Frozen Nose [Short Fiction]

by Gerardo Delgadillo:

My nose freezes when it goes below zero.

Hate this digging gig. It’s way too late—even for the graveyard shift.

Graveyard.

Ha.

Joel pushes his shovel in the dirt. “You helpin’?”

“One sec.” I fish a smoke out of my shirt pocket and spark it. Under the worklights we put around the site, Joel’s pale skin and sunken cheeks makes me think he should be the one down below. I inhale deep, letting the smoke fill my lungs, and exhale.

He wipes the top of his bald head with a multi-colored hanky, which begs to be taken to the cleaners. He points at my smoke. “That’ll kill you, Rick.”

“Says who?” I smirk.

“Them packs say it. It’ll kill you and ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.” He puts Dirty-hanky away, takes the shovel, and buries it deep. “C’mon. Ain’t got all day.”

I show him my Marlboro. “When I’m done with my death-on-a-stick.” I take another drag.

He frowns, as if saying, “You lazy-ass.”

I shrug, as if replying, “You betcha.”

Joel goes back to his digging task.

Damn cold weather. Even with the smoke, it’s getting to my bone—better get back to work. I toss my cigarette to the ground and grip my shovel.

“‘Bout time,” he says.

I give him the imperial bird.

He turns around, drops his pants, and moons me. “Go ahead.”

“Not funny.”

He pulls his pants up, zips, and turns. He grins, showing yellow teeth, and grabs his shovel.

The pay is great. Covers the mortgage and my entertaining expenses. Moira comes to mind. She’s not cheap but totally worth it. Five Benjamins a pop.

I think she’s in love with me.

Nah. She loves money.

I go back to digging. After a while, I hit metal.

“Was ‘fraid we’d never find it.” Joel kneels and pulls the lid, grunting.

That always gets him going. Reminds me of kids and Xmas gifts. But our gift is more rewarding.

He looks up. “Help me.”

I hate to get dirt on my pants. But I kneel next to him anyway and pull. The lid gives in, showing the payload. Rough diamonds.

“Brin’ them bags,” Joel says.

“No, you get them.”

“No—”

A loud slam makes me look down. “Did you close it?”

He opens his eyes wide. “Didn’t do anythin’.”

I stand and glance around the deserted cemetery. “I’ll get the bags.”

“No, I’ll brin’em.”

I wave him off, rolling my eyes. I inspect the casket’s lid.

“I love you,” a woman says behind my back.

I want to turn, but I freeze.

“Do you love me?” she asks.

I grip my hands into fists and look up at her. “Moira?”

“Do you love me?”

What’s not to love? I admire her generous curves, long black hair, and blue eyes. But something’s wrong. She’s wearing a baby-doll. To the cemetery. “I-I … you look amazing.”

“Do you love me?”

I climb out of the hole. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you love me?” She sounds like a broken record.

I love her body, and the sex. “I love you-your eyes.”

Moira’s face goes pale. “Do. You. Love. Me?”

I glance over my shoulder at my truck.

“Hug me.” She made it sound more like an order.

If we were somewhere else, I’d hug her, kiss her, and go all the way. But not here. I point to my vehicle. “We could go—“

She extends her arms and steps toward me.  “Hug me.”

I don’t believe in dead-walkers, but she’s freaking me out. “Let’s go.” I turn to leave.

“Your friend’s dead,” Moira says behind me back.

I face her. “Dead?” I can’t believe it.

She points her chin to the truck. “They got him.”

“Who are they?”

“Same trolks who got me. “ Moira wraps her arms around me. “Do you love me?”

I push her away from me gently. “Better check on him.”

“Don’t go. I need to know. Do you love me?” Moira says as I make my way to the truck.

Joel is in the driver’s seat holding the wheel and with a cigarette in his mouth, smoke floating in the air. I thought he didn’t smoke. Liar.

I open the passenger’s door and jump in. “Drive! Moira went crazy. She thinks you’re dead.”

He doesn’t answer.

I look through the window at Moira, who walks in my direction.

“Go!”

Joel’s cigarette drops.

Moira is now ten yards away. “Dude!”

His hand drops on my lap.

Moira knocks on the window, mouthing, “Do you love me?”

Joel’s body falls on my legs, his head on my crotch. My heart races. I try to push him away but, as skinny as he is, I can’t move him. I glance outside. Moira is gone. The sound of a door opening makes me look at the driver’s seat.

She gets in and extends her arms to me. “Do you love me?”

My heart races. I can’t utter a word.

“Told you that’ll kill you,” Joel says in a deep voice.

Moira puts a hand on my shoulder. “Do. You. Love. Me?”

I look down at Joel.

He looks up, a sickening smirk on his face. “Love you, man.” He hugs my waist.

I exhale. “W-what’s this?”

Moira blows a kiss. “Just a little joke.”

I unlock the door and open it. “You guys are sick.”

I leave.

“Wait,” says Joel behind my back.

“Go fuck yourselves,” I shout, as I walk away.

Moira catches up and takes me by the shoulders. “It’s not what you think.”

I turn to her. “You scared me shitless.”

Joel hops out of the truck. “It’s a farewell party.”

“For whom?” I ask.

Moira hugs me tight. “For you, my love.”

“For you, Brother-in-law.”

“Brother-in—?” No way.

Joel fishes an object out of the truck’s bed.

A saw. Shit.

Moira kicks me in the nuts. Hard. I collapse to the floor, grabbing my precious jewels. The intense pain makes me dizzy.

Joel puts a foot on my back. “You thin’ you could hurt my sister’n get away with it?” I turn but he presses the saw’s cold metal against my throat. “You ain’t worth a penny.” He spits on my face.

Moira squats. “Give him a chance.” She caresses my face. “Do you love me?”

I grab her hand. “Yes, yes. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She presses her lips against mine and grabs my balls. “Fucker.” She squeezes my nuts hard, sending waves of pain through my body.

Moira stands and eyes Joel. “Do it.”

With the adrenaline pumping, I roll out from under him. I jump to my feet. I storm to the truck. I hop in and lock the doors.

Joel slams the wooden part of the saw against the window. “Open up.”

I put my hand underneath the seat. Please be there. Please.

Moira struggles with the door, trying to open it.

I finally get a firm grip of my sawed-off shotgun. I slide it out. “Go away.” I point my gun to Joel.

He ignores me.

I turn and point my gun to Moira. “I’ll shoot her.”

He keeps hammering away.

The sound of breaking glass makes me turn to Joel, who opens the door.

“Don’t-don’t do it,” I say.

He saws my leg. It rips my pants. It cuts my skin.

I squeeze the trigger. His face explodes in a shower of blood. His body falls out of the truck.

Moira rushes to him. She looks up at me, glaring. “You, Fucker.” She grabs the saw and lunges at me.

“I don’t love you.” I shoot.

She collapses on my lap. Blood pushes its way out through her back, bathing her white baby-doll in red.

I glance at the bags filled with diamonds, then at my ex-friends’ dead bodies lying in the hole.

Hate this digging gig.

My nose is frozen.

Originally from San Francisco, Gerardo Delgadillo lives in Frisco, Texas with his family and a howling beagle that doesn’t let him sleep. Because of this, Gerardo writes dreamy-weird stories when he’s half-awake.

Gerardo also writes “stuff” on his blog. Follow Gerardo on Twitter at @Gero_Delgadillo.

Want to submit a novel excerpt, piece of original short fiction, flash fiction and/or poem to DarkMedia.com for next month’s promotion? Please click here for our submission guidelines.