Tales From the Midnight Shift Vol. 1

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  Kevin decided not to worry about it right now. Exhaustion overcame him, and his eyelids began to flutter. He slipped back into unconsciousness, his last sight Neil smiling down at him.

  * * *

  Neil brought Kevin home two weeks later. The house was spotless, and Neil had even placed some of Kevin’s paintings on the walls in the den. Kevin stood by the fireplace, staring around at the room. Everything was as it had been when he’d gone into the hospital, but it all felt different somehow. It felt hollow, empty.

  “Do you want me to fix you anything to eat?” Neil asked. “I went grocery shopping yesterday, so we’re fully stocked on all your favorites.”

  Kevin shook his head.

  “You sure? I don’t mind whipping something up.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Neil fidgeted, seeming at a loss if he wasn’t doing something. “How about a bath? A nice hot bath to help you relax?”

  “Yeah, that might be nice.”

  “Okay, I’ll go run the water.”

  “Sure. I’m going to go get a glass of orange juice while you’re doing that.”

  Neil hurried to the bathroom upstairs, filling the tub a third of the way with hot water then turning on the cold. He was rummaging in the cabinet under the sink, looking for that bottle of bubble bath, when he heard a loud crash from downstairs, followed by a muffled pounding. Neil bolted back downstairs, yelling Kevin’s name, fear clenching in his gut like a fist.

  Neil pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen then skidded to a halt. The refrigerator had been toppled, lying on its side, the door hanging open, broken bottles and food littering the floor. Kevin was also on the floor, kneeling, pounding on the wall. He had actually managed to punch a hole in the plaster. He was crying.

  “Kevin, what’s wrong?” Neil said, squatting down next to Kevin, reaching out but not daring touch his partner. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “He’s gone,” Kevin sobbed, clawing at the wall. “He’s not here anymore.”

  “Who? Who’s gone?”

  “Fred,” Kevin said, then he turned on Neil with a fierceness in his eyes that was frightening to behold. “Did you do something with him? Did you make him leave?”

  “Kevin, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know anyone named Fred.”

  “He was my friend,” Kevin said, slumping against the wall. “He was the only one who understood, the only one I could talk to. What will I do now that he’s gone?”

  Badly shaken by Kevin’s irrational behavior and incoherent babbling, Neil rushed for the phone in the den to call the doctor, leaving Kevin alone in the kitchen.

  Alone.

  THE BARTER SYSTEM

  “Why don’t you let me drive?” Kenny asked, sucking on a joint in the passenger’s seat.

  “My car, I do the driving,” Pam said. “Besides, you’ve been smoking that shit since we got up this morning.”

  “So what? I can drive better fucked up than you can straight.”

  “That so? And how many accidents have you been in this year?”

  “Not a one of ‘em my fault.”

  “And I suppose that’s why your driver’s license was suspended, huh?”

  “My license was suspended because the judge was a chick.”

  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “Chicks are as lousy at being judges as they are behind the wheel.”

  “Quite the sweet talker you are. You must not want any tonight.”

  Kenny took a final draw on the joint then let the smoldering butt fly out the window. A greasy smile on his face, he scooted across the seat and put his hand between Pam’s knees. “Come on now, you wouldn’t deny old Kenny his fun, would you?”

  “Referring to yourself in the third person, that’s another strike against you.”

  “You know you can’t resist old Kenny’s charm.”

  Kenny’s hand started questing higher, but Pam slapped it away. He tried for another grope, but Pam wasn’t playing and she dug her nails into the back of his hand.

  “Ow!” Kenny yelled, jerking his hand back. “You drew blood, bitch!”

  “Consider yourself lucky. Next time you lose a finger.”

  Kenny huddled up next to the passenger’s side door, his lower lip stuck out in a childish pout. “You know, you ain’t been nothing but a cunt to me this whole trip. Why’d you even suggest we take it?”

