Chased by the Dead

CW: violence, drug use

Jack wakes up in a cold sweat, alone in an unfamiliar room. Turning on the dim bedside lamp he sits on the edge of the bed remembering the nightmare that he woke from. The cops had him locked in a little room and were grilling him about Chuck, who was standing behind the cops, his flesh stinking and rotting.

Chuck’s voice burbled wetly from his mouth, “They have you now Jackass, you are getting the chair, and then you will be mine to torment for ETERNITY!” Several maggots fall from Chuck’s mouth as he speaks. Sitting to Jack’s left is his lawyer, who advised him to just tell the truth.

One of the cops asks, “Why did you shoot Chuck nine times, with a .45 one shot would have been enough.” Jack shakes his head remembering, “I put one round of .25 into his fuckin ear, not nine shots from a .45 Why is the cop lying?”

In the bathroom Jack looks at his reflection, “Am I a monster, or just human? Where is that line drawn?” As he splashes water on his face he remembers he is in the hacienda owned by Sharon’s abuela, and her Catholic family wouldn’t let them share a room, bed, or bathroom.

His unassuming Citizen self winding watch shows it’s just after three am. Walking down the hall to el cocina Jack taps on Sharon’s door, but doesn’t get an answer. He searches the entire kitchen for a coffee maker, or something. There’s a small burlap sack of coffee beans next to a grinder, but nothing to make coffee in. The cookware is either cast iron, or copper.

Going out to his van he finds out the gate is locked, no big deal though. Jack easily gets over the gate and to his van. In the van he snorts a bump of coke before he puts his sketch pad, coloured pencils, percolator, a can of Folgers, and his mug in his messenger bag.

Chuck’s face appears in the rearview mirror, “They are going to execute you Jack, I’m waiting!” Turning pale as a sheet of paper Jack slowly replies, “Fuck you queen bee, it ain’t going to happen, not even your parents care about you.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands Jack’s brain goes into overdrive, “What is happening to me? Am I a monster? Am I human? When will this end?” Chuck laughs loudly, “You are a monster Jackass, this won’t end until you ride ole sparky and are given to me.”

Back in the kitchen Jack makes a pot of coffee. Sitting at the well worn kitchen table Jack starts to sketch the 1969 Z28 that’s going in the barn on Monday. Coming to a few minutes later he is surprised that he drew an image of the last time he saw Chuck in his Camaro, blood trickling from his ear, exactly where Jack shot him.

Flipping to a blank page Jack chugs his coffee and refills his mug, “Fuck off Chuckles, I don’t need this shit. You shouldn’t have followed me, it’s all your own fuckin’ fault.” With deliberate strokes of his pencil he gets the outline of the car finished.

Closing his eyes Jack debates on colours for the car, staring at his pencils Jack realizes the violet has never been used. Starting with a light grey he starts a stylized Z just in front of the left front wheel well, incorporating it with the body crease line.

As he is starting on the front pillar with the light grey, Sharon’s abuela quietly enters the kitchen and is surprised to see Jack sitting there. He nods at Sharon’s grandmother, “Buenos dias senora.” Dolores returns the greeting and sniffs the air, “Es ese cafe Americano?”

Jack nods, “Si, es mi cafe.” Shaking her head Dolores puts water in a copper pot and sets it on the stove to heat. While the water heats she puts two cinnamon sticks into a clay pitcher, adds shaved raw sugar, and grinds some of the beans from the bag, “Cafe Americano no es bueno.”

Shrugging, Jack takes another drink of his coffee, and resumes colouring in the Camaro. The grey and violet go well together. As Jack is finishing the drawing Dolores sets a clay mug in front of him, “Aqui tienes, disfrutalo.”

After taking a sip to be polite Jack replies, “Gracias senora.” Shaking her head she responds, “Llamame Delores muchacho.” Jack laughs and replies, “Mis disculpas Dolores.” earning him a smile.

Sharon enters the kitchen, “There you are Jacky, I tried knocking on your door, but you didn’t answer.” Getting to his feet Jack gives Sharon a hug, “We need to go fishing soon. I need to get home, I have work to do.”

Sharon nods, “We can go after breakfast.” Meanwhile Dolores is mixing lard, flour, salt, and baking soda in a large bowl. She adds the rest of the hot water and kneads the dough altogether. With the bowl covered with a damp towel she starts some chorizo in a large skillet.

Jack passes the mug to Sharon and sips his coffee while he watches Dolores cook. With the chorizo cooking she cracks eggs into a mixing bowl and sets it aside. Dolores rolls out a tortilla and cooks it on a comal.

