Six in Billions

Javier Killam knew he was shit faced. It was Saturday night, or more aptly Sunday morning in early August. He had the day off and he lived alone. The Hispanic man was forty seven years young, a thin man with a pot belly, short pepper gray hair and slight limp to his walk. His blue jeans were near new and his denim colored shirt was at least twenty years old, but still looked new, or so he thought. Tonight had been 'go to town' night for him, so he was dressed to the nines in his genuine alligator skin boots. His friends had started the night drinking with him, but they had to work tomorrow so they left early, leaving him in the 'Capitol Bar' in Socorro to drink himself silly. The bar was shared, with both locals and students from New Mexico School of Mines as patrons. This night it was mostly a sausage fest, with only a few college girls and their over protective, over attentive college friends guarding them. Not that Javier minded, he was not there to get laid, he was there to get a drunk on. He had moved into town from his father's land last year, buying a small house on Liles Street, just down from the university where he worked as a grounds keeper. It was a good job, better than any he had when he was married to that whore Emilia, the woman who, after giving him twenty years of his life and two children decided sleeping around was her God given right.

Javier was almost not bitter anymore, it had been two years and in that time he had a girlfriend or two of his own, including one lonely Mines student, who left that first morning saying Javier reminded her of her father. She came back to visit 'daddy' for half a semester, usually appearing late at night and very drunk. Apparently she was only good at sex, because her grades were so bad she failed out and had to go home to her real father. Javier had met her at the Capital Bar, since then it had become his bar of choice.

“Another tequila and beer Juan?” asked the waitress, who knew his name was Javier.

“Sure Tania.”, replied Javier, who knew her name was Allyson. It was a game they played. Sometimes Javier played it with the other waitresses, but they didn't get it.

“You going full drunk tonight, eh?”

“Si, querida. You thinking of making a pass at me?”

“Nah, I can't cook, and I know you are the kind of guy who would want breakfast in the morning.”

Javier laughed as she headed off to get his shot and Miller High Life beer. His house was walking distance from the bar, not that he had walked, but he should be able to make the drive home when they finally booted him out. Tonight Gary was on as the manager, he might let Javier stay and drink after hours. That happened most nights he worked. Sitting back in his booth he took in the crowd and listened to this 'music' they were playing on the juke box. It was crap, but it had a beat. Javier would take sad Spanish 'campiseno' music any night of the week. Fuck. A goddamn animal had walked into the bar again. Javier squinted his eyes shut and opened one cautiously. Still there. Threading through the tables was the donkey of Juan Valdez, complete with bags of coffee, open and spilling their contents on the floor of the Capitol.

'Damn', thought Javier, 'people say you need mushrooms or LSD to have good visions, but I only need tequila.' The beer was to nurse after doing the shot, to force him to a slow steady pace. Javier had never gotten sick at the Capitol yet, he aimed to keep it that way.

He pulled himself unsteadily to his cowboy booted feet and stumbled to the bathroom, while Allyson put his liquor down on his table.

When he came back the donkey was gone, at the bar former President Bush was drinking a wheat beer. Javier headed over to him for a word about the economy. He was not sure when Bush had started frequenting the Capitol, but was glad to discuss politics with him when he showed up. Tonight though Allyson cut him off at the pass, grabbing his arm and leading him back to the table.

“Sit Javier. Don't cause any problems.”

“I was just gonna...”

“I know what you 'was just gonna' do. You got that look in your eyes. That ain't Bush, its never Bush, you think Bush would show up on a Saturday night in a dive bar like this in the middle of a town called 'Help'? Sit. Drink. Gary is staying after hours, are you in?”

Javier nodded, and his face blushed, 'Never Bush?', he thought, 'It is always Bush, he is a good guy, one of the people. That is why he comes here and he always has time for me.'

Picking up the shot he looked at it closely, making sure the monkey swinging about from the ceiling fans hadn't thrown anything into it. Monkey's were like that, tossing their shit around, screaming at you, things like, “You never loved me!” or “Why did you hit me daddy?!”, stuff that didn't make any sense.

No monkey feces, the drink was a clear amber color, but Javier kept an eye on the monkey anyway, if it got too close he would toss the shot glass at it. He focused the rest of his attention on the tv, the subtitles were on and Javier could read English well enough, it was a scene from Denver, all sorts of riots going on up there, plus problems in Albuquerque, Los Lunas and even Belen. People were shooting each other, that is what it looked like on the television anyway. No one in the bar was much watching or caring. Bush's eyes were riveted to the same television Javier was watching, for a moment they made eye contact and it seemed to Javier that Bush had something to say to him. He almost got up to talk to him, when the zombie entered the bar.

