Muerte Con Carne by Shane McKenzie Page B

rolled off the man’s back. The sound came again, and this time Marta saw the dart hit the woman in the neck. The woman shrieked, fell on the ground beside her child, clawing at the dirt to get closer to him.
    “What is this? What the fuck are you doing! ” Marta ran to the woman, pulled the dart out of her neck. She knelt down by the child, tried to scoop him into her arms, but the boy screamed, shrill and deafening, as if to touch him at all was pure agony.
    “Bonita.” The voice was deep, with a hint of fascination.
    Marta thought it sounded vaguely familiar, but didn’t have much time to think about it before the dart hit her in the arm, a quick deep sting that numbed her flesh almost instantly. She stumbled forward, landed on top of the woman’s back. Her arms and legs hung uselessly from her body and her vision began to blur. A gruff laughter filled her ears as the tips of the brown leather boots stepped toward her.
     
    ***
     
    “Maybe slow it down, mi amigo.” The bartender’s face swam in Felix’s vision, the man’s thick mustache like a squirming black centipede arched over his mouth.
    “‘Nother shot. Pour it up.” Felix slammed the shot glass on the bar top, knocked it over. He glanced over at the other two men who were both looking at him. It looked like they were laughing at him, but he couldn’t be sure. The neon light from the wall clock spread blue across their faces.
    The bartender sighed. “Whatever you say.”
    Felix took the shot, held his breath to make sure it stayed down. He hissed, slapped the bar and nearly tipped backward on his stool. A pair of arms caught him, caressed his chest, and all he could think was how good it felt to be touched. How good it felt to have Marta beneath him, begging him for more. When the wet lips touched his ear, he thought for a moment that it was Marta, but then he smelled the cigarettes on the breath and remembered the stubby woman who kept walking in and out of the bar.
    “Come on, Papi. Lemme show you my pussy. I’ll show you and you love it.”
    “¡Deja a mi jodido cliente en paz, Lupe! Vete.” The bartender shooed her off like some dog that had just tracked mud over his floors.
    “Suck my tits, motherfucker.” The woman waddled away, toward the other two men who looked far happier to see her than Felix.
    Felix tapped his finger on the shot glass. He didn’t even really want another shot, but Marta’s face swam in his mind and he wanted to drown it away, hold it under an ocean of tequila until the bubbles stopped.
    The bartender did as he was asked, but shook his head. “That bad, mi amigo?”
    “She broke my heart, Ignacio. Sh-shattered it like a fucking vase.” He slapped the bar hard, stung his palm. “All I did was love her, man. Th-that’s all…all I did…”
    The woman’s scream filled the air like fireworks, and Felix flinched, nearly fell backward again but caught himself on the edge of the bar.
    “Hijo de puta…” Ignacio knelt down, came back up with a shotgun. “That’s enough!”
    Felix blinked away the fogginess, then faced the shrill sound of the woman’s phlegmy screams. She lay on her back, holding her face, staring up at the fat Mexican man as he cocked his leg back and kicked her in the stomach. The woman rolled to the side, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for air.
    “I said that’s enough!” Ignacio pumped his shotgun and aimed. “Get out of my bar, motherfucker.”
    “Bitch said…I had a small dick. I showed her and she laughed.” The man kicked her again and the thud was followed by more screaming as the woman found oxygen.
    Felix jumped to his feet, but brought his barstool with him as he stomped toward the man. The woman saw him coming, curled herself into a ball and whimpered.
    “Wait a min-” Ignacio’s voice was cut off as the barstool cracked across the fat man’s shoulder, just where it met his neck. He hit the floor, kicked his legs, his teeth bared, eyes squinted in