The Extinct by Victor Methos Page B

Ricans, Mexicans, Whites, Asians, Indians. Some sat on the concrete benches that circled the room, some sat on the floor and still others were lying on the ground, too drunk to sit up.
    Eric walked across the room and noticed a familiar face. It was Charles. He was leaning against the wall, his head back and his eyes closed.
“Chuck,” Eric said as went over to him and sat down.
Charles opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize him at first but then his eyes grew wide and he smiled.
“Youngblood,” Charles said, “what in Christ you doin’ here?”
Eric shrugged. “DUI. It’s bullshit, I was barely over the limit.”
Charles shook his head. “This ain’t no place for you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“No, I ain’t just talkin’. Young kid like you’s as good as a woman in here.”
    Eric began looking around the room at the faces staring at him. They were hard, and scarred from the hardness and they were looking at him as if he wasn’t human. Charles erupted in laughter, exposing his yellowed teeth.
    “Just fuckin’ with you youngblood. The guards come by every few minutes.” Charles looked through the bars to see if a guard was near and then pulled out two cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He gave one to Eric and took out some matches, lighting the cigarettes and looking through the bars again. “They let you smoke,” he said. “But you gotta pay the guards if they catch you.” He blew the gray smoke out in small rings. “So why you in here, boy? It ain’t like you to be such a fool.”
    The concern in Charles’ voice disarmed Eric and he found he couldn’t put on a macho façade like he wanted to. He looked around at the dirty walls and the piss stained floors and the small dirty toilet and emotion began flowing out of him as tears started to seep from his eyes. “My dad was killed a couple weeks ago and I can’t get it out of my head. I see his face in my dreams; I see his dead body. It just won’t go away.”
    Charles nodded as if he understood exactly what Eric was going through. “You said killed, not died.”
    Eric didn’t respond and Charles kept talking.
    “Well, you only got two choices youngblood; revenge or forgiveness. Forgiveness ain’t never worked for me. Sometimes, the pain runs so deep only revenge can reach it, you know what I’m talkin’ about?”
“Yeah.” Eric took a puff of the cigarette; it was wet and the smoke tasted like rusted metal. “How’d you get like this, Chuck?”
“Homeless?”
Eric nodded.
“Same choice as you got youngblood; revenge or forgiveness.”
“What happened?”
    “I was married when I was in Nam. Beautiful girl I met at church up in Portland where my grandma was livin’. She used to make me think I could do anything. You’re too young for a woman like that, but if you’re lucky, you’ll find one in your lifetime.”
    “So what happened?”
    “I got leave to go home on account a my mama goin’ in for surgery. I thought I’d surprise my wife by showin’ up.” Charles began playing with his cigarette, absentmindedly twirling it in his fingers. “Came home and she was fuckin’ our neighbor.” Charles smirked. “I loaned that motherfucker my lawnmower once.” He flicked his ashes on the ground and leaned his head back against the wall. “I didn’t catch ‘em fuckin’ you know. But when she opened the door, I could tell. Somethin’ in her face. But it didn’t matter cause that cocksucker was sittin’ on the couch in my bathrobe smokin’ my cigars. You believe that?”
Charles stopped talking and stared off into space. “So,” Eric said, “what’d you do?”
Charles looked him in the eyes and blew a waft of smoke out of his nose. “What you think I did?”
Eric turned away, staring at the cold ground and the little cracks that were starting to appear in the cement. “Both?”
“Both.”
“Then you ran?”
    “Then I ran,” Charles said, putting the cigarette out on the floor and stuffing the butt into his pocket.