2024 Extra Fiction Best Short Story in English

The Pepper Inspector

By Jan Karlo Lopez
​
The Pepper Inspector stands at the inspection line next to his Gringo supervisor. His build sticks out compared to all the other lab workers but the coat that he’s forced to wear because his Gringo supervisor gives him the run around to avoid purchasing one that fits his arms and shoulders. Due to hazard issues he can’t purchase his own. They watch two employees wheel a container into the quality control room. They remove the tarp revealing a large quantity of green bell peppers. The hottest approved for cultivation and distribution since the ban on spicy salsa, stemming from a batch that sent a family of four to the hospital which prompted the officials in charge of the newly formed Texico, to implement their quality checks, to avoid losing tourism dollars. The two employees exit the room, leaving the inspectors.

The Gringo Supervisor grabs a pepper at random and places it on his desk, with his utensils, he slices down the middle and cuts those pieces into two slices. He pushes half to the side. The Pepper Inspector grabs a wedge and the Gringo Supervisor does the same. They take small bites. The Pepper Inspector gives a passing grade on the tablet and hands it to the Gringo supervisor for approval. 

The Gringo Supervisor coughs, wheezes and spits out the chunk. He stumbles to the mini-fridge and chugs a bottle of milk. Wiping the sweat from his forehead he presses a red button on his desk. The container filled with the fresh peppers gets pulled into the incinerator where it is turned into ashes in seconds. He turns to see the Pepper Inspector who stands with his lunch bag in his hand. 

The Gringo Supervisor checks the time, “We still have five minutes,” he says, “bring in the next batch,” he shouts into his radio then takes another sip of his milk, “and bring another gallon of milk,” he shouts again “that last batch is going to burn coming out,” he says to the Pepper Inspector and radio.

After work the Pepper Inspector visits one of the few botanicas still operating. At the counter he doesn’t say a word, he slides his lunch bag to the cashier who opens it. His eyes widen at the sight of the peppers.

“They’re hot,” The Pepper Inspector says. 

The Cashier takes the peppers out of the lunch box to sniff them. He’s pleased with the quality. Hitting a switch by his waist the statue of the Santa Muerte behind him slides to the side, leaving a doorway open where a live band plays. The Pepper Inspector follows the music. The Santa Muerte statue slides back in place, closing the entrance and exit. 

On the other side there’s a Speakeasy, fully equipped with a kitchen and stage where the mariachi band plays their music at a Jazz volume. Because of the noise complaints the decibel level threshold had been lowered drastically. The Pepper Inspector sits at the bar and orders a shot of mezcal while admiring the traditional plates coming out the kitchen. The Bartender serves him his shot and a bowl of salsa with a side of chips.

“It doesn’t meet the Spicy Salsa standards, buen provecho,” the Bartender says.The Pepper Inspector sips on his shot and watches the news report on the tv behind the bar.

“This is the Real News network, no more fake news,” says Chad Tyler, the news anchor for Real News Media, the official news network of Texico. “Today we are discussing another terrorist attack from the group that identifies as Mejicans. They cause all kinds of ruckus with their music then disappear when the cops show, wasting taxpayer money, and a sign of disrespect to our law enforcement. It’s hard to enjoy this beautiful country and relax with loud music blasting from the restaurants to the beaches. Ruining the safe haven for anyone escaping whatever is left in America. Their latest attack sent literal shockwaves throughout the country as they jumped in sync, scaring the new locals into thinking an earthquake was coming. Police stations were flooded with calls from worried naturalized citizens wondering what’s being done to stop the earthquake. If you, or anyone you know, has any tips or leads to their next attack, please reach out to the number below and help us stop these terrorists, and for those still stuck in their Spanish speaking ways, here’s our translator John Flowers to help with translation,” Chad Tyler concludes.

The camera zooms into John Flower’s mustache, unable to show his face because of the law prohibiting dark skinned people on tv. The bar goes mute awaiting his translation. Since Spanish was outlawed at the creation of Texico, none of the transplants understand nor speak the language. The natives kept the language alive to communicate in secret. 

“Que se vayan at la verga estos gabachos, no se preocupen, ojalá regresen por donde vinieron,” John Flowers translates and the bar breaks out in cheers, laughter, then they toast. Some of the band members let out a grito before being told to quiet it down.

