The Body Raffle

Author’s Note: This is the second story written for a college course in Creative Writing. Hope you enjoy! Comments are encouraged.

The radio was on. Loud guitars and the piercing screams against humanity, known to distinguish those three minute masterpieces known to him as punk rock, were blaring out of the speakers. Going 70 miles on the 496, Dev tapped his fingers rapidly on the stirring wheel, suppressing the urge to roll down his window and yell at the car that cut him off on the expressway. “It’s midnight for all of those of you who are partying the night away at some sleazy club, smoking a joint or, for those of you unlucky enough to be heading to work. You suck. What you just heard was “Death of a Nation” by Anti-Flag, urging you not to sell out to those corporate bastards that already own your ass anyway. This is your host, Mickey Rotten and don’t forget you’re listening to KRXP 88.9”. Suddenly realizing the flashing lights in front of him, Dev burned rubber and made a sudden and loud stop in front of a row of orange cones and flare lights. There was a construction road block he hadn’t heard of and, having been trying to sober up for the last 45 minutes, Dev had overslept and was late.

“Fuck, Mickey is going to kill me. Fuck!” said Dev. He waited in line impatiently for the traffic dictators in phosphorescent jackets to let him through. There was something odd in the way they were stopping everyone and, apparently, asking for directions. Maybe he was hallucinating…they all looked like their hands were made of strobe lights. “What? Nope, they’re just flashlights. I have to get off this crap like now,” he said rubbing his hands across his eyes. The car made a sudden jerk as the tire ran over something hard and metallic, Dev rolled down the window and was momentarily blinded by a construction worker.

“It’s local traffic only. Where are you headed?” said the man. “I’m going to the radio station. It’s about a mile after the bridge, Steeltown Industrial Park. What happened?” asked Dev suddenly realizing the huge cranes lifting chunks of cement off the expressway. “Have you been under a rock, kid? A diesel tanker exploded three days ago, blew off the whole overpass northbound. Only one lane open. You’re lucky there’s not much thru traffic or else you still would’ve been waiting in line back at your house”, he laughed. “Well, what time is it?” asked Dev. “12:15”, answered the construction worker.

Panic made a run down Dev’s spine to his legs, making a pit stop at his stomach. He pressed on the accelerator and found the speedometer at the 70 mile mark once again. It wouldn’t be that bad if he made it in about two minutes, he thought. His plan was off to a great start until a loud boom and a sudden clash of metal and cement interrupted his train of thought. The car was running lopsided. He managed to stop and align himself at the shoulder. He turned on his emergency lights, opened his door and quickly smelled of burnt tire. “Crap man, I just bought this tire. What the hell!” thought Dev. Looking closely he saw a single wide and rusty nail sticking out of the rubber. Also, the hubcap was bent. His second thought was to flip open his cell phone.

“Perverts Anonymous, how can I help you?” said the voice. “Mickey? It’s me you dumbass. Can you cover for me for like half an hour? Is Resnick watching you?” asked Dev. “No, Resnick decided to stay home with his wife. Two, this is like the third time this month that I’ve covered for you, what the hell?” yawned Mickey. “It’s a real emergency this time, I ran over a nail and I have to change the tire. I’m like an exit away from the station. Please? My punk brother?” pleaded Dev. “Aw, don’t throw your comrade bullshit on me. Half an hour and don’t forget you’re on the air at 2:30am,” said Mickey. “I owe you one.” “You owe me your life Dev. Half an hour,” said Mickey.

As soon as he hung up he spotted the blue lights of a police siren a couple of meters away. “This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” thought Dev, and he flagged the cop car. It stopped cold a couple of feet away from Dev’s beat up Ford Explorer and backed up. A prototypical Hollywood cop stepped out of the car. Handcuffs hung from his belt, standard issue Smith and Wesson revolver, badge, nightstick, black hair, blue eyes…black flashlight. He was odd. “What seems to be the problem?” said the cop in a false, tough bass. “Umm, I have a flat tire and I need to get work. Can you help me? I mean…I have a spare in my trunk, I think,” wondered Dev. The cop looked Dev up and down, saw his torn jeans, the cut off Bad Religion t-shirt, the Mohawk and the Doc Marten boots, and thought he was going to give this lowlife a hard time. He must have something on him; his kind always does, thought the officer.

