Page 20 of Burn (Two Wheeled Psychos #2)

The back door to the diner is at the end of a narrow hall just beyond my booth. I pass the tiny little door for the only bathroom, and quietly slip outside to the parking lot, and into the cover of the dark night. I have no idea when her shift is over, or if her car is parked back here, but by the smell of her, I can almost guarantee she’ll be sneaking back here for a smoke at some point.

The lot is shrouded in darkness, with only a single streetlamp on the corner that throws more shadows than it does light. There are two dumpsters near the back door, one for trash and the other one for recycles. Next to the trash one, there’s a metal barrel with the lid barely attached to it.

A flick of my fingers opens the lid, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find that it’s full of used cooking oil. I can smell the acrid scent of it, all burnt and full of nasty food chunks from lord knows how many uses in the restaurant’s fryers.

Ooohhh, look what we have here. Nice.

“I know right. It’s like the universe wants her to go out in a massive blaze.”

I answer him, dragging the tip of my gloved finger on the surface of the oil, making it ripple.

I’m mesmerized by the way the ring of tiny waves around my finger move slowly from how viscous the substance is. It’ll coat her nicely, and the dumpster, oh my God, what a good way to contain the fire so no one innocent gets hurt. I can already feel the excitement brewing up inside of me, just like it used to do weeks ago before I started my spiral into whatever the fuck I’ve become.

Sitting on the black ground between the trashcans and the backdoor, I patiently wait, feeling the jitters, and enjoying them. It’s not long either, I was right, the walking ashtray needs her nicotine fix, and she comes trudging out the door in under an hour.

The old door creaks open, then bangs shut as she steps outside. She already smells like the diner’s food, greasy and fatty, and her uniform has splatters of food on the white aproned front. Her name tag, and the lighter in her hand glimmer in the little bit of light, but it’s enough for me to verify I’m about to take the right person. It would be a crying shame if I torched an innocent one.

She pulls her phone from the front pocket of her apron, her fingers poking at the screen as she lights the cancer stick and takes a long hard draw on it, immediately coughing a deep hacking cough.

You’re doing the walking disease a favor. Fire is faster than cancer.

“Damn straight.”

“Huh? Who’s there?”

Her raspy, cigarette harshened voice calls out in the dark.

She turns her phone around using the screen to light the space in front of her, just in time to see me stand slowly in the shadows. The device drops from her hand, as she stares at me in my black leathers and gloves, watching me come to my full height. I tower over her now that she’s not standing above at a table in the diner, and her eyes have to look up when I take a few steps towards her, making her freeze.

The lit cigarette drops from her mouth, landing on the blacktop, rolling towards my shoe, and I watch it with a deep concentration as the cherry burns bright red.

Use it. Use her own cigarette to set her on fire!

“Don’t mind if I do.”

I say, picking it up, rolling it between my fingers, then putting it to my mouth, taking a drag of the thick, menthol smoke.

I let it hang from my lips as I reach out, grabbing her by the throat with my right hand, backing her against the metal and glass wall of the building. She tries to push me off, but she’s too old, too frail, and most likely weakened by the cancer I know is already riddling her body.

“Help!”

She tries to scream, but her words only come out as garbled noises from the spit backing up in her throat.

“Why, God why?”

“You know why.”

I sneer in her face, letting her crow’s foot lined green eyes stare directly into my more youthful, icy blue ones.

“No.”

“You really think you can have that rude attitude with just anyone?”

I spit out, my saliva splattering her in the face, making her eyelids flutter and her face flinch.

“I mean to me, fine, whatever. But to her? Nah.”

“Who?”

“You know who!”

I shout, losing my patience with her.

Just do it already, will ya?

“Give me a second. She needs to know what she did wrong.”

I answer my voice, confusing the bitch in my grasp who freezes and tilts her head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Who are you…?”

“Shut up. You don’t get any say here. Just me and him.”

I yell at her, squeezing her neck tighter, while leaning back and grabbing the top rim of the oil barrel next to the dumpster.

The thick liquid sloshes out of the opening in the lid as I drag it to me, making it scrape loudly on the parking lot blacktop. Oil coats my glove, and splashes my pants, making me curse quietly about the mess on my brand-new leathers.

“Wh…what…?”

She stutters in my grip, her eyes becoming larger, her lips turning a cool shade of blue as I steal the breath and the ability to scream from her.

“What am I going to do?”

I say to her, leaning in, my nose touching the tip of hers and the cherry of the lit cigarette singeing her upper lip as I settle the barrel at my left hip.

