Vultures

The sun was disappearing behind the uncertain edge of the Rocky Mountains when the old truck parked by the gas station. The engine stopped and silence took its place, only disturbed by the sound of the crickets, lazy in the hot midwest summer. The truck door opened and high heeled cowboy boots hit the ground on one side, while the other remained closed. The woman, in her late twenties, lit a cigarette; the amber setting sun melted in her dirty blond hair as she stood motionless, watching the prairie. A bored expression settled on her face when the other door opened and an older man stepped on the hot asphalt. He looked up, sniffing and stroking his grey moustache, at the vultures circling above them.

‘They feel the dead’ he noted, his voice like rusty nails. The woman didn’t answer; she dropped the cigarette on the ground and stepped on the stub. Without saying anything to each other they walked to the building; they stepped inside, looking around. It seemed empty, apart from the young man with a golden eyebrow piercing sitting behind the counter. He didn’t say hi when they entered; his attention was focused on a jigsaw puzzle spread in front of him that was probably much less difficult than he made it seem.

The old man was standing by the magazines at the end of the shop, but his eyes were on the woman who now took out a small bottle of gin from the fridge. Without hesitation, she opened the drink and took a slow sip, looking at the boy behind the counter. A few seconds passed in silence, and when he got bored of the puzzle he looked up finally.
‘Hey, what the hell are you doing, señora?’ he snapped, standing up abruptly. No one answered him; the woman took another sip and the boy noticed a thick leather pair of gloves on her hands.

‘Just having a drink, boy’ the woman answered finally, in a patronising voice. Her eyes fixated in his face, she walked closer and stopped next to the counter, taking a candy bar.
‘What is your problem? You want me to call the police?’ the woman lit a cigarette again and blew the smoke in the boy’s face. The old man walked up to them now and stopped next to the woman.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ he asked.
‘Who’s asking?’ the boy leaned on the counter, his expression changed. The woman looked around, the cigarette hanging from her mouth, and then pulled a gun out of her handbag, pointing it at the boy. He straightened, lifting his hands.
‘He asked you a question, kid’ she said, taking the cigarette out of her mouth.
‘Listen, I don’t know you people’.
they didn’t answer, instead the woman put her finger on the trigger and cocked the hammer.
‘But this is a really bad idea.’
‘Is it now?’ the man asked, walking up to the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘What do you think, Camille, is it a bad idea?’
‘I feel like it’s a pretty damn good one, if you ask me.’ she spoke to the boy again. ‘Now answer the question, son, before my finger slips and your brains end up on the wall.’
‘Goddamn you white scum’ he spat. ‘My name is Hosae. Hosae Aguílar.’ the woman and the man exchanged a look. ’What do you want from me? I didn’t do nothing’ he shook the old man’s hand off of his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the gun.
‘Oh, we’ll see about that, son’ the man said now. ‘How about you sit down, you seem a bit agitated.’ the woman nodded in agreement.
‘Agitated my ass. Lemme put a gun up your nose and you will be agitated’ he scoffed, but sat down anyways.

The woman leaned on the counter, still pointing the gun at him and motioned to the old man who pulled out a machete from under his vest.
‘How about we play a little game?’ the woman asked, not waiting for a reply. ‘You answer the question honestly, and he doesn’t cut your finger off.’ the man grabbed the boy's hand and smashed it on the counter. He sat there, motionless, looking at the woman. She reached into her bag and pulled out an old photograph.
‘Do you know this man?’ she asked, showing the picture to the boy. He thought for a second, gazing at the face on the photograph.
‘Hell no’ he answered finally, avoiding eye contact. ‘Never seen the fella’
The old man looked at the woman who shook her head almost unnoticeably. She pulled out another picture, shoving it under the boy’s nose.
‘How about her?’ she asked. The boy’s face grew pale, looking at the photograph of a dead woman laying in a pool of blood. Seven men were standing behind her body, one of them holding up his semi automatic, an eyebrow piercing glinting on his face.
‘I don’t know her’ he whispered. The old man’s face hardened as he lifted the machete and struck the index finger of the boy. He shrieked, grabbing his hand; blood squirted from the wound and the man forced his hand back on the counter. The boy watched as blood started to pump periodically from the place where his finger used to be.
‘Mierda!’ he cried, his lips trembling. ‘What do you want from me? Just let me go, please’ he looked at the woman now whose face showed zero reaction to his words.
‘Do you know this woman?’ she whispered, leaning close to the boy so that her sunburned face was inches away from his nose. The boy started crying, staring at the photograph, his eyes fixated on the dead woman’s empty face. He closed his eyes, turning his head; tears mixed with fresh blood on the table. The old man held the machete steady.
‘I don’t…’ he struck again, chopping off his middle finger. The boy screamed, falling to the ground from the chair. The man pulled him up, looking at the woman.
‘What now?’ he asked, but the woman ignored him.

‘You know what you did, boy.’ she said instead, tears glowing in her eyes. ‘The woman you murdered is called Serena Morgan. The baby who you shot in the head is called Liam Morgan.’ she stopped for a second, wiping tears from her face. ‘I want you to remember these names when I kill you.’ she pressed the gun to the boy’s forehead who turned his face. ‘I want you to see their faces in your last moments. ‘She put the photograph on the counter in the pool of blood, in front of the boy.

A gun fired in the dark night; vultures rose from a tree nearby, and the sound of the crickets halted for a second. Everything was silent and motionless, only the wings of the birds created disturbance as they circled above the gas station. After a few moments the crickets started again and two figures appeared in the dark, leaving the gas station.

A cigarette was lit, and the woman stood silently, looking up at the sky. A gentle breeze disrupted the humid air and the man turned back from the car to look at the woman.
‘This isn’t gonna bring her back, Camille’ he said. The woman closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. They stood there in silence as a vulture settled on the top of the building.
‘I know, dad,’ she said finally. ‘I know.