The 45 Diner story begins... (This is not the story start... go one post down and read the Prologue first)
You’ll only see the 45 Diner after the interstate curves in along the base of Tucker’s Hill. It’s just how the building sits in relation to the hill. On the straightaway all you see is Tucker’s. No diner, no garage.
It looks like an adobe. The walls are cheap plaster and the windows are single sheet glass. The ground is a strange dirt patch where you can’t find a stone or rock anywhere. The specials are written on a chalkboard stand outside the diner. There’s a good hundred and sixty foot strip of dirt from the door of the 45 to the edge of the highway. Parking is not usually a hassle. The 45 is not a Wonderburger or Harry’s house of Meat. There are no special meals for the kids. No balloons. No cheaply produced toys bundled in with a small packet of fries and drink.
There’s a phone booth on the corner just before the turning. Jed reckons he’s seen the bloody thing repaired or rebuilt more times than the number of years the 45 has been in business. Drunks and idiots have managed to wipe out the phone booth on more than a couple of occasions. Still they keep rebuilding the booth there and them idiots just keep knocking it down.
The sign over the door has not been repaired or maintained since the time it was put in almost thirty years ago.
Half the neon lights on the sign don’t work. Nobody cares.
Today the specials on the chalkboard are:
1) Fried Chicken Chop with Baked Beans and Fries ($6.50)
2) Home-style country pot pie ($8) [serves 2]
3) The 45 potato and cheese chowder with garlic bread ($7)
4) The 45 set meal - Soup, burger, chips, salad and a drink ($17.50)
The diner seats about 40 easy. Menus are old laminated paper double folds. The floor is retro style alternating black and white tiles. There’s a jukebox in the corner and the last time anyone played a song on it was three weeks ago when a trucker heading up north with agricultural feed put in a dollar for “Quando, Quando, Quando” and “You’re so vain”. He had a white coffee with two sugars and two large slices of Meg’s cauliflower chicken bake.
The 45 has been opened since forever. Meg Langford and her two sons, JD and Henry James Junior, run the place full time. JD runs the adjacent repair workshop and scrap yard, while Meg handles the customers and Henry Jr works the short order in the kitchen. In the last year or so Meg decided to hire Jill Weathers from nearby Chase to help her out in the front end. It was more of a favour than anything else, really.
“Here, ya go. Chocolate milkshake”, smiled Jill.
“Thanks”, said Amy.
Jerry winced as Jill gave him a little squeeze on the cheek.
“Cute boy”, said Jill and left.
Jerry slurped his shake and hummed looking out the window. A gecko scampered.
“Mommy. How many kilometres is it from here to that lizard?”
Amy smiled at the ginger-haired boy with the wide eyes and slightly-too-short haircut. His spectacles made his eyes look a tad larger than they actually were but the bigger baby blues only made him so much more adorable.
“Hmmm. About 10 meters?”
He looked up. The straw fell out of his lips. Eyes wide.
“10 meters? Wow.”, he gasped.
She laughed. They both wore napkin bibs. Jerry was self conscious. Amy could never get him to wear a napkin around the collar without she herself wearing one. It came with the territory.
Amy was a young mother. 28. Dirty blonde hair. Single.
Amy wore $10 mall T-shirts and jeans which were often washed too many times over. Amy bought from the discount aisle. Amy carried groceries two bags per hand. Amy was the kind of mom you saw shuffling bags, keys in the mouth, opening the door and pushing the seat forward in a hatchback for a kid to get in the back. Amy was the kind of Mom who would swear in traffic, but change all the swear words to safer ones for fear of her child picking up. Amy was the kind of woman a serious man would cherish, if ever a serious man would bother to look past the grocery bags and government assistance cheques. It never happened. Not to women like Amy.
“How many kilometres from here to that man fixing the car there, Mom?”
“About 150 meters, I think.”
Jerry uttered soundlessly – ‘150 meters’. He counted ten, twenty, all the way up on his fingers. He ran out of fingers.
“Wow.”
“How many kilometres to that patch?”
“20 meters”
“How many kilometres to that man talking on that phone outside?”
“80 meters, maybe. Not too sure about that one.”
He stopped to catch his breath. He started up again.
“I like his shirt.”
“You do?”, she asked
“Yeah. It looks like fire.”
She smiled.
“You’re right. It does look like fire.”
“A fire shirt. Voosh!”. He made a little gesture like an airplane taking off.
Amy laughed.
“Mommy. How many kilometres is it...”, he stopped.
Meg put down the order of waffles and fruit salad. “He’s a talkative one isn’t he?”, she said.
“Yes. He is.”, Amy laughed.
Jerry pouted and looked low.
“I’m sorry. Jerry’s a bit shy when it comes to strangers.”
“No. That’s alright.”, said Meg. “My brother’s kids were like that. Wouldn’t get a peep out of them. They’re selling real estate now. You got to stitch their mouths closed these days.”
Jerry looked at his hands under the table.
“Can I get you coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be great.”, said Amy.
“Hey baby. How’s things”, said Tom into the phone. The booth was scorching under the scalding rays. He had to keep the receiver from touching his ear.
A bug was flying around but he couldn’t spot it.
Tom played around with his sunglasses. When he put them on, they got too dark. When he took them off and placed them on top his sandy brown hair it got too bright. He decided to leave them up and squint. He fiddled with the tribal necklace that Michelle had given him.
“Yeah. I’m slightly passed halfway already. I should be there tomorrow afternoon.”
He brushed invisible cobwebs from his face
“The paper was fine. I put it in Wednesday.”
He rubbed web string on his cargos.
“Phone booth. I’m stopping for lunch now. Yeah. I wasn’t hungry at lunchtime.”
His eyes were on the phone display. He jingled change in his hand as he watched the value diminish slowly.
“So what you been doing at Kenzo’s”
They had a barbecue picnic yesterday.
“Really. That’s great. How are his folks like?”
She was surprised. They were formal and polite. Unlike Kenzo.
“Sweet.”
He remembered why he called her. He asked her before he forgot again.
“Hey? You got the tickets, right? For Gutbuster?”
He heard a low grating sound in the distance. He turned. A black Beamer was crawling in from across the way. It had a flat. He shook his head. Woman drivers.
She had the tickets, she replied.
He missed his gal. He leaned his shoulder against the booth.
“Baby, what you wearing?...
Ally slammed the door. And cursed.
“Yeah. Can you believe what Chan was trying to pull? What a fucking asshole.”, she yapped into her phone.
JD looked at her chattering on her mobile. Early thirties. Attractive. Highlights in the hair. Expensive shades. She must have been sweating buckets wearing hose in thirty degree weather. JD kept looking. She didn’t notice. She had a nice body and a tasty pair of breasts under that “don’t fuck with me” office woman get-up. And those legs...
She hung up, clapping the cell shut. She smiled. Dimples formed.
“Hi. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Can you get this changed for me?”
She could have done it. Maybe it was just beneath her.
“Yup. Not a problem. You want one of mine put on there or you wanna use the spare in the back?”
“Is there a difference? I’m in a hurry.”
He walked up to the car, wiping his hands on his overalls. He saw the sticker on the windscreen.
“Hertz rental right? You might have to pay for using the spare when you send the car back. Or I can fit you with one of mine. I got the same tires here. I don’t know what Hertz might charge you for them. But I can tell you what I charge”
He crouched down and checked for damage. Shucks, no damage. Routine change.
