The man spat, coughed, and gurgled, but still swallowed the mouthful of Mr. Chan’s neck meat that he’d been chewing. Red chunks slid out from the open mess on his own neck and he fell over, motionless. The other man didn’t even flinch and continued his feast of the arm, but Juan did him the same way, nearly decapitating him. He let his body drop on top of Mr. Chan’s.

“T-tengo...hambre...”

The last one left, having finished the fortune cookies, was back on his feet. He reached for Juan and took rapid breaths, inflating and deflating his stomach.

“¡Ir al Infierno!” Juan held the knife in front of him as he ran forward like a raging bull. The blade sunk to the hilt, just over the man’s heart. Juan’s momentum, fueled by a massive dose of adrenaline, caused him to tumble when they collided, and they both crashed to the floor, Juan on top. The hilt of the knife jabbed him in the chest when he fell on it. There was a crack, and a jolt of pain speared through him. He rolled onto his back and kicked his legs as he struggled to breathe.

The man wiggled a bit beside him, his tongue thrashing from between his lips, then he went still. His head went limp and fell to the side, his eyes landing on Juan’s as a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

Juan clambered to his knees. Every movement sent a stabbing pain through his chest. He touched where the hilt had jabbed him, grimaced. Broken rib. Maybe two.

“M...my...f-fault.”

Juan crawled toward Mr. Chan, and with a considerable amount of pain, rolled the leaking body of the worker whose head dangled by the spine off of him.

Mr. Chan took whistling breaths through the wreckage of his throat. Juan couldn’t tell how, but somehow the man could speak. Barely audible and covered in wet, sticky sounds, but he struggled to say more.

“Out...s-side. M-more...more of them. We...all...d-dead.”

Just as Mr. Chan’s face went limp and the last whistling breath sang from his neck, Juan heard the explosion of glass breaking.

PINNED

Lola pounded her fists against the soft, squishy body, ignoring the searing pain in her injured hand. Her legs kicked, her head rolled. But the body was too heavy. It poured over her as she was pinned to the concrete by its weight. She screamed, then growled and peered at Daddy as he smiled down at her and licked his lips.

“Hey, girl.” Jennings winced and bared his teeth. “My fucking stomach...I gotta eat something.” His fingertips ran down her cheek. “But there ain’t nothing wrong with eating your dessert first, right?”

Daddy’s face rearranged and she saw that it was her partner. Sweat dripped from his forehead and sprinkled onto her face. He smelled of armpits and cheap cologne.

Glass shattered to their right. The moans and whimpers of the crowd became shouts of excitement as they poured into the restaurant. Jennings twisted his head and watched them. Lola felt him twitch, as if he desperately wanted to join them. His eyelids trembled, his brow furrowed. His stomach rumbled.