  Pam didn’t have an easy answer for that one. She and Kenny hadn’t been getting along for months, she should have known this little mini-vacation would burn into a major disaster, but part of her had thought that getting away together might rekindle the spark between them. Instead, it had just highlighted what an immature, irresponsible prick Kenny was. The trip had been good for something, however. It had helped Pam reach a decision; when she and Kenny got back home, he was history.

  They continued in silence for a few more miles, then Kenny announced, “I gotta take a shit.”

  Pam cringed at his crudeness, but checking the gas gauge, she saw that a pit stop was needed. “We’ll stop at the next gas station.”

  “I gotta shit now. Just pull over.”

  “And let you go out on the side of the road like a dog? I think not.”

  “Would you rather I crap my pants? Is that what you want?”

  “Can you hold it for a couple more minutes? Look, there’s a gas station straight ahead.”

  And there was, like a mirage out in the middle of all this nothingness. Pam had thought it would be peaceful to travel the back roads, and perhaps it would have been had Kenny not been her traveling companion. The gas station was small, with an attached garage, two pumps out front. Pam pulled up to the first pump and said, “You chipping in?”

  “Your car, you pay for the gas,” Kenny said with a condescending smile. “Besides, I’m all wiped out.”

  “Yeah, I guess that last bag of weed really broke the bank.”

  “Hey, it was necessary. Staying fucked up is the only way I can stand to be cooped up in this car with you.”

  Swallowing the acidic retort that came to her lips, Pam got out of the car and dug her credit card out of her purse. She was out of cash, so the remainder of the trip home would have to be charged. She couldn’t believe she’d wasted so much money on an asshole like Kenny.

  She slid her card through the scanner and turned to unscrew the gas cap. The pump beeped angrily at her and she glanced back over her shoulder to read the display screen. “CARD DECLINED SEE CASHIER.” Impossible. Yes, Pam used the card regularly, but she should still have a couple hundred dollars’ worth of credit available. As long as the payments were kept current…

  Pam groaned as she realized her mistake. Sticking her head through the driver’s side window, watching Kenny struggle with his seatbelt like it was Gorgon’s knot. “Kenny dear, did you mail off those bills I gave you last month?”

  He just looked at her blankly. “What bills?”

  “There was a whole stack of them. You were going out, so you said you’d drop them at the post office for me. Remember?”

  “Not really.”

  Pam let loose with a high-pitched scream of frustration and kicked the tire, which was a mistake since she was wearing open-toed sandals. She leaned against the car and tried not to cry. The car was almost on empty, as was her bank account. Plus, if Kenny hadn’t mailed off those bills, she would probably return home to find her power and phone disconnected. If she made it home at all. Without her credit card, she had no way to fill the tank.

  But wait…if Kenny hadn’t mailed those bills, all that money was still in her account. She could just use her debit card or write a check to pay for the gas.

  Only when she turned toward the station, she discovered that she couldn’t. A sign in the front window, homemade, read, “CARDS ONLY AT PUMPS, CASH ONLY INSIDE.” Still, that wasn’t a problem; she could use her debit card at the pump. She rummaged in her purse for her debit card but couldn’t locate it. It
had to be in there somewhere; she’d used it to buy breakfast just this morning. She clearly remembered handing it to the cashier and—

  Oh no. She’d had to use the restroom, so she’d asked Kenny to get the receipt and her card. He’d already been waiting in the car when she’d come out of the restroom.

  “Hey, I need my debit card.”

  “Why you telling me?” Kenny said, climbing out of the car, having finally freed himself from the seatbelt.

  “Because you have it.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Did you not get it back from the cashier at the restaurant this morning?”

  “Was I supposed to?”

  At that moment, Pam thought she understood the homicidal impulse. How easy it would be to pick up a rock and bash Kenny’s stupid skull in. And no judge would convict her, not under these circumstances. Given the facts, anyone would do the same.