It was a slow, shuffling kind of zombie. Like from that old, old movie “Dawn of the Dead” that Javier brought his then future wife to see at the drive in thirty years ago. This zombie was not like those fast zombies, like from that movie “Dawn of the Dead” that he had seen at the theater a few years ago. Seeing a zombie did something to Javier's mind, something 'clicked' and he had an epiphany. There was no donkey, there was no shit throwing monkey and maybe, there was no Bush. Allyson was right, no Bush. He was fucked up. Laughing he made eye contact with Bush again and raised his Miller to him in a toast, Bush returned it. Fucking tequila, Bush still looked like Bush, the monkey still hung from one fan spinning slowly, one hand filled with a good portion of shit to throw and the zombie still shuffled towards the bar. Javier just sat back and took it all in, sipping his beer slowly.

The zombie was a college student, like someone out of a movie, he had a white shirt on with a single red letter 'M' on the front, his pants were also the same color of red as were his leather shoes. The guy was a gringo, not mixed with 'la raza' or Indian. White and tan, short brown hair, tinted with the sun. His eyes were zombie eyes, white, kinda gray. His hands were grimy and bloody, one of them looked all broken up, dribbling blood on the floor. No one else seemed to notice him, so Javier knew he was not real. And some people stayed home Saturday nights, he thought grinning.

Allyson chose that moment to stop by and asked, “What is so goddamn funny Paco?”

“The zombie that came in.”

“Zombie? That is a new one, usually you are more of a president or monkey kind of guy.” said Allyson.

“Well Tina, even old guys learn new things once in awhile.”

“I've known a lot of old guys and I don't know if I agree with you. You want a refill yet?”

“Si, querida.” Javier said.

“Right away, I don't dare let you start to sober up on me.” Allyson winked before waking away.

Bemused Javier watched her go, what did that wink mean? Probably she wanted to sleep with him. Women these days were easy and bold, acting so much the man that Javier sometimes lost interest. He turned back to the zombie and watched him approach a regular, a little wiry white guy Javier never did get to know. Probably a professor or a spook working out of the university. Javier thought he might have seen him there a time or two anyway. Of course at this point in his night he couldn't be really sure, Javier always thought of the guy as being named 'Pete', he looked like a 'Pete' to him. A good solid white name. A disciples name, honest and true. There were no disciples named Javier.

The zombie got next to Pete and leaned into him and that is when the show got really good. Pete backed off, but the zombie was marginally less drunk and managed to get a hold on him. The teeth went into Pete's neck, Pete screamed, for a moment. Gary looked over at the blood, his lips pursing with the words 'What the fuck?' and then everything started moving really slow.

Javier's grin spread from ear to ear, he knew paying for top shelf tequila would pay off. The zombie kept gnawing on Pete's neck, chomping on it despite being hit by Gary with the bar's baseball bat on his head and back. Then the other men joined in, pulling the zombie off of Pete and mobbing it once the thing was on the ground. One of the mob slipped and fell to the ground, Javier saw a bloody hand pulling on the guy. The women had all fled to one end of the bar and were the first to see the other zombies enter the Capitol. Their screams drew Javier's attention, their pointing directed his eyes to the front door. His eyesight was moving in slow stops and starts now, he noticed he had another shot and beer in front of him. When had those arrived? Javier tossed the shot back and looked back at the fighting. Sure enough more zombies had arrived, three, four, ten, they crowded into the bar and the men started using chairs, mugs and even tables to try and stem their advance. The women were gathered up by Allyson and herded towards the back of the bar, to the emergency exit, she waved frantically at Javier, yelling something at him. Javier just waved back and started working on his beer.

The fighting was brutal, a no holds barred kind of thing and Javier was wondering where his mind came up with this stuff. It ended as he knew it would, the zombies won. Gary stood up from the pile, slowly he started towards the back to the emergency exit to follow the women, who were long gone. It was Pete who noticed Javier. The group was halfway past him when Pete, now with only one eye, focused on Javier and started shambling his way. Javier was not done with his beer, he tipped the last quarter mug into his mouth noting it tasted warm and sour. He brought his eyes to the monkey hanging from the slowly moving fan. The monkey's shit was gone.

“Goddamn it!”, Javier said out loud, drawing the attention of the entire mob of zombies, “That God damned monkey threw his shit in my beer!” Javier pointed to the beast that was laughing as only a monkey can, and hopping from fan to fan in excitement.

Pete reached Javier and pulled him out of the booth into the mob. Minutes later Javier rose again, his limp was more pronounced than ever now and his eyes were opaque. Slowly he stumbled after the rest of the zombies out the emergency exit and after the women into the night.

..home..