by M. W. Duncan
She wrenched open the childproof cap, dropped a white oval tablet into her hand, popped it into her mouth, and swallowed hard. Seconds slunk by before Tammy gasped, and her body tensed. One of the side effects of the newest anti-depressant Ophiocordon; it gave women an immediate orgasm, then tapered off to simple euphoria. Nikki heard it did something like that to men as well, just not as sudden, not like she cared. Out of all the side effects modern pharmaceuticals carried, like diarrhea and the occasional hallucination, an orgasm wasn’t too shabby. Nikki sometimes wished she suffered from some kind of depression.
“If he’s outside when I go home,” Tammy said, shaking the sudden wave of ecstasy throughout her body, “he’s dead.”
“They all get what they deserve, Tammy. Just focus on that,” Nikki said, gently patting Tammy’s hand, and walking toward the dining area. “I still have one out there, but I think he’s about done. Hopefully we’ll close early, and get out of this nightmare.”
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” Nikki asked the fat businessman, although given his nearly spot-free plate that once sported medium-rare porterhouse and baked potato, she would have felt a little guilt at helping him die slowly with dessert. The man shook his head. Something about his demeanor worried Nikki. Sweat beaded across his round face, his skin was waxy and white. Good God, she thought. A heart attack would just top off this night.
“I … uh…” wheezed past his lips in great blasts, his breath pinching Nikki’s face tight.
Christ. What’s that smell? She coughed, the taste of vomit in her mouth.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her left wrist over her mouth.
“I’m … I’m …” he heaved. “Oh, God. I don’t feel so good.”
“I’ll get the …” manager, Nikki tried to say, but the blood stopped her. Tendrils of thick, crimson liquid shot from the man’s nostrils. He coughed, the rancid, sweet smell of death brushed over Nikki, a clot of blood splattered across his plate.
“Benny,” she screamed, backing away from the table. “Benny. Benny. 9-1-1. Oh, my God, 9-1-1. Benny, 9-1-1.”
“What the hell?” came from behind her from one of Tammy’s rednecks Benny hadn’t been able to make leave. “What the … holy shit.”
“Heh… heh… help me,” the businessman hissed, grabbing for Nikki’s uniform, blood now running from his nose like his face was a dam about to break. A red spot grew in his left eye and popped, sending another red river pouring down his cheek. Nikki screamed and stumbled away from the man’s grasp.
“What the fuck?” Tammy’s redneck whispered, backing away from the bleeding man who had fallen to the floor, and crawled toward Nikki.
“Do you have a phone?” Benny screamed at the redneck.
“What?”
“Do you have a God damned fucking phone?” he screamed again, grabbing and shaking the man’s Toby Keith concert T-shirt.
The man nodded.
“Then call the cops,” he hissed. “And if you ever harass my waitresses again, I will personally kick the shit out of you.” Benny rushed to Nikki, pulling her away from the bleeding customer, and sat her in a booth. “You’re going to be okay,” he said, and turned to the redneck. “You got someone?” The man nodded. “Then tell them to send an ambulance here now. NOW.”
“That was some fucked up shit,” Tammy said, finishing a beer. “Did you see all the blood on the carpet? No way am I cleaning that up.”
Nikki sat at the bar with Tammy, the lights low, the storm outside off somewhere to the east. Police filed through Hooligans, taking blood samples, food samples, and statements from the few people there. Nikki just wanted to go home. She saw a man bleed like he’d been hacked by Freddie Krueger, and drop over a booth table in a fat wet slap. Then he stood, pushing himself up from the table, and stumbled around, like he was dumb in every sense of the word. The EMTs put the man on a gurney, but his legs and arms moved like he was still walking. And he didn’t make a sound, not even a moan. The EMT said the man wasn’t dead, yet. No amount of beer with Tammy would change any of that.
“Did you even see it?” Nikki asked.
“No,” Tammy said. “I got there for Benny saying ‘if you ever harass my waitresses again, I will personally kick the shit out of you,’ though. That’s manager of the year stuff right there. I will nominate him.”
Nikki took another drink. The beer was cold, sending alcohol dancing across the scene in her head, but it didn’t change anything. The fat man, blood spewing from his nose, his mouth, his eyes, and his horizontal legs trying to walk on air, burned themselves into her memory.
“Did you see the blood on his face?” Nikki asked.
“Yeah,” Tammy said, sliding out of her seat. “I’m going for another beer. Want one?”
“It was gushing,” Nikki said, ignoring her. “Gushing.”
Tammy walked behind the bar, slid open the cooler, grabbed a Bud Light and sat it in front of Nikki. “I had a customer the other night with a nosebleed,” she said. “Nice guy, cute. Kinda dorky.”
“And?”
Tammy shrugged. “I don’t know. His friend was worried because he’d just taken an Ophiocordon. Something about it sending too much blood to his junk and not enough to his brain.”
Nikki grabbed the beer and took a drink. “Were either of them worried about it?”
Tammy shrugged and opened another beer. “I don’t know. They were pretty drunk, and I was showing these off pretty good,” she said, pushing her arms under her breasts. “They tipped well.”
“Did the man mention anything about his nosebleed?”
Tammy shook her head. “No. He just had a hell of a time stopping it. This might not sound attractive, but watching a drunk nerdy guy flirt while drinking beer through a straw because he has a paper napkin shoved up his nose is actually pretty cute.”
A large body stood between them.
“Miss Holleran, Miss Dankenbring,” a police officer said. Dan, Nikki remembered, his name was Dan. “I have your statements, and I’m sorry you young ladies had to see something like this. You can go home now. If you’d like, I can have an officer take you.”
Nikki shook her head. “Thank you, Officer Dan, but I need to be alone right now. I can take Tammy home if she’d like.”
Tammy shook her head. “I’m good. I just need sleep.”
He nodded. “Understood. Just remember we’re out there. I hope you’re okay to drive.” Nikki nodded and Officer Dan walked away.
The yellow glow from streetlights glistened off Hooligans wet parking lot as Nikki and Tammy walked across the asphalt, the storm long since gone.
“What do you think that was?” Tammy asked, stopping in the middle of the lot, fishing a cigarette out of her purse. The rush of the Ophiocordon must be wearing off, Nikki thought. “I mean, the fat guy. I saw him when he came in. Hell, I seated him. He looked fine. What do you think happened to him?”
Nikki shrugged. “I don’t know. He just. He just started to sweat blood.” Tears welled in her eyes. “It was awful,” she said, stopping, words choked in her throat. “Just awful.”
The yellow-orange flame of a cheap convenience store lighter erupted in the night as Tammy lit a Pall Mall and took a long, slow drag. “Not awful,” she said, smoke rolling from her mouth. “Totally fucked up. We will never – never – see anything like that again. I guarantee it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Nikki said, pulling keys from her purse and stepping toward her scooter. “And at least he’s not dead.” She paused to look at Tammy who stood in the full light of Hooligans parking lot. Things weren’t right; they weren’t right at all. They were very, very wrong.
“Shit, Tammy,” Nikki said. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Bad Day For The Apocalypse is available from Amazon here!
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