The 43rd

The 43rd A Short Story

Wind whipped across desert sands and over the hood of a Camaro swerving down the road. The engine strained as a heavy foot pressed it against the floor. “Yeeeee hah!!!” Miles of vacant desert surrounded the road. With one last deep swig, the driver tossed an empty bottle into the gray moonlight and reached across to the passenger seat and pulled out another Budweiser. The cool bottle was slippery and fell from his grip and rolled under the seat. “Fuck!” Probing around he leaned and strained; the road became a forgotten memory. “There it is. Come here you little sucker.” The tips of his finger touched the slick glass of the bottle. Glass shards shot through the car's cabin and metal contorted violently. The seatbelt hugged him tight like a snake made of twine and bit into his side. He coughed up spit as the twisted mass of metal that was moments ago a car puked up smoke. “Fuck man. Ma beer and ma Camaro! Damn.” He stumbled out of his car and looked through his beer goggles to get a grasp on his situation. His car was wrapped around a freakishly large tree. B couldn't believe that such a large tree could live in the desert. It was huge with with hundreds of branches that reached out like the hands of those needy children he saw in Africa on the television- skeletal and thin. A few sad fruits hung down looking like tiny sacks of drying skin. “Gross. That's a weird ass tree.” Distant moonlight slid down mountain slopes with blade edges. On the floor of his car he found one blessed beer untouched by the destruction. He twisted off the top and sat down, resting his back against the freak tree. The car's headlights poured out a weak light. One of the weird fruits fell on his head and splattered him with warm juice. “Shit! Goddammit!” He wiped pink pulp from his head and scuffed his hand against the ground. Thoughts began to sink. Thoughts about failure and thoughts about death. Age and his father had forced him to become a “man” when all he wanted to do was party. His father's attempts to make B an oil man made him miserable; so it's his father's fault that he turned to booze and drugs. His girlfriend liked to call him a devil in a cowboy hat because of all the trouble he caused. He liked it. Soft scurrying sounds came from the edge of the headlight beams. “Fuck you dad!” and he tossed his bottle at the sound. It hit the ground with a dull thud. He could never live up to his expectations. He knew he was a failure in the Texas Air National Guard and life. “Fuck you! He gave the sky the finger and fell onto his hands. “Why won't you help me? God, please help me.”, he sobbed overun by drunken emotion. Tears fell onto the ground and he wept. A tiny furry blob of white hopped into view. A rabbit stood staring at B with deep, large black eyes. The rabbit hopped closer and B noticed that it looked bleached; he'd never seen anything so clean and white. “Man, you're one spotless looking wabbit!” he said as he stood up, wiping tears and reached into the change pocket of his jeans. “I've got something that's not as white as you but it gets the job done and makes life seem less shitty.” He smirked and held out a tiny bag of white powder. “You want some?” The rabbit twitched its nose. With drunken precision B made three terribly crooked lines of

white on the hood of his camaro and snorted. After the three chemical bullets were firmly in his brain he saw the desert with new clarity. He could see all of it. He was hopping with other rabbits unseen, howling with wolves and slithering with snakes. “Ooooooww Ooooooooooh” he howled at the moon. The rabbit watched, not noticing the slippery death shifting across the ground. B noticed and rather than trying to get the rabbit to move he wiped snot from his face with the side of his hand and smiled. He wanted to see that rabbit die. It was only a rabbit. The chord of muscle guided by teeth flew at the rabbit and bit deep into leg meat. A cry rang out. A sound shrill and piercing- the cry of a child. The spasming twisting white victim stared with unmoving black eyes and kicked violently to run away from the snake. B became bored. “I need to take a piss.” He found a tiny bush suitable for marking territory and unzipped, pulled out his favorite body part and let lose a stream. “Aaahh, yeah.” In the chilly air, warm steam floated around him, and he couldn't deny that it felt good. Warm is warm and in the desert night warm is good. Warm... warmer.. warmer still... really warm... fuck that's hot! Shit! Lustful tongue of flame licked toward his genitals as the bush erupted into flames. B stumbled and fell onto his ass and the zipper bit into his junk. He winced and massaged his crotch. In the corner of his right eye he could see the snake with disjointed jaw, becoming a living mouth and stomach swallowing the rabbit. With a flicker the headlights died. All he heard was the sounds of popping wood and a writhing snake. Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh! From North to South, East to West and all points in between the desert erupted in flame. Every bush that peppered the landscape ignited, combusted and burned. “What the?” He wiped his eyes in an attempt to clear away reality but as usual reality was a persistent bitch that's hard to ignore. His heart pounded and he began to wonder if he bought laced drugs and whether or not it would cause some kind of brain damage. B didn't have IQ points to spare and life reminded him of that daily. The air started to whip and snap and turn to snow. B's jeans and tshirt soaked up the chill. Flurries circled like a snow globe in a paint shaker. The snot streaming down his face froze. He stumbled, snow blind, and felt the edge of his car and climbed inside with the warm trapped air. Outside the bushes burned against the frosty tempest. “I'm going to kill my dealer!” he yelled to himself. Wind rocked the car and it felt like an angry mob. The paint shaker stopped and snow slowly drifted through the air according to its own slow dream time. Through the plastered flakes on the windshield B saw a slim figure standing next to the tree directly in front of his car. A shiver ran though him as the dark silhouette reached up and removed a fleshy fruit from the tree. Compelled by deadly curiosity he stepped out of his car and approached the figure who stood eating the fruit. It was a man, about six foot six, dressed in a black outfit that hugged his lean figure like dark skin. Bands of silver and gold studded with red stones encircled his arms legs and wrists. A golden collar fit snugly around his neck. He had sharp metal fingernails that poked through the fruit in his pale hand causing red juice to run down his arm and drip onto the snow at his feet. What most

