Friday, March 20, 2015
Macabre Fiesta (Blogophilia 4.8)
The parking lot had turned into a macabre fiesta. Dia De Muerta on a bright spring day. Sirens mixed with mournful Latin songs echoing everywhere. Blue and red strobe lights contrasted with the yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the area where the bodies were. Only, there was no dancing and no masks,just a multitude spoken prayers for the fallen. They rose like eagles as the ambulances left with the victims. Soon, shouts of blood lust and revenge rung out in several languages, reverberating off the dirty brick walls.
Sitting on an overturned paint bucket, the small, dejected man watched in the shadows of the empty apartment. The Psychic’s vision was coming true. Mother had reached down from the sky and put that fucking little bitch in front of his car. Sarah pulled away at the last moment, just like in his nightmares. Jeremy can’t be successful, Mother’s voice boomed in his head. He isn’t worthy of anything. A total failure, stuck in the middle without any plans. A stray thought came to him. They think I’m a boy. Spittingon the bare wooden floor, he shouted: "Guess what? I am a man." He came back into focus
Looking back out of the broken window, the tableau was still what he had imagined. Cops looking around where the bodies lay, doing the crime scene dog and pony show. One group, led by Murray, was interviewing brown people with interpreters. The conversations seemed to last only a couple of minutes before the next one was called up. A couple of people were escorted to patrol cars and were taken away.
Jackson was down the hill, directing some uniformed cops at the Toyota, taking pictures and marking off distances with a wheel. Others brushed the car with something and used tape to lift off whatever it was. Neither group seemed to be in a hurry. From the outside it looked like just another investigation.
Murray closed his notebook and strolled down the hill where the car was parked. An impromptu status meeting, Jeremy guessed. The conversation appeared to be very even, when all of sudden smiles broke out. Were they laughing? Probably sharing some joke about me and what an idiot I am. Everyone was completely oblivious to the situation. If things were completely right, pigs would be flying right now.
But the bomb wasn’t there.
It was in his lap, armed with the detonator in his hand.
A Suit he began pointing at the rear window and shouted something. Everyone backed away quickly. They probably found the dummy bomb he used for practice. The discovery seemed to have quite an effect. Like a swarm of well disciplined bees, the cops swept a large circle from around the car and began herding people up the hill toward the entrance of the complex. The shouts rung in his ears: “Vamos! Yo qué sé! Vamos!”