His badge said his name was Rodríguez. “Sergeant Rodríguez? Are you gonna help me?” said Dev, wondering why the sergeant was staring insistently at the crotch of his jeans. “Yeah…just pop the trunk and get me the tools”, he said. All the while, the silhouette of a woman was staring at them from the backseat of the police car. Handcuffs and all, she discreetly blew kisses at Rodríguez. He shooed her off with a stern face and a wave of his hand. To Dev, who was watching the scene as he put the key in the keyhole to open his trunk, again, this seemed very odd.

The door lamps of his car had gone out long ago. He opened the trunk and felt for the spare but instead grabbed a handful of sticky wet hair. Yet again, he panicked, and this time he stumbled back and fell flat on the pavement. Out of Dev’s throat came a cracked out high pitched sound that the cop recognized as: “Holy crap I swear there’s something in there.”

“I swear to God if this is some prank of yours I’m gonna take you down to the station and book you for possession of illegal substances. I’m pretty sure I’ll find something in there…you look like you’ve been binging on crack for the last five days.” Dev scrambled back up and sneered at Rodríguez and mimicked his last sentence in a weird voice. “Do I look like I’m joking? You go check.”

Rodríguez turned on his flashlight and looked in the trunk. Back at him stared a pair of clouded black eyes and a wide open mouth with cracked lips. There was blood on her hair and a deep gash on her head that appeared to be made by a blunt object. The body suddenly jerked, as dead bodies sometimes do when they are full of pressurized air. The cop panicked and proceeded to strike the body repeatedly with his nightstick. “DIE YOU ZOMBIE FREAK!”

Dev jumped on the cop and tried to stop him by grabbing his arms. “What are you doing you moron? She’s not a zombie, she’s dead. Dead!” he said. “SHE MOVED! Wait, what is she doing in the trunk of your car? I think I have to arrest you under the suspicion of murder…” said Rodríguez, looking quite perplexed but relieved now that he did not have to deal with a flesh eating zombie. “Hell no, I didn’t kill that girl. And, and…you beat her up. How do you know she wasn’t alive before you bashed her head in with your”, Dev stuttered, “your club?”

They both stared at the body and wondered. The cop assessed the situation and realized that, even if he had killed her with his nightstick, he couldn’t be held responsible. He acted under the suspicion that he was in danger, just like in the movies. Dev just stared blankly at the body and thought about the ways he could pin the murder on the cop. None of them ever questioned who was the woman laying in a bloody pool of death in the trunk of the Explorer.

“I swear I didn’t kill her. I mean, I’ve never even seen this woman, ever…in my life!” said Dev. “Do I look like a killer? I mean, come on, I’m scared shitless and I’m pretty sure my boss is going to fire me tonight for being late…again.” Dev banged his head helplessly on the side of the car and a single tear came out of his left green eye. Rodríguez looked horrified at Dev’s weakness, but felt sorry for him. He too had been in a jam many times. Not like this one, though.

“How did you not smell her?” asked Rodríguez. “I haven’t used my car. It spent a month at the body shop. The owner said he had a hard time and couldn’t fix it quickly because somebody had broken into his shop and had messed up the place,” said Dev. Yet again, they both stared at the body and wondered some more. It was one in the morning and there was little traffic, except the delivery trucks that came out of the pier full of merchandise.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Rodríguez, “we have to make this body disappear or else we are both going to be up shit’s creek without a paddle, kid. I don’t want to go to jail, you don’t want to go to jail, we can agree on that. Now, what would a real criminal do?” Dev looked at him, then looked at the car and realized the whole scene was retarded. This cop was retarded, and now that he really looked at him, and the handcuffed woman in the car, he thought he looked like a male stripper in a uniform. He thought out loud: “Are you sure you are a cop?” Rodríguez looked at Dev in disbelief. “How dare you question an officer of the law?”

An eighteen wheeler sped by them. They both looked at the body and the blanket on top of it, and then looked at the truck. In a quick reaction each of the men grabbed an end of the blanket, lifted the body and looked both ways before crossing the four lanes to the middle of the expressway with the bundle. They looked at each other and dropped it on the pavement and ran back to the shoulder. “Let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?” said Rodríguez. Dev nodded. “Oh, and clean up your car. They say Coca Cola makes blood untraceable under black light.”

Quickly, they both ran back to the shoulder. Dev and Rodríguez fixed the tire as quickly and as badly as they could and fled the scene in their respective cars. Minutes later, a distracted produce truck driver was speeding on the expressway. It was 1:30 in the morning and he was doing 80 miles per hour. Under the truck, he heard a loud thud and came to a sudden stop that almost made the sandwich in his stomach come back out and decorate the window. He thought, “Jesus Christ, I think I just killed someone”.

~ by amaya14 on September 19, 2009.