startled B was the man's face. Although B was a man's man and not a homosexual he couldn't help but think that the man was beautiful. His eyes were a piercing blue set in a chiseled yet soft face untouched by the ravages of age and framed by blond wavy hair that floated above his shoulders. The man wiped red juice from his chin and tossed the odd fruit onto the hood of B's car where it pulsed like the dying rabbit. “Who are you? What the fuck is going on?!” “I am who I am.” said the man in a soft voice that possessed a sharp rasp that struck at the end of each sentence. “Uh... what kind of answer is that?” “If you must, you can call me Iblis. But names aren't important, you already know who I am and what I can do for you. Men of knowledge have come to me throughout the ages seeking wisdom. You are not one of these men but I have chosen to help you. You have passion and think with your gut. I like that.” B wanted to run but a spinning wall of snow encircled the tree and through the maelstrom bushes burned like exploding suns. “What do you want?”, he asked defiantly. The man stepped forward showing the palm of his hands.. “I am hear to help you.” “I don't need any help!” The man placed his large hand on B's shoulders and looked into his eyes. A cold bit into his spine. “If you don't need help, why do you cry out for God so often? Why do you attend your church?” The black shape slid behind B and whispered in his ear “God hears you, I hear you. But he doesn't care.” B snapped out of his stupor and faced Iblis. “That's a lie!” B's church upbringing fought against the idea of an uncaring God. “Get away from me!” “Is it a lie? What has God done for you? I won't sit by any longer. God has a plan and that plan is for you to die from your drug habit. It is going to kill you. History will remember your father but you will be forgotten... a footnote.” B stood shocked at the idea of God allowing his drug use to kill him. “I know what it's like to live in the shadow of a great father. One day your father will be President. You will live to see it, and it is what will drive you to your death. We're very much alike, you and I. We can prove our fathers wrong. We can show them that we're worthy of love. You can be an important man with a family: two children, grandchildren and a loving wife or you can die alone in an alley covered in your own piss… just like God wants. I can make you President and from there, you, we, can show our fathers how we're worthy.” B could see himself as President doing God's will and showing his dad that his son was a great

man. Iblis plucked another fruit from the tree. “I will give you the power to fight God's wars, bring morality to an immoral country, help those who are distressed. God will strike the coasts and you can save them, you can sanctify marriage and bring economic prosperity and peace to the world. I guarantee you will be remembered. My forces will be ever present as your advisors to guide you; unlike God I will always be with you. All you need to do is take a bite of this.” Iblis placed the wrinkled pulsing fruit in B's hand. “Take a bite and save yourself and your world.” B found himself salivating as he held the odd fruit and its potential. Iblis watched intently. B bit down but his teeth couldn't puncture the skin. “You have to really want it. Show your father how powerful and great you can be!” As he moved the fruit to his mouth for a second try the snake from earlier writhed and rolled into view from the snow flurry. The center of its long body ballooned and swelled. The rabbit was kicking itself out of the snake and with a wet pop, the snake exploded in meat confetti and the rabbit hopped out as pure and white as ever, untouched by blood and guts. The rabbit hopped next to Iblis and he looked down with disgust. B's eyes were locked on the strange rabbit and he admired its tenacity and will to live and he thought he saw it shake its head. “Eat it!” B held the fruit to his lips and black and blue eyes watched as he tasted the most bitter fruit he'd ever tasted in his life. Iblis walked away as the snow storm stopped and the bushes flickered out. The rabbit let out a sad, wailing cry. The rest is history.

Thanks for reading my story. I'd like to hear what you think. My blog is: www.frightfulwords.com; follow the link at the top of the page if you want to comment. - Seth