  “Why’re you looking at me like that?” Kenny asked.

  Pam didn’t trust herself to speak; her voice was liable to splinter into jagged shards and flay Kenny alive. Instead, she just watched him swagger across the lot and into the station. After a moment, she followed.

  She had no credit card. No debit card. No cash. All that left was her checkbook. Maybe she could convince the cashier to break the rules just this once and take her check. Perhaps she could play the pity card, or leave something behind as collateral until the check cleared. It was the only straw at which she had to grasp.

  Pam pushed into the station just in time to see Kenny disappearing down a short hallway that presumably led to the restrooms. There wasn’t much here, a few aisles of chips and candy bars covered in a thick layer of dust. The cashier stood behind the checkout counter, a beefy good ol’ boy with a painful sunburn, wearing denim overalls with one strap undone. He stared at Pam with a lopsided grin. To give herself a leg up in the negotiations, she opened the top button of her blouse and approached the counter.

  “Y’all the first customers I had all day,” the cashier said in an exaggerated southern drawl that sounded a bit too Hee-Haw for Pam’s taste.

  “Really?” she said, checking her watch. “It’s almost noon.”

  “We don’t get much traffic ‘round these parts. Some days I don’t see nobody but my own shadow.”

  “Must get awful lonely out here,” Pam said, leaning on the counter to give the cashier a better view of her cleavage, feeling a bit Erin Brockovich. Of course, she was no Julia Roberts, but she wasn’t bad.

  The cashier, whose nametag identified him as Judd, took a gander at what Pam was offering up for display, not even attempting to be subtle. “A fella does get right lonesome from time to time.”

  “Well, it’s beautiful country out here. I’m surprised more people don’t visit.”

  Judd grinned at her again, revealing a couple of missing teeth in the back. “That your boyfriend in the john?”

  Pam glanced toward the hall then leaned further over the counter, lowering her voice. “Confidentially, just between you and me, he’s on the way out.”

  Judd nodded and winked. “Gotcha. So what can I do for ya?”

  “Need some gas.”

  “Well, this is the right place for it,” Judd said with a rattling chortle. “How much?”

  “Oh, I’d say fifty bucks should get us the rest of the way back home.”

  “Sounds good,” Judd said, then the two of them merely stood there separated by the counter, just staring at one another in silence. After a minute and a half, Judd said, “Traditionally, this is where you pay me.”

  “Well, you see, there’s just the teensiest problem with that.”

  Judd’s grin evaporated instantly, almost as if it had never been there in the first place.

  “Oh, I have money,” Pam was quick to assure. “Plenty of money in my checking account.”

  Judd pointed to a sign taped to the front of the counter, a duplicate of the one in the window outside. “CARDS ONLY AT PUMPS, CASH ONLY INSIDE.”

  “Therein lies the problem,” Pam said with her best girlish pout. “All I have is a check.”

  Judd’s face was like stone. “If all you got’s a check, then you ain’t got nothing.”

  “I’m desperate here,” Pam said, dropping the vixen act. “My car is sitting on empty, and if I can’t fill up then my friend and I are stranded here.”

  “And how’s that my problem?”

  “Have a little compassion. I give you my word that my check is good.”

  “Ya think anyone who passes a bad check admits it’s a bad check?”

  “We’ve got to be able to come to some sort of arrangement. I’ll leave you my house keys, my social security card, something to convince you I’m good for the fifty bucks.”

  The corners of Judd’s mouth twitched, as if a smile was trying to form, and he scratched his chin. “Well, I guess we could arrange for a kind of trade.”

  “A trade?”

  “Yeah,” he said, planting his meaty hands on the counter and putting his face uncomfortably close to Pam’s, his sour breath wafting over her. “You give me something I want, and I’ll give you a tank full of gas.”

  Pam backed up a step, suddenly nervous, crossing her arms over her breasts. She didn’t mind a little flirtation to get what she wanted, but flirting was her limit; she would take it no further.