“Twenty. Twenty-five minutes. You can have a drink or something in the Diner while you’re waiting. You got anything else you want looking at?”, he asked, peering into the grill.
No answer. Ally was already walking to the Diner.
“Guess not”, said JD.
Ally entered the swing door and walked up to the counter. It was so much cooler inside than outside. A typical Diner type woman half-smiled as she topped up the cup of a greasy looking man in a black polo T.
Ally smelled hot lard. Ally heard patties being turned on the grill. Ally heard 80’s radio.
“Hi. Can I get a double decaf latte?”
Joshua half turned and gave her the once over.
“Sorry miss, we got no cappuccino machine. All we got’s regular.”, said Meg.
“White, 2 sugars.”
Ally spied the cake fridge in the corner of the counter.
Chocolate, Fattening.
Kiwi, Sour.
Apple strudel. Right. As if. She had strudels in Germany in a little place just outside the Black Forest. Now that, was a strudel. Then she stopped at the cheesecake with the marbled top. Hmmm.
“It’s good.”, said Meg, wiping down the counter, not looking at her.
“Excuse me?”
“The cheesecake. That’s what you looking at, ain’t it?”
Ally looked outside. JD was jacking up the car. Plenty of time.
“Yeah okay. I’ll give it a try. Scoop of vanilla on the side.”
“Take a seat. I’ll bring it to ya.”
Ally took a seat in one of the 60’s style booths.
Junior flipped burgers as Meg came into the kitchen.
“I’m gonna get me a girl like her one day?”, he said.
Meg dug around in the fridge.
“Who?”, she asked.
“That lady who just came in. She looks nice.”
Meg looked.
“Are you kidding me? A woman like that got no need for a man, son.”
“I don’t know, Mom. You might be wrong.”
Meg gave him one upside the head. He giggled.
“You knows I was just kidding.”
“How’s that burger coming along.”
“It’s coming.”, he said.
Meg took out a tub of ice-cream.
Junior walked up to the window of the kitchen.
“Hey, Mister. You want ketchup on yer burger?”
Joshua looked up from the sports section and shook his head. Henry Jr looked pass him to the booth where Ally sat. She’d taken her shades off and was stretching her arms over her head. Junior felt his pants get happy.
Meg upsided him again.
“Are you crazy boy?”, she hissed. “If she catch you gawking like that. She gonna give us hell.”
“Sorry, Momma.”
Meg looked out. Ally hadn’t noticed and Joshua didn’t seem to care.
Rex looked up from his chowder. The kid was looking straight at him with a serious face and a pout from the booth over.
“Something a matter?”, he asked.
“You have asthma.”, the kid said seriously. He had a cute lisp.
“Why do you say that?”
The boy’s head popped out of view. He was speaking to his mom about something. Pleading. After a while the boy popped up again.
“Sorry. I was busy.”, said Jerry, still serious.
“No problem.”, replied Rex with an equally straight face.
“You have asthma. I can see your puffer. There, in your pocket.”
Rex looked at his shirt pocket. The top of the inhaler was sticking out.
“I have a puffer just like yours. See?”. Jerry waved his own.
Amy told him from the seat over that it wasn’t a toy.
Jerry sighed. “I know, Mom.”
Rex smiled and returned to the chowder.
Jerry rested his head on the top of the booth seat, staring at him.
“When do you get stucks?”
“When do I get what?”, Rex asked
“Stucks. When do you get stucks in the chest?”
“Oh. Stucks in the chest. I don’t get stucks anymore.”
“You don’t?” said Jerry. “Wow.”
Amy’s head popped out beside Jerry’s, “Is he bothering you?”, she asked, smiling.. She reminded Rex of one of his “special” house calls. Her smile was nice.
“No. I’m fine.”
“If he bugs you, just let me know.”, she said. Her head disappeared again. Jerry rolled his eyes.
“Sorry. My mom’s like that all the time.”, he lisped.
Rex put some pepper in the chowder and stirred.
“Why do you carry the puffer if you don’t get stucks anymore?”
“Just in case I get stuck again, obviously”, said Rex.
It wasn’t right to tell the kid that he used Ventolin to get a buzz and stay awake on the road.
JD heard the problem all the way as the armoured van pulled up. Prosser parked and got out.
“Pretty serious problem you have there by the sound of it. Heard it all the way coming in.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Can you fix it?”
“I won’t know till I get a better look at it. You blocking the road. Park it behind the garage. I’ve got this Beamer then I come take a look at your problem.”
Prosser bent down to look under the carriage. He cursed when he put his hand on the bumper without thinking. It burnt. It was crazy hot from the sun.
JD got back to taking the nuts off the Beamer. Prosser went back to the front of the van, slipping the gun into the holster and taking the shock prod and aluminium rod from the dash.
JD spied out of the corner of his eye. Prosser fumbled with keys.
“Hey. You got anyone in that shed?”, asked Prosser.
“Nah. Just me. Why?”
Prosser kicked a stone out of the way. It bounced and hit the side of the shed.
“I got a guy in the back. I’m gotta take him out or he’s gonna die in there.”
“He ain’t like a jailbird, is he?”
“Yeah he is. Why?” Prosser jingled the keys.
“You sure you got to do that?”
“Pal. It’s 38 degrees out here. Jailbird or not, he’s gonna bake like a turkey if I leave him in there”
JD tried to protest but the words seem to stick in his throat.
“Don’t worry. I can handle him.”, said Prosser.
Meg muttered to herself as the coon came up to the counter and smiled.
“Good afternoon. Are you still serving the lunch special?”
The nigger spoke funny. He sounded like those in them tourist programs. Kenya and shit like that.
“That all?”
“A coca-cola also. If you have some.”, Kwaku grinned.
“Take a seat.”
Meg came into the kitchen.
“You let that shit come in here?”, said Junior.
Meg took the burger plate and shot him a look.
“Since when did you learn to question your Ma?”
“But he’s a fucking coon, Ma.”
“Don’t you swear. Do you know how it’d look if we turn that nigger away with all these customers around?”
“But.”
“Just shut up. When I die, you run this place the way you like. But till then I say if the coon got money and he want a special, you shut up and bring him a special.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you talk back to me, Junior.”
Henry grumbled.
Jill got the salad leaves out of the old fridge.
“Give him the ones from yesterday’s bag. Damn coon don’t know the difference between spoiled food anywho.”, said Meg.
Jill kept quiet and did as she was told.
The armoured van sat parked at the back of the garage, surrounded by piles of old cars and scrap metal parts. Prosser stood with his ear up to the back door. JD had come to take a closer look. Curious.
“You know, maybe you oughta stand back a ways when I open the door.”
JD gulped. “I thought you said you could handle him.”
“I can. But it would be stupid to take risks now wouldn’t it?”
JD stepped away and half hid behind a rusted chassis. He was about to wipe the carcass with a bit of rag before he caught himself wondering what the fuck he was doing.
Prosser shouted.
“You hear me?”
The door shook as it was kicked from the inside.
Prosser switched on the shockprod. It hummed.
“I’m assuming it’s hot in there. You want to come out?”
The door shook again.
“Alright Kaminski, I want you to lay on the floor, face down. If I look in there and you’re anything but, I’m gonna leave you in there like that and you can cook. You understand me?”
Prosser looked through the tiny window in the back.
“That’s right. Down. Down. Okay. Hands in front. Good.”
Prosser put the key in the lock. JD picked a wrench from his toolbox and held it tight.
