Ladies and gentlemen, here is the conclusion to In the Headlights of an '87 Buick. I hope that you like it, let me know what you all think. Please feel free to post any comments you like, bad or good, I'm looking to grow here.
Two men peeled out of the small parking lot in front of the Dollar Store. One of them was fat with a walrus mustache.
He wore a black leather vest and his arms were spattered with faded tattoos. The other one was a skinny guy that bore a ugly scar on his face. It started from his forehead and ran over his left eye and stopped just above his jaw line.
They were feeling on top of the world--they had just robbed the old Chinese man that owned the Dollar Store. They walked to the entrance door and Skinny pulled a gun from his waistband and held it slyly at his side.
He walked into the Dollar Store calmly and walked up to the front desk. A man stood there smiling and was about to ask him if he could help him in any way--that’s when Skinny raised his gun and shot the man between the eyes. A woman screamed in the back and Fatty ran towards the cry. He came back with an old Chinese man and woman, his gun pointing at the man’s head. He made them stop in front of
Skinny, jammed his gun into his waistband and punched the old man in the gut. Fatty pulled out a knife and rested the blade on the woman’s throat.
“Fatty, if he tries any of that crazy China shit on me,” Skinny said pointing at the man on his knees, “tear her throat out.” He walked behind the register and stepped over the dead cashier and tore the loot out of the till. He
jammed it into his pockets and walked back to where the man was kneeling. “Do it, Fatty,” he said.
Fatty savagely ripped apart the woman’s throat with a rusty blade and streams of red jetted up in bloody gouts spraying the Doritos stand. She gurgled as crimson surged and fell to the floor.
The man started screaming hysterically in Chinese and bent over his dead wife. He covered the gaping wound in her throat and attempted to stop the bleeding. He didn’t see Skinny pull the pistol from his waistband, and he didn’t see the bullet that shattered his brains all over a bag of Ring O Lo’s.
*
The rumbling that was an echo at first grew louder and louder as two bikes approached. Gertrude snatched at her bra and quickly put it on. All that Guy could make out at the moment was the vastly different sizes of the men. His heart started to quicken as they parked their bikes next to his old Buick. He saw the skinny one look into his car and
then he watched as the fat one tapped the skinny one on the shoulder and pointed to where they were.
“Say, Fatty, look at these two love birds.”
Skinny sauntered over to where they were sitting hand-in-hand on the blanket.
“What do you guys want?” Guy asked.
Skinny’s scar shone in the moonlight. He kicked Guy square in the face. Lights. Pretty little lights--pink, purple, and white. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see that he was face down on the picnic blanket. Sharp throbbing pain erupted above his right eye. He tried to get up but a motorcycle boot hammered his ribs. White hot pain flared as his ribs splintered and punctured his lung. Fatty pounced on Gertrude and ripped her bra off and groped her breasts with his grimy hands.
“You better not do that,” Gertrude said calmly.
“Shut your hole, bitch.” Fatty backhanded her and sent her reeling. She doubled over dizzy and she heard the sound of a zipper. “I’ll shut up real good,” he said as he grabbed a fist full of her hair and forced her down to her knees.
He didn’t see Gertrude’s fingernails turn into claws and he didn’t see her teeth turn to fangs. He tried forcing
his engorged hairy manhood into her mouth. She jumped and fixed her razor-jagged maw on his throat. She clenched her teeth as hard as she could and tore it away. Scarlet erupted in a geyser. Fatty fell to the ground and tried to stem the flow, but it was too late, his life blood was spilling out onto the dirt road beneath him.
Her face was spattered red, and she walked slowly to where Skinny was trying to gouge out Guy’s eyes.
Skinny began to rain blow after blow down onto his victim; he enjoyed how his knuckles dug into the skin of people’s faces. He raised a fist, ready to send the kid into next week, when a hand clenched his wrist from behind and with one swift motion it hoisted him in the air and chewed his throat away.
Guy couldn’t believe his eyes. The thing started slurping the blood flowing from the neck, and when there was no blood left in the body, it tossed the corpse away as if it were a rag doll. Guy sat up; every breath he took tormented him and ended off in a lame wheeze. He looked at the dark form standing above him.
It was Gertrude. Her eyes shone like headlights on a long forgettable highway. Blood flowed down from her mouth, down her throat and over her exposed breasts. The moonlight
bounced off her golden locks and the blood shone chillingly in the light. Fat tears fell down her cheeks; it was then that he realized that he would never see someone as beautiful again.
“Gert…” he gasped
“You better run, blood has been shed. I will not be able to contain myself,” she said.
“But…”
“Run!” she screamed
Guy stumbled to his feet, and began to run as fast as his feet would permit. He vaulted the twitching body of the fat biker and ran to his car. He turned the key in the ignition, and with a cough, it started. He stomped on the gas pedal and gravel flew from his back tires and pelted Gertrude as he sped away.
The small form of Gertrude stood in the rear view mirror; her hair shone in the moonlight. He drove until he could no longer see her, and when he could no longer see her, he drove some more. His breath was getting shallower and he was beginning to feel light-headed. Eventually he hit the city limits sign and it was only then that he allowed himself to take his eyes off the mirror.
And as he did, in the distant darkness of the ’87 Buick’s rear view, two silver eyes floated and bobbed in the air.
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