back against the door, pushing it open and Hector fell out onto the concrete sidewalk.

 

Mark followed, standing over the prone Hector. “Hey ese, I know people, man. You’re making a huge mistake. I’m connected.”

 

“I don’t give a fuck,” said Mark. He brought his right leg back, and then forward as hard as he could, kicking Hector in the belly, harder than he had ever kicked anything before throughout his life.

 

It caused Hector to roll over on his back. Hector tried to say something, but it seemed that he was finding it difficult to breathe. Mark kicked him again, this time in the thigh

 

“Hey man, please, I was just checking on your dog.” Hector’s voice was only slightly above a whisper.

 

“Lying sack of shit.” Mark got down on top of Hector, pinning his arms beneath his knees, directly above him, raising his fist.

 

“Okay, okay. I didn’t kill your dog, man. We’re hungry. We have no food, man. I just wanted some food.”

 

“Liar.” Mark brought his fists down in a one-two punch. His right catching Hector on the left side of his jaw and his left breaking the man’s nose.

 

“Hey man, please.” Hector had to pause for a few seconds while he coughed up blood. “Okay, I was looking for money too. But, we are hungry. I swear. I also wanted food. I didn’t do nothing to the dog. I swear it. I hadn’t seen you in a while. We thought you were gone.”

 

Mark brought a fist down again. The blow landed slightly above where the first right landed. Those were the first words that Mark believed. He paused.

 

Hector began crying. “Please man, I’m sorry. I’ll fix your door. If you do need to beat me, please take a shower first. You fucking stink.”

 

Mark took a second to think. He noticed that people were going into the complex, having taking advantage of the two residents being in a scuffle. Mark didn’t care about that. There was nothing left for him there.

 

Mark looked up the street to see police officers, actual police officers. They had apparently been driving by and stopped some other sort of altercation happening farther down the road. But they noticed him now and began making their way toward him. Never around when you need them, always there when you don’t.

 

Mark realized, due to the current city and world situation, that he could talk his way out of this if he stopped now. He could still go back to his apartment, before the homeless invasion pilfered through it, find some money, and go get drunk. He wasn’t really sure if he cared about that or not.

 

Eddie came back to his thoughts. Nannette. Mattie. The ghosts came back to haunt him and the familiar sting began again in his heart. He was on the verge of tears and decided he didn’t want to feel that way ever again. Never. He took several deep breaths, channeling the sorrow to anger.

 

“You picked the wrong apartment, douchebag.” As the police officers got within twenty feet of him, he began mercilessly pummeling Hector. Blow after repeated blow, landing on the man’s head, Mark screamed in rage as he did so. He watched Hector lose consciousness and didn’t care that he could be killing him. His fists kept coming down, and he barely noticed the chunk of flesh ripped away from his knuckles from Hector’s teeth as he split right through the man’s upper lip.

 

Suddenly, his muscles stopped working, they all contracted, effectively paralyzing him. When he was a child, Mark had accidentally touched a live wire from a battery-controlled toy and the sudden jolt of pain he felt then was increased a thousandfold this time. It felt like every minuscule part of his body was being slashed by razors and poked with knives. He fell over limp next to Hector, the barbs of the taser digging further into his flesh.

 

When Mark could begin to feel again, when his muscles started to work again although not voluntarily at first, he felt his bowels release, sweetening the fragrance he had been enveloped in for the last day.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

Floyd Benson was excited. Tonight was the night they had figured most likely, back when Nannette was alive. He was giddy with anticipation and he liked that his new friends were with him to share in it. They seemed deeply Catholic, and he hadn’t told them everything about what they were doing, but they seemed to accept him, and Floyd appreciated that.

 

Their names were Ricardo and Jesus. Ricardo was the older of the two and the uncle of Jesus. They were illegal and had come up from the Gulf of California, or Sea of Cortez as they called it, months ago. They found some odd jobs at first, until things started getting bad. For the last two months, they had been wandering around begging for food, and sometimes even stealing if they had to.

 

Floyd’s Spanish was mediocre at best. But he loved to talk to the two, even if there was a lot lost in translation. Actually, he probably enjoyed it because much was lost in translation. His awkwardness, his weirdness, it didn’t translate. To them, he was just a normal foreigner from a different culture, not a weird freak. He began almost ignoring Malbourne and Oren to spend time with the Mexicans. They didn’t look down on him, and seemed to accept him. For the first time in his life, Floyd Benson felt that he had friends.

 

Malbourne had tried for a couple of days to replace the two, but they had grown on Oren as well, and Malbourne was less than successful at even finding anyone if Oren had wanted to replace them.

 

He kept telling Ricardo, the one who talked the most, that tonight was going to be special. They basically thought that Oren’s wife was coming back, as he feared to get into much detail. He figured that they assumed he was happy for his friend reuniting with his wife. He wasn’t sure that he could tell them more. He was content to share the event with his friends even though they had no idea what was truly happening.

 

“So, tonight’s the night,” Malbourne said to Oren.

 

“I think so.” The sky had just gotten dark. Oren was restless, walking around the vehicles in a figure-eight pattern. “We don’t really know for sure, do we?”

 

“It’s the nineteenth, the night you all thought was the best chance,” said Malbourne. He seemed tired of this, even though it was making him wealthier by the night.

 

Floyd started gazing at the night sky, but something felt off, not normal. It took him a few seconds to figure it out. Ricardo and Jesus were speaking quietly to themselves, they also seemed to think that something was amiss, different. Then it hit Floyd what it was, and he sprang up.

 

“If it is tonight—“ began Oren.

 

“Shutup!” yelled Floyd, not just to Oren

 

“What?” asked Malbourne, an irritated edge to his voice, as someone he thought beneath him dared to speak to him that way.

 

Floyd turned to the newcomers: “Guarde...uh...guarden silencio,” then added, “Por favor.” They quieted too.

 

After a few moments, Malbourne spoke: “What the hell are you on about?”

 

“There’s not a sound,” said Floyd.

 

“So—“ began Malbourne.

 

“No crickets, no wildlife, nothing.” Oren looked up.

 

Floyd said, “Look at the sky.”

 

The other three did. The Mexicans seemed to understand English for a moment. A black, starless void stared back down at the five life forms, seemingly alone in the universe.

 

“Tonight’s the night.” Said Oren.