Archive for the ‘CountdowntoHalloween2021’ Category

     Her name is Beatris and getting into Rocky’s pickup was a squeeze . She shimmied and shook herself onto the seat. She still carried the shotgun, but not pointed at Rocky.

“Where we going?” she asked.

“Thought you said Arango was with a bimbo in Tecate.”

“Okay, I may get him and her, bam, bam.” She said gesturing recoil with the shotgun.

“That’s exactly what you should not do.”

They drove for an hour. Beatris was quiet, but gave Rocky affectionate looks. She seemed content and relaxed.

Entering Tecate, they were stopped by a policeman. “Ola, Beatris, where you been?”

“Hanging out with Aronga Mota,” she crooned.

“Oh, sweetheart, he’s lowlife, why him?”

“I’m going to fix him.” Beatris rested the shotgun out the window.

“Oh no, you can’t do that. We’d have to come and get you. All the boys, been asking of you.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“You know, they say, where’s that girl with all the nice things?”

“Oh, they have not.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Now you got a new man, eh?”

“No, he’s helping me look for Arango.”

“Yeah, I know him. He does things for Roberto Cruz. I feel sorry for Arango.”

“Where is my sweet Arango? Have you seen him?”

“No,” he looked at Rocky. “And if I did know I couldn’t tell you.”

“Why not.”

The policeman nodded at Rocky. “Because I know what’s going to happen to Arango, if I do.” He drove off shaking his head.

“Let me drop you off at the police station. You know those guys,” Rocky suggested. “They’ll take care of you.”

“You don’t want me with you?”

“No, not with that shotgun you’re carrying.”

“I’ll leave it in the truck.”

“You’ll behave? No screaming or fighting.”

“I like you, I wanna be with you.”

“Okay just leave the gun here and empty the loads.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“No, not once.”

Beatris opened the breech, and the two rounds popped out.

Rocky took it and put it behind the seat with the two loads. They got out of the truck. Beatris looked into the side rearview and adjusted her hair, shifted her outfit and freshened her lipstick. She smiled at the results and slid her arm around Rocky’s. Rocky accepted her gesture and they began their walk down Pliego Street.

“It’s a nice day for a walk,” she whispered.

Good news ran through Rocky’s head. Here was his truck. The driver was a creature who called himself Bonerag. “Thanks Bonerag,” Rocky nodded.

Bonerag growled back, “Fusss yousss. All the bone people hissed.

He looked inside and brushed away the dead skin fragments. He got in and started the engine and looked for his phone in the glove box. There were nine messages from Roberto Cruz, police captain and head of the Mexicali Cartel. He was screaming in the last message.“

“Call me you lame mouthed pendejo. Where’s Hector?”

Rocky pushed the last message and the phone dialed. It was eleven in the morning and warming up. It might be hot today. It rang, No answer. Then, “what the fuck, hello.”

“It’s Rocky.”

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, but there’s complications.”

“Don’t care about your problems. I want my stuff.” This was from a guy who already had millions.

“The Camineros Muertes have it.”

“The dead truckers, who are they.”

“Guess you’re not familiar with local folk lore.”

“Another cartel,” Bullshit.”

“You won’t believe this, but it’s a gang of dead people.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Dead people don’t steal. They’re dead because they did steal.”

“Well, these guys are dead and they’re holding Hector.”

“Fuck Hector, get back the goods.”

“I’ll be looking for Arongo Mota, in that case.”

“Yeah, he stole my stuff.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Make sure you do him nasty. Get Arongo, Hector can take care of himself.”

“I gave Hector my word I’d get him back.”

“Fuck Hector, get Arongo.” Then Rocky’s phone went dark. Cruz had hung up.

Roberto Cruz was only about Roberto Cruz, a spoiled rich kid from a powerful family. What an asshole. In Cruz’s mind people were just tools. But he paid his tools very well.

Rocky drove in the direction of Mexicali. He slowed when he came to the Laguna Salada. It was a flat sandy stretch that was considered to be the extreme tip of Sea of Cortez. Arongo Mota lived in an elaborate tent next to a hot spring. He called himself the Sheik of the Salada. He was a dangerous character who enjoyed hurting people.

 

The creature’s partner scrambled away and hid in the
shadows at the result of Rocky’s shot. Screams had died.
Was it caused by the explosive sound of the pistol shot.
The only sound was the rumbling Diesels.
Hector was scratched and bloody, but got up and ran to
the Humvee. “Get in Rocky,” he yelled.
“Gotta get my truck.”
“No time, get in.”
Hector had the Humvee running. Rocky got in beside him
and they peeled out into the afternoon sun. Behind them
roared eighteen-wheelers.
Hector looked in the rear-view and saw three rigs
following. Their rise and fall offered a study in
syncopation. The Humvee and trailers followed each on the
dirt road that led to La Rumorosa.
They got on the highway and headed back towards
Mexicali. The Diesels followed like huge bellowing animals.
Hector was bent over the wheel and was focused on the road.
Rocky looked out the back window. The MAC truck was slowly
gaining on them. The driver wore dark glasses. Did the
light bother him? His skull facial hadn’t changed but Rocky
sensed it was very close to a leer. Both hands were on the

wheel and it changed its bony body position as if it were
going to turn into the Humvee.
“Look at his wheels Hector.”
“He’s got those long lug nuts. Must be a foot long,
they’re like scythes.”
“He’s coming over,” yelled Rocky.
The creature snapped his wheel over and ran into the
Humvee. A ripping tearing sound ran through the car. The
Muertos pulled away to do the maneuver again.
The semi rammed the four by again.
“This don’t look good, Hector.”
“No shit.”
The words were spoken as Hector and Rocky were upside
down in a roll doing seventy miles an hour.

In the next few weeks I have taken up my first A-Z Blog Challenge. This challenge is to take each letter of the alphabet daily (except Sundays) and create a blog based on the letter of the day.
I will be creating a short story each day, most likely about our good “friend” Rocky.

These stories will be essentially flash fiction and not part of any novel that I have written thus far. I have reserved the right for the stories to be continuous but they may not be.

I invite you to come back every day and see what Rocky is up to as well as all the gang from the Tuna Club.

Remember: No matter how weird it can get, there is always some element of truth.

I write Pulp Fiction,
Wally