Prosser banged the door and jiggled the key. He turned it and pulled the doors open. Waves of heat radiated out on the van. A huge man lay on the floor. Shoes pointed in their direction.
“Alright. Stay there. Don’t make a move until I tell you.”, said Prosser.
A muffled grunt replied. JD inched closer. The man was huge, he could tell even from way back.
Prosser worked quickly and fastened the extendable aluminium rod to the shackles of Kaminski’s feet. Once it locked, Prosser stood further back, manipulating the feet via the rod.
“Ok. Push yourself off, Kaminski. Any sudden moves and I’ll zap you.”
Kaminski moved slow. When he finally stood up, JD’s respect for the Staff Sergeant grew heaps. Kaminski was a tower of bulk, easily a head and a half taller and arguably as much wider than the lean provost guard. Corded arms bulged underneath the grey detainee overalls.
Kaminski turned slowly, squinting in the yellow desert scape. His shackles only allowed him to shamble a foot or so at a time. A large welt dressed one side of his face, running from the side of the face up along the shaven head. The black gag remained sturdily in place and made him look like a mosquito, with a protruding end.
JD inched closer. Kaminski snorted. JD stopped moving.
“Behave.”, growled Prosser. “Sit.”
Kaminski sat on the fender, sweat dripping down his face in rivulets. JD came closer.
“What’s that thing he got up on his face?”
“New gag. Keeps them from biting. They can drink and breathe with it on. Safer.”
“This guy bites does he?”, JD kept his distance carefully. “What did he do?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
Kaminski stared at JD. JD felt himself shrinking fast.
“I think I ought to get back to that Beamer”
“I think you’re right.”
“You got the time?”, asked Prosser
JD looked at the guard. The long protective gloves up to the forearms didn’t have a watch strapped around them.
“There’s a clock in the Diner. But I don’t know if Ma gonna let you inside with that fella though.”
Prosser shoved Kaminski on his feet to start the large man shambling.
“We’ll just have to find out for sure, then.”
Tom listened to music while waiting for his order. He had his eye on the hot Asian girl who had just come in. Her jeans practically sprayed on, and a tight T stopping far above the navel. Her hair was long and beautiful, almost at the waist. She wore a funky baseball cap that only seemed to make her ten times hotter than she already looked.
Tom tried to look away quickly but the crew-cut, pale-skinned mountain who stood beside her caught him gawking.
Boy, was he a big guy, Tom thought.
He blew out an air of relief when the mountain smiled at him and nodded his head in greeting. Tom nodded back. Tom gazed out the window, the pounding beats of DJ Anatta stark contrast to the willowy dusty hills outside on the other side of the highway.
A finger tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped. He thought of the mountain. He turned but it was the face of Randall that greeted him instead
“That lad was checking out yer goods, Ling.”
“Which boy?”
“That young man by the corner booth.”
Ling looked.
“He handsome.”
“If you say so. I don’t swing that way. You know.”
Ling jabbed him with her elbow. Elroy laughed.
“You so mean. I know what that mean, okay?”
“Alright. Don’t get all narky at me.”
They looked at the board
“What is chowder?”
“It’s like a thick soup, they make with milk.”
“Eee. No milk. I get fat.”
“You’re bloody kidding me. You? Fat?”
“I’m no young anymore. 26. Get fat easily”
“Well if you’re too old and can’t find yourself a man. I’ll marry you.”
“Right, Elloy. Har Har Har, very funny. What you eating?”
Meg asked, “Y’all decided yet?”
“One second. You serve that gent first, I’m fine”, pointed Elroy to Kwaku.
Meg said to Kwaku, “I know. It’s coming in a while. We’re doing the best we can. Just hold on a second”
Kwaku just put it down to stress and returned to his table.
Kwaku sat and narrated into a tape recorder. Rex smiled at him, holding a coffee cup.
“You documenting this trip?”
“Yes. My first drive up the coast.”, said Kwaku.
“That’s a pretty sweet recorder you got there”
“Digital. I just bought it.”
“May I?”
Kwaku passed the recorder over. Rex had a look at it. It was very slim and sleek, hardly weighed a thing.
“This part here, the microphone, it comes off. You can wear it like a pin. You know? Like a journalist.”
“Is it clear? The sound.”
“Yes. Very clear. Wireless relay, Strong pickup.”
“Nice.”, said Rex. He gave it back.
“I am Kwaku. You are?”
“Jeez. Where’s my manners. I’m Rex. Good to meet ya.”
They shook hands.
“So where you headed”, asked Rex.
“Up the coast. I’m hoping to visit the rapids in Stancheon.”
“It’s nice up there. Good place to take photos. You fish?”
“Unfortunately, I do not know how to. Not rod fishing, anyway.”
“Pity. There’s a good run in season. You are not from here, are you?”
“No”, smiled Kwaku. “I’ve just finished University. Vet science. Heading back soon.”
“Nice. Nice.”, smiled Rex.
As he looked closer at Kwaku, Rex noticed something.
“Say, that’s a pretty bad case of barber’s rash you got there.”
Kwaku nodded.
“Yes. My neck is quite sensitive.”
“I might have something in my car for that”, said Rex.
Randall said, “Is this seat taken?”
Tom said, “No. Go right ahead.”
Randall sat down. The boy was young. 22 or 23. But he was REALLY cute. He’d tell Bryan about it. In time.
They sat quietly. Tom lost in his music, looking out the window. Randall half jotting notes in his palm, and half checking out Tom. Randall even managed to sneak taking a picture with the camera function of his palm.
“You ordered the ice-tea, right?”, asked Jill, carrying food
Randall nodded.
“And you wanted the special?”
“Yup.”, said Tom, taking off his headphones.
Jed entered the 45 by the back entrance in the kitchen.
“Where were you all this time?” snapped Meg.
“Where do you think I was, woman? You think the flatbed drive itself to Lincoln with the fridge ?”
Meg huffed.
Jed wiped his hands on his filthy overalls and stole a chip from the fryer.
“Jay-sus. How many we got in here?”. He counted heads in the diner. He damn near coughed up when he saw the coon.
Meg grumbled and went back outside.
“Hey, Jr.”
“Yeah. Uncle Jed?”
“Guess how many we got in here eating”
“How many?”
“About 10.”
“No shit.”. Junior stopped what he did and went to the window. He giggled and scratched his ass. “Yeah you right. I didn’t even realize. Busy as I was.”
“Whatcha think ?”, Jed winked and smiled a set of bad teeth “We about set?”
Junior could only giggle like an ass and rub his crop-top hair.
Everyone in the 45 froze when Prosser brought Kaminski round the front and lashed him around a telephone pole near the street. He placed a wooden box next to the pole
“Alright. You sit here, I go get you a drink.”, said Prosser
The inside of the gag steamed with breath.
“Yeah. I think you need some. You look about ready to pass out. Now you sit down here and behave yourself, aight?”. He patted the shockprod hooked by his belt.
Stares greeted Prosser as he entered the diner. He raised both hands in the air.
“Hello folks. My name is Prosser, Staff Sergeant Edward Prosser. I’m part of the military police. I’m having trouble with my transport so I’m having it looked at. That man out there is a detainee, but as you can see he’s pretty out of it from the heat. I can’t have him staying in the van in this weather. I apologize for any distress caused but I’m just getting me and that fella a drink and we’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy. Thanks for understanding”
Kaminski’s back felt like it was on fire. The sun blazed. Sweat swam out every pore. The gag impeded his breathing. It felt like he was trying to get air through a sponge. Small bits of glass glared into his eyes. The crate he sat on had been in the sun too long. Splinters jabbed his ass. The edges of the wood had begun to fray in long strips.
