I heard a whistle behind me. No one that I knew would have tried to get my attention that way. I kept on walking.
"Hey, gawddammut! I'm talkin' t'yew, pendejo!"
Well, that settled it. I didn't know anybody that spoke the sing-song varrio English of the Latino underclass; they weren't shouting at me.
"Robles, it's Jumanderez. You have to explain to me why you done - "
"No Chuey. . ." A young woman's voice screeched. There was a crack - like from a whip, but for so short a time, I'm not sure if I really heard it at all.
It was dark, and I could smell something metallic. Funny. It was like a slaughterhouse - strong, sour. It was so dark. I had no sense of time or space. I could feel nothing.
The smell faded and little flickers of red started to show around the edges of the darkness. A dull ache came to my fingertips. The throb instantly escalated to an agony of consuming heat and I felt the coarseness of asphalt beneath me. The pain transformed to brilliant white light and the crash of cymbals; it filled me completely. Like a marionette, my body jerked upright from the pavement. The pain became a tremendous pressure that built with horrible speed. Suddenly I could see, and a cloud of scarlet shrank to a knot of purple and slammed me in the chest with a thump that staggered me.
The pain and pressure were gone in that instant. I heard roaring chirps behind me and I stumbled slightly and tried to take a step backward. I stopped and stood still.
"No Chuey, that's not him." I felt very strange.
"Ijo de puta! She's right." I stood and heard rustling behind me.
The first voice shouted again. "Don't turn around, man." I heard footsteps recede.
"You ain't the guy, but don't be lookin at us neither." Three car doors slammed. I started walking again. The car gunned to life made a screeching turn and sped away behind me.
The hallucinations are getting worse. . . .