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Her
head popped up. SHOCKED. Wide-eyed. She didn't recognize me at all.
Sharon looked so old....

She
rolled onto the bed.

I
remember I was saying, “Grandma...grandma....” But I
could only whisper.

Sharon
was on her back. Her breaths came in and out in little, rapid
pfft-pfft's.

She
clawed at her belly. She ripped her shirt off and dug INTO her belly,
into her guts. She was yanking on her intestines, pulling them out
like ropes. And yet, no blood. Water-ish liquid, but not a spot of
blood.

I
screamed out for help, and Sharon's legs ran away from her. They went
into the closet and knocked over boxes. Sharon whipped her wet head
at me and hissed. Her eyes were hungry. She hopped off the bed with
her hands and came after me. I kicked her in the face and ran out and
closed the door, pressing my back against it. Grandpa ran up to me
with a knife.

“I
knew this day would come.” He pushed me aside.

Sharon's
head rammed straight through the door. I was reminded of that scene
from The Shining. Sharon started to spit at us in a crazy way.

“I'll
eat you out!” she went. “Please?!”

Grandpa
shoved the knife in her eye, and I shoved my face into grandma's
chest. Grandpa kicked the door open and grabbed Sharon's head and
drove it into a computer that was left on. Sharon fried on impact.
The place begun to stink.

The
next morning, everyone in town is throwing roses and exotic meats at
me. My grandpa wanted none of the attention. He was shy. We all made
our way to the woods where a huge fire was waiting. Sharon's torso
and legs were wrapped in white sheets. The wind picked up and the
sheet over her head went away. She was young again. Face perfect. Not
burnt. Her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful. Beautiful. Her
body parts...they were thrown into the fire. There were two groups of
people at the burning: my family, and everyone else.

Everyone
else cheered and clapped and danced.

The
monster was dead; people were safe.

My
family hugged and cried.

Me
too.

I
cried.

THE END

Epilogue

That
was a long time ago.

I'm
a grown ass woman now. I have a family – five girls. (Yes, you
heard right. Five.) I have a job selling balut to tourists, and the
money is really good. People who are adventurous, or bored, like odd
foods. My husband is real good to me. He's an army guy, so I don't
see him as much. But it's alright. The kids keep me company. As for
all those horrible things that happened when I was younger...I don't
tell the kids anything about it, and I asked my relatives to do the
same.

Maybe
when they're older we can talk about it. I really don't think the
kids are ready to hear such nasty stuff. They won't be able to
stomach it. They're still soft. One time our youngest, Mel, got into
a fight with a school punk right in front of me. She lost. She
embarrassed me. I took her by the hand and then I kicked that bully
right in the gut. He went flying back like a little doll. I almost
laughed. As for my daughter, I shook her and said that next time some
bully throws a punch, she should move to the damn side and go for the
kneecaps. I don't get it. Any fool knows THAT.

We'll
be moving soon. Mike and I have been saving up money to make it
happen. I miss home. I miss Hawaii. Even after all the bad stuff that
happened there, I just wanna go back home again. It's okay now.
Things there have blown over. Not like here. The Philippines is far
too dangerous. Too many monsters. Hawaii is safer. I can raise my
kids well there. Raise them right. I feel connected to that island.

I
feel called.

Cebu

2011

Cutthroat Heroes

LATER....

A rock hit him in the face. She jumped down from a tree and bit him,
ripping off a chunk of his neck. He tripped over some animal and
landed on his face, right in mud. She stood in front of him, holding
that big knife above her head. Trees fell all around her. She yelled
through the raging fire.

“You
filthy bastard! Why didn't you just let me be??? Look what you've
done. Look what you've turned me into! Is this your idea of love???”

He
spat in her face. She kicked him in the chest.

“So
useless!
” she wept. “Your
job is to give me everything. Look at you....You have no money, no
future – no
car
.
You're useless to me!”

She walked toward him as she spoke, still holding the blade in the
air with both hands. It was getting so noisy with the crackling of
flames, she was literally screaming her words.