He tried to sleep but the pole was hot and it burnt his arms. He was so exhausted.
The ground shifted from orange brown to a bluish-white. He looked up. There was a long grey cloud obscuring the sun. The burning back relented somewhat. He tried to nap before the cloud passed. Head against pole, he rested.
Ally’s feet felt good with the shoes off. Her ankles popped as she pointed her toes.
Her cell rang. It was Julian.
“Okay. This is going to make your shit fly. Are you sitting down?”
“What is it?”, Ally felt the tension creep back into her shoulders.
“Chan’s called Satoshi and is trying to wrangle them back for a few hours”
Ally felt the fire rise up her throat.
“You are fucking KIDDING me!”
JD knocked on the window from outside and gave her the “OK” sign. She waved him away pissed.
“He’s talking about maybe flying them by, guess what, private carrier. ”
“That motherfucker!”, she almost screamed. The Chinese girl and the rugged looking Irish guy turned to look at her. Ally said to them, “mind your own business.”
“What about all that shit Angela was talking to me about expenses?”
“I think Chan’s going over her head on this one.”, said Julian
Ally slammed the phone shut and opened the cell again. She dialled Max.
“Oi.”, a voice called in his direction. Snapping fingers.
Kwaku felt a bit irritated at the way the idiot in the kitchen motioned at him with the “come hither” finger. He knew what that finger meant. He had plenty of experience with it back home with the white fellas.
He got up and walked over to the counter. His food was ready.
Meg, not looking at him said, “Hang on for your chips, son.”
Kwaku stared at the idiot in the kitchen. He was back cooking. There was another man in the kitchen, idling in the corner. The idle one caught him staring and said something to the idiot. Kwaku couldn’t hear what was said. The radio in the kitchen was too loud.
The idiot turned and stared at him. Kwaku did not look away.
The idiot jerked his head in a reverse nod – What the fuck do you want, now?
The idle one kept talking.
The idiot put one hand to the strings of his apron – You want a fight?
The idle one kept speaking. The idiot mouthed something to him – THAT word.
Kwaku felt his blood boil, but he stayed super cool. Meg looked up into the kitchen, and the idiot broke his gaze.
Meg grabbed the basket of chips and put them on his plate.
“Don’t mind my son. He’s my boy. But he’s got my ex-husband’s stupidity.”
Kwaku grabbed his plate and went back to his booth.
“Can I get another refill here?”, asked Joshua.
“Sure”, said Meg.
“Fuck this. Let’s do it.”, snapped Junior.
“You sure?”, snickered Jed.
“Fuck yeah. I love to see that coon get it. Did you see the way that fuck looked at me?”
“I’ll go speak to JD then. What about Meg?”
“What about Meg?”
Jed laughed and walked out the back door.
Kwaku seethed as he sat down.
“Pay no attention to that guy. He’s ignorant.”, said Rex.
“You saw that as well?”
“Yes. I did.”
Kwaku pushed his food away. “For all I know, he could have spit in my food.”
Rex picked up a piece of salad and ate it.
“Nah. I doubt it. Can you say ‘lawsuit’?”
Kwaku smiled.
“Seriously. Pay no attention to them. Dickheads like them are everywhere.”
Kwaku laughed.
“That is a funny word. Dickhead.”
“Not as funny as a dickhead.”, said Rex.
Kwaku ate a little. The chips were good. Then he noticed that his tape was still recording. He stopped and rewound. He unclipped the mike off his collar.
He put a headphone in his ear played it back. No sense wasting all that space recording garbage.
...got my ex-husband’s stupidity..
He stopped and rewound some more. Sounds of random kitchen noises and music. He stopped and rewound further, and played it back.
..This is Freedom100 FM, highway radio. All hits. All day long.
The mic had caught the kitchen radio.
...This just in, Police are urging callers for any information regarding a suspect in a daring daylight bank robbery. The suspect is about 5’11, wavy hair with a dark top, perhaps black or dark blue, and jeans. He was last seen driving a late model Nissan taxi cab...
Kwaku looked out the window. Range Rover. A Ford. A Beamer
Oh look. A Nissan. In really bad shape, the damage must have been recent, because there were no rust spots or discolorations where the paintwork had gotten scrapped off...yeah it could have been a cab. The paint scheme was definitely cabbish.
Hmmm. 5’11, wavy hair, dark top.
One guy stood out to that description - the man in the corner, by the counter. Yeah. He had a black top underneath the jacket. He could be about 5’11. His hair was dark..
..identifying marks include a tattoo on the left side of the neck..
The collar of the polo was pulled up. It seemed quirky before, but it was nothing really suspicious.
Joshua reached for the sugar. As he did, the collar fell slightly.
Kwaku SAW it. Kwaku’s blood ran cold. The tape played on.
..suspect is considered armed and dangerous, and the public is advised to call authorities and not approach the suspect themselves..
Kwaku STARED. Kwaku gulped. Kwaku couldn’t turn away fast enough. Joshua turned and saw Kwaku looking at him. Joshua did a double-take. Kwaku couldn’t rip his eyes away. Kwaku was a deer in headlights. Kwaku KNEW and Joshua knew he KNEW.
Joshua looked back straight ahead. And sipped his coffee.
Ally felt like flinging the fucking cell at the wall.
“It’s out of my hands, I can’t do anything about it.”, said Max.
“Fuck you. You’re my boss. How about you started acting like one?”
“Ally, I don’t like your tone of voice”
“Screw you. I’m sick of your shit.”
“Ally... calm down.”
“I’m going to make it easy for you. You stop Chan from this fucking thing”
“Are you issuing me an ultimatum?”
“You stop Chan or I’m going to your wife about us. Fuck you, dickless prick!”
Silence.
“Well?”, asked Ally.
“Ally I don’t know what the...
The phone beeped. The call died. Low battery. Ally was livid. She grabbed her purse. She looked around, she saw the booth outside. She slipped her shoes on. She ran to the counter. How dare that mother..
She slid passed the Army guy who smiled at her. Meg said the Visa machine was broke. Ally counted out dollars from her pouch. She turned about to leave. The greasy man stood up in her way and said something. She didn’t hear what he was whispering. She said she was busy. He said something again. She tried to sidestep him. He blocked her. She tried to sidestep him again. Again he blocked her. She had no time for his stupidity. She told him just that. He reached into his jacket. He took out a gun. He pointed it at HER.
“Sit the fuck down.”
She felt the wind knocked out of her. She felt like throwing up. She felt her bile rise up.
Somebody in the Diner screamed.
Joshua spun Ally and held her in front of him with a forearm across her neck. He pointed the revolver at Prosser.
“Don’t even try it”, said Joshua
Prosser looked down to his holster. But he didn’t move.
Joshua told the ones in the kitchen to get out front. They sat in the booths with the others.
“Look. What is this all about?”, asked Prosser.
“Shut up. Do you want to die?”
“No.”
“Then quit asking questions. Are you hero of the day?”
“What?”
“It’s my gun. I ask the fucking questions. Are you hero of the day?”
“No. I’m not.”
“You sure?”
“No. I am not hero of the day.”
“Good. Because where I come from, hero of the day gets to dig .38 calibre slugs out of his face and ends up drowning in his own fucking blood.”
