Addicted to the Dead

by Shane McKenzie

  “What about you? Do you eat it?”

  The man looked almost embarrassed. “Yes, I won’t lie. I eat my share.”

  Paco thought he would be angry, but he wasn’t. The man didn’t seem so bad. Paco picked up the whole plate now, shoveled eggs into his mouth with his fingers. The man just stood by and watched, allowed Paco to finish the food before he spoke again.

  “So it’s just you and your sister in there?”

  Paco nearly answered him, then lowered his brow, pointed the gun again with a hard thrust of his arm. “How did you know where to find us? How did you know we were here?”

  The man extended his hand. “My name’s Grant. Grant Harrell. I own this hotel, own all of the hotel’s in the city.”

  “We, we said we would pay. The man at the desk told us it was free…it’s not my fault. I’ve got money, I’ve—”

  “Relax, son…I mean…what can I call you?”

  “P-paco.” The gun was lowered now, hidden behind his back as if keeping it out of sight meant it didn’t exist.

  “Well, Paco, it’s wonderful to make your acquaintance. I’m not here for any other reason than to meet you and your sister. That’s all.”

  “But…why?” Paco’s eyes became slits and he squeezed the gun’s handle.

  Harrell took a deep breath, half of his smile evaporating, the other half clinging by a thread. “It’s Mrs. Harrell. She…she wants a child. Always has. That woman just has so much love to give.”

  Wants a child? What does he mean by that?

  “She eats meat too? Your wife?”

  “Yes, yes she does. Mrs. Harrell fears death, just like everyone else. Wants to rest in peace, so yes, she does eat her share of meat.”

  Paco scratched his head, squinted up at Mr. Harrell. “So…she wants to meet us? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “I guess you can say that.” He knelt down so he was eye to eye with Paco. “What brings you here to the city, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Paco rubbed his hands together and shuffled his feet. The truth nearly spilled out of him, would have felt good to get it off his chest, let someone else know. “My sister, Sophia, she’s real sick. She needs a doctor…a really good doctor. We were told that the best doctor, our friend’s brother, is here in the city, so we came.” He fished out Mrs. Addington’s directions with her brother’s name and number on it, handed it to Mr. Harrell.

  He studied the paper, scratched his chin. “She’s sick, huh? What’s the matter with her?”

  “Don’t know. That’s why we need a good doctor.”

  Harrell stood back up, placed a soft hand on Paco’s shoulder. “I think I can help you with that, Paco.”

  “I have money. We can—”

  “Money’s no problem. I’ll tell you what. You and Sophia come with me, leave this icky hotel. I’ll contact your friend’s brother, make sure he comes right away.”

  Paco’s spirit rose but he shoved it back down and regarded this stranger with another suspicious look—he lowered the gun. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping us.”

  “This may seem a bit straight forward, but I think you deserve a straight answer.” Mr. Harrell shifted his feet, cleared his throat. “We want you guys to come live with us. At our home here in the city.”

  “Paco?” Sophia’s voice was barely audible through the door. “What’s going on?” The knob began to turn, but Paco held the door shut.

  “I’m just talking to someone. Just…just stay inside, watch cartoons, okay?”

  “O-okay.”

  “I’d love to meet her, actually. Maybe she could—”

  “No!” Paco nearly brought his pistol back out in front of him. “I mean…she’s not ready to see anyone. Too sick.”

  “Okay, I understand,” Mr. Harrell said. “So what do you say to my offer? As I’ve mentioned, money is not a problem. You kids can have anything you want. Anything.”

  Paco’s gut told him to refuse, to go find Mrs. Addington’s brother, get Sophia cured, then get back home. But if this Mr. Harrell really could help, Paco knew he had to stay, had to see if anything could really be done for his sister. Even as the thoughts swirled in his head, he wondered if he even had a home to go back to. Yes, the house would still be there, but would it be a home without Mama and Papa there? And he wondered how they would make it, just the two of them. Would he have to get a job? Would they even allow the two of them to live alone, or would they force them into foster homes somewhere, maybe even split them up? Even if they could stay with Mrs. Addington, she was old…really old. How long would it be until she joined Mama and Papa in the afterlife…or the meat grinder?

