Tim I

The man had driven for a while. Looking around at the thinning suburban sprawl, he was in awe of the kaleidoscope of off-brown houses that stubbornly tried to melt into the desert. The building codes on the fringes of Phoenix stated you had to match your paint with the color of the surroundings. Trying to camouflage cookie-cutter houses and fake adobe style buildings into the landscape only made them stand out more. It was ugly in a way that was funny. Not enough so to offend his senses but ugly enough that it made him smile. How people find things to fret about, to draw such arbitrary lines. They should realize how meaningless it all is. Especially how quick it goes. He did enjoy one aspect of his job, he liked to remind people of that. 

That reminded him of his next job and his smile dropped. In its wake was a soreness from his seldom used cheek muscles.

He realized he hadn’t smiled in some time. Too many distractions. He couldn't stop thinking about him. Was it a mistake he had let him live? He would find out shortly. Work had him increasingly spread in all directions. He had had a busy week. Then again, he had a hand in many pots and something was always cooking. The visit in Phoenix well... it might be uncouth. But it had to be done to trigger events he would navigate. He doesn’t usually leave work unfinished. Messy stuff. With no sort of satisfaction or apex or arch that could be seen in the moment. Shame. 

What he was working on now was much better. Simpler. A stop in Tucson before the main attraction, Tim was to meet with a junkie with more toxins in his brain than sense. Those were his favorite kind of people.

~

At 11:28 AM a beaten up 2003 volvo entered the neighborhood of Oasis Lane. It was a dirt road with half a dozen houses spread out on either side before the road ended in a heavy bar with two reflective red X’s across it. Oasis Lane was a small side street hidden away in the hills and horse properties of the sonoran desert. Where people living in these large homes rarely traveled to and fro. Anyone living here did so because it was lots of land and it was cheap and they didn’t need to see a soul if they didn’t want to. 

Next to the bar with the X’s was a sign reading DEAD END/NO OUTLET half of it had almost faded and peeled off entirely. Behind these man-made barriers was rocky terrain of desert shrubs, cactus, and a family of road runners that loved to catch the lizards making their way over the dirt road. It was open land and warm and best of all saw only small use by automobiles. But even lizards and road runners alike knew this car did not belong in this neighborhood. They rolled and slid to a stop as the worn down tires creeped over the dusty gravel road. The little lizard forgot about The Chase, that was its daily life. Instead it watched the lime green machine come to a halt. Then they hid from it. 

Inside were two individuals.

The first was a man who somehow looked both 15 and 50. He wore a stained grey hoodie and sweatpants that barely fit on account on how obese he was. The heavy bags under his eyes pulled his face down. His beard was sparse and thin and wiry. He side-eyed his partner in crime (and crime was definitely a-brewing). She was a small woman with a black tank top, one strap falling off her thin shoulder. The color of the top matched her greasy hair pulled back and hiding under a backwards snapback hat. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asked, licking her chapped and bleeding lips. She turned up the radio which was blaring some electronic whines and groans. He slapped at her hand turning back down the volume while looking around the neighborhood. Like the sound was somehow affecting his vision. 

“Yes Ma, that house there with the red mailbox. Is the door white?” He asked.

She turned and looked behind her across the street.

“I don’t know. I can’t even see the house. It’s so far down there.” She replied, trying to see through the foliage. 

“Why don’t you check? There's plenty of cover,” He said, meaning the neighboring house was a half-acre away. His eyes were wide and unblinking, moving over the terrain. She flexed her back and ground her jaw anxiously. “Can we just go back to stealing packages?” The woman asked. 

“Oh we're gonna get more than just packages this time. We won’t have to put in work again for months.” 

“Months?” She asked, snapping her head to look at him. Her eyes were tired and scared but more than both of those, they were hungry. 

He was done asking. “Take the vest.” He said as he gripped the wheel and stared ahead. 

She relented and did as she was told. Almost absent mindedly he slapped her ass as she crawled back over the center console. She threw out the fast food bags and various trash and found the neon vest that a construction worker would wear. She put it on, now in ‘crackhead incognito’ they called it. 

