Paco pulled the stocking over his face and walked into the Deli-Mart. He was feeling pretty good, the Charlie starting to work, not the best he'd ever had but enough to give him that happy, I-can-do-this feeling. The guy behind the cash register looked up, and, swear to God, looked resigned. Then he looked scared. But first resigned. Everybody said he'd been a priest. That he'd slept with some sixteen year old girl or something and they'd thrown him out. "Hey Padre," Paco said, "Gimme all that's in the register." "There's not a whole lot--" "I didn't tell you to talk!" It felt good to yell. Easy. The padre flinched and hunched. Paco leaned across and put his gun in the guy's face. "I oughta just kill you!" he shouted. "You think anyone would care? Do you padre?!" He felt quick as a snake, the Charlie in him working beautifully now. He was a freaking cobra , this lanky white guy frozen in front of him like a hypnotized mouse. Hell, maybe he should blow this guy's head off, Paco thought. Maybe the guy was a pervert. Maybe it wasn't a sixteen year old girl. Maybe it was a five year old boy. Maybe this guy was one of those pervert priests. "Do you think God would care if I shot off your dick?" Paco said. "I think I'd be doing Him a favor, wouldn't I?" Paco said. He cocked the pistol. And then someone shot at him. Swear to god he thought the store was empty, but suddenly there was this hellacious boom and this giant economy-sized pack of pork rinds just exploded around him. The cocaine was screaming in his blood as he dove for the floor and came up blasting wildly at where he guessed the shot had come from. There were bullets everywhere, like a freaking TV show. The two of them both blew through their whole clips in seconds, shattering the fluorescent lights and sending the big drink cooler doors up in a spray of glass and hissing beer. The noise was incredible and there seemed to be bits of snack cake everywhere. And then they were both out. In the sudden ringing silence he ducked down behind a rack of Hustlers, ejected, and fumbled for his other clip. Adrenaline had him shaking so bad he couldn't get the goddamn clip in, Jesus effing Christ-- He heard the other shooter snap a new clip home. Screw it.. He threw himself through the front door, where the glass used to be. As he was running across the parking lot, he glanced back to see a skinny Latina in a skirt and tank top, leveling a Glock over the ice cream freezer like she was doing a scene from Charlie's Angels. She had her arms out straight, both hands on the gun, and her eyes looked as big and black as gun barrels. Bullets spiderwebbed the Deli-Mart windows, tracking him across the parking lot.
|