  Mr. Harrell smiled, tapped his foot. He turned his head and nodded at someone down in the parking lot. Paco rose to his tippy-toes and saw a man in a suit and hat standing by a shiny pearl-white luxury car.

  Paco wondered what it would be like to live a rich life. To be able to have anything he wanted when he wanted it. He had these thoughts before, of course, but he never thought he’d actually have a chance to live a life of luxury. Even though he already felt homesick and yearned to feel his own bed underneath him, Mr. Harrell’s offer did sound good. And someone with money like him could definitely make sure Sophia got the help she needed, maybe even put together a team of doctors to figure out how to fix her. Paco knew he had to be careful, but this man seemed sincere.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “Can we meet Mrs. Harrell? See your house first?”

  “Of course you can.”

  “And I need to talk to my sister about this,” Paco said as he took another look at the fancy car. “You promise you’ll get her some help? You can call Mrs. Addington’s brother, but maybe you could call more doctors too. All the best doctors.”

  Mr. Harrell put his hand over his heart. “I promise. You have my word that Sophia will be in good hands…no, the best hands. Both of you will be very much taken care of.”

  Paco nodded, then realized he was squeezing the pistol that was still gripped in his hand. He stuffed it in his pocket, the hard metal biting into his thigh. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, son.”

  Paco winced at the word, but decided to let it go. “If Mrs. Harrell wants kids so bad, why doesn’t she just stop eating meat?”

  Mr. Harrell snickered, ran his hand over his face, then cleared his throat and stood up straighter. “It’s…uh…it’s more complicated than that, I’m afraid.” Paco frowned and Mr. Harrell seemed to notice. “But she is full of love and wants nothing more than to share our good fortune with children we can call part of our family. It’s something the both of us have wanted for a very long time. It would complete us…we would finally have a family.”

  Mama’s and Papa’s faces faded into Paco’s mind, their living faces. And he couldn’t help but think they were frowning at him.

  Paco opened the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through. With only his head sticking out, he forced a smile. “Let me just get her ready. Um…thank you, Mr. Harrell.”

  The man leaned forward, his smile as shiny as piano keys. “Please, son. Call me Dad.”

  ***

  Paco sat with his back resting on the tub as Sophia washed herself. The smell of cheap hotel soap filled the air.

  “But I’m scared. I…I don’t want to go. Why can’t we just stay by ourselves? Why can’t you just call Mrs. Addington’s brother like you were supposed to?”

  “I’m scared too, Sophia. But Mr. Harrell said he was going to call him, and other doctors too. Mr. Harrell is rich, said he can get us all the best doctors.”

  Splashing water. “The people around here scare me, Paco. I don’t like how they look at me.”

  Even above the lavender scent of the bath, the stench of putrescence lingered in the engulfing steam. “But that’s exactly why we should give Mr. and Mrs. Harrell a chance. We won’t have to worry about the people in the streets. We’ll be protected.” Paco turned to face th
e curtain. “And did I mention they were rich?”

  “We have money. We don’t need them.”

  “It’s not that much money. I counted it. Mrs. Addington meant well, but—”

  “Was he nice? The man?”

  “Yeah, actually, he was really nice. He said his wife is too, that all she wants is some children to love.”

  “I don’t know…it just feels weird. Like we’re replacing Mama and Papa with strangers.”

  Mama and Papa’s faces flashed back into his mind, and he saw wet trails under their eyes. He hoped that wherever they were, if they were watching over him, that they understood. It didn’t help the guilt that was growing like mold in Paco’s stomach. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s just, I don’t know, we don’t really have a choice. Even if we find you the help you need, what then?”

  The squishy sound of flesh being lathered, then more water splashing. “I think I’m done.”

  “Did you clean real good…everywhere?” he said as he yanked a scratchy towel from the rack above the toilet. “We can’t have Mr. Harrell smelling you.”

