Chapter 12 - Crash

Chapter 12 �" Crash

He saw those eyes, the eyes that had scowled at him, eyes now wide in terror and with a loud thud of plastic hitting flesh they vanished from sight.  Scott was thrown from the bike and rolled in the dirt, ‘no, no, no,’ his hands rushed to his head trying to squeeze himself back in time before the crash.  The bike lay on the ground illuminating what he had done.  Still clutching her plastic bottle the little huffer lay there.

He rushed to her side, not a noise, not a breath, her tiny body crushed by the hurtling motorcycle.  He touched her face, put his head to her chest, and shook her but nothing.  Blooded lips, a still heart and closed eyes, she was gone.  Scott placed his hands on his head looking at what he had done.

A dry voice came screeching out of the shadows ‘what was that, Petra!’

The amber glow of a cigarette emerged from a small shadowy shack from the side of the alley followed by a head.

‘She’s dead, I’m sorry,’ said Scott.

She ambled over to the girl, with a confused look, twisting her head around randomly.  She sucked back the smoke like it was vital oxygen and the air around was some alien atmosphere that would suffocate her.  Her painfully skinny body expanded and shrank with every breath.  Her filthy vest top hung down revealing the ribs on her chest.  ‘No, no,’ she said whilst stroking the girls face with her withered fingers cigarette shaking in hand.  She stood back up flirted glimpses between the girl and Scott and took another puff.

‘She was my best collector you f**k.’ She said, ‘you owe me, that’s my daughter.  Whose gonna get my money now.  You f*****g owe me.’

‘I’m sorry, she was in the road, I didn’t see her,’ he said

She took another puff and her bloodshot eyes flitted away and back to Scott’s, ‘Where is my money.’

‘She’s dead, said Scott, ‘don’t you care’

‘Listen you f**k,’ she screamed hysterically and rushed towards him pointing her crooked finger at him.  ‘Stop f*****g around, you owe me money, give me what’s mine.’

Scott could feel her acidic breath against his face and lurched back at the onrushing stench.  She continued forward and he grabbed he around her arms stopping her from whatever she was about to do.  

‘Listen you f*****g scumbag don’t you care that your daughter is dead,’ he said.  ‘What the f**k was she doing in the middle of the street?’

The woman seemed to lose strength and momentum and he released her and stepped away rubbing his hands on his jeans.

‘I gave her a morning treat,’ she said.

‘That bottle!’ said Scott.  ‘This f*****g bottle,’ and grabbed it from the little girls clutches.  

‘Be careful,’ she said, ‘there’s some left, it’s mine.’  The woman began trying to grab it and Scott pushed her face but still she came at him grabbing for the bottle.  With a firm slap, he knocked her to the ground.

A small boy and girl emerged from the crude shack; ‘Petra’ said the little girl as they both ran towards the body.  Both seemed disorientated from having just woke.  At least that is what he hoped but in reality, the disorientation was likely from their morning treats.  They leant over her body shaking it, ‘Petra, Petra wake up,’ they shouted.  Scott began to breathe more quickly and pity grabbed his stomach.  Then he looked at the woman again and anger took over.  Anger was easier.

‘Is this all you care about, is it,’ said Scott and threw it at her face.

‘No’ screamed the woman ‘you’re wasting it,’ she crawled along in the dirt grabbing the bottle and inhaling the remnants of any solvent that was left inside.  A smile appeared on the face as she managed to get something from the bottle, her body going limp and relaxed the bottle rolling from her hand.  The two children ran towards her hoping to get a sample of what was inside but it was too late.  Both taking a sniff and throwing it in the junk pile in front, the shack as any remaining solvent was now gone.

‘She’s my baby, my beautiful baby.  She’s not the first I’ve lost.  This is no place for a child; it’s no place for anyone.  She’s been on the bottle since she was off the tit,’ I killed her, I killed her, I killed her.  I put her on the bottle.’  Tears began to well in her eyes as she stared up into the now blue sky.  ‘It’s beautiful isn’t it, up there; that’s where she is now; better there than here.’  She raised up her knees and began to sway them side to side.  A smile crept across her face, ‘She’s an angel’ she said and let out a disturbingly long breath, paused in silence and then wheezed as she inhaled another.