“I’ve seen you before,” says an attractive Lady sitting at the stool next to the Pepper Inspector, who doesn’t respond. “Where do you work?” She asks.

“Was it in the mezcal or salsa?” the Pepper Inspector responds.

“I wasn't aware it worked that fast,” she says.

The Pepper Inspector attempts to speak but his vocal chords won’t work, he lets out gasps of struggling breaths. His vision blurs, the audio shifts down some octaves. He falls back, watching the attractive Lady drink from the straw in her glass. Two men try to catch him before hitting the ground but a third jumps in at the last minute to help. The weight of his eyelids becomes too much to hold and they shut.

When they open he’s met with faces covered with bandanas. He recognizes the group from the news report. They part through the middle and the attractive Lady from the bar emerges.

“I wish we could’ve met in better circumstances, but your answer was the deciding factor,” she says.

“What do you want from me?” The Pepper Inspector asks.

“Our bands can only play so loud for so long before the officials start putting 24 hour surveillance in all the tourist areas. The fake earthquakes put us all at risk if we go too far.”

“Better to bring it all down and rebuild ourselves,” says one of the faces in the group.

“You’re the Pepper Inspector,” she says, “for the salsa company that holds the contracts for almost all the restaurants and stores in the most popular areas in Texico. You are the Salsa Gatekeeper. I believe you know what we’re asking of you. You are an educated man of means, how else can you explain your position as a person of color in that company.”

“I’ll probably lose my job,” he says.

“No, you will and when that happens, you will have a spot in our organization. Redeem yourself from the harm you have caused your people, if you still identify with us.”

“There’s another inspector there, he won’t approve the shipment,” he says.

“Don’t worry about that Gabacho, we’ll take care of him when the time comes. We will be in contact when everything is in play.” She responds.

When she’s done speaking a black cloth covers his head and two sets of arms snatch him, walking him into another seat. Based on the sliding door, he's in a van, within fifteen minutes he’s pushed out and given a drink. He wasn’t far. Most likely a warehouse in the area, he thinks.

“It helps flush your system,” the voice says.

The door shuts and the van leaves.

The Pepper Inspector removes the cloth from over his head. Then he twists off the cap to the drink and chugs it in one gulp. He tosses both in the trash and gets in his car. He hears breathing behind him then a cold nose of a handgun kisses the back of his neck, he leans in closer to ensure the barrel is real, it is, 9MM.   

“I’m a businessman. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not what I’m here for.” The Businessman says. 

“I’ve never been kidnapped twice in a day,” The Pepper Inspector says, putting the car into drive and hitting the gas.

“I’m not kidnapping you, you can go home. My people are waiting for me there, we got tired of waiting at your car. We assumed they must’ve got to you first.”

“You’re not with the Mejicans?”

“Please, why would I run around covering my face with a bandana? We hide in plain sight,” he says and leans forward so the Pepper Inspector can see his face in the mirror.

“I’ve seen you around the plant. Brown faces stick out.”

“We know about their plan and how vital you are. I’m here to put a stop to it. They’ve been costing my friends a substantial amount of money.”

“You like where things are heading?”

“I have as much control as you do, but the Company I represent owns the fields the peppers are grown on, the staffing company that employs the workers that pick them, the warehouse that packages, distributes, and the trucks that deliver them along with some of the restaurants. Do you know where I stand on this?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Absolutely nothing, all that we ask is that you continue doing the great job you’re doing.”

They pull into the Pepper Inspector’s apartment parking lot where he sees a truck waiting out front. 

“We also own shares in the Salsa company you work for. I made some inquiries about you to HR and they had little information on you. No family, never married, no kids. All your paperwork was lost when Mexico was dissolved I assume. You could disappear tomorrow, and no one would notice. I mean who would care? Maybe the Salsa company. They’d probably call in a welfare check with your perfect attendance record. Anyways, it was nice chatting with you. I know you’re going to do what’s best for everyone. See you at work tomorrow. If not, your absence will slow down production, and that’s the last thing we want, right?” the Businessman says exiting the car and entering the black truck.

The Pepper Inspector walks through the parking lot where some of his neighbors cook out, drink, and play loud music. They’ve been pushed to live in what is called Barrioville. The cops don’t bother coming to patrol here unless they are investigating a crime on a new local. Never having trouble sleeping, the Pepper Inspector stays up all night. Before he can do anything a rooster crows and the morning light seeps through his blinds onto the kitchen table where he sits. 

