The Big Enchilada

Up against one wall was an altar of some kind, surmounted with an upside down cross. I don’t know if they believed all that black magic bullshit, but they sure seemed to have all the props.
    They were all about the same age—nineteen or twenty. There was one girl among them—at least I thought it was female. Anyway, they all looked the same with long, stringy, dirty hair; yellow, pimply complexions; and dull, sneering e yes sunk in dark sockets. Most of them I had seen before. Two of them were passing joints, and one of them was snorting up a spoon of cocaine. This was apparently my lucky day—the coke sniffer was George Lansing II.
    One of the ones I had met before, who seemed to be their leader, had turned around when I entered.
    “What the' fuck do you want? Can’t you read? This is Private. Get the fuck out of here!”
    It was the voice of a spoiled, rich brat who was used to getting his way instantly.
    “After I get some answers to a few questions.”
    “Oh, it’s the private pig. Hello, Mr. Private Pig. Oink. Oink. Georgie, this is the oink that was asking questions about you.” Georgie raised his dull eyes, but showed no greater interest. The spokesman continued, “Now, Mr. Oink, you have no questions to ask, and we have no answers to give. You are trespassing, so get the fuck out of here!” His voice had risen to a shrill scream.
    I stood, not moving, staring hard at him. My knuckles were starting to itch, and I had that metallic taste of expectation in my mouth. I was going to enjoy this. I kept my voice even.
    “Who is Domingo?”
    “You no longer amuse us, Mr. Oink. You amused us once, but you no longer do. So you had better leave while you still can.”
    “Who is Domingo?”,
    “Mr. Oink.” It was the girl speaking. “Why don’t you lick my cunt, motherfucker.”
    I stared at her until she turned away. I knew what was going to happen, and it would be a pleasure.
    “If Mr. Oink insists on staying, we might as well have some fun with him.” It was the spokesman again. “Jimmy, lock the door.”
    One of them got up and threw two bolts across the door. Better and better.
    “Mr. Oink, you’re a very lucky man. You’re going to get to take part in our ceremony. You’re going to be the star attraction.” Someone giggled. “A little pig’s blood is just what we need. Slit the pig!”
    With that, Jimmy and another of them pulled switchblades and started advancing toward me.
    I felt the total calm I always get in situations like this. My reflexes were tightened to the point where I could move with lightning speed. Even though my gun was under my arm, I wouldn’t show it because that would scare them off, and I wanted them to come on. I wanted to feel their skins rip and their bones snap beneath my fingers.
    I backed up against the door trying to make myself look scared so as to encourage them.
    Jimmy came forward. His lips were parted and a drop of spittle fell from the corner of his slack mouth. He made a short thrust with his knife, expecting me to jump back. Instead, I grabbed his arm and slammed his hand against the wall. The knife fell to the floor. Twisting his wrist, I straightened his arm and rammed the heel of my palm into his elbow. His arm snapped like a matchstick. Before he could scream I drove my elbow into his ribs and felt them crack. My fist came up and caught him square in the jaw, shattering it, the force of the blow causing teeth to fly out of his mouth as he fell to the floor.
    The other one moved at me. His eyes had the crazy gleam of the meth shooter. They showed sadistic pleasure. He rushed, the arm holding the knife straight in front of him. I sidestepped, caught his wrist and slowly bent his arm back toward him. I covered his hand so that he could not let go of the knife, and as the blade moved closer to his head, the look in his eyes changed to terror. I let the knife blade rest on top of his ear for a second so that he would be sure to know what was going to happen. He started to scream as the blade cut into him, and as the ear was severed, warm blood gushed over my hand. He fell to his hands and knees, whimpering, and I brought my heel down hard on one of his hands, crushing it. I rotated my heel before lifting it.
    The girl threw a heavy ashtray at my head. I ducked and it broke against the wall. As I was standing up, someone jumped on my back and tried to put his fingers around my throat. I backed into the wall as hard as I could. That knocked the wind