by E A Comiskey
Outside Pizza Junction, every half hour or so, a row of diesel engines hauled a rumbling behemoth past the building at frightening speeds. The ground quaked and the odor of spent fuel lingered in the train’s wake. The café, a former train depot, sat as close to the edge of the tracks as possible, and diners pointed out the windows or raced onto the deck to watch when the trains roared by. The intimate encounter with enormous power left a person feeling dizzy and small.
Servers waited for the horns and clanging traffic signals to settle before carrying on, collecting orders for soft drinks, submarine sandwiches, and pizza.
Cool air seeped through the multi-pane windows while the heater blew hot breath down from above. While Stanley had shared the corner booth with them, nursing his cup of tea, Burke had spoken with undue animation. A huge smile showed off her straight white teeth and the freckles dotting her brown cheeks. The second he’d excused himself to use the restroom, she dropped the cheerful façade.
“It was bad,” Richard agreed with her assessment of their hunt.
“I’m so worried about him.”
Richard reached for a second slice of pizza and agreed again. “It ain’t natural to be staggering along like he is. Or…well…it is natural. And that ain’t natural for Stanley.”
“We have to do something.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Maybe we need to find another case. Something easier. He needs to keep his mind occupied.” She sighed and ran a hand across her short hair. “He needs a win.”
Richard leveled a gaze at her. “He ain’t in no shape to be hunting. Ain’t no hunt easier than a ghost hunt and he fell apart. Something’s broke in him.”
Burke threw her hands up and let them slap down onto the table. Silverware clanked and rattled against the plates. “Can you blame him?”
Two old women in the next booth scowled in their direction.
Richard scowled back at them.
They huffed before resuming their hushed conversation.
Burke leaned in and lowered her voice, “We’ve known Stanley less than a year. In that time, he’s broken his leg, been captured and tortured by The Devil, nearly died from heat stroke, been stabbed in the heart, and had the dark half of his soul ripped off and reattached. He’s almost a hundred and fifty years old. How much can a man take?”
Richard finished chewing and debated if he had room for a third slice. He burped and cleared some space. “What’s your point?”
“He’s had a rough few months, don’t you think?”
“Ain’t we all?”
Burke ate in thoughtful silence.
Stanley returned to the table and finished his single slice.
Richard smacked his gums and made a mental note to stock up on prune juice on the way to the hotel. All this cheese was bound to glue his innards together.
Burke dropped her fork onto her plate and stalked off toward the ladies’ room.
Richard looked at Stanley. “Guess she had to go.”
Stanley inclined his head. “Indeed.” He sipped his tea.
Maybe it would be the right thing to bring up the subject and air it out. Maybe he should ask what happened. Maybe the old boy just needed some time, or a drink stiffer than tea, or the love of a good woman. Who the heck knew?
Maybe it would be best to talk, but it was much easier and more pleasant to stay quiet and enjoy the food.
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Other books in the Monsters and Mayhem series
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Some Monsters Never Die
Some Legends Never Die
Some Sailors Never Die
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