Cei (4) (720 hits)
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Rating: 1.71 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2005-04-18 15:35:29 EDT
Cei - 4 - OBLIGATORY FIGHT SCENE
Cei (1) http://www.ubersite.com/m/63131
Cei (2) http://www.ubersite.com/m/63228
Cei (3) http://www.ubersite.com/m/64090
"I'm thirsty," Mary said. She was sitting on the back seat, sweating in the baking air trapped inside the Pontiac.
"Me too," John said. Then he added in a matter-of-fact tone, "It's just as hot as a bitch in heat out there today."
Cei nearly drove off the road, the comment striking her as both infuriating and hilarious. For a moment she wondered where a nine year-old would come up with something like that. Then she realized she was getting off lucky. If father and son were one and the same he'd be saying and doing a lot worse.
"Johnny, you want something to drink I could always arrange to wash your mouth out with liquid soap."
"Sorry, Aunt Cei," the boy said. "We are thirsty, though."
Mary stuck her little nose in the air and said, "I'm all sweaty and hot. It's nasty."
Cei shook her head. Still on the I-40 heading East, Cei had passed by Ludlow a few minutes back, and she was looking for the Essex turnoff, because that flyspeck of a town was near Daniel's Road, the southbound strip of two-lane blacktop that would take her through the mountains to Sunday Morning.
The sun was a dime-sized ball of molten light directly overhead.
They drove on in silence for a few minutes. The radio didn't work. The AC didn't work. The window on Cei's side only rolled down halfway, and the one on the passenger side of this two-door shitbox didn't roll down at all.
"Lookie-there, babies," Cei said, gesturing to the distant Chevron sign ahead. "One rest-stop, coming up."
As they passed the weathered sign for Essex Gas'n'Snacks the kids started chanting about sodas and Cei shut them down fast. "You want sodas, fine, but first you're both gonna drink a lot of water for me. Just plain old water. The heat can do funny things to people, and I want you both hydrated."
Mary made a face. "Does that mean a dog will pee on me?"
John laughed and said, "That's a hydrant, dumbass."
Cei caught his eye in the rear-view. "You want to gargle with Dove, or Dawn, little man?"
*
"Shiiiit, Linc."
Lincoln glanced at Big Dog. In the relentless sunlight he could see that the big man had a lot of swelling and discoloration around the edges of his bandages.
"I don't feel so good."
"You takin your antibiotics?"
Big Dog grimaced. "They taste like ass, Linc. And they give me the runs. I'm too old to be havin liquid shit dribbling out of my ass like a baby. Takin aspirin, though."
"Aspirin? Dog, you got to fight infection and stay healthy. Don't want you getting sick, brother-man." Fuck knows what's goin on in that eye socket, Lincoln thought.
Every single stitch in his disfigured lip was itching something fierce. He made damn sure he took his pills every day. He wasn't too up on the idea of having that flesh-eating bacteria eat up his face.
"Think I left my pills back at the room."
"The room," Lincoln repeated. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"One of them rooms," Big Dog said.
Lincoln thought on it a moment.
Go after my babies or get Big Dog some pills that could stop an infection from eating his brains or whatever the fuck. No contest. Sorry, Big Dog.
As he pulled up in front of the Jardine Hotel, Lincoln turned up the AC in the Caddy and told the big man to rest easy.
Lincoln got out of the car and lit a smoke. He burned it down to the filter and then stuck a fresh butt in his mouth. This one he didn't light. He let it hang out of his mouth, hoping it would cover up some of the mess of his lip. This place wasn't exactly upscale, but there were families here, and he stood out a little more here than he did at the other place.
It was cool inside. Lincoln approached the desk and saw the clerk tucking a pussy-mag under the registration book. He wished the other place had had a register. He and Big Dog had looked around without finding anything. The old man with the faded tattoos had picked a bad time to stand on principle when he decided he wasn't going to give out information to just anyone. Lincoln punched six holes in the man's scrotum before the old guy admitted that Cei had been there, and had been referred to the Jardine when she asked about 'more family-friendly' accommodations nearby.
Lincoln had a nice civil chat with the clerk at the Jardine. He learned that Cei and the twins had checked out an hour and a half before, and that she had been on the phone talking about a town called Sunday Morning. The clerk described her car and gave him vague directions to the town out in the mountain wilderness. Linc only had to display the bloody leather punch to the clerk to get what he wanted.