He paces around his apartment, staring at a painting on his wall. Two roosters in mid flight and mid fight. Still wearing yesterday's clothes he picks up the phone to call in. His Gringo Supervisor gives him a hard time then he hangs up. The Pepper Inspector removes the painting from the wall that hides a safe. He carefully turns the knob to the numbers that only he knows and the locks slide out of place. The heavy steel door is pulled open. Inside there’s a smaller box that he grabs and pulls out a key hanging on a referee whistle. 

The Gringo Supervisor works the quality control room alone. The Businessman sticks his head in.

“No Assistant today?” He asks.

“No, first time calling in since he started, must be really sick. I told him yesterday that the batch was too hot.”

“I bet you did,” the Businessman says and walks out. He steps into the restroom to make  a call.

The attractive Lady answers. 

“You shouldn’t be calling me to this number,” she says.

“I wanted you to know that your Pepper Inspector didn’t show today.”

The Lady walks out a building escorted by her men dressed in black suits, no bandanas but their eyes look familiar. “Coward,” she says to herself while entering her SUV.

“You might want to find another puppet.”

Her other line rings, it’s her head of security, she turns back and sees her men waving their arms and what looks like her driver who needs help standing. She checks her driver and sees the Pepper Inspector aiming a gun at her then she sees the dart in her arm.

“Doesn’t feel so good does it? Asks the Pepper Inspector. His voice shifts down in pitch and her vision hazes over. She leans into the seat, her phone falls to the side. The Pepper Inspector grabs it and puts it to his ear.

“Mi Amor? Are you okay? Contestame!” the Businessman shouts.

The Pepper Inspector hangs up and turns it off.

The Businessman pulls out another phone.

“Where is she?” He asks.

“I dunno foo, she got in her truck and left,” says the foo on the other side.

The Businessman pulls out another phone, that makes three.

“Oh shit foo, they don't know where she went, her driver was knocked out in the bathroom.”

“I’m sending my people to help look for her, they’re on their way, let your people know,” he says and dials his third phone. “Take everyone to the bean factory, right now, help them with whatever they need,” he orders. “Her car doesn’t have a tracker,” he asks on the other phone.

“I dunno foo, I just wash her truck.”

“I’m on my way,” the Businessman says walking out into an empty parking lot. “How am I supposed to meet yall out there if y'all didn’t leave me a truck,” he shouts before an SUV pulls up. “Somebody had enough sense to come back.” He says hanging up. He opens the door to the SUV and hops in. He sees his Amor passed out in the seat. He recognizes the Pepper Inspector and at the same time feels a burning sensation on his neck. He pulls a dart out then slumps back into the chair, the Pepper Inspector walks around the SUV to close his door and then back into the driver's seat to leave.
They both wake up tied at the wrist and ankles to rocking chairs. Their vision clears and the sound becomes crisp.

“You knew we drugged you at the bar. Who are you? The Lady asks.

“I’m the Pepper Inspector. I work for the Salsa company. ”

“Bullshit,” says the Businessman , “You’re ex-military. We’ve hired people like you before.”

“You took me without firing one shot. We can use you,” she says.

“He’s not for sale,” the Businessman says.

“How do you know?” She asks. 

“He’s unofficially retired, in hiding, because he’s seen and done too much. They don’t let the good ones go, they use them up until they’re another hero with a grave decorated in medals.”

“He’s right,” says the Pepper Inspector pulling out a pistol, “I can’t risk your plans ruining the life I worked hard to create,” he screws in a silencer, “I’m sorry but I can’t,” he aims at the Businessman.

“Wait, wait, wait” shouts the Lady. “We won’t say anything if you let us go, but if you kill us, our people won’t stop until they find you.”

“Find me? They can’t even find you, and they don’t even know you’re gone,” he says to the Businessman .

“What do you want from us?” The Lady asks.

“I want you to leave me alone, but it’s too late for that. There’s no going back from here.”

“We won’t say a thing, we promise. Call it even for yesterday.”

“What about him? He doesn’t look like the forgiving type.”

The Businessman snarls and spits on the floor.

“You two wouldn’t listen if I asked nicely. Now we have two options. We either trust each other or kill each other.”

“What can we do for you to trust us?” The Lady asks.

“You, I need one million Texico dollars. Him, I don’t think there’s anything I can ask for. More money would only give him another incentive to kill me.”

