Blueberry Pancakes

Cigarette ashes dropped from Angie’s cigarette into the blueberry pancake batter she was mixing. They weren’t fresh blueberries. They were as dried up and desiccated as the scenery outside the old diner where she had been working for the last three weeks. Fresh fruit was hard to come by in these times, so was work. Since the federal government had collapsed things had changed. What had once been 50 states was now 27 sovereign nation-states. Some nation-states had set up a central government and had a semblance of law and order but others, like the one Angie was currently in, were struggling to remain civilized. Angie didn’t care about the politics, only about surviving. She was just here for the work and would be glad to move on when she was done. She had worked as a chemist before the collapse, now she found jobs where she could. Presently, she was the waitress, cook and head bottle washer for what had previously been a Denny’s. When she started this job there had been a cook, but he had mysteriously disappeared a couple days after her arrival.

She was mixing the pancake batter for one of the regulars, a local sheriff who had been trying to establish his power since the collapse. He came in every morning around eight for blueberry pancakes, eggs and coffee, black. As she looked out the back door that was propped open to get some air, she realized how sad and desolate this town was. Not a soul in sight only the dust devils dancing in the wind and the cactus standing in a threatening stance waiting to impale an unwary passerby. The only real animal life she had seen since she had come to this place were the cockroaches that had taken over the pantry.

Just as she was adding the last and most important ingredient to her pancakes, she heard the front entrance bell ring. She glanced into the dining room and sure enough it was the sheriff, right on time. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. He had his son with him. “Well, there was enough pancake mix for both of them,” Angie thought to herself. It wouldn’t be a problem.

“Hey doll, you got my coffee ready for me,” the sheriff called as he slid onto the ripped fabric bench while the stuffing tried desperately to escape.

“Coming right up,” Angie replied in her best subservient female voice.

“Bring one for my son too. We’re celebrating! He caught a whole herd of illegals trying to cross into our great nation from California. Stopped ‘em dead in their tracks if you know what I mean,” he chortled.

“Congratulations, I’m glad someone is keeping us safe,” said Angie as she came around the counter with two cups of coffee and sat them on the stained Formica table.

 “What will it be today.”

“Give us two orders of blueberry pancakes and throw a couple eggs on the side.”

“You’re in luck, I just made up some fresh batter. I’ll get them right out.”

“That’s my girl,” he said as Angie braced for the inevitable slap on the ass as she walked away.

As Angie wiped the sweat from her brow while flipping the blueberry pancakes. She glanced out at the two men. They were big boys. The son had more muscle while the sheriff’s muscle was starting to go to fat. Neither one had a neck to speak of and it looked like they knew their way around steroids. She hoped she had put enough of her special ingredient into the pancake mix.

“Quit questioning yourself Ange,” she mumbled under her breath. Her anxiety always peaked right before she finished a job. She needed to be more confident. She finished preparing their plates and took them out.

“Here you go, gents! enjoy your breakfast, you deserve it.” she said and put their plates on the table. Angie went back to the kitchen and set the timer on her watch for ten minutes. When she heard a commotion in the dining area, she stopped the timer.

“See girl, you know what you’re doing,” she told herself as she looked out and saw the two men convulsing and foaming at the mouth. The son had fallen to the floor, but the sheriff was still in his seat. His head had fallen onto the table with foamy spittle and blood draining out of his mouth. Angie came out of the kitchen locked the front door of the diner, pulled the blinds, and turned on the closed sign. Then she walked over to the bodies and checked to make sure they had no pulse. She didn’t enjoy killing but a job was a job. Although, she had to admit that she enjoyed this one just a little. The patriarchal, boorish attitude she was forced to put up with these past three weeks had been onerous and exhausting and she was glad that charade was over.

Now Angie had to deal with the part of the job she hated, getting rid of the bodies. These two would be more of a challenge than most because of their size. She went to the back and got the old pallet jack she had found in the storeroom and pushed it out front. First, she slid the forks under the body on the floor, then positioned the jack by the bench and pulled the sheriff on top of his son. She pushed the handle down to lift up the forks so the bodies wouldn’t drag, then headed to the back to store them in the walk-in refrigerator till dark. She already had a hole dug out back. It had taken her a week and a half of digging every night to get deep enough because the ground was so damn hard. She hoped it would fit both bodies. She had only been planning on one.

While Angie waited for the sun to set, she cleaned up the booth where the men had their last meal and she even had time to fill the salt and pepper shakers. As soon as it was dark, she retrieved the bodies from the fridge, headed out back and pushed them off the jack into her hole. She had to do a little slicing and dicing but managed to get them both to fit.

Then Angie went back in the diner to wash up and grab her purse. She would inform her client that the job was done as soon as she hit the next town. As she headed out the door for the last time, she put out her cigarette and threw the pack in the trash, took off the blond wig that felt fused to her head, and wiped off the garish pink lipstick she had been wearing for the last three weeks. She was ready to move on to her next job.