“YOU'RE USELESS TO ME!”

He crawled back.

A
strange sound in the air – a sharp
wiiiiiirrrrrrrr
.

Something exploded through her chest. She dropped the knife and
looked down at the situation.

CHAPTER
ONE

MY HEROES

FRAN MURUDA

The little punk wouldn't stop crying.

“Shut him up,” I told the mother, “or I'll stick
this needle in his eye.”

She nodded and grabbed the boy and spanked him. She seemed to
understand. I had to work. I had to shove that big needle into that
dumb dog and fix him up. The kid didn't seem to get it. I put that
needle into that dog's brain, and it barked and kicked and tried to
F'ing bite me. The little boy grabbed his dog and ran off.

“Drap!” the mom said. “Drap! You come back here
right this red hot minute!”

I threw my hands up.

“I can't work like this. I'm done!”

The mom begged me to reconsider, but I brushed her aside.

“Doesn't matter,” I said. “Your dumb dog is gonna
die soon. Nothing I can do. Too many worms in his brain.”

I went home early. I had other
things to take care of. My hobby waited. My
passion
.

Babiroin. My prized invention. The drug of the century!

I went to every street corner, every
dark alley – traveled all over Oahu – selling the stuff.
It was becoming quite popular. Word was spreading. First Hawaii, then
the
world
.

The man on the phone sounded nervous. I was gentle with him.

“How much do you want?”

He thought about it.

“Just one heart for now. I want to sample it first.”

“The price is a thousand for one.”

“Hmm. That's a bit much.”

“How much you got? I'm sure we can work something out.”

He cleared his throat.

“How about we trade?”

“Depends what it is.”

“I provide a service,” he said. “It's very popular
and very expensive, but for one of your hearts, I'll gladly make sure
you get a session.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look, if this is another pornography thing, I'm not
interested. The last guy ripped me off. Left me tied to some
motorized wheelchair. I ended up on the street, naked and
humiliated.”

The man on the phone laughed.

“Oh, no, no. Nothing like that,” he said.

I was getting impatient.

“Well, what then? Spit it out, man. I have a lot to do today.”

“
Have you ever
wanted
someone?”

I caught my breath.

“What was that?”

“
Wanted someone you couldn't
have
.”

Jesus, what a fool.

“Right,” I said. “Haven't we all?”

“
What if I said there was a
way to make him fall in love with you. That I could
guarantee
it.
What then?”

Something in my chest turned hot. I
imagined Phil and I making love. I wanted him.
Needed
him and his money. Centuries ago, when I heard that he was marrying
Carmen, I lost it and ran up to the roof of my apartment and jumped
off. Sadly, I landed on a passing truck hauling manure, and suffered
minor injuries. Carmen got all the good ones – all the rich
ones. I had dream journals about Phil. I had dreams of swimming in
his money, kissing his money, having sex with his money.

“I'd be very interested in this service,” I said. “How
do I sign up?”

I could hear the man on the other end of the phone grin.

“Sunday. Come to church. Everything will be set up and
sterilized.”

“I'm sorry. I think I heard you say 'sterilized'?”

“Yes, that's right,” he said. “It's a whole medical
procedure. Completely safe. We're very professional. Nothing to worry
about.”

“And this is all happening at church?”

“
It's a very hush-hush
business activity, you understand. Much like what
you
do.”

“How do I know this ain't a bunch of crap? That you won't screw
me?”

“I'm a priest,” he said.

I nodded.

“That's all I need to hear.”

That was all I needed to hear. Hey, if a man of the cloth can work
his voodoo in my favor – if I could get God on my side for once
– I'd give just about anything.

“I'll be there,” I said. “Who do I ask for?”

“Lolligal,” he said. “Ask for Father Lolligal.”

I was taken to the confessional, where I sat down. A window across
from me the size of my hand opened, and Father Lolligal's sweaty face
popped up.

“Do you have the stuff?”

I showed him the box.

“Right here,” I said.

