An envelope's worth of loose change rests on the counter, uncollected. Below, several articles litter the tile: papers, bags, receipts...a shoe here, a cane there, a ratty shawl, an overturned barstool, a broken teacup...an old woman.
You set your tools down and lean in close, watching her face. You note the yellow eyes, the shallow breath, the patches of growth on her skin. You watch as she gradually fades, her one good hand clutching at the lid of a styrofoam cup. "The coffee here's to die for," you chuckle. Her flesh, bone-white and stiff, makes you wonder whether rigor mortis can set in that fast; considering all of the bizarro shit you've seen this week (and it's been one of those weeks), certainly anything is possible.
"Hello, Mary." Habit forces you to pause for a response, even though you've never gotten one, and never will. You smile under the hazard suit. "Don't you worry. We'll fix you up in a jiffy. Everything's gonna be OK." You sound almost chipper, reassuring. Deceivingly optimistic -- the way they taught you, back at the center. Some days, like today, you actually believe the bullshit you spout, and you feel good about yourself and the work you do.
You douse the diner with gasoline. Despite your fancy suit, lingering around an infected body still leaves you susceptible to IT. So you work quickly. Two charges are set for 30; you lob one into the kitchen and another into a booth and run like hell.
Outside, the others are waiting. Stan offers you a cigarette but you pass. The suit doesn't come off anymore, you explain. He shrugs and lights one up as you plop onto the grass and space out. Your mind wanders downhill, toward the fire devouring Mary's Cafe. This is the best part of the job. Because when you close your eyes, you can hear the sounds buildings make when they die: they sigh and they moan and they writhe -- like people -- suffering until they're completely spent and worthless. And you think about the one who ruined your life, years past, how she must be burning now, and it makes you want to do a little jig, a little dance.
A little salsa.