When he got back to the Caddy, Big Dog was fast asleep. He pulled out onto the road and was soon headed southeast on the I-40, trying to ignore the big man's jerking and twitching.
Lincoln figured he was dreaming about losing his eye.
*
Cei thought Essex Gas'n'Snacks was an uncomfortable convenience.
Everything she could possibly want was contained under one roof. There were gas pumps, a bathroom, a small deli counter, a wall of snacks and sodas and a wall of everything else, from flashlights and batteries to toiletries and clothing essentials, jeans, t-shirts, underwear, socks, and customized sweatshirts.
The gas pumps were locked. A sign read 'Ask inside for service.'
The stacks of sweatshirts looked as if they had not been disturbed in a while. The typo in the proclamation 'I stooped at Essex Gas'n'Snacks!' might have had some impact on the sales, although it was such a ridiculous error that Cei could see it being a hot item among kids. Not that many kids passed this way.
While the rest stop had everything she wanted to buy, the locals were another matter. The woman at the cash register kept her eye on Cei every moment, as if assuming Cei was going to fill her pockets with merchandise. The man behind the deli counter was holding his keychain to his head and using an ignition key to dredge matter out of his ear. To one side of the deli counter was just enough room for a table and four chairs. Three of the chairs were taken by men who sipped beer and watched Cei and the children with suspicion.
Cei made the kids go to the bathroom, telling them to squeeze out every drop. She stood right in front of the door while Mary and then John went inside. She didn't want them out of her sight for a second, so she hoped she wouldn't have to go for a while.
She bought bags of potato chips and chocolate bars and big sodas, but before they got the sweet stuff she made both of them down a bottle of spring water. Cei also bought a cheap AAA map that had Sunday Morning and Daniel's Road on it.
Cei asked if someone could fill her tank. One of the beer drinkers mumbled something to the other men, and they chuckled as the man stepped outside.
As much as she hated to entertain the thought, Cei figured the reaction of the locals could only be a 'black' thing. She'd always heard that Californians were open-minded and accepting. This crowd was anything but.
When the tank was full she went back inside and paid for the gas. She was being watched again, with that curious mixture of lust and distrust she had seen in a lot of white men.
Cei put it all out of her mind when she and the twins pulled out onto the road a moment later.
*
Lincoln Goodcock was in a foul mood when he pulled into the Essex Gas'n'Snacks.
Big Dog had puked in his sleep, a liquid torrent spraying out of him as his remaining eye popped open. The big man hadn't been sure where he was at first, and as a second jet of vomit burned past his lips he had looked around to get his bearings. Most of the last surge went out the window.
"Look at this, man." Lincoln stopped beside one of two gas pumps, and yanked the keys out of the ignition. "Puke inside the car, on the seat, on the windows. On my sleeve, Dog, my fuckin sleeve, my man."
Big Dog had fallen asleep.
Lincoln pushed open the door and stepped out into the heat. He hated the heat. He hated sweating.
Lincoln reached for the gas nozzle, pulled on it, and realized it was locked in place. He saw a hose rolled up alongside the single large building and grabbed it, turning on the water and unwinding the hose as he went back to the car. He went to the passenger side and saw a fan of liquid puke drying on the door. He put his thumb over the nozzle and began washing the door.
An unshaven, skinny white man in coveralls can out of the store, slamming open the outer screen door and coming over to Lincoln.
"Hey," Lincoln said. "Can you fill it up for me?"
The white man squinted. "Who said you could use that hose?"
Linc looked at the man, and the hose, and kept spraying the door.
"I asked you a question. This is the fucking desert. You think we got water to spare in the desert?"
"Why don't you top off the tank? I'd appreciate it." Lincoln resisted the impulse to call the man a motherfucker and tell him to put a little hustle into it.
When the outside of the car was clean, Linc handed the hose to the guy and walked into the store.
He grabbed a few big rolls of paper towels, some cheap spray cleanser and a few air fresheners.
A big side of beef behind the deli counter was watching him carefully. He heard chairs scraping the floor and saw two men getting up from a table covered in cards and empty beer bottles.
"You gonna pay for that?"
Linc looked at the woman behind the cash register. What the hell? Course I'm gonna pay for it, bitch!
"Yes ma'am," he said. "You got a restroom here?"
"Around back," she said.
From the look on her face and her tone of voice you would think Lincoln had asked 'you got a restroom here, cunt?'
"Could someone unlock the pump and fill up my tank?"
