ALL

I wrote this last week but I wanted to wait for the end of the writing contest to post it. I got the idea and wrote it all in a couple hours, a rare thing for me believe me.

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All

It was past one-thirty yet Burt Warner did not seem to be aware he would soon have to move from the corner table he had shared with two companions for the last three hours. The girl behind the bar was patient, content to smoke and talk on the phone for the remainder of another one of those selfcontained units of time into which life is so neatly and helpfully divided. Burt’s elbows were planted firmly on top of the table; his head was resting in his hands, rolling around in them; on either side of him a substantial hulk of a man in flannel, stained denim, and boots hunched carefully and leaned in gently to hear Burt’s rambling whispered lament. A haze of smoke caught some of the scant light reflected from mirror to mirror.

Most people don’t understand. I mean, when you say you’re with someone and you say you’ll go all the way, that means all the way. A lot of people like to talk a lot, and make a lot of promises, but when it comes to really putting it on the line for you where are they? They don’t want to take the risk. Once they get theirs they don’t want to turn around and look back at where they came from and say, come on! Now I’ll help you! Everybody just wants to take as much as they can without helping each other. Not Billy and Wayne though. That’s another reason I miss those bastards so goddamn much. They’d help anybody out without even being asked. And when it came to an old friend like me, a true friend? There’s nothing they wouldn’t do. Most people don’t understand. And I’d do the same thing for them if I had the chance today. No questions asked. Most people don’t understand. If it hadn’t been for that stupid goddamn kid . . .

We know Burt, the black S-10.

. . . had to take that corner so goddamn fast. Who can explain it?

The animal in the zoo knows he’s in a cage but he’ll never be able to figure out who put him there and why. And it wouldn’t make him feel any better if he could. There are things concealed from the eyes of the living.

. . . where is everybody? They don’t want to take the risk. I’m the only one who knows what it means to go all the way. I’m still with you, Wayne and Billy!

The two big men exchanged a glance and drained their bottles of beer. They stood up and made a lot of noise pushing their chairs back from the table. One went to settle the bill while the other stooped protectively over Burt.

Looks like it’s time to go, buddy.

Burt shook himself and rose, seeming much more alert than he did a moment before. Yeah, thanks . . . you guys are all right.

Don’t mention it.

No, I mean it. You guys are really . . . good guys.

They wandered outside and Burt stopped, distracted, lost in the solid slate sky while the other two men got into a Jeep. It glided over to Burt and he stood next to the driver’s window. They looked out at him placidly.

You know, the driver urged, there’s no reason you have to go home yet. This place is closed but we know about another place I think you’ll really like. It’s always open.

Yeah, I think it’s just what you’re looking for. The passenger leaned forward as he spoke and when he did Burt saw the thick brown bruises surrounding each of his eyes. He brought his hand to his head: the flesh hung soggy and loose from the nailless fingers, a discrete clump of hair fell easily away from the shattered skull. The driver smiled widely, showing Burt a mouth of jagged smashed teeth and a ghastly absence of throat and tongue.

Burt took a slow step back, away from the Jeep. That’s ok. I’ve stayed up too late as it is. I’d better be going home.

You gotta be kidding me. All the way, right? Remember what you said in there?

I know. Not tonight, huh? I gotta go. He held his breath and the Jeep flew off, leaving Burt to slide trembling to his own car. He sat there sweating and gripping the wheel, acutely and maddeningly sober.

I was working on something else but it outgrew its container and I realized there was no way I'd finish in time.

Figures I'd up with this after the deadline.

So . . . did that mean you liked it?

^ I might send it out somewhere . . . got a couple little lit mags in mind. Mostly the stuff I'm working on is longer (though not as long as your stuff, lol) but I don't mind taking exerpts from it that can stand alone. Thematically this story is very close to my current interests.