‘Are you alright…’ Scott asked now calm

‘Yerrrs’ she slurred, ‘everything is wonderful,’ the words came from her mouth as she lay in the dirt with her dead daughter only a few feet away.  In a bizarre twisting and jolting of limbs, she managed to get to her feet and trudged along the road back towards Scott.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Scott

‘Oh, just the square, Bye bye’ she waved

‘Wait, what about her?’ said Scott

‘Who?’ asked the woman, continuing to trudge along.

‘Your daughter?’ said Scott

She paused her motion and looked up to the sky ‘my daughter is in the sky’ she said.  She continued to scuff her feet along the ground kicking up dust as she walked past Scott.  It was only now he had noticed the bump she was carrying.   The two children went scurrying after her having collected their goods to sell for the day.

‘I will have another baby to love me soon, don’t you worry honey, don’t you worry’ she squawked.

Scott watched as they walked off into the distance leaving the girl alone and lifeless.  Her floral dress fluttered in the wind, as she lay silent, dead in the dirt.  The fate of Carlos was the furthest thing from his thoughts now as he fell to his knees looking at the little girl.  As he got closer, he could see the rash under her noise from her constant huffing of the solvent.  He looked into the stinking shack wanting to cover her, giving her some respect.  Flies flew around his face as the stench of faeces and urine came clear in his nose.  He covered his nose not caring about what may lay inside and rummaged around in the darkness for anything.  He managed to grab a small yellow blanket with orange stencilled flowers on it and pull it from the hovel. 

He laid the blanket out next to the girl picked he up and laid her back down on top.  She looked like she was just sleeping; she was the same as before the crash apart from one absent shoe.  Scott noticed this and began a frantic search for the missing shoe, as if this was the key to his salvation. 

Finally, he resigned and folded the small blanket over her tiny body managing to cover her entirely.  With her now wrapped in the thin blanket, he knelt down and picked her up in both arms.  Where can I even take her, not the church?  What am I meant to do?  She is dead because of me.  Her weight felt like nothing in his arms as he paced around the shack laden street with no direction in particular in his mind.

Roberto, I can take her to Roberto’s He thought.  He climbed back aboard the instrument of her demise placing her against his shoulder with one hand on the handle bars.  He then kicked out the dent in the plastic fronting and started the engine.  Slowly this time clutching the lifeless body against him like a precious package he rode through the dirt streets.  As tightly as he gripped her, it was too late to show this care; too late to comfort her too late to make her safe.  It was only a short ride but before he got there tears flooded down his face making the blanket wet. 

He arrived at the door of Roberto’s Funeral Home and stepped from the bike girl in hand.  He raised a weary hand and managed a weak bang with his shaking hand.  He tried to shout but nothing came out until he managed to let out, ‘Roberto,’ with a whimper.  He banged again harder this time, ‘Roberto?’

A shuffle was heard inside and multiple bolts opened and the door opened inwards.

‘What do you want’ it was Roberto in a black t-shirt and underpants clearly just got out of bed.

‘I…I’ Unable to speak Scott just moved his mouth.

‘I was sleeping can’t you come back later’ said Roberto

Scott resorted to just holding out the blanket wrapped body to Roberto in hope we would find the words he could not.

‘Very nice Scott, but can you come back later’ said Roberto unmoved.

‘It’s a girl’ Scott managed to force the words from his own mouth.

Roberto yawned and took a shifty look past Scott to see if the street was clear, ‘Ok, I will open early.’

He then gestured for Scott to walk in and he slowly walked in carrying the girl.  There was a think veil of lilac perfume over the foul stench of decaying flesh which choked Scott as he entered.  Scott had always hated the floral smell of lilac but now paired with rotting meat it really repulsed him.  His mouth watered as it prepared for the contents of his stomach to fly out, if there was anything to come out it would have surely hit the floor of Roberto’s home.

‘I… I’ unable to say what he had done he stopped.  ‘It’s a little girl, I need her taking care of.’

‘Ok, place it on the table and take a seat.’ Said Roberto as he sat down in his rickety leather chair and completed another gaping yawn.

The word ‘It’ sickened Scott but he was too numb to react to Roberto’s unsympathetic demeanour other than to momentarily pause his action.  He gently placed the girl down on an old wooden table and made sure the blanket was neatly covering her. 

  There were a few other bodies under sheets on a collection of dissimilar tables dotted around the small room.  In the corner of the room was a bed, Roberto slept right next to the bodies.

