The Night is Long and Cold and Deep
Page 22
“They ought to fix that shit,” the busboy said.
“It’s there for a reason,” the girl said, sneering at the busboy. “He’s here for something.”
“Stop with the mysterious shit,” the busboy shot back. “He’s a dumb ass. He got himself lost and he’s here now. He’s oil for the engine. That’s all to it. End of story.”
“There is a scheme, a plan, a point,” the girl argued.
“There is only chaos and punishment, girl,” the busboy maintained.
Calvin could sense this had been a long running disagreement between the two.
“You just don’t get it,” the girl said, shaking her head. “No wonder you’re a busboy.”
“Uh, you aren’t doing much better,” the busboy argued, motioning to the register.
“I’m a management trainee. You’ll still be moping floors when I run the place,” the girl taunted. She turned back to Calvin. “The man is here to learn a lesson.”
“Where am I?” Calvin had to ask, his eyes glowing fearfully.
The girl frowned, and Calvin could see and sense her pity. “It’s where you think you are, honey, but it isn’t really,” she explained. “It’s a pit stop for some. And it’s a more permanent arrangement for others.”
“What she’s saying mister is that we don’t know, for sure,” the busboy threw in. “We got suspicions, you see. But nothing is really spelled out around here.”
“What are you?” Calvin asked, eyes going back and forth between the two.
“We’re demons with tasks,” the busboy explained. “And just so you know, everything you do on the outside, it’s for shit, man. You end up here, no matter what. You all do. Some serve but most of you are served. You get it?”
“He hasn’t been judged,” the girl pointed out. “The rules don’t apply to him.”
“Ancestral sin, fool,” the busboy reminded her. “They all have the blood on their hands. Live or dead, he’s here because this is where he belongs.”
“No, he’s here to take something back,” the girl said firmly. She looked at Calvin. “It’s all so confusing. There’s no guidance. Same as where you’re from, I guess. There are a few rules and laws, but no real answers.”
“People cause evil and they give themselves away in it, you dig? Hey, I got the perfect solution to this. Let’s see what fate does with his sorry ass,” the busboy said. He cupped his mouth and faced the dining room. “We got a live one here! The soup is on you demonic bitches!”
The girl turned to Calvin and frowned. “Shit. He’s rallying the lower scum. You should go now.”
“What do I do?” Calvin asked, panic-stricken when he saw the crowd of white carnivores coming over the counter toward him.
“Go back the way you came. And fast,” the girl advised. “Like, now.”
The girl snapped her fingers and the car started and revved.
Calvin screeched out of the lane, his car nearly taking flight as he sped over the bumpy terrain of the parking lot. He jerked the steering wheel and fishtailed back onto the dark road.
Calvin pushed the gas pedal and he thought he was going to hyperventilate for a second. He fought to keep his arms from trembling.
Suddenly, his car rocked, as if struck by something. Calvin looked to his left, and he saw a small and strange looking funnel cloud outside of his door. The thing kept up with the speed of Calvin’s car. It glowered at him with red eyes and it had countless fangs that gnashed together in the wind. It bounced into his vehicle again, as if testing it. Calvin leaned on his horn and the thing skipped away into the darkness.
His radio turned itself on and the dark broadcaster had returned. “And I had only to accept the flame, and bathe in my sins forever. And the sky darkened and the angels cried and I could hear his voice on the wind of my nightmare. And he had called me rightly judged and my flesh was now his…”
Calvin turned it off, and stood ready to smash the radio in if the preacher spoke again.
He looked at his rearview.
The tough vintage cars were pouring onto the road behind him. He could see the neon girl on the Midnight Snack sign. She was pointing at him, now, and her cruel face smiled evilly. He tilted the mirror down and focused on what lie ahead, which was seemingly nothing. The lights had to be there, and he was sure if he found them he could leave this evil and insane place.
His headlights struck something on the left side of the road. It was Inocente, leaning against his shit-brown Pinto. He was smoking a cigarette and staring into the darkness. He didn’t seem to notice as Calvin sped by.
Calvin knew staring back was a bad thing to do, and that he should just continue to punish the gas pedal and focus on his getaway. But his eyes looked again to the rearview.
The cars were right behind him now. Their high beams flickered and a chorus of horns called out to him. Calvin gritted his teeth fearfully and pushed down on the gas so hard that he was sure his foot would break through to the road below. His car began to hesitate.
“Shit!” Calvin cried out. The engine made stalling sounds and the carburetor coughed.
Two cars pulled up to either side of Calvin’s car. The white-faced ghouls stuck their heads out from their windows and shrieked at him with their filthy mouths. Each took a turn slamming into Calvin’s car.
Calvin fought to keep the car straight on the road. The engine noise cleared up and there was a sudden surge in his vehicle. His car pulled ahead of his tormentors, and he screamed victoriously as their lights shrank away from him. He looked to the rearview and he saw that the monsters were turning their cars around and heading back to the satanic diner.
The lights hit him again, stronger this time. It was like staring at a rainbow during a bad acid trip. The colors swirled around and popped off in his head. He pressed the brakes, instinctively, as his eyes recovered from the stars and gray film.