Jack turns to Sharon, “I’ve never seen anyone make tortillas before, it doesn’t look that complicated.” Sharon gets up and takes over making the tortillas, “It’s really not that complicated Jacky, Mi abuela me enseñó cuando tenía ocho años.”

Dolores give Sharon a huge smile, “Gracias Sharon, eres una buena chica.” When the chorizo is cooked Dolores pours in the eggs. Jack looks confused, “She didn’t beat them?” Sharon laughs, “Silly bonehead, this is Mexico, not the US!”

As her grandfather and aunt enter the kitchen Sharon puts Jack’s drawing supplies back into his bag and takes it to the family room. Jack sighs as Hector takes his seat at the head of the table. Dolores, Carmen, and Sharon get bowls of chorizo and a plate with the tortillas to the table.

As Jack reaches for his fork Sharon stops him. Hector stands and says grace. Jack watches Sharon, who doesn’t start eating until Hector does, tearing off a piece of tortilla and scooping up some chorizo. Jack follows his lead and is amazed how much better the chorizo is compared to what he’s used to.

After breakfast Jack makes another pot of coffee and fills his thermoses. They make their way to the fishing charter in Ensenada. As Sharon drives Jack tells her about the dream, and about Chuck talking to him.

Sharon pulls the van over, “What? Chuck is talking to you? Why?” Jack shakes his head, “I don’t know, it started with that crazy dream this morning. It woke me up at three am.” With a shocked look on her face Sharon slowly replies, “I’m sorry Jacky, that sounds horrible.”

Nodding, he slowly responds, “It is, and I don’t like it. Am I really such a horrible monster? It was his own fault though.” She reaches across and gives his hand a squeeze, “He was a horrible person, and after all the shit he pulled I’m surprised you didn’t kill him sooner. Let’s go fishing!”

Sharon puts the van in gear and continues south on the coastal road. Less than an hour later and the are getting on a fishing boat. On the boat Jack stands near the bow watching the water as the captain runs them to a good spot where he knows the fish are biting.

One of the other customers gets a bite that bends his pole all the way down, with everyone distracted Jack takes the opportunity to drop the Jennings over the side. Watching the pistol disappear Chuck appears in the reflection of the sun on the water, “They are still going to catch you Jackass, and when they do I will be waiting for you.”

With a sigh Jack closes his eyes, “I’m not a monster, I did what I had to to protect myself from Chuck, with the gun gone they can’t prove anything.” Yelling from the other side of the boat leads Jack back over to watch as the guy pulls in a huge yellowfin tuna.

With the boat slowly moving Jack gets a hit on his pole. He sets the hook, and the fish takes off. Seeing Jack fighting a fish one of the deckhands buckles a thick belt around his waist, and connects it to the reel.

As he is fighting the fish the deckhand holds up a beer, when Jack nods the deckhand opens the bottle and pours it into Jack’s mouth. Almost an hour later Jack lands a four hundred pound sailfish. Exhausted he collapses into a chair where the deckhand removes the pole from the fighting belt.

As Sharon starts massaging his shoulders the sailfish speaks in Chuck’s voice, “They’re coming to get you Jack, look, here comes one of them now.” Jack whispers, “Shut up, they are not coming to get me.”

Sharon leans over and whispers, “Who are you talking to Jack?” Pointing at his fish Jack mumbles, “Fuckin’ Chuck, he shows up everywhere I go. Now he’s the fish.” With a sigh she responds, “He’s not the fish Jacky, it’s all in your mind. I hope it gets better soon.”

Standing up Jack wipes his hands on his jeans, “Fuck it, let’s fish!” The boat lucks into a school of mackerel, it doesn’t take long to fill a barrel with fish. When the action stops two of the deckhands start chopping the fish up as the captain turns the boat to the west.

The fish heads go into one bucket, while the rest of the fish goes into four other bucket. The captain scans the shore line, nods, and kills the engine. As one deckhand ties steel leaders to everyone lines the other starts scooping chum into the water.

Sharon whispers to Jack, “What are they doing that for?” Jack smiles, “The blood draws sharks in, get ready for some fun!” Gasping she responds, “Oh wow, isn’t this dangerous?” With a laugh he replies, “Only if you fall off the boat.”

As Jack is getting ready to cast his bait the eye of the fish head faces him, “You will be mi.” With a whispered “Fuck off.” he launches his bait into the ocean. Sharon casts, and while watching their rods they sit on an ice chest holding hands.