Prosser kept his hands up. WAY up.
Joshua said to Ally, “Get back to your seat.”. She RAN. He kept his sights on Prosser. The button on the guard’s holster was on. No way he could pull. Army guy had no chance.
Session start: 15:47pm.
DaveyBoy> hi gorgeous
Randall54> Hello boyfriend : )
DaveyBoy> we sorted the AV problem. you’re all set for the talk.
Randall54> Excellent. What are you up to?
DaveyBoy> i collected the itinery sheets from the printers.
Randall54> Any problems, darling?
Randall54> Hmmm...
Randall54> Yoohoo?
DaveyBoy> sorry. phone. yeah one small issue..
DaveyBoy> the shiatsu guys can’t make it. I pulled some strings and got a chinese acupressure group from the Hyatt. that alright?
Randall54> That’s fine.
Randall54> Miss you
DaveyBoy> me too.
Randall54> You miss yourself?
DaveyBoy> hahaha.
Randall54 wishes to send you a file [angelface.jpg]
Accept? (Y/N) y
[angelface.jpg] transfer is in progress.
DaveyBoy> whats that?
Randall54> You’ll see.
DaveyBoy> you arent on the road now are you?
Randall54> Gosh, no. I’m having something to eat
DaveyBoy> chase? I hear there’s a good crepe place there.
Randall54> Not Chase. A diner along the interstate.
Randall54> I love the smell of greasy fries
DaveyBoy> .... don’t. don’t tempt me.
Randall54> So whats the figures like now? The gig.
DaveyBoy> 4000: the talk and 650+: retreat. still getting calls for retreat tho
Randall54> Can we fit latecomers in?
DaveyBoy> i already did
DaveyBoy> what would you do without me :P
Randall54> Touche.
[angelface.jpg] transfer completed [Click here to open]
Randall54> Go look.
Opening [angelface.jpg]...
DaveyBoy> wooooooooooooo. who is that?
Randall54> Some guy sharing the booth. A student probably. Cute?
DaveyBoy> very. take him up here for me?
Randall54> I’ll try. Then again I might save him just for myself.
DaveyBoy> ......
Randall54> I’m eating the best fries ever right now.
DaveyBoy> bastard. youre making me hungwee
Randall54> Yum. I can smell the tallow.
Randall54> Theyre better than the fries at Wolfgang’s
DaveyBoy> I HATE YOU.
Randall54> Hahahahahahah
DaveyBoy> hmph.
Randall54> Hang on. Gotta use the john.
DaveyBoy> get angelface’s number. maybe we could call him sometime...
DaveyBoy> i’ll take him monday, wednesday and friday
DaveyBoy> and tuesday *looks at picture again*
DaveyBoy> Im sorry randall. Im leaving you for angelface
Randall54> FUCK!
Randall54> DAVID. SOMEONE’S HOLDING UP THE DINER!
DaveyBoy> hahahahahhaah. riiite.
Randall54> DAVID. NO FCUKIN JOKE. I’MM SERIOS!
Randall54> I HERD A SCREAM AND NOW I’M STUCCK IN THE FUCKIN LOO
DaveyBoy> og god! You not kidding?
Randall54> HES GOT A GUN
“Don’t make a move.”, said Joshua.
He pointed the gun right at Prosser’s face and fumbled with the holster. He retrieved Prosser’s weapon. An automatic. Joshua shoved it in the back of his jeans.
“Take the belt off and toss it behind the counter.”
Prosser did it. Joshua patted him down. Joshua felt keys. Joshua felt money. Joshua felt a petrol card in the front pocket. Joshua felt a sunglasses case. Joshua gave Prosser the keys.
“Take that guy in here before someone drives by and spots him.”
“You don’t want to..”
“Do it. Walk a straight line to him and take him in. You try to split or do anything funny I’ll clip you from here. And I’ll clip half the people on account of your dumb ass.”
“I can’t go out there empty handed. He’ll jump me.”
“You’ll just have to hope he doesn’t then.”
Jerry was crushed against Amy. He was pale. His chest heaved.
Jill’s hands were cold. Jill was trembling. Jill asked Amy if the boy was alright.
Amy shrugged. Amy’s hands shook as she spritzed the inhaler for Jerry. Amy’s face was worried. Jerry’s face was screwed.
Joshua pulled the automatic from his back. He trailed one gun on everyone and one on Prosser. Prosser went behind the counter as ordered. Prosser unclipped the extendable rod from the belt. Prosser stepped through the doors and walked a steady pace towards the hulking prisoner.
Prosser’s lips moved rapidly. Jill could see it through the glass.
Prosser hollered across the distance.
“You heard me? Don’t try anything stupid. Walk together with me into the diner. He has my gun and he’s got the sights on us. Do you understand me?”
Kaminski nodded. Prosser got close slowly. Kaminski had gone into a trance watching drops of perspiration fall onto the sand from the tip of his nose. Heat? What heat? His shoulders were hunched. He couldn’t feel his legs. His thighs had gone to sleep.
Prosser approached warily. The key slid into the padlock that fastened his wrists around the pole.
“Stay loose like you are now. No sudden moves. I get shot, you get shot. It’s that simple.”
Kaminski grunted.
“Ok. Take your hands away from the pole. I’ll cuff them again.”
The big man shook his head. He eased up slowly. Legs unsteady.
“Look. Don’t make a scene out of this. Give me those fucking hands.”
Kaminski grunted a bit louder.
“Fuck it then. Fuck the cuffs. You go in there. You reach for something. You die. Better for me. ”
Kaminski pressed “play” in his mind. Kaminski imagined his chest being blown out his back. Kaminski offered his wrists.
Jed and JD entered the 45 by the back entrance. It was weird. From where they were, everything was empty.
“What the hell’s going on here?”, asked JD. He picked a chip from the fryer.
“Where’s Henry?”
Too quiet, thought Jed. Much too quiet.
Jed realized too late. He clapped a hand to JD’s shoulder just as Joshua popped out from under the counter. Guns pointed their way.
“Come on in. Shut the door behind you.”
Ling slipped a hand under the table and grabbed Elroy’s hand. It felt like it was just taken out of ice water.
“Easy, doll. I won’t let a thing happen to you.”, he whispered. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.
The power suit lady was fidgeting. She played with her watch strap, fumbled with her clothes, touched her face. She had sat by them when the greaser let her go.
The convict and the guard walked in. Someone shrieked. Greaser shouted “Everybody shut the fuck up!”
Elroy sized up the shaven headed prisoner. He was big. Bigger than Elroy. That was saying something. The young guy cleared the booth for the newcomers and sat somewhere else.
The hulk sat on one end, the guard on the other end. A smell wafted Elroy’s way. The big crim STUNK. Eau De Party Wagon.
He remembered the smell, from way back, in 84.
Elroy and some young buddies decided to go mad at a soccer game. They’d bashed some rival supporters. Someone went overboard. Someone fired a flare into the mob. Somebody lost an eye. The coppers lost their cool then. The coppers nabbed them. They rode a van into the station. They were processed in town. Elroy remembered another van at the station, just after he himself had arrived.
The coppers had nailed the Dockland slasher. They’d brought him in just after Elroy and gang. The slasher was manacled just like this bloke. Hands and feet. Elroy remembered being terrified. Once in the few times of his life that he was scared at anything. Elroy remembered being put in a cell across from the slasher. Elroy remembered not sleeping.
