Victor Methos - The Extinct

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jason said, happy. “I’m goin’ to Donna’s house right now but we’ll swing by around seven to pick you up.” He rose and watched his friend awhile in silence before walking out to the parking lot.

Eric finished his drink and lay down on the warm grass, squinting at the sun and bright blue sky above him. A few clouds drifted lazily by, slow moving giants that gave him a little shade now and again. He took a deep breath and got up. He had no desire to be here when Jason came to pick him up.

Most bars were closed but there was one that doubled as a grill that would be open for breakfast this early. As Eric drove down the empty streets heading toward the bar, he realized for the first time that he hated this place. He could see why his father wanted to leave it so badly. James and his mother had fought once about moving to California. James thought there was more opportunity there and no winters. He said it would give Eric more options when college time comes around. His mother refused to go, saying all her friends and social clubs were here. At the time, Eric thought his dad just wanted to be somewhere more exciting. But now, he could see that James was trying to get out. A small town could make someone feel like a noose was around their neck and the thought of moving might help them wiggle free. But the noose just gets tighter over the years, like it did with his father.

The bar was dim and filled with cigarette smoke as Eric walked in. A good place to get drunk. He ordered three beers and a Long Island iced tea, taking a table so that he wouldn’t have to talk to the bartender. The few people here were getting drunk too; after all, who eats breakfast at a bar? Their faces looked sad. Gray and lifeless. They looked like dying men, and there was silence between them.

Eric finished his drinks and stood up to leave. By now he was thoroughly drunk; right at the point between feeling outgoing and feeling sick. His face was hot and he was sweating as he stepped outside into the sunlight. There was something odd about being drunk during the day; like it just wasn’t meant to be. The body seemed to have a hard time adjusting.

He climbed into the car, fumbling a little with his keys, and drove away. He could tell he was swerving because the lines in the road kept going underneath the car, but other than that he felt like he was doing all right. Besides, the roads were nearly empty.

He got all the way to the Safeway by the dorms before he saw red and blue flashing lights in his mirrors.

After being processed, Eric was taken to a large holding cell at the precinct the officers called the “Pit.” It was essentially a large concrete room with a toilet and sink used to pack in drunks until they sobered up. It stunk of vomit, feces, piss and sweat. The officer gave him a slight push as he walked in and the door slammed behind him. All manner of people were crammed in; Blacks, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Whites, Asians, Indians. Some sat on the concrete benches that circled the room, some sat on the floor and still others were lying on the ground, too drunk to sit up.

Eric walked across the room and noticed a familiar face. It was Charles. He was leaning against the wall, his head back and his eyes closed. “Chuck,” Eric said as went over to him and sat down. Charles opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize him at first but then his eyes grew wide and he smiled. “Youngblood,” Charles said, “what in Christ you doin’ here?” Eric shrugged. “DUI. It’s bullshit, I was barely over the limit.” Charles shook his head. “This ain’t no place for you.” “Yeah, I know.” “No, I ain’t just talkin’. Young kid like you’s as good as a woman in here.”

Eric began looking around the room at the faces staring at him. They were hard, and scarred from the hardness and they were looking at him as if he wasn’t human. Charles erupted in laughter, exposing his yellowed teeth.

“Just fuckin’ with you youngblood. The guards come by every few minutes.” Charles looked through the bars to see if a guard was near and then pulled out two cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He gave one to Eric and took out some matches, lighting the cigarettes and looking through the bars again. “They let you smoke,” he said. “But you gotta pay the guards if they catch you.” He blew the gray smoke out in small rings. “So why you in here, boy? It ain’t like you to be such a fool.”

The concern in Charles’ voice disarmed Eric and he found he couldn’t put on a macho facade like he wanted to. He looked around at the dirty walls and the piss stained floors and the small dirty toilet and emotion began flowing out of him as tears started to seep from his eyes. “My dad was killed a couple weeks ago and I can’t get it out of my head. I see his face in my dreams; I see his dead body. It just won’t go away.”

Charles nodded as if he understood exactly what Eric was going through. “You said killed, not died.”

Eric didn’t respond and Charles kept talking.

“Well, you only got two choices youngblood; revenge or forgiveness. Forgiveness ain’t never worked for me. Sometimes, the pain runs so deep only revenge can reach it, you know what I’m talkin’ about?” “Yeah.” Eric took a puff of the cigarette; it was wet and the smoke tasted like rusted metal. “How’d you get like this, Chuck?” “Homeless?” Eric nodded. “Same choice as you got youngblood; revenge or forgiveness.” “What happened?”

“I was married when I was in Nam. Beautiful girl I met at church up in Portland where my grandma was livin’. She used to make me think I could do anything. You’re too young for a woman like that, but if you’re lucky, you’ll find one in your lifetime.”

“So what happened?”

“I got leave to go home on account a my mama goin’ in for surgery. I thought I’d surprise my wife by showin’ up.” Charles began playing with his cigarette, absentmindedly twirling it in his fingers. “Came home and she was fuckin’ our neighbor.” Charles smirked. “I loaned that motherfucker my lawnmower once.” He flicked his ashes on the ground and leaned his head back against the wall. “I didn’t catch ‘em fuckin’ you know. But when she opened the door, I could tell. Somethin’ in her face. But it didn’t matter cause that cocksucker was sittin’ on the couch in my bathrobe smokin’ my cigars. You believe that?” Charles stopped talking and stared off into space. “So,” Eric said, “what’d you do?” Charles looked him in the eyes and blew a waft of smoke out of his nose. “What you think I did?” Eric turned away, staring at the cold ground and the little cracks that were starting to appear in the cement. “Both?” “Both.” “Then you ran?”

“Then I ran,” Charles said, putting the cigarette out on the floor and stuffing the butt into his pocket. “That’s the choice you got; revenge or forgiveness. I regret my choice; but that was just who I was then. You just gotta make sure you don’t regret yours.”

Eric spent the night at the jail and was given a breakfast of cold ham and stale toast in the morning. The other inmates inhaled the food without much reservation; most of them didn’t look at what they were eating. Charles was pickier; he scraped off a layer of the ham with his fork before putting it on the toast and eating.

“You’ll be outta here today,” Charles said.

“How long do you have to be here?”

“Not much longer. Caught me sleepin’ in the Grocery Mart downtown. They’ll give me a ticket and maybe keep me here a little longer.” He finished off his toast and had a sip of some cold coffee that had been brought in. “Thinkin’ bout leavin’ the East Coast though. Winters are rough.”