The scent of grilled beef and melted cheese clung to the air. Lining the walls were desert paintings and movie props. My seat looked like a barrel and felt like a Spanish Donkey. I doubt the designer had comfort in mind.
The Burger Barrel, it opened back in the 50s. A kitschy little place with a western theme. I took my son there after his First Communion. I told him he could get anything he wanted. He chose a chocolate milkshake and french fries. We didn’t make a second visit, until two decades had past.
“Dad, did you hear her?” His voice shook me from my thoughts.
“Hear who?”
“The waitress. She wants to know your order.”
I looked up and saw her. She was young, black, pretty, and dressed in a red and white cowgirl uniform which was probably as old as the restaurant we sat in. “I’m sorry, dear. I guess I zoned off.”
“Don’t worry about it! Gives me a chance to breathe. Everyone else in this place seems to be in a hurry to nowhere.” She nodded towards the middle of the restaurant. The place was packed. Men, women, and children all talking louder by the second.
“Do you carry any fish?”
“We have a salmon sandwich, but that’s it I’m afraid. Not really our specialty.”
“It sounds wonderful. Could I get that and a glass of ice water?”
“Of course. So we’ve got one salmon sandwich, one double cheeseburger, an order of fries, one ice water, one Coke, and a chocolate milkshake. Is that right?”
“That’s right,” said my son. He was past 30 now. The blonde hair he had as a child went brown by 20, now it was beginning to gray. He wore a boring blue suit with no tie and had the demeanor of a used car salesman.
The girl smiled then walked away.
“Why’d you get caught up with those bastards, huh? They’d string that girl up if they got half a chance. I didn’t raise you like that.” I didn’t know a lot about my son’s life, but I knew he had surpassed me in the fuck-up department.
“You didn’t raise me. And I don’t share their ideology. They had money and I had debt. You could have paid it off. I know you kept something from your old life.” His brown eyes held nothing but contempt.
“I wanted you to be a man. A man doesn’t need his daddy to get him out of trouble.”
“You’re right, and I don’t need you. So enough with the lecture.”
“Then what’s this about? You brought me down to this hell-hole just to tell me what a lousy father I am?”
“Hell-hole? The Burger Barrel? Jesus-fucking-Christ.” He laughed.
“Don’t you blasphemize just because you’re angry with me, that ain’t right. This place smells like death and looks even worse. You know I’m right about that.”
“It smells like burgers.”
“You think those grow on trees?”
“Okay, Dad. Let’s cut the shit. I’m not interested in how eating fish makes you closer to Jesus, and I’m definitely not interested in your fucked up view of morality. I’m here to say goodbye. I can’t pay them off, so I’m skipping town. I just wanted to have one nice meal with my father before I left my old life behind.”
“You should’ve started with that.”
“Well too fucking bad.”
The waitress walked back. “Sorry about the wait. Here’s your drinks.” She handed me my water and my son his Coke, along with the same ridiculous milkshake he got so long ago.
“Thank you,” I said. The girl left and then we went back to talking. “So, do you know where you’re heading?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a train ticket to San Diego and then a boat ride to-”
“Don’t get specific. I’m glad you’ve got things figured out.”
“So what about you, Dad? Now that you’re too old to extort money from whores, what have you been doing with your life?” I half wanted to slap him upside the head. What kind of shit is that to ask a person?
“Keeping busy.” Wake up, swim, eat, gun range, eat, go to sleep. That was every day of my life for the past three years.
“Well that’s good to hear. You ever visit Mom?”
“She’s dead, son.”
He gave me a look like I was dumbest man in the world. “Yeah, Dad, I know. I meant her grave.”
“Well, then you should have said that.”
The girl came back with our food and put it in front of us. We thanked her, smiled, and waited for her to walk away.
“Can we just be civil for one meal, Dad?”
“Alright.” I bit into my sandwich and took a sip of water. While we ate I looked around at the other people. Strangely enough they all seemed happy. Whether they were looking at their phones or each other. “You sure you haven’t left a trail behind?”
“100 percent? Nah, I’m not sure of that.”
“Well that’s real comforting, son.” I rolled my eyes and felt at the Glock under my jacket. I glanced over at the window, the parking lot was full but it seemed to just be the customer’s vehicles. Aside from my truck, it was just a whole load of family soccer vans and midget cars, nothing you’d wanna look twice at.
“They’re idiots. They won’t realize I’m gone until it’s way too late.”
“You should know better than to underestimate folks.”
“They’re skinheads. I think I’m alright.”
“You think because someone’s an asshole that makes them dumb?” I chuckled. “If only that were the case.”
After my sandwich was gone I watched my son for a moment. He had already finished his burger and was now dipping his french fries in the milkshake. My thirty-year old son, Charlie, was dipping his food in a chocolate milkshake. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” He asked.
“You know.”
“Don’t judge, it’s good. You wanna try one?” He held out a fry dripping chocolate goop.
“I’d rather die.”
Charlie smiled and kept on eating. Then his phone rang. He looked at the screen then at me, he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Hello?” He answered it. I don’t know why he did that.
As he talked and tried to act normal, the waitress came back over with the check. Before I even thought to shush her, she said, “So how has The Burger Barrel treated you two today? Happy with your meals? Want me to rustle up some desert for you two outlaws?”
“Can we get a minute?”
“Sure thing,” she said smiling and walked away.
Charlie put the phone down on the table and stared out the window. “They’re two blocks away. They know we’re here.”
“How!?”
“They heard the waitress.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You said it.”
“Okay, Charlie. You need to get up.”
“And do what? They know my car, they’ll see it drive away.”
“They don’t know my truck. Here, take my keys and keep your head down. I’ll keep them busy until you’re safe.”