Something about that memory and the hulk in front didn’t sit well with him. Something he couldn’t place.
It was a glint in the toiler door that caught his eye. Then the slight movement of the door jamb.
Hincks said, “Rodent problem.”
Joshua shouted. “I am going to count to three, asshole. Either way you’re coming out. It’s your call how.” He cocked the hammer on the revolver.
“One.”
Scrambling behind the door.
“Two”
A voice answered. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming out. I was just peeing for God sakes.”
“Just get out now. Wash your hands.”, said Joshua.
Randall stepped out. Hands WAY up. Hands still dripping. Post pee wash.
Joshua shoved him and kicked him into a seat. Rough.
“Lay off the smacking around. Don’t string everyone too tight. If they rush us all at once, we fucked.”, said Hincks.
Joshua ignored him. Black kid had forced this. Black kid could’ve called them in and Black kid would’ve, definitely. Chase PD would have reacted quick. Roadblock. Helicopter. Spike strip. Game over. Joshua had to IMPROVISE. Joshua did improvise. But Joshua didn’t like deviations. Joshua was a “stick to the plan” kinda guy. Deviation made Joshua pissed.
This was not the plan. This was not the fucking plan at all.
Joshua lashed out at the jukebox and smashed the screen. People sweated. Sting sang “Russians”. Joshua paced the room. Assessing risks. Thinking.
“I am going to lay this down very easily. Simple instructions. Simple requests.”
The black boy looked to the ground as Joshua eyeballed him.
“Most of you have no fucking idea why any of this is going on, as it should be. But I think at least a few of you know otherwise and THAT, is a problem.”
The radio spruiked its station ID and timecall. Joshua shot it. The radio disintegrated. Plastic bits in the fryer sizzled. Plastic bits on the skillet melted cheesy. Plastic bits floated in chicken stock.
Screams. More screams. Screams of, “Oh my god. Oh my god.” Won’t these bitches just shut up, he thought.
Joshua said, “First request. I want wallets, car keys and phones on the table. You don’t want to die. I don’t want to kill anyone.” Joshua walked. He looked around for “hero factor”. The big one with the Asian was surely a hassle. The guard and the crim, obviously. “Mr. Pee hands” looked cagey. The lanky motherfucker with the dead eyes that came in with the short order kid looked a threat as well.
Joshua said. “Well? Get on with it.” His finger was itching to make examples. The gun smoke made him sick. Keys came out of pockets. Wallets as well. Big guy with the chick took out a money roll. He didn’t have a wallet.
“You can keep that roll. I don’t want your money.” Josh said to Elroy.
Joshua heard sobbing. He turned. Amy was crying. The boy was blue.
“The fuck is going on here?”
Amy cried some more, rocking the boy. Joshua banged the table.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!”
She snapped out of it.
“What the fuck’s up with the kid?”. He asked.
She stared at him as if she wanted to fucking stab him right there.
“He’s not breathing. His inhaler isn’t helping. His throats almost shut.”
Joshua read between the lines. He read the body language. He read the eyes – You killed my kid. You are a fucking dead man.
Fuck, he thought. Fuck Fuck Fuck.
“Don’t lose it. You lose control they’ll own you”, said Hincks.
“Shut the fuck up! I’m the one running this show. Don’t fucking tell me what to do. Why the fuck have you always got to tell me what to do?”, Joshua shouted.
Everybody looked at each other. Who the fuck was he yelling at?
“Oh great.”, whispered Ally to herself, trembling. “We’re stuck in here with a god damned lunatic.”
Rex held up a jerky hand. Rex held up an inhaler. Rex felt like pissing his favourite driving pants.
“What?”, asked Joshua.
“This might help.”
Joshua plucked the inhaler and threw it at Amy. She tried it but her eyes didn’t believe it would work. She spritzed. No use.
“Does he have a pulse?”.
Joshua turned. It was Kwaku.
Joshua let it slide. He couldn’t afford a dead boy.
“I don’t know. I can’t barely feel anything.”, said Amy.
“You a doctor?”, asked Joshua.
“I’m a vet student. I could help. Let me help her.”
“Go.”
Kwaku scampered across to Amy’s booth.
“Let me have him, please”
Amy let go.
Kwaku undid buttons at the top of the shirt. Kwaku flicked his hand furiously. He felt for Jerry’s carotid. He looked at his watch.
Joshua heard whispering. He turned. Henry was trying to whisper across to JD. Joshua sprang. Joshua swung the gun butt. Henry’s eyes glazed. Henry fell flat on the table like a stone. JD tried to reach for his brother. JD saw the gun. JD changed his mind.
“Nobody fucking talks. This isn’t fucking Oprah.”, Joshua said.
Kwaku felt around under the round face. Amy’s face showed her worry.
Kwaku felt something. Was it? Wasn’t it? Was it? There?
Kwaku sighed relief.
“He has a pulse. But it’s very faint. “
Kwaku dipped two fingers in water and put them to Jerry’s nose and mouth. He felt for cold on his fingertips. Signs of a breath.
Was there? Was there? There was.
“He’s breathing. Let’s give him more room. Clear the table.”
Amy dripped tears of relief. Joshua ripped the tablecloth off. Plates smashed. Cutlery clattered. Porcelain pieces scattered.
Kwaku placed Jerry face down lying on the table. Kwaku sweated. Kwaku tried to remember first aid and biology lessons taken ages ago. Kwaku secretly wished that Jerry was a dog, or horse.
A faint dusty light bulb came on.
“Caffeine. Coffee. Strong black coffee.”, Kwaku said to Joshua. “Helps the airways. Stimulates the heart rate.”
Joshua reached for Rex’s cup.
“No. A fresh one. Preferably hot. Helps keep the chest warm.”, said Kwaku.
Joshua pointed to Jill. Jill looked panicked.
“What you so shit scared about? Just make coffee. Go”.
Jill shook uncontrollably and started to cry. Meg hugged the girl. Jed reached over and hugged them both.
Meg asked, “Mister, She’s casual. She just a kid. Give her a break”
Jed said, “C’mon man. Leave the poor girl alone. My wife will take care of the coffee. She’ll make coffee for everybody, alright? Please. Jill’s about ready to pass out. Look at her, she’s white as a ghost.”
Joshua frowned. Joshua smelt Eau de smartypants. Joshua felt the leash had started to slack.
Joshua said, “Who the fuck asked you anything, Jethro?” He pointed the revolver right at Jed’s head. “Make no mistake you fucking cotton picker. I will end you like Polka if you so much as say one more fucking thing without my asking.”
“Hey, come on now. I didn’t mean nothin’”, Jed tried to laugh it off.
Joshua’s eyes widened. Joshua saw red. Joshua heard Hincks making “tsking” sounds.
He flipped the gun over and pistol-whipped Jed. Hard.
Jed saw stars. Jed saw naked Jills dancing around a cornfield. Jed felt tapping on his shoulder. The safety switch on the 38 had split his scalp and blood was dripping. Jed grabbed dispenser napkins and compressed. He felt the beginning of a number of headaches.
Joshua snarled at Meg.
“Do I have to whip your fat ass too to get you moving?”
Meg moved pronto.
“Now where the fuck are those keys and wallets?”, he yelled.
------------------------------
Elroy rubbed the missing knuckle. Elroy was ex-security. Elroy had good instincts. Elroy played “If I were Joshua, what would I do?”