She kissed him and scampered off and disappeared around the drive, walking past the red mailbox. He waited and beads of sweat started to form across his brow. He took out a bit of crystal and lit it up in a glass pipe. It calmed him down a bit. But also made his vision rattle and warmth press over him. His ears rang slightly and he had that taste linger on his gums. His heart pounded harder and he heard it droning out the dim music. 

She came back.

“You using without me?” She threw the vest at him and slammed the door behind her as she got back in. The vest fluttered off his face and fell in his lap, he angrily swiped it away. 

“Bitch, what you see?” He said now finding himself staring at her cracking lips. And then past her and into the long driveway. He felt then like you could walk down it forever. It just kept turning and twisting. But there was a door at the end of it. At least that’s what they heard. A white door. A door waiting for the both of them. He clutched the gun in his pants. The one he got this morning with more rock and the info about this place. 

“No one is home alright, No cameras either.” She said, her words snapped him out of wherever he was. 

“Good, just like he said. Let's do this.” He began to get out.

“Wait,” She stopped him with a hand on his wrist, he ripped himself from her grip and slammed the door closed again. “I told you! It’s good. We good,” He stared at her, licking his own dry lips. “We paid good for this info! We gotta do it! Now!”

“We?” She said with her brow furrowed, tilting her angry face around to look into his eyes. “We?” She said again, hitting him in the face. He hardly felt it. But it fired him up.

“I know you liked it!” He yelled back to her. He gripped her flailing arm and pushed her into the corner of the car. Making her small.“I have to deal with you, so yeah, WE!” He breathed deep and they both calmed down. She knew how he could hurt her. He could see it in her eyes. “Let’s hit this house, ain’t no alarm on it, ain’t nobody home. Let’s get this shit, he’ll pay for it. He’ll pay.”

Still shrunk into the corner she nodded and repeated. “He’ll pay, I know sugar, he’ll pay…” Her blood shot eyes wavered and she looked down. “But he scared me.”

He sat back in the driver seat unhanding her. “I know, he scared me too. But why would he give us this,” and he pulled out the magazine fed pistol. Black steel with black grip. “He gave us the tools for the trade. Let's get it now. I don’t want to let this man down. He said it was easy enough for us to split.”

“And then?” She asked.

“Then we’ll get out of here for a bit and smoke and fuck baby.” He smiled.

She smiled too, showing her chipped and browning teeth. “Yeah we will. I ain't scared sugar. I just want a little something before we go…” She motioned to the pipe. “Should we steal their mail too? Might have credit card deals.” 

“Nah, we aint gonna have to do that low shit for a long time,” He loaded up a bit for both of them and took in the smoke and kissed it into her mouth. She inhaled deep, then did a hit herself. It made their heads swim like they were walking on clouds. They almost floated down the path to the white door beyond. A brave thought entered his head, one he wouldn't dare think of sober. 

If there’s enough to split…

Then there's a lot to NOT split. 

A small lizard scampered out of the shrubs and onto the road. He watched the strange creatures, both elated and scared at the same time, stroll down the path towards the house. Odd. Frightening. The green thing on wheels was still moaning with its doors open. Weird. He calmed himself by bobbing up and down, getting a better view as they disappeared behind the mailbox and into the labyrinth of flora he called home. He wondered. The red box at the front. That was what people were interested in most. Like that bit of water that dripped from the strange snake. People amassed in front of it. Checking on it. They seemed to revere it like the water pool was revered by all. What that lizard knew but what the two floating humans did not, was that in that box were indeed interesting items. What exactly? Well that was the end of the lizard's knowledge. However, if the humans would have looked they would have found  a retirement check from a little organization called the US Marine Corps. As well as a plethora of reading from Gun organizations around the nation. 

They were gone and it was time for him to vanish too. It was a strange day. He was a small lizard with only a few weeks attached to his soul and he had not yet learned to avoid any and all things. (That is how small lizards find themselves big lizards) He decided he was out in the open for too long and no snacks were even around him. Foolish. But alas, it was too late. He felt the pounding vibrations and the scratching behind him. In a split moment a road runner had scooped him up, bit him in two, and swallowed him still alive. 

But that is nature. 

It would make the man with the feather in his hat sigh and shrug. Boring.