Enough talk, make them pay.
“We couldn’t have you distracted by a woman; you’re the best there is.” The captain says, raising his hands to try and plead with me, but I’m shaking my head in disbelief and that’s not going to do a damned thing.
“We just took advantage of what happened, it wasn’t personal.” Marcus adds, and all it does is piss me off more.
I’m seeing red. I’m angrier than I have ever been. I’m madder than I have ever been at my mother or the voice in my head. It’s enough. I need to end it…Now.
Pulling the safety tab from my lighter keeps it lit when the gas switch is released, and the flame stays lit as I back up and chuck it on the floor at their feet.
The ground doesn’t just catch on fire, oh no, it combusts with a flash of blinding flames that flare up as high as the ceiling before coming back down to ground level, scorching everything in their path.
The flames grab at them, taking their clothes, starting them ablaze, and they can’t stop, drop, and roll, because the entire floor is damp with the gasoline and burning hotter than the bowels of hell.
Burn baby burn!
“Fuck you, fuck you both.” I say as their screams fill the air, echoing around the big room, bouncing off the sides of the truck and the cement walls.
I watch as they try to put each other out, slapping at their clothes and rubbing each other down, but it’s futile. They can’t get past me, nor can they get out the front. There’s no water anywhere except in the tanker truck which is inaccessible behind me. They’re dead men flailing in place in a fucking fire house, burning to death. Oh the fucking irony.
It's cathartic, leaning up against one of the shiny red trucks watching them burn and plead for their lives, just like how I imagined she had died, painfully by fire.
“Serves you right.” I holler to them, although I know they can’t hear me, they’re already dead, their bodies just haven’t dropped yet.
When I see the flames licking inside their agape mouths and their screams fall silent, I simply walk away.
Wrapping my arm around Phoenix’s waist, I lead her outside and to the bike. She waits as I sit on it and turn the key, then hops up behind me, holding onto my middle, leaning against my back.
“Wave bye-bye baby. Time to go.” I say to her, tapping her knee next to my hip.
She gives the biggest most beautiful grin towards the garage doors and the flickering orange flames beyond them.
“Bye guys.” She chuckles and blows them a kiss.
“Ready baby girl?”
“Yeah where to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe somewhere with nice green yards and white picket fences.” I say, backing the bike away from the station and taking off down the street towards the coming dawn.
“Sounds good to me.”
“That’s my good fucking girl.”
Epilogue
“Hey baby. How’s my good fucking girl?” I ask a very pregnant Phoenix as she tends the grill outside in our back yard.
The birds are chirping their early spring songs, and the dogs trot through the yard, barking at the neighbor’s new puppy through the picket fence. The sun is setting, and the sky is beautiful shades of orange, red, and blue, reminiscent of the flames inside the gas grill she’s searing our steak dinner on.
“Mmmm hi. How was work?” She asks, giving me a big kiss on my soot covered forehead.
“You know, same old same old.”
“I bet. You hungry?”
“Famished.” I chuckle, taking the spatula from her hand and setting it down on the picnic table. “But not for food.”
“Zeph! I’m starving.”