The skinny white boy in coveralls came through the door. He squinted at the woman as she rang up Lincoln's purchases. Lincoln paid, and carried the stuff out to the car.
"Hey, big man, wake up."
Lincoln gave Big Dog a few quick, light slaps to the face with the back of his hand.
"Wuzza, muh-fuh!"
"Hey man. Get your black ass around the side to the shitter and get cleaned up."
As he helped Big Dog to his feet, Lincoln saw Mr. Goodwrench approaching again. This shit was starting to get old.
"You gonna put away that hose?"
Big Dog shambled out of sight.
Lincoln looked the man in the coveralls up and down. Some wiry muscle there, but Linc figured if he got his hands on that turkey neck he could do some damage.
He sprayed down the inside of the open door, blasting away chunks of steak burrito. Then he sprayed down the footwell and the dash, figuring a bit of water beat a puddle of puke. Angling the hose, he was able to get things good and clean.
He backed out of the car and nearly knocked down the guy in coveralls. He handed the hose to the man, said thanks, and then started wiping things down with spray cleanser and paper towels.
"You think you got the right to come here and disrespect us?"
Where the hell did that come from? Lincoln exhaled slowly, and spoke in a soft, measured tone.
"You can either start pumping gas or go find a nice shady place to fuck yourself, but either way you are stepping down out of my face right now, little man."
The guy squinted again, and began furiously winding the hose.
Lincoln finished his quick wipe down, used the rest of the paper towels to soak up as much water as he could, and threw the sopping used towels into a garbage bin nearby.
He hooked the little tree-shaped air-freshener onto the rear-view mirror. He figured this is what beaver-puke must smell like if beavers ever chewed pine trees, when Big Dog came into sight, doing up his pants and shaking water out of his dreads.
"I cleaned up best I could, boss."
Lincoln nodded. The big man looked somewhat refreshed and awake after washing his face and wiping himself down, but the skin around his bandaged eye told Lincoln there was some nasty shit going on under the gauze.
The guy in coveralls finished putting away the hose. Then he looked at Big Dog and trotted around back to the restrooms.
"You settle down now and I'll grab us some water," Lincoln said, helping Big Dog back into the car.
"Sorry I hurled on you, Linc. I love you, brother. Sorry I'm so messed up."
Lincoln leaned forward, resting is forehead against his old friend's forehead, just a moment. Big Dog's skin was very warm, and bone dry.
"Could I get a gingah ale, Linc? For my stomach?"
For a moment, Lincoln considered heading straight down the road to Needles. He could get some cute nurse to harpoon Big Dog's ass with a syringe full of antibiotics. Save Big Dog's life, a favor he owed the man many times over.
And lose my babies, he thought. And let that little bitch Cei get away with defying me. No. No way, daddy-o.
"You got a nice, cold ginger ale, coming up."
Lincoln closed the passenger side door and headed back inside the store.
As he grabbed a basket and started filling it (six packs of Rolling Rock, Vernor's Ginger Ale, and Jolt, bags of chips, jerky and pork rinds, a few big bottles of spring water, a couple of bottles of Aspirin) he noticed he was being watched again. The woman was still at the cash, and the fat boy at the deli counter was still with his two buddies. The men were joined by coveralls, who must have come in through a back door.
Coveralls began whispering, and Lincoln caught a few words. Shit. Didn't flush, Stink. Mess.
That's right. None of your fatass white trucker friends ever left a paint-peeler floating back there. Cause whites is civilzed. Lincoln pushed the little cart up to the register, telling himself to calm down. He started putting the items on the counter beside the register.
The woman pursed her lips in a tight, wrinkled knot.
Coveralls spoke up. "You gonna get your friend to clean up his mess?"
"The man isn't well," Lincoln said. He looked at the woman. "Could you ring me up?"
She folded her arms. "I don't I want your business, mister."
Lincoln sighed. He was struggling to hang on, to be cool, but part of him was waiting. Waiting for them to make it about race.
"Please, ma'am. Just ring me up and I'll be on my way."
"I think you should move along now," deli-man said.
"I need the water and Aspirin for my friend, man. You got to let me take that, at least."
"Told you he was uppity," coveralls said.
That was it. That was all it took. Uppity, nigger, boy, any one of those would have done. Lincoln was good to go.
He reached to the far side of the counter and grabbed a few plastic bags. He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and peeled off a pair of twenties, and then started putting the stuff in the bags.
