Cthulhu's Car Park

by D. S. Ritter

  Her whole life, she’d followed the rules, stayed behind the security line, never touched things with signs that said, “Don’t Touch.” She’d realized, over the last month, that following the rules wasn’t always the best policy. If it came down to it, she could have to kill Joe, who might not be Joe at all anymore. The thought turned her stomach as she walked down the street, past students, past normal people, living their normal lives. She wondered if any of them had ever thought about actual murder. Probably not. The most pressing things on their minds were their next exam, or more likely, figuring out what they’d order at Starbucks. And she’d been one of them up until recently, and perhaps never would be again.

  The entire way, she kept looking for Joe, though she knew she wouldn’t find him out in the daylight. What else did he need? He could just find a place to lie low until time came to perform the summoning. Desperate, she sent a text.

  Sam D:

  Where would a thrall hide?

  She didn’t get a response until after she clocked in at HQ.

  [unknown number]

  Hell if I know. Why?

  Sam D:

  Can you find out?

  [unknown number]

  Not before the end. No.

  Sam sighed as she walked down the street to Seven-One. “Then what good are you?” she asked. None was the real answer.

  [unknown number]

  Still trying to fight it? Why?

  Sam D:

  Because nobody wants to just lie down and die I guess

  Sam felt bitter, and her bitterness didn’t subside once she reached the garage. Having to paste her customer service smile over the turmoil she had going on wasn’t easy, and the stress was cracking it around the edges.

  An older man in a luxury sedan pulled up, probably a lawyer coming out of the courthouse down the street. He looked up at her with only the most mild of interest. “How are you today?” she asked, seeing he was having no difficulty navigating the machine.

  “Not bad,” he said as the device read his ticket and displayed a price. “Not bad. But why are you here?”

  Sam hated this question. “I’m here to help people use the machines,” she explained, like being asked wasn’t at all humiliating.

  “It’s pretty self-explanatory,” he scoffed. “I mean, what do people need help with?”

  She’d never really considered why she found this line of conversation so embarrassing. Maybe because it drew more attention to the fact that her career consisted of acting like an appliance or a piece of equipment. Sometimes she remembered that scene from Metropolis where the worker became part of the machine and suspected she knew how they felt.

  And so, she held her tongue as he put his credit card in the wrong way and watched with a little pleasure as his smugness disappeared, replaced with a twinge of frustration. “It’s okay,” she said, quickly replacing his card the right way around, “it happens to everyone.” Asshole, she added, at least in her private thoughts. How many times had she saved these stupid people? These stupid people who thought all she was was this stupid job where she sold days of her life for less than fifteen dollars an hour. Her arm ached from all the damn holes punched in it, her apartment was totally trashed and her landlord was pissed. Having no renter’s insurance, she’d be slapping some duct tape on her ruined mattress and saving up for new literally everything else.

  She helped customers mindlessly. Greet. Assist. Thank. Repeat. She’d saved these people three times. She’d sacrificed her car for them. Her stomach lurched a little at the memory. They didn’t even know what she’d done. They didn’t care. They just didn’t want to think while paying for parking. For a moment, she hated these people, these thoughtless, impersonal people. These people, who asked if she was cold, standing outside in the middle of the night in winter and seemed disappointed if she said, “No.” These people who would gladly get her fired over the smallest matter… Maybe it would be fine, even if they didn’t stop what was coming. Maybe that was the natural order of things.

  But then, a mini van pulled up, and inside were two kids, a boy and a girl, both under the age of five. Their mom smiled at her, and didn’t need any help, but didn’t ask about the point of her job. And those kids, they smiled and waved, and she waved back as the family drove away, her mood lightening. Those kids didn’t deserve armageddon. And hell, she wanted to have kids of her own some day, and certainly didn’t want to raise them in the rubble of civilization, assuming she lived to see it.

  Her fighting spirit somewhat restored, she called in a bathroom break and went to go check on the cistern. It was undisturbed. She sighed. Part of her wanted things to happen today rather than in a week’s time. But she wasn’t ready yet. And she didn’t want to face it alone.

  Her phone chirped.

  [unknown number]

  Its cute you think you can win.

  You have no idea whats down there.

  Sam D:

  Screw you, John.

  [unknown number]

  The invitation is always open

  Well at least til the world ends

  Sam D:

  How can you live with yourself?

  [unknown number]

  I’m currently preoccupied with living

  Chapter Fifteen

  The morning before the end of the world, the group met up at a Coney Island. It was four o’clock and the late night people, including Sam, were still in their uniforms.

  “Is it fucked up I’m kind of stoked for this?” Carter had a sparkle in his eye that hadn’t been there since Sam had met him.

  Kim rolled her eyes. “He’s been talking about this all week. I don’t think he gets how serious it is.”

  “Nah,” said Franklin, “I’m kind of excited too, like, it’s go time, finally.”

  The silence from Jesus and Drew spoke volumes as did their tired expressions. Yolanda patted Jesus’ shoulder, but he barely seemed to notice.

  “Nobody has to do this,” said Sam. “This is way bigger than anything we should have to handle, so I can understand if you don’t want to come tomorrow.”

  They were all quiet for a long time, the silence only broken when the waitress came and they ordered coffees.

  As she walked away, Drew said, “I’m out.”

  Carter stared at him. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s stupid to risk my life. It’s stupid you haven’t called in the cops or the military or anybody. I’m out. And Heather’s out.” Heather didn’t say anything, and Drew went to get up.

  Sam could sense Heather’s hesitation, but didn’t want to say anything. This was their choice, and she hadn’t told them it would probably be death or just a serious chance of death.

  “Hey Drew,” said Yolanda, “that’s cool and all, but I want to hear Heather say that.”

  “What?”

  “I want Heather to say she’s out. She’s a grown woman,” said Yolanda, emphasizing the word grown. “I think she can speak for herself, right?”

  “Come on, Heather,” said Drew, looking at his girlfriend. “Let’s go home.”

  “I… I kind of want to stay,” said Heather, fixing her gaze on his.

  “What?”

  “I want to stay and fight. I don’t want to run.”

  “I’m not running. And anyway, only an idiot would stay.”

  Heather took a breath. “Then, I’m an idiot.”

  They locked eyes, but then Drew broke, turning his back and walking away without a word. Everyone at the table looked uncomfortable, but Heather was stoic about it. She looked upset, but there were no tears as he walked out the door and into the parking lot. Sam worried Heather might lose it when he paused there, waiting to see if she would come out. She didn’t. They tried not to watch as he got into his car and drove away.

  They had a moment of silence for Heather and Drew’s relationship, broken by Carter. “Jesus, you got the chainsaw all gassed up?”

  Jesus jumped a little; his mind had been wandering. “Yeah, man,
it’s all ready.”

  “Baby,” said Kim, fixing Carter with a look. “You are getting way too into this.”

  Sam shrugged. “People deal with stress in different ways. Better to get excited than freak the hell out, right?”

  “Yeah, but you don’t live with him.”

  “So,” said Sam, stirring a packet of sugar into her coffee, “you guys have the general plan, right? You hear the code word, radios off, head straight there. Management’s just going to get in the way. We only call them if it all goes to hell.”

  “You know they’re going to try to fire us,” grumbled Franklin, who’d been stacking creamers. “Insubordination or whatever.”

  “Fuck that, man,” said Carter. “We’re saving the city. Shit dude, we’re probably saving the world.”

  “I figure we can claim technical difficulty.” Heather voice was quiet but steady. “There’s going to be a lot of signal traffic going on, what with the game and all the tourists in for the weekend. We’ll say our signals got crappy and we couldn’t hear anything or radio in.”

  Everyone nodded at this.

  “Nobody get themselves killed either,” said Sam, not wanting to look any of them in the face. “You get hurt, you get out of there. We’re not trained for this kind of stuff, if we have to let one or two by to get out alive, that’s fine. We can deal with that.”

  “You got it, Coach,” said Yolanda.

  “Whatever, just don’t die.”

  The meeting broke up shortly after, with Carter and Kim giving Sam a ride home. She was grateful they waited until she’d keyed into her building before driving away. Her steps got heavy as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. The landlord hadn’t painted her new door yet, a stark reminder of the attack. She slid her key into the new lock and thought about how different things would be if she’d been brave enough to kill Joe.

  After she removed everything he’d destroyed, the apartment was practically empty. A depressing sight.

  She didn’t bother taking off her uniform, just collapsed on her patched mattress and shut her eyes. One more day. Tonight would decide everything.

  Despite this, after ten minutes, she drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  She was in the house again, the one with the hallways that seemed to stretch on forever, in every direction. There were no windows, only dim candles melting in their sconces, casting alien shadows. Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the Earth itself was a howling, grumbling, growling sound so far down on the register it shook her to her guts. And, as always, behind her, the scratching of claws on the polished, dark wooden floor. Trying to find her way out of the house was like navigating a maze and the logic of dreams shifted details where ever she looked. It got really weird when she noticed the paintings.

  At first, they’d just been surreal scenes of carnage, like long-lost Heironymus Bosch paintings. But, the more she looked at them, the more familiar the victims became until the screaming faces resembled those of her friends. She shivered, but though the house felt as cold and damp as a sea cave, it wasn’t due to the climate. She never saw her own face in the paintings, and that made it all the worse. Her guilt compounded her fear and she ran down the halls, desperate for a door that might open.

  As she ran, the noises of the creatures behind her grew louder, but, she was almost used to that. What she was not used to was the algae-like tendrils coming up between the floorboards and sticking to her shoes, sucking at them like deep mud. She observed with horror as the tiny strands tried to work their way up to her ankles. Lifting her feet became harder each step she took, the plant-like things spreading faster and faster, and she still could not find the way out.

  At one point, she turned a corner and there she nearly lost all hope; something had crashed through the floor, splintering the thick wooden boards and leaving a whole that spanned the width of the hallway.

  The gap was too far to jump across, and her gaze tumbled into it like her body threatened to. Blackness, darker and more complete than anything she had every encountered. And, unseen, unknowable, but still known, miles and miles down, something stirred.

  ***

  She woke up screaming.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam couldn't shake the dream’s clammy chill, despite the summer heat lingering into September. If you’d asked her to describe what she’d seen in the hole, all she would have told you was that it had scared the hell out of her. The details had been lost upon waking but the memory still turned her stomach with fear.

  Concentrating on work didn’t bring her mind much peace. She suspected whatever it had been was on its way, even as she stood there, helping customers. John had been right; there was no way to fight something so epic or evil. Her skin crawled as her mind wandered back to that darkness beneath the house in her dreams. She didn’t blame John for wanting to leave. She thought she’d understood, could imagine what he’d been describing. She’d been an idiot not to be afraid.

  When she’d gotten on the clock, the game was still going and the city had been a ghost town. She’d walked to the structure in an almost eerie silence, the only sound being ruckus cheering from the bars on Main Street and the roar from the stadium a few blocks away. She had no idea what the score was, but it seemed like things would be over sometime near dusk.

  Her phone buzzed, making her jump.

  Carter E:

  Any signs yet?

  Sam D:

  Not yet

  Be ready

  Carter E:

  Wish it would hurry up already

  Sam D:

  I can totally see you driving Kim nuts

  Kim K:

  I KNOW RIGHT?

  For a second, Sam weighed the idea of