  “Yes, I scrubbed really hard. I can’t smell anything, though.”

  Paco tossed the towel over the curtain rod. The tub choked as the water was drained, then Sophia opened the curtain and stepped out with the towel wrapped around her. She smiled at Paco and he returned it, but it quickly fell away like a dead leaf falling from a branch.

  Sophia’s skin was getting a grayish hue, her eyes taking on a milky film. The ragged flesh hung from her mauled leg. Thick globs of blood floated in the draining water in the tub. Paco held his hand out to help her, and as she stepped out, he took a big whiff. Still some death there, but he thought she smelled decent enough. The duct tape wrapped around her torso seemed to still hold up even after the bath, though Paco figured he would need to change it soon.

  “Paco?”

  He was still staring at her leg and quickly looked away. “Huh…what?”

  “I need to put my clothes on.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  The clothing lay in a heap on top of the toilet seat and he realized that the strong smell of decay was coming from them. Putting her back into them would defeat the whole purpose of the bath. “I think maybe I should run down to the lobby, see if they have some kind of souvenir t-shirt you can wear or something. I can’t believe that’s all you packed.”

  She nodded, sat on the edge of the tub, flicked a strip of skin that hung down from her knee. “Well, I didn’t think this would happen.”

  “We really need to take care of that,” Paco said. He jogged into the room, grabbed the duct tape from his bag. Back in the restroom, he had a hand towel balled up into the wound, for filler, and he wrapped the tape around her leg, over and over, until it looked whole enough. “Cover that up with some pants, nobody will know the difference.”

  Sophia placed her hand on the top of his head. “Thank you, Paco. You’re a good big brother.”

  He blushed, gave her leg a pat, then stood so that he was taller than her again. “I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

  “Can you get me a purple t-shirt?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

  He flung the door open, but nearly tripped over two packages wrapped in chrome paper. A hand-written note flapped in the wind, taped to the top of the gifts.

  For Paco and Sophia.

  Paco plucked the lightweight boxes from the ground, looked over the railing into the parking lot. Mr. Harrell had his head hanging from the car window, smiling up at Paco. The man stuck his hand out, making it look like it grew from the side of his face, and gave a thumbs up.

  Paco returned it, forced another smile, then retreated back into the room. Sophia was already tearing the wrapping away.

  “Is this from the man?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Harrell. What…what is it?”

  She cracked the box open and pulled out a red dress, a pair of black stockings, and some shiny black shoes. “Wow, it’s so pretty! Look, Paco, do you see?”

  “Yeah, that’s nice. Really nice.”

  “Yours now, do yours now!”

  Inside of his box lay a blue plaid button-up shirt, a pair of khaki slacks, and some brown leather shoes. He ran his hand over the pressed clothing, leaned in and sniffed the leather, and when he looked up, Sophia was closing the restroom door.

  Paco put his new clothes on, and just as he zipped up, Sophia walked out.

  “What do you think?”

  “Wow, you look…pretty. You really do, Sophia.”

  She beamed and twirled, then sat on the edge of the bed as she slipped her shoes on. Her ruined calf looked pretty good under the stockings, though a bit misshapen with a few sharp angles.

  Paco packed up their things, placing the pistol at the bottom of their bag with his dirty clothes over it—he left Sophia’s in the restroom. He hoped he wouldn’t need the gun, but just in case.

  When they left the room, Paco saw the driver standing by the staircase. The guy was huge, thick-chested, arms stacked with muscle. The driver blinked a few times as he stared at them, then a sallow grin spread across his face. “Come on, kids. I’ll keep you safe.”

  Paco looked back down into the parking lot, but Mr. Harrell was inside of his car with all the windows rolled up. A horde of the skinny addicts surrounded the vehicle, beat on the windows and begged.

  At the bottom of the stairs, a skinny, shirtless man shambled up to them. The bones in his chest looked ready to burst from his skin, every breath deepening the spaces between each rib. When he saw Paco and Sophia, he went straight for them, his arms outstretched and his tongue slithered over the front of his blackened teeth.

  “What…kids?”