“Dad, I don’t-”
“Shut your mouth and do what your father tells you to do.”
He took the key and started walking out. Last thing he said was, “There will be two of them, they’ll have guns.”
Since Charlie had my Chevy, I was in no hurry to leave. I took a sip of water and stared out the window.
It didn’t take long for them to arrive. They drove a black Volkswagen sedan and burst through the front door like they owned the place. If it wasn’t for the difference in their height, they would’ve looked like twins. They scanned the room and then the taller of the two yelled, “Have any of you shits seen this man?” He held out his phone with a picture of Charlie on it.
The customers looked uncomfortable and those with children tried to cover them. One family left through the back door.
“That guy just left. You missed him by a minute,” said a young looking cashier.
“Bullshit, pizzaface. His Toyota is in the parking lot.”
“No, I’m telling yo-”
“Covering for strangers ain’t a habit you wanna get into, boy. Now shut your mouth,” said the shorter guy. Sometimes the truth smells the same as bullshit. I was glad this was one of those times.
“You two need to either order something or get out,” said the waitress while blocking them from moving towards the customers.
“Yeah, I’ll order something,” started the taller of the two. He was wearing ACUs without any patches and a Black Flag T-shirt “I’d like this motherfucker on the phone here, a diet coke, and maybe…Hmm, yeah. And a side of your ass, little lady.”
“Okay, get out. Get the hell out right this goddamn minute.” The waitress tried to keep calm, but she wasn’t backing down and I knew what was coming next.
“I saw him,” I said. I didn’t need to stick my neck out. Charlie was already safe. But I wanted to play the hero, I’d never done that before.
The girl looked at me and shook her head as if I should’ve known better. She was right, I should’ve.
“Say what, grampa?”
“I said, I saw him. Now why don’t you come talk to me instead of her?”
They pushed past the waitress and stood over my table. “Where’d he go?” asked the shorter one. He was dressed in a zipped up leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and wore Doc Martens on his feet.
“Into the restroom there. He seemed real worried.” I needed to get them as far away from the customers as possible.
“Stay with the old man, Thomas. I’m gonna go see if this fucker’s leading us on. Also make sure none of these fine individuals here leave. Wouldn’t wanna upset anyone’s meal now,” said the shorter one as he went into the restroom.
“You got it, Hal.” Thomas licked his lips and winked at the waitress.
She walked over to the table, and looked like she was going to spill the truth about Charlie. Thankfully, something else had Thomas’ attention.
“You can’t keep us here,” said a customer with a family. He started to stand up from his seat. Then Thomas pulled out a Beretta and in two quick motions, gut punched the man and drove the hilt of his pistol into the guy’s nose. The man crumpled into his seat and his family shrieked.
“We can do whatever the fuck we want. For the next 10 minutes we own this joint.” Thomas surveyed the room while giving his commands. “Now hands up, all of you. If I see anyone touch their phone they’re gonna get a bullet. You read?”
“Maybe you ought to go help your friend, a desperate man is known to lash out if it’s his only choice.” At that point I was winging it, maybe I was winging it from the start.
“Well then I guess that desperate man will have to contend with Hal’s Colt. Tell me, grampa, can desperation stop a bullet?”
“You think you’re going to get away with this? You think you own the world?” My fingers were itching to grab my gun, but I needed something to draw his eyes. If I tried to pull it, he’d blow me away.
“I think, if that man we’re looking for ain’t in the toilets over there, I’m gonna get to waste your sorry ass. What are you, 100 or something? Your face looks like a scrotum, old man.”
Right then I knew there was no way out of this situation for me. I was never a good negotiator and these bastards were crazy. That’s when Hal returned from the restrooms, he pushed open the door with his gun already pointed at me.
I crouched behind the waitress and drew my Glock.
Hal started shooting and the girl took most of it.
I fired back, hitting Hal in the shoulder. He dropped his pistol and screamed. It was a good shot, a lucky shot, but the only one I got.
Thomas unloaded his entire clip in my direction. One bullet hit me and the rest hit nearly everything else. My left ear was giving me nothing but ringing from the gunfire, but even half-deaf I could hear the screams and cries of those hurt and those trying to escape.
Thomas grabbed a knife off one of the tables and started walking towards me, only to be stopped by Hal. “Forget him, we need to go. I ain’t taking the heat for this shit.”
Thomas howled and grabbed a soda cup off an abandoned table. “Don’t forget your piece, Hal.” Thomas pointed to the revolver which lay on the floor.
“You take it.” Hal’s hand was preoccupied with applying pressure to his wound.
“Shit, alright.” Thomas tossed the soda and grabbed the gun.
I lay in a pool of blood. Some of it mine, most of it belonging to the waitress and the innocent bystanders who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had taken a shot to the chest and it was getting harder to breathe by the second. I wasn’t going to die a hero, that was a fact. I was too far from anything that would even be in the same sentence as hero. If I just kept my mouth shut they would have left, maybe slapped someone around, but no one had to die. That said, I sure as hell wasn’t going to go laying down, either.
I used my left elbow to prop myself up against that barrel of a chair, then grabbed my Glock. My hand shaking I aimed for the back of their heads as they went out the door. I pulled that trigger three times before the gun flew out of my hand. The first two shots missed, the third hit Hal in the back of the head.
It wasn’t justice and it didn’t have to be. I’d done my bit and was ready to face judgment, the rest was in the Lord’s hands. As Thomas snarled and took aim, I closed my eyes.
by 
Joseph Stryker
Latest posts by Joseph Stryker (see all)
- Harriet’s Handgun - November 27, 2018
- Blood, Bullets and Burgers - December 23, 2015
- Amateur Outlaw - October 20, 2015
0 Comments