Calvin was on the other side of the overpass. His headlights shined on the dead end sign that had steered him toward hell. He took a deep breath and opened his car door. His legs muscles ached, and he grimaced as he stepped outside. The air was much cooler. He walked to the side of the road and took a long piss.
He came back to his car and looked it over. Both sides were severely dented. Calvin had no idea how he would explain this. He dug out his phone, and saw several missed calls and messages from Carol. The time on his phone read 5am. His wristwatch was nearly four hours behind it.
Calvin squatted back into his car and noticed the bag of apple turnovers. He grabbed it and peeked inside. The food had rotted and looked like it had been sitting there for weeks. Calvin tossed the bag into the high grass near the road and shut his door.
He took his phone and saved his location. Calvin never wanted to forget where the entrance to the dark place was. He slipped the car into gear and went in search of the 290.
Calvin was now very determined to be a happier person. He was going to go home and speak genuinely and honestly with Carol. A positive change could still be made. He was sure of it. His life would improve after this. Both of their lives could improve, if Carol was willing.
And if Carol showed any unwillingness to make their life together a more comfortable arrangement, he had another option to exercise. And it wouldn’t mean a messy divorce. He realized the demon with the Julie nametag was right. Calvin had indeed taken something back. It was a grand and dangerous plan, and he suddenly felt like a caveman shedding his fear of fire after discovering its warmth, worth and potential.
He drove, his mind putting the plan together and he smiled when he realized how easy it would be. His imagination was very vivid and he knew his wife very well. He could see clearly how this little sick scenario could play out.
Calvin and his wife seldom went out for a night on the town. He would find a sitter for their son, and then tease Carol with a huge surprise. Carol loved surprises. He would bring her to the bearings of the dark place. He would cross over with her and then leave her, on the side of the road. Calvin wo
uldn’t be violent with her, but he would manhandle her from the car if he had to.
He imagined her walking the dark road until she found Inocente. And he knew Inocente would be drunk and hungry and he would tell her that lame joke about his name, and then he would lead Carol toward the neon lights of the diner. The giant girl on the sign would beckon them with a wink. They would either walk together or some other lost soul, dead or alive, judged or not, would give them a ride to the place.
And from there, Calvin knew how this would conclude. There was one thing about Carol that Calvin had missed in his initial assessment of her and it was something that mortified him whenever he took Carol out to eat. She was a very rude and impatient customer. It had always embarrassed him to no end. Carol could be a nasty person, sometimes.
And she hated apple turnovers.
If you enjoyed this story, here are other works by Terry M. West available from Pleasant Storm Entertainment, Inc on Amazon.com:
What Price Gory?
A Psycho’s Medley
Cecil & Bubba meet the Thang
Heroin in the Magic Now
JOURNALS OF HORROR: Found Fiction
The Giving of Things Cold & Cursed
Dead Aware
Coming soon;
Dreg
Southern-Fried Hex
King of the Night (Heroin in the Magic Now 2)
There are several short stories and special editions of Mr. West’s work available at Amazon.com!
About the Author
Terry M. West is a well known author, filmmaker, actor and artist. He has written several books in the young adult field (most notably the graphic novel series, Confessions of a Teenage Vampire) and he has also written several horror short stories as well as the horror/thriller novel, Dreg (which will be re-released on 3-27-15). His work has appeared (or is scheduled to appear) in FrightNet, Scream Factory, Agony In Black, Lacunae, Jackhammer, House of Pain, Dark Muse, Moonletters, Silent Screams, When Red Snow Melts, One Hellacious Halloween, Deathmongers, Vignettes from the End of the World, Halloween Tales, Axes of Evil and Zombified 2. He was a finalist for the 1997 International Horror Guild Award for a short story (The Night Out) and he made the 1999 Bram Stoker Award preliminary ballot for a piece of long fiction (Hair and Blood Machine). He was also mentioned on the 1997 TV Guide Sci-Fi Hot List. West's books and collections include: A PSYCHO'S MEDLEY, SERVANT OF THE RED QUILL, WHAT PRICE GORY?, DEAD AWARE: A Horror Tale Told in Screenplay, CECIL & BUBBA MEET THE THANG, HEROIN IN THE MAGIC NOW and special collectors editions of CAR NEX, MIDNIGHT SNACK, THE GIVING OF THINGS COLD & CURSED and CECIL & BUBBA MEET A SUCCUBUS. He is also the editor of JOURNALS OF HORROR: FOUND FICTION. His work has received glowing reviews. His filmography includes his debut film, Blood for the Muse (based on his comic book of the same name which was a finalist for the 1998 International Horror Guild Award for a comic) and Flesh for the Beast. He has acted in the films The Blood Shed and Gallery of Fear (both directed by Alan Rowe Kelly) and had a starring role in Joseph M. Monks debut film, The Bunker. Terry currently writes and paints in southern California with his wife, Regina, and their son, Terrence. Terry is an active member of the Horror Writer's Association. He has a website at www.terrymwest.com. Terry is also the managing editor of the Halloween/Horror website, www.halloweenforevermore.com.
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