How to Raise an Assassin

CHAPTER 9: AUNTIE MAKES ME A SANDWICH AND A DEAL

Whatever you heard about Southern hospitality, they were right. Only they would make me a snack before delivering an ultimatum that involved death as the failsafe.

See, this is why I don't make friends. I only knew Ash for a couple of days, and already he was trying to get me killed.

Auntie joined us as Ash wheeled me outside the tattoo parlor and into the open rotunda that had multiple shops. In the center were various benches and chairs scattered around sculptures of artwork made from trash (I guess they get an A+ for recycling). One showed a swarm of Locusts feasting upon a grim reaper. That was very comforting.

We sat down and two members attended us with piping hot meatball marinara sandwiches, plates of chips, and sodas. The balls of flesh looked like it was dosed with thick hot blood. I shuddered at the sight of it. Meanwhile, Ash went right in consuming the food like a savage.

"They don't make it this good downtown," he said with a mouth full of food. He looked over to me and saw that the plate in front of me laid untouched.

"Oh, that's right," Ash remembered. He reached into his bag and pulled out a needle that was the size of a paperclip. "This should be enough to restore movement to the areas above your waist. Think about that before you try anything funny Zay."

I didn't want to try anything funny. I wanted to murder him, which was far from funny.

He pricked my neck with that little needle and I slowly felt my tongue again, followed by my nose, my neck, and my hands. I could move them. I could grab Ash's neck and choke him until he apologized. Then I could finish him off like the autumn twig he was.

But considering there were armed LSD people all around us, and not to mention the looming figure of Auntie before me, I had to reign myself in. Talk your way out of this now Zay, then kill Ash later.

"Oh honey," Auntie pointed at the sandwich. "Your food's getting cold. And I don't know how you in the uppity class do things, but down here we don't waste food."

Ash stuffed a mouthful of barbecue chips in his mouth. "Trust me Zay, you'll love it."

"I don't eat meat," I scolded him. "Why are you here anyway?"

He chuckled and displayed the mushed food in his mouth. Some spittle spilled forth onto the table. "Isn't it obvious?"

Then I saw Auntie strike like a pit viper. Soon, Ash's brown face was blushing red from a second slap. "Your mamma raised you better Ashton. Close your mouth when you chew. We might be in the sewers, but we aren't rats."

Ash rubbed his face. "Sorry Auntie."

Ash was suddenly not in the mood for smiles and talks, considering he had just been slapped twice in front of his classmate, and everyone knows if you get slapped by a parent or family member in front of your schoolmates, you might as well prepare yourself for months of verbal abuse.

"So, little miss Zay ain't it?" Auntie turned her attention towards me. "Ashton is taking a mighty leap of faith trying to bring you into the fold."

Auntie stared down at my sandwich and gave me a stank-eye that said she would possibly make me into a sandwich and feed me to the sewer rats if I don't start eating my food. I stared at the bloody mess on my plate and almost gagged. Of course, the thing was poisoned. I could die from this. Plus, there's the personal motto that I swore off all kinds of flesh since I've slaughtered so much of it. But, if I had to choose from being made into a rat meal or being sick to my stomach mentally or physically from poison, I guess I'm forced to opt for the latter.

Once I took a bite, however, I found the sandwich gone within seconds. I saw why Ash devoured his food. This simple sandwich beat all the salads I forced myself to consume on the daily. Even the soda was tasty. It tasted like an explosion of carbonated fruits that had tropical parties on my taste buds. However, I knew I'd come to regret it later.