  But before he could get anywhere near them, the driver shoved the man in the chest so hard, Paco thought the ribs had surely snapped.

  “You stay back. Get any closer, I’ll break your damn neck,” the driver said, one arm locked in front of Paco and Sophia, the other with a hard pointing finger at the end of it, directed at the man’s face.

  “It’s cool, baby. It’s cool,” the man said, scratching at the scabs decorating his skin. “Hook me up with some change, baby. Or let me get a taste. I know you got a little somethin’ on you.”

  The man took another step forward but was met with another hard shove. He stumbled back, lost his footing, crashed onto his back where he rolled around like an upturned beetle.

  “Come on, kids. Let’s get on outta here.”

  Just in the small trip from the staircase to the car, they were approached by more of these withered wanderers. They seemed to come from everywhere, and every one of them wanted the same thing: meat or money.

  One woman wore no pants and rubbed her dirty, unkempt groin against the driver’s leg, grinded on it. “One nugget, sweetie,” she said. “All the pussy you want for one little meat nugget.” Her legs looked like broken matchsticks.

  Another woman, equally thin and filthy, shoved No-Pants out of the way, wrapped her arms around the driver’s neck. “That bitch got disease in her. But not me.” Her tongue writhed from her mouth like a tentacle. “Best blowjob you ever got.”

  The driver lowered his head, his arms wrapped around Paco and Sophia as he bowlingballed through the crowd. A few fights broke out between addicts and they clawed and pounded on one another, hissing and grunting.

  As they finally reached the fancy car, Paco planted his feet and looked up at the man.

  “Wait, what about our truck?”

  “You don’t need that old thing no more, boy. Now hurry, get in the car.”

  Paco shoved himself out of the man’s protective embrace. “No, I’m not leaving it. It was Papa’s truck.”

  “Please…we don’t have time for this. It could get worse…way worse.”

  Sophia covered her face and fell to her backside, shaking her head back and forth.

  “We’re not leaving the truck here. We’re not!”

  “Goddamnit, kid. Listen h
ere—”

  The rear window on the fancy car descended just slightly and Paco saw Mr. Harrell’s eyes gleaming from within. “They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to, Jake. Get in the car.”

  Jake frowned and gave the parking lot, now thrashing with activity, another long look. He shrugged and jogged toward the driver’s seat.

  “Follow us, okay?” Mr. Harrell said through the window slit. “And get to your truck. Hurry.”

  Paco nodded, lifted Sophia to her feet by her armpits. “Come on, Sophia, let’s go!”

  As they sprinted across the parking lot to the pickup, the horde switched directions and swarmed their way. As they reached the truck, Paco swung the passenger door open and stuffed Sophia inside as quickly as he could. Before he could shut it again, a sharp hand gripped his shoulder, tried to turn him around.

  “Where the fuck you come from?” The voice sounded thick with phlegm, and without looking, Paco threw an elbow behind him, connected with something hard. “Fuccckkk!”

  He slammed the door shut, locked eyes with Sophia for a moment. Her stare was wide, quivering with fear. She locked the door and curled into a ball, rocking herself back and forth as the addicts began slapping their palms over her window.

  Paco was bumped from all directions as he tried to circle the truck to the driver’s side. The smell that engulfed him was worse than anything swirling off his sister’s dead body: garbage juice, halitosis, and festering wounds.

  “Come on, honey. I know you got some cash.”

  “Help me out, man. Please, anything.”

  “I’ll suck your little dick for the change in your pocket.”

  Paco was only halfway to his door when he was knocked to the ground. He fell on top of his bag, and as the hands and arms and faces pressed in on him, he unzipped it, rifled past the clothing, and pulled out the pistol.

  A collective gasp as Paco rose to his feet, the addicts backing away. He fired two shots into the air, then swung the gun in an arc in front of him. “Next person that touches me gets a chest full of bullets!”

  Half of the crowd disappeared back to whatever nook or cranny they had emerged from, while the other half just stared dumfounded at Paco. One man smiled, scratched the open wound crying pus from his cheek.