Yellow Mama E zine

The Dead Don't Leave

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by G Garnet

 

         Caracas at night is a beautiful lie. From the hillside, the lights shimmer like diamonds, but in the plaza, the air tastes of cordite and rot. I stood by the fountain, clutching a suitcase packed with ten grand in greenbacks and a fortune in antibiotics. I was the knight in shining armor; Sofia was the girl who’d promised me a soul.

         "Sofia?" I whispered.

         The shadows broke. Two men stepped out in tactical vests, leveling submachine guns at my ribs. Behind them stood Sofia. She wasn't wearing the sundress from the photos. She was in charcoal fatigues, a radio clipped to her chest.

          "Drop the bag, gringo," the taller one barked, his face hidden behind a skull-mask.

I didn't drop it. I looked at Sofia. "I brought the medicine for your mother," I said, my voice steady, pathetic. "And the money for the house. Just like I promised."

          I reached into my pocket. The men tightened their triggers. I pulled out a velvet box. The diamond caught the flickering streetlamp. "I’m a dreamer, Sofia. I thought love still meant something."

         The leader sneered. "He’s a fool. Kill him and—"

         Crack.

         The leader’s head snapped back as Sofia’s pistol barked. Before the second man could pivot, she fired again. A jagged hole appeared in his chest. They hit the pavement like sacks of wet flour.

          Silence returned. Sofia stepped over the bodies, her face a mask of iron, but her eyes were breaking. She grabbed my collar. "You idiot," she said. "You were supposed to be a jerk. Why did you have to be real?"

           She shoved me toward a dark alley. "Run. If the rest of the crew finds you, I can’t stop them twice."

          "Sofia, come with me."

          She looked at the ring in the dirt. "In this city, the dead don't leave. And I died a long time ago."

          She vanished into the dark, leaving me with my life and a heart heavier than the suitcase.

 

       George Garnet, a writer who thrives in the shadows, has seen his fiction published in esteemed publications like Mystery Tribune, Switchblade, Out of the Gutter, Mystery Weekly, Pulp Modern Flash, Yellow Mama, The Dark City, and other shadowy corners of the literary world. He calls the vibrant chaos of Melbourne home.

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      Luke Lester is an artist and writer from Victoria, Canada. He has recently been published in Absolute Underground, Black Petals, Flash Fiction North, Paragraph Planet, Ultramarine Literary Review, and Yellow Mama. More of his art and writing can be found on his blog: The Other Place.