“Is that what you want to know?”

“Owww…burns.”

She gasps all breathy and painfully as her hands slap and hit at me, trying to break my hold on her neck.

She hasn’t seen anything yet.

“I know.”

I laugh in her face, watching the skin on her upper lip blister from the heat of the cigarette.

“This is nothing. You ready to really burn?”

“No!”

she tries to scream, but the only thing that comes out is rancid air from her most likely black and infected lungs.

“Yes.”

Yes, yes, yes, yes! Do it, do it, do it, do it!

I don’t even need a lighter, the fumes from the oil as I grab a handful of it and throw it in her face ignite like fucking napalm when they surround the lit cancer stick. I jump back with a hearty laugh, just barely missing the flames taking my face too. The cigarette falls from my mouth and rolls to her foot, catching droplets of the oil up and lighting her shoe on fire as well.

She goes up like a fall time bonfire made of cheap kindling, the oil catching and burning so hot that I have to back up even further as she drops to her knees, her screams never returning even with my hand gone from her neck.

The fire is instantly in her mouth, all over her face, and turning her hair into the wick of a human candle. There’s no way sound can escape her as she takes her final breath in, sucking the flames into her throat as she falls to her knees, her arms flailing for one last second, before she becomes nothing more than any other burning pile of trash.

Her body hisses and pops with the intense heat, slithering and moving on its own. She’s already dead, but the force of the fire makes her corpse look like she’s still trying to crawl away. It’s downright beautiful as the flames grow larger, covering her completely and I contemplate how to get her into the dumpster.

Should have done that first.

“You told me to do it.”

I snap.

“Now help me get her in there before the whole fucking diner goes up.”

How the fuck do you think I can do that? You are nuts, aren’t you?

The hysterical laughter that erupts from my mouth breaks the quiet of the night around me. I sound like a maniac as I cackle, holding onto my stomach from the pain that shoots through it from how hard my body lurches with the howling guffaw that flies from my mouth.

“Fuck.”

I grunt, bending over, trying to keep myself upright in my hilarity as I grab at the burning meat sack with my gloved hands.

The fire immediately takes my left glove from the coating of oil as I lift her off the ground, careful not to let her touch the rest of my body.

“Good thing you’re lighter than you look.”

I say as I pick her up like a baby under the flaming armpits and toss her into the big green dumpster with a loud bang. My glove follows her in, like a molotov cocktail.

The flames lick out of the top of the receptacle, flickering and illuminating the night sky as they overtake the trash inside as well. It’s quickly growing into a massive fire, cracking and popping and hissing out its anger as it consumes her and her fucking attitude, making me smile even wider.

Burn baby burn!

My humor calms down as I stand between the dumpster and the building, making sure the flames don’t lick the structure and take it too. Not only are there innocent people inside, but so is Phoenix, my Phoenix, my angel.

She ain’t yours, you left her. Remember?

“She’ll always be mine, whether she knows it or not. Whether we’re together or not. If I have to follow her in the shadows for the rest of my life, I will, just so she stays mine.”

You’re pussy whipped.

“And you’re a cunt.”

I never said I wasn’t. I’m your cunt and you’re mine.

“Ugh, shut up and let me enjoy this.”

I grumble, crossing my arms across my chest, sitting on the stoop at the bottom of the two little steps outside the door.

On the ground at my foot shines the cigarette pack her smoke had come from, already forgotten in the dirt. I poke at it with my toe, then pick it up and turn the cellophane covered box over in my hand a few times, looking at it, pondering how people can become addicted to something so foul.

It did taste good. All minty and hot. Have one.

“Gross.”

I scoff, but I don’t put the pack down, instead I find myself opening the lid and looking at the little cylindrical sticks.

Go on, one won’t hurt you.

“Fine.”

He’s right, it does taste good as I pop it between my lips and light it. The first drag is harsh, heating my throat, but then it’s immediately cooled with the menthol flavoring. The next couple get easier, and by the time half of it is done, I’m enjoying it, feeling it calm my insides, even though my heart rate is faster than it’s ever been. My head is a little swimmy too, and I deduce it must be from the reduced oxygen and carbon monoxide in the smoke.

“Not too bad.”

I chuckle, looking down at the butt between my two fingers, frowning at how much I’m actually enjoying it. “Fuck.”

I knew you’d like it.

“Piss off with your bad influences.”

Just remember, I’m you and you are me. I don’t make you do anything.