"Thirty will cover this, but you can keep the change for your troubles," Lincoln said.
A hefty hand slammed down on his shoulder. Lincoln turned to face the big deli-man. The guy was holding a meat tenderizing mallet.
"I think—"
Since Lincoln didn't care what the guy thought, he punched the man in the throat, and then the nose, and then the balls. The big guy dropped to his knees and Lincoln kicked him in the face.
"Holy muthra Jeezuz," one of deli-man's two buddies said. Both of them ran at Lincoln at the same time.
Linc sidestepped one, leaving a foot behind to trip the man up. At the same time he grabbed the other man by the arm and gave a mighty swing, letting the guy's own momentum fling him over the counter.
The woman by the cash register, who was now holding a discolored old phone and getting ready to punch in a number, shouted, "Stevieee!" just before Stevie slammed into her and they both dropped out of sight. Soft-packs of cigarettes pattered down on them.
Stevie's buddy did a nice tuck and roll and came to his feet swinging. Linc took a hit to the gut and one to the face.
Lincoln laughed out loud. He'd been hit harder than that in grade school. He heard heavy steps coming up behind him and moved to one side, ducking low. Coveralls was the only guy back there, and he sounded like he was carrying something heavy.
The chair missed Lincoln's head by just a few inches.
Stevie's buddy watched Lincoln kidney-punch coveralls, pull the chair out of coverall's hands, and raise it high. The chair came down and shattered coverall's nose and cheeks. Teeth danced across the floor like Chicklets.
Lincoln realized he hadn't moved this fast in years. Being clean definitely had its advantages.
Stevie busted out from behind the counter and ran for the door, screaming, "This nigger's crazier than a shithouse rat!" His buddy followed close behind.
A car door slammed, and through the open door Lincoln saw a dusty pickup truck fishtail onto the road. When all was quiet, Lincoln finished bagging his purchases. He left the forty bucks on the counter and stepped out into the sun.
Lincoln got a tire iron out of the trunk and popped the lock on the gas pump. He filled up the tank and then got back in the car.
"D'hell tooh you so long?" Big Dog asked. He sounded delirious.
"Just hangin with the locals," Lincoln replied.
As the big Cadillac moved out of the lot, the woman behind the counter got to her feet and found the phone. She dialed 911.
User Reviews
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-03 12:23:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Supreme Overlord damage control...
Submitted by Supreme_Overlord (user info) at 2005-07-21 22:31:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
shite
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-04-20 13:44:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-04-19 16:41:51 (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it, nice fight. Though I find it unlikely that Linc would get out pretty much unscathed. Also, I think you made him too nice. I feel that given his behaviour in parts 1 to 3, there's no WAY he'd leave the 40 bucks on the counter, and I thought he should have lost his patience a lot sooner.
--
Keep in mind, he's off drugs and thinking clearer than he has for a while now.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-04-19 16:41:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it, nice fight. Though I find it unlikely that Linc would get out pretty much unscathed. Also, I think you made him too nice. I feel that given his behaviour in parts 1 to 3, there's no WAY he'd leave the 40 bucks on the counter, and I thought he should have lost his patience a lot sooner.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2005-04-18 19:45:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
yeah - worth reading, and then some. I'd like Linc to get a little more busted up though - but that just means the developement of his character is sufficient to evoke feelings. Nice job. Back up to "Part 2" writing skilz
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-04-18 17:18:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
See? Us liberal commies are good for something....
If there's an alternate ending, I expect a cut of the profits.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-04-18 17:07:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-04-18 16:59:25 (#)
Ranking: 2
And at the end, the bacteria in dude's eye spawn the Pandemic, right?
--
Okay, I laughed out loud. Fucking hysterical idea.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-04-18 16:59:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
And at the end, the bacteria in dude's eye spawn the Pandemic, right?
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-04-18 16:50:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WTF Toooooo much wurds!
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-04-18 16:07:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I've been to Essex too. The people were pleasant and courteous.
It is a story. If it was real life, Lincoln would have died five years back in a crackhouse fire.
Submitted by freebie (user info) at 2005-04-18 15:53:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is quite readable.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-04-18 15:47:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I've been out to Essex many times (on the way to Laughlin), and people out there have guns, since you are _way_ the fuck out there in nowhereville.
A more likely ending to this episode would have ended with Lincoln taking two in the chest - but that would have been hard to advance the plot, I'm sure.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-04-18 15:46:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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