She kicks the Businessman in the shin, “Say something, I’m trying to save our lives.”

“He’s right,” says the Businessman , “When my people find out I’ve been picked up, they’re going to think I flipped. It’s his head or mine.”

“Tell them you were with me,” The Lady pleads.

“And blow our cover?”

“They know! You think they're idiots? My people know and they are idiots.”

The Pepper Inspector checks his phone, “That settles it,” he interrupts, “Take the truck, transfer the money and you two are free to go.”

“I can’t transfer that amount of money. I need approval from higher-ups. I don’t even have access to the funds.”

“Then get access. Tell your people this is a down payment for my services. I don’t think I’ll need to explain my rates,” the Pepper Inspector says to her. “I’ll need a million from you too,” he says to the Businessman, “I doubt you need permission. I know what they'll do to me but what would they do to you when they find out you’ve been sleeping with the enemy? What would they do to your family? Your son? Your mother? Your Wi…”

“Okay.” The Businessman says cutting him off. “You’ll get your million, as long as we both walk out free right now.”

The Pepper Inspector holsters his pistol and pulls out a switchblade. He walks behind them both. The Businessman hears a snap, then the tension on his wrists and ankles alleviates. He cuts her ties next. The Businessman’s phone rings. Everyone pauses, the
Pepper Inspector puts up his blade.

“Are you going to get that?” the Pepper Inspector asks.

The Businessman answers, “Yeah, I got her. We wanted some alone time, she’s getting dressed right now. We’re on our way back,” he says and hangs up.

They walk to the SUV as the Pepper Inspector watches from the front door of the office.

“How do you think he’s getting away?” She asks.

“He must have a burner vehicle stashed close by. He’s a professional if you couldn’t already tell.”

He gets in the SUV, she sits in the passenger side.

“How are you going to explain how my driver got  knocked out?” She asks.

“We don’t explain anything to anyone. We’re the bosses, that's one of the perks. If any of the higher-ups hear about this then you have a leak.”

“Always one to look at the silver lining. So when were you going to tell me about your wife and son?”

“I have a son. I don’t have a wife.”

“Then what was he going to say before you cut him off.”

“You don’t have a million dollars to give him?”

“Why are you changing the subject?”

“No, I’m wondering why he let us go so easily. He could’ve asked for more.”

“No, you’re changing the subject. You claim I’m your Amor but didn’t tell me about your family?”

“We can talk about that later. We just finished being kidnapped. He wanted us to leave for a reason. He didn’t even give us any way to communicate with them.”

“I don’t think he’s going to have a problem getting in contact with us, he’s a professional, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. It’s too much of a risk to let us go.”

They turn into the parking lot where their men are assembled.

“Yeah but remember what he said, we could either trust each other or kill each other,” she says.

They park and open their doors.

“Damn Foo, what’s this back here for?” Are the last words they hear before the truck explodes, taking out both crews simultaneously.

The following day the Pepper Inspector clocks in. The Gringo Supervisor is already there.

“Glad to see you back today,” he says to the Pepper Inspector and turns his back to wash his hands. “You’ll have to cut your lunch short today, and stay a bit late. Oh, and come in early for the rest of the week so we can catch up. We are backed up on all the batches from yesterday. I didn’t want to test without you here,” suddenly an arm wraps around his neck and squeezes tightly until the Gringo Supervisor blacks out.

He awakes tied to his work chair next to the Pepper Inspector approving the backed up batches.

“What are you doing?” Ask the Gringo Supervisor. “I can get you fired and put in jail for what you’ve done.”

​The Pepper Inspector looks at the Gringo Supervisor and then at the red button used to activate the incinerators. He places the tablet in the face of the Gringo Supervisor who approves the batches with the tip of his nose.

​

Jan Karlo Lopez is a pathological liar turned writer. His self-published short-story digital anthologies and physical Zines have generated over a thousand dollars in revenue. Some of the profits were used to purchase school supplies for Oak Cliff teachers, or donated to a foundation that buys shoes for underprivileged kids in Oak Cliff, and the rest was either spent on food, drugs, or traveling. Jan Karlo is Oak Cliff born, raised, and resident but leaves as often as financially possible. He has been published in Open: Journal of Arts & Letters, In Parentheses, LIT magazine, and Thirty West Publishing House where his piece was nominated for best of the net.

---