  “Calm down,” Judd said with a laugh. “It’s not your body I’m after.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Judd’s full grin returned, and he tipped Pam another wink. “Well, let’s talk about that. Maybe we can make us a deal.”

  * * *

  $72.68.

  That was how much gas it took to fill up the car’s tank. Once she was finished pumping, Pam replaced the nozzle, screwed the gas cap back into place, and headed back to the station. She bypassed the store and entered the cramped garage. There were no lights here, and she stood just inside the threshold for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She could just make out the rusted husk of an old Camaro, tools scattered about everywhere, a counter covered with greasy car parts she could never hope to identify. And there was Judd on the opposite end of the garage, tightening the ropes.

  Kenny was bent over a wooden work bench, his ankles strapped to the legs, his wrists being tied to large ring-bolts affixed to the bench’s surface. A dirty rag had been stuffed in his mouth and covered with duct tape. He was completely naked, and his back and ass looked exceptionally pale in the gloomy interior of the garage.

  “All set?” Judd asked as he secured Kenny’s left wrists and straightened up. He had undone the other strap of his overalls and the bib hung down like an unwanted flap of skin. His chest was bare and furry.

  “Fueled up and ready to hit the road. I just wanted to thank you again for the gas.”

  “It ain’t charity. We made us a fair trade.”

  Pam glanced down at Kenny. He was looking back at her, his eyes wide and tear-streaked, pleading. He tried to speak, but all that escaped past the gag was a muffled grunting. He squirmed on the bench, but his restraints would not allow him much movement. Pam knew she should feel guilty, horrified at her actions, but she didn’t. When she thought about all the nasty things Kenny had done to her over the years, all the cruel words, forgotten anniversaries, broken promises, what she felt at seeing him all bound and helpless could only be described as glee. Hell, she’d have sold his ass for only half a tank.

  “You might wanna get going now,” Judd said, letting his overalls slither to the floor. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his erection was large and throbbing. “You probably don’t wanna see this.”

  “Probably not,” Pam said, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the monster between Judd’s legs. His cock was intimidating, seeming more of weapon than a thing of flesh.

  Judd walked up behind Kenny, and Kenny began to squeal behind his gag, shaking his head back and forth rapidly, the only part of his body he could freely move. Judd positioned himself the
n looked over his shoulder at Pam. “We’re done here.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Pam stammered, feeling dazed, as if just coming out of a trance. She turned and left the garage quickly, closing the door behind her. She was tempted to stay and listen, but in the end she hurried across the lot to her car.

  Just before climbing behind the wheel, she thought she heard a garbled scream, but it may have only been her imagination.

  THE ROOM WHERE NO ONE DIED

  Hudson stood before the door at the end of the hallway. “And you say all the disturbances have been isolated to this one room?”

  Cole and Shaw glanced at one another and both nodded. Shaw said, “I was using it as an office. You see, I’m working on a novel.”

  “Hmm,” Hudson grunted, trying to convey through tone and expression that he wasn’t interested in the couple’s back-story, just the details of their current problem.

  “Well, anyway, I had to move all my stuff out. There were just too many… distractions.”

  “Have either of you been hurt in the room?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that,” Cole said. “The presence doesn’t seem to be malicious in nature. It’s more—”

  “Playful,” Shaw finished.

  Hudson frowned, his standard expression. “How do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, it’s like whatever it is just wants us to play games with it. Balls would suddenly start bouncing across the floor and stop at my feet, and we didn’t keep any balls in the room. Tic-Tac-Toe and Hangman games would appear on the walls in black magic marker, but they would fade away after a few hours. Once while I was sitting at my desk, I felt a poke in the small of my back and I could have sworn I heard a voice in my ear whisper, ‘You’re it.’ If I simply tried to ignore the presence, it would grow angry and throw a temper tantrum. Rattling my desk, turning my computer on and off, hiding my pens.”