‘Let me get my book,’ said Roberto as he scrambled around the clutter of his desk finally grabbing a thick black book.  He buried his face in the book, ‘So firstly, Sex; and don’t say yes please,’ chuckling as he looked up at Scott stone face.  Gauging Scott’s reaction, he soon buried his face back in the book ‘OK, so I think you said it’s a girl.  Again, ‘it,’ leaving Scott wondering if this was the right man to help him.

‘Female’ said Roberto and scrawled it into the book, ‘Name?’

‘Scott Perdido,’ said Scott still dazed

‘Not your name Scott, I know your name, I mean her name.’ scoffed Roberto and looked up expectantly with a smirk.

‘Oh,’ said Scott.  her name, the other kids called her Petra, Petra that was the first time he had known it even after seeing her almost every day on the square.  He racked his brain for any memory of her but the only words he could find were ones used to shoe her away.  ‘It’s Petra’ he finally said sending Roberto’s face back down to the book scrawling her name in a box.

‘Ok there’s a start, surname?’ Asked Roberto

‘I don’t know, I don’t know anything more’ said Scott 

‘Hmm well should I put Perdido then’ Roberto replied.

‘No, she has a mother, I don’t know her name,’ said Scott

Roberto cleared his throat and closed the book then asked ‘Scott who is paying for this.’

‘I am,’ said Scott

‘You are?’ he scoffed at Scott again, ‘and do you have the money?  You know my rules payment upfront, I need payment or you will have to take her back.’  He paused appearing to let Scott process this fact and then said, ‘The trash collectors will take her for recycling, you know that right?’

‘I don’t want that, I will pay, just I need to get the money’ Scott said gritting his teeth.

‘Scott�"’

‘I will get you the f*****g money! He screamed.’  The thoughts raged as they surged around Scott’s mind.  This town is all about money, Trevor, Puerco, Carlos, me, every fucked up situation, the whole f*****g town it’s all money not matter how little of it is around.

Roberto held his gaze at Scott’s angry eyes and paused a while.  ‘Ok, I will hold her here until you can pay but you have four days, then you collect her or she goes into the street.’  With that, he reopened the book, ‘So, name Petra,’ he confirmed and continued across his list ‘Address?’

‘I don’t know anything else’ said Scott now calmed a little.

‘Right, ok, I’ve had this before, I can make it work.’ He said, closed the book and stood up with his hand outstretched to shake Scott’s.  Scott let out a limp arm which Roberto shook vigorously.  ‘Ok Scott four days remember,’ He said before letting go of Scott’s hand and gesturing towards the door.  ‘Oh I forgot to ask, cause of death?’

‘I’ not wanting to face that he had killed her Scott said simply ‘she was run over.’

‘Oh…’ said Roberto seeming to hear the unspoken “by me” and he moved on.  ‘OK, and do you want her to go to the church?’ Scott had not even considered this, His heart raced as the imaged of the bloody gowns of the priest flashed into his mind.  The corpse was likely now lying flat on a table as Petra’s body was.

‘No, no, erm she can’t, I mean non religious’ he blurted out in a panic.

‘Ok,’ Roberto said in a confused tone but not asking too many questions was part of his job so he left it at that.  ‘Good bye then Scott,’ he said as he wrote the final details in his book and closed it shut with a snap.  Scott walked out the building as Roberto closed the door behind him.

He still had his arms out as if he was carrying her but looking down there where just his shaking hands.  He placed his hands slowly by his side and did his best to remain calm. Her blood, no, this is my blood, he now noticed the dry blood that had trickled down his arm.  The skin from his right arm had scraped away during the fall leaving a raw patch of bloody flesh.  His t-shirt was in tatters around where his arm and shoulder with parts along with sand stuck in the cuts and grazes.  He pulled it off ripping it from the drying wounds with a wince and tucked it in to his jeans. 

The only other evidence left now was the dent on the front right side of Puerco’s bike and the stink of the blanket that clung to his skin.  With the respite of adrenaline giving way to intense pain, he raised up with watch to check the time 08:37.  Scott was desperate for some sort of company, some comfort, so decided to go home.  He walked back to Puerco’s bike wincing with every stride.  He straddled the bike and started the engine.  He chugged along slowly all the way back home being careful to avoid the main streets the whole way.

He pulled up outside the door to his building and went inside and up the stairs.  He could hear voices from the room.  He felt sure it was Policia, they must have found out where he was and what Carlos had done.  He turned to run but stopped, no point in running.  He had killed a child; he deserved whatever they would do to him.  For some reason of which he wasn’t sure, he knocked before pulling the door open.