Anaideia 26

As I laid in the piss reeked bed next to Vic, I watched a cockroach crawl up the wall and towards the mildewed ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. So I drew down the shades as the morning glow peered through the window then I picked up the sticky remote to turn on the old Zenith television set. I sat in a large musty recliner as I perused the porno channels and considered rubbing one out before Jim and Dale returned with supplies. I nearly pulled my dick out when Vic suddenly awoke and grabbed his Colt from the nightstand. He leapt up from the bed and fired one round into the ceiling.

“Aye mate!” he exclaimed. “What is this cursed place?!”

“Chill out Vic!” I said. “We got you stitched up and now we’re just hangin in a seedy hotel room. Jesus fucking Christ! Watch it with that gun!”

Vic looked around the room slightly befuddled. Out of his slumber, he looked deranged with his swollen face covered in gauze and blood crusted scratches. His one good left eye scanned the room and then looked at me. “Penelope,” he said. “We must find her.”

“Yeah you said that already. Are you sure you’re in any condition to go hunting around in the desert?”

He lifted his Colt Python in front of his face and gazed upon it. Penelope must have knocked something loose in his brain. Something wasn’t right and it was probably due to an untreated concussion and lack of good medical attention. “All I see is red, mate,” he said.

“Yeah, your face is covered in blood. You should probably shower.”

“Nae,” he continued. “I will have my vengeance. Gone from my heart is benevolence. I come not to bring love but to bring a sword and Penelope will surely curse the day we crossed. An eye for an eye, thus sayeth the Lord. Only when her eye is taken will me sight be restored and she will know the hate that burns brighter than all the stars in the night sky which harbors in my heart.”

“Vic, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” I said. “Your sight ain’t getting restored. You’ll be half blind for the rest of your life.”

He fired another round into the ceiling. “Don’t misunderstand me mate,” he said. “I will have my blood.”

Jim and Dale bust through the door with weapons drawn. The flimsy piece of wood that counted as a door came completely off its hinges. “Christ! What was that?!” screamed Dale.

“Relax,” I assured them. “Vic’s just having a manic episode.”

“Okay good,” Dale said and re-holstered his weapon. He crossed the threshold into the hotel room and laid all the goods he carried in on the bed which consisted of several rounds of ammunition, beef jerky, and a bottle of Bacardi. He twisted open the rum bottle and poured a glass.

“How much did this cost?” I ask.

“Cost?” said Dale. “We didn’t pay for this shit. We shoplifted fair and square.”

“Fair enough,” I said. Then I turned to Vic. “When do you want to head out?”

Vic looked up to the ceiling where two bullet holes stared back at him. “We leave at night,” he said. “That’s when she stalks her prey.”

“You heard that everyone?” I ask the group. “It’s 10 o’clock in the morning. Nightfall is around 6:30. Get showered and get rested and liquored up. We leave at sundown.”

Jim nodded and Dale downed the rum whole.

“Good,” said Dale. “That gives me plenty of time to skim through the porno channels.”

TO BE CONTINUED…