Joshua was taking phones. Taking keys. Taking wallets. Why? Phones - prevent communication. Keys – prevent transportation. Wallets – Prevent access to... Money?
It couldn’t be money. He didn’t want Elroy’s roll. If it was money, he would have sprung the register and asked for watches and jewellery. He didn’t. He had no interest in cash.
That was weird. He looked like a greaser. Greasers were into money the way white guys were into yellow pussy. The only time Greasers weren’t interested in money was when they already had mon...
Ding Ding Ding. “Tell him what he’s won, Bob.”
Elroy could almost HEAR the “click”. He remembered the news report in the car on the way here. Daylight robbery. What was it? 250? Wasn’t that what the radio said? Greaser fit the description.
Therefore that meant the diner gig was REACTIONARY. The mad geezer had figured he was about to be dobbed. He was setting up the diner so that he could make a split with an even chance to get away. Hence the need to collect all the items. Wallets meant identification. “I know where you live.” It made sense. It bought time for a getaway before anyone could make a phone in or drive out to get help.
Elroy decided that wasn’t the issue. The issue was safety. What would happen if “the voices” told gun wielding psycho to kill everyone? How much could you trust a guy who talked to himself? How much could you trust him to not hurt anyone?
Elroy decided the answer was ‘not enough’.
------------------------------
Jed held a wad of napkins to his head. The whole clump had turned red. His head had started to swell. He eyeballed Jill. In a way this was all the bitch’s fault. If she’d just gone and gotten the fucking coffee. Meg and him wouldn’t have needed to stick up for her. And he wouldn’t have copped a pistol whip.
Meg came back with two jugs of hot coffee. Kwaku took a cup from her quickly and brought it to the boy. Amy whispered to the kid to take it slowly. Jerry nodded and kiddie sipped.
“Cut them a bit of slack, c’mon”, said Hincks.
Joshua mumbled, “Go on, give everyone a fill.” to Meg. She went round and poured refills.
Joshua went to the counter and grabbed a trash bag. Within he placed all the keys, mobiles and wallets. He kept one key out. The range rover. He’d drive that and leave the cab behind.
He checked his gear. He thought. He looked out the window.
A highway patrol cruiser drove past along the main road outside.
Joshua’s balls leapt into his throat. He crouched by a booth.
“Everybody stay fucking cool or I start shooting.”, he shouted.
Moments passed. Joshua kept looking. Was there just one car or a posse? The wall clock ticked. His fingers tapped on the cold steel of the revolver. Sets of questioning eyes looked at his finger tapping. Eyes looked at the automatic held under the counter in his other hand.
Joshua took his refilled mug and gulped hot coffee. It burnt his lips but he liked it. He waited some more. He turned from the window and faced Hincks, who sat across from him.
“What do you think?”, he asked Hincks. Everybody stared at him.
“No siren. No posse. Could be routine.”
“You think ?”
“We’ll have to wait and see. What are we gonna do then?”, asked Hincks.
Joshua drank coffee and thought. Prosser drank coffee and thought. Elroy drank coffee and observed. They waited.
The cruiser came back. Joshua’s blood ran cold.
------------------------------
Patrol Constable Jim Croce swore under his breath. Did dispatch KNOW how many eating places there were down the whole stretch? Check all of them ? What a screwball order.
The call had come from Cook PD. They said they received a call about a hold-up about a half hour ago. Some suit from the Westin. It was the fifth hold-up call in for him in the week. With the school semester out, the number of prank callers had more than doubled. Normally a guy like Jim had patience for calls, even nuisance ones. But it was 38 degrees out and his bum shoulder was giving him more grief than usual.
He felt like telling despatch off. The call had come from bloody COOK for God sakes, as if that wasn’t enough to set their feelers tingling. The hell would a call from Cook have to do about a hold-up here?
Despatch were idiots. 42 degree high and they had to send his ass to go do some useless errand like this.
Jim put the car in park. Jim filled in the logbook. Jim left the engine running. He looked through the diner window. People drinking. Waitresses serving. Guy behind the counter. Business as usual.
He’d just come from Duke’s Shell. No drama there. Duke’s boy had made it into Legal Studies and they were seeing him off next week. They invited Jim for the farewell party. Duke’s wife made nice meringue pies. Big ones. Fluffy. You could smell the egg whites and icing sugar, unlike the crappy frozen “serves one’ affairs you got in the supermarkets.
“No hold up here”, Jim said to himself.
The next place would be Bob Hanson’s place 40-odd clicks away. Jim looked at his notebook. The A/C blew full into his face... made him sleepy idling in the car like this. He considered backing out and heading on to Bob’s place.
He read the log entry.
1657hrs. Follow up on call – 45 diner on Tucker’s
He looked out to the Diner. He looked at the log. He could feel the heat outside when he put a hand up to the glass. He sighed. The A/C would take ages to turn back on again if he switched it off.
“C’mon Jim. Do it properly”, he told himself.
He sighed. He swore. He put his hat on. He switched the engine off and stepped out into the waves of desert heat.
Joshua snarled over the counter, “Remember what I said. Anybody makes a peep I turn this place into a fucking bloodbath”. He tied off the apron behind him loosely. It gave cover to the steel in his waistband.
He looked down. The prisoner lay by his feet.
“I got no quarrel against you. You lay down there and play dead.”
Kaminski nodded.
Joshua looked up - Prosser was making for the door. Joshua cursed under his breath.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get back here !”
Prosser turned. “Relax. I have an idea that just might save you from killing all these people.”
“The fuck you talking about? Sit the fuck down before I blow you away now”
Prosser leaned up to the counter, coffee in hand.
“What are you, fucking stupid?”, he whispered. “You think for one second that the mother, the vet kid or the fucking guy in the toilet is going to keep quiet and play fine and dandy? You think they gonna sit around and smile and eat imaginary fucking eggs while you laugh at the cop’s jokes and send him on his way smiling out of here? They’re gonna yell their fucking heads off the first chance they get.”
Joshua seethed.
Prosser kept talking.
“What if he comes in, looks under that table and sees all that broken shit? What if the kid wakes up and starts screaming ? The fuck you gonna do then, kill everybody?”
Joshua glared. Hincks stood beside him, agreeing with Prosser.
“Let me head him off, maybe I can talk him into something, get him away from here. Just give me the fucking chance before this gets fucked and everyone leaves in body bags”
The patrolman was on his way to the door fast.
Rex said to Prosser, “Don’t be a hero. Just sit down man. Jesus Christ.”
Prosser spun. “How about you shut your mouth fat man. I might be saving all your fucking lives here.”
Prosser turned back to Joshua, “Well?”
Joshua snarled, “Go.”
The provost guard came out of the joint and beamed.
“Hey. That was quick. I’m glad you came fast. You patrol boys sure got your response times down under regulation. Jeez it’s hot out here, ain’t it?”
Jim Croce scratched under an arm. His shirt was sticking.
“Huh. What you talking ?”
“I’m Prosser. Staff sergeant. I called Patrol for assistance about a half hour ago? The motor vehicle snafu. You’re the guy they sent, yeah?”.
Prosser stuck his hand out.
“Well not exactly” Jim shook his hand. “I’m James. What’s the problem anyway?”
They stood just inside the shade of the building. Jim looked through the glass.
Prosser smiled, “Well Jimmy, you know military regulations. Us army boys ain’t supposed to breakdown if possible. But I did. Van’s out back on blocks getting a look at. I need to get someone official on the site of repair, you know, if it’s off military jurisdiction. Make sure everything’s witnessed and all.”
“Yeah. I hear you.”
“That’s why I called. They said they’d send somebody. You’ve signed off a accident repair docket before yeah? So you could do it”.
“Yeah, I have I guess.”
“Great. It’s just around the side in the garage. ”
Jim peered through the glass. There was a kid asleep by the window. Most of the patrons drank coffee. A waitress went around. Another cleared plates.
Jim said, “Sure. I’ll take a look at it.” Boy, there sure were a lot of empty plates lying round.
“Excellent. It’s right this way.”, said Prosser, pointing a way off.
Jim spied the counter. The guy behind the counter smiled. Jim waved at him. He waved back and grinned.
Jim came to the door about to enter.
Prosser tapped his shoulder. “Hey you want something? A drink? I’ll get it for you. My treat yeah? For coming so soon. What you having, Jim?”
“No thanks. I’m not thirsty...” Jim looked. He looked at the counter. The man kept smiling.
Too much smiling. Something wasn’t right. Jim scanned.
He saw cakes. He saw salt shakers. He looked further back. He saw ladles and scoops hanging in the middle. He saw pans and pots hung on a rack. He saw the wash area right behind...
He saw the remains of the radio on the shelf in the kitchen. He saw the bullet in the wall. He saw cracked plaster on the skillet. Alarms rang in his head.
Jim reached for his gun. The counter man’s expression changed. The man shouted. The man tore his apron away. Guns in the belt. Jim swore. Jim tugged at his gun. He tugged again, but it wouldn’t come loose.
He looked down. Prosser’s hand clamped over the holster. Prosser grabbed him. They struggled. Prosser drove a fist into Jim’s kidneys. Jim buckled. Prosser’s other arm locked around his throat. Prosser heaved and pulled back hard. They fell back together. They writhed on the ground like snakes doused in 100 proof. Prosser's legs wrapped from behind around Jim’s waist. Prosser’s other hand came up and braced around Jim’s head in a lock, both arms acting like a noose. Tightening, constricting.
Jim struggled and coughed. His hands struggled to undo the gun on his hip. His grip on the handle was faint, fading fast. The angle which he lay on the ground made him unable to turn or hit back at Prosser. Jim felt the blood rush to his head and stay there.
Prosser hugged harder and squeezed.
Jim’s face darkened purple. Vessels popped. His eyeballs were protruding. His vision swam and grew darker and darker. Jimmy Croce choked for air. Prosser arched back and stretched Jim out like a rack, increasing the force of the choke. Jim’s world contracted from light and expanded into blackness. Sound softened. Time faded.
The last thing he heard were the bones in his neck, snapping.
Blackout.
------------------------------
The door banged open. Prosser huffed, grunting with the body.
“Jesus. Don’t just stand there. Help me bring this bastard in.”
Joshua darted around the counter and came to him. His eyes wide open, staring at the body.
“Oh my god. What the fuck did you do to him?”
The tongue lolled. The eyes were angled off-kilter and half open. Joshua put a hand under the chin, feeling around like he had seen Kwaku do before.
“Is he dead?”
Prosser snapped. “No. He’s hypnotized - sleeping with his tongue hanging out like that..... the fuck are you, dense? Of course he’s fucking dead.”
Joshua gripped the legs, Prosser gripped the arms. They dragged the body inside and shut the door. They puffed with the strain.
[add something here]
“Oh shit. My prisoner. Is he still behind the...”, asked Prosser.
Joshua cursed and dashed behind the counter. Joshua half expected the big bastard to not be there. But..
“Yeah he’s still here.”
“Good.”
Joshua felt a cold blade press against his throat. He stiffened instantly. He felt a hand braced against his back.
“Tsk tsk. Very shoddy my friend. You don’t know how to do this for shit.”
Joshua realized his mistake. “Fuck.”
“Get out of there. We gonna ease back, slow.”, said Prosser.
“And what you gonna do if I don’t comply?”
“Well. You gonna find out where you end and I begin. Now back out slow”
They eased out back to the front. Jill and Amy clapped. People sighed.
Prosser said, “Everybody stay where you are. For your own safety.”
“Fine. It’s your game now. What do you want?”, said Joshua.
“Two fingers. Thumb and forefinger. Take out the gun. The revolver first. Slow.”
Joshua did it as told.
“Where did you get that blade? That was a slick pull.”
“Thank your mistake. Letting me get behind the counter. Whole set of steak knives back there under the shelf and you never even knew”
“Touche.”
Joshua could feel the tip of the gun coming out. If he could only..
“No no. You’ll never make it. Trust me.”, crooned Prosser.
Prosser gazed behind the counter, “Can you hear me Convict ? You get out from the floor back there.”
Joshua worked it loose and held up the gun with two fingertips. Prosser took it.
There was a sound of shuffling and the big man rose from the back. A stain ran from the crotch down one leg on the coveralls of the giant.
“Jesus. You wet yourself? Stand against the wall, convict. No sudden moves.”, said Prosser.
He cocked the revolver and put it to Joshua’s head. The other hand grabbed the automatic from Joshua’s waist.
The diner applauded. They started to get up. Talking started.
Prosser kicked Joshua away hard. Joshua slammed into the jukebox. Joshua’s hand went into the broken display. Joshua sliced his hand on glass.
Prosser said softly. “And everyone is saved yeah?”. Prosser looked to the body. Prosser looked to the convict. Prosser sighed.
No point keeping the charade now.
He pointed the automatic at the prisoner and pulled the trigger. The muzzle flashed. The gun roared. The huge body slammed back into the wall, busting picture frames and cracking the soft plasterboard. He shot again. The muzzle roared again. The body flew back again and fell in a bloody heap. The wall looked like someone had slapped a bloody porterhouse against it and let it slide down.
Screams erupted. People prayed. Voices fell back into stunned silence.
From where Tom sat, he could see a bloody mess in the belly of the huge man. There were little pinpricks of red spotting everywhere. On the glasses. On the wall. People wiped themselves with napkins disgusted. Prosser went over to the convict and ripped off the gag.
Ling was cowering in Elroy’s arms, shrieking into his coat. Ally squashed close against them, muttering repeatedly, “Keep me safe. Keep me safe.”
Kwaku had gone into himself. Flashes of Abdele and the last Christmas dinner with Uncle Takaru raced through his mind.
Rex Lemm, father of two, held a trembling coffee cup in front of his face. It had frozen there for ages. Rex had never believed in God. He desperately wanted to now.
The huge prisoner coughed blood. Eyes struggling to focus. Blood streamed from his nostrils.
Randall gazed around the room. He was scared, but he had been considering everything that happened. He had a theory. He looked to Jed. No. Jed had no idea. He looked to Jill and Meg, cowering along the linoleum half-crouched, not here not there. No. They had no idea either. He looked at Elroy. Elroy looked back. He stared across and shot the question with his eyes. Elroy looked outside staring in the direction of the garage, pointing with his head. Then Elroy looked back, and nodded.
The prisoner struggled to speak, chest heaving and frothing blood, “My name is... Lucas. Sgt. Ted Lucas...”
“... 3rd provost, up in Stancheon...”
“..My partner, Ed Prosser, is... dead.”
“...killed and left in a park...”
“...The man who just shot me is Josef Kaminski, our prisone..”
His breath broke loose and he slumped over dead. Randall and Elroy hated being right.
------------------------------