He must've flicked a switch or something, because a little door
opened up by my feet, and a robotic hand came out, opening and
closing. I gave it the box, and it shot back into the hole. That
Lolligal-guy opened the box and looked at the heart, holding it close
to his face. It was still beating – still fresh – made
his hands bloody.

“The first time I tried this,” he said, “I was in
bliss. Total bliss. No drug has ever done that for me. Amazing work.
You are a genius, my girl.”

I couldn't help but let my ego smile.

“Thanks.”

He shoved the heart into his mouth, munched on it, swallowed it. The
effects hit him hard. He laughed all the time and hit the walls of
the booth, mumbling something about the wonders of science –
the wonders of the pyramids. And then he recited the alphabet
backwards. He did it in song, like a monk would. I was impressed. But
then he got really loud – almost angry-loud. Nuns were
constantly asking if he was okay, and he'd yell at them to go away
and make him a sandwich. We were in there for an hour. Nuns gave him
something like twenty sandwiches. He calmed down a bit by then. He
was nearing the end of the high – the best part; the peaceful
part. Lolligal had to wipe his mouth with four wet rags to get all
the blood off.

“
Thank you,” he said,
crying. “I'm so
happy
right now. Thank you.”

We got out of the confessional and hugged. A nun gave us sandwiches,
and we ate.

“I'm glad you had fun,” I said. “Now it's my turn.”

He took me to a room where everything was white.

I even had to put on a white gown – the kind that shows your
butt. Priests dressed like surgeons helped me onto a cold, metal
table. Lolligal walked out from a white door, also dressed like a
surgeon. They tied me down. I started panicking, but Lolligal assured
me everything was going according to plan.

“This will all be over in a minute,” he said. “Trust
me. I'm a priest.”

And I believed him.

Sure. Why not?

I eased back, and one of his assistants injected me with an
anesthetic that made my body numb. Lolligal took out an even bigger
needle – the biggest needle I ever saw in my life. Lolligal had
to use both his hands to carry the damn thing, hovering it over my
chest.

“Everyone has a little love ghost,” he said. “Inject
yours into the target, and it will immediately take over his heart.
He falls madly in love with you. Madly! There is no escape. What's
not to understand?” He went on, “This whole thing was
invented by Hitler so many years ago. It's how he got his men to fall
in love with him and do whatever he wanted.” He smiled down at
me. “Ready? Here it comes....”

He stuck the needle into my heart and sucked out a little ghost, then
shot it into a jar. A nun in white sealed it tight.

Lolligal put his hand on my head.

“Now that wasn't so bad, was it?”

I shook my head, and he smiled.

“Now tell me....Who do you want to fall in love with you?”

When I woke up, I was still in that white room. No one was around. I
felt strange. Heavier. Like I gained a few pounds. I walked out of
that room with a really bad headache. Father Lolligal was in his
office, writing at his desk. He looked up and smiled at me, asking if
everything was okay. I said I needed some water, and then I blacked
out. I woke up an hour later on his couch.

Father Lolligal walked me outside and handed me my receipt. It read:

Total: $1,000 (fee waived). Server is Father Lolligal. Thank you
for using Cutthroat Heroes. Tell your friends!

My eyes hurt. I massaged my temples.

“How long until he's mine?”

The priest looked at his watch.

“Sometime at night. Just drive to where I told you and wait
there. He'll show. I promise to God.” He noticed something over
my shoulder. I turned around and saw a black van with a big golden
cross painted on its side. Lolligal turned serious. “Excuse
me,” he said. “I have to take care of some business.”

He walked over to the van. A window
rolled down, and someone stuck out a little rattan plate. Lolligal
put a bunch of money on it (coins, too), and the van honked and drove
away. He didn't say anything about them, and I didn't ask. I was too
scared. Something was wrong with that van. It felt like I was being
watched. Almost like if I said anything about them – got too
nosey – they'd know somehow and rub me out. Maybe put a plague
on my house. Bad vibes from that van.
Play it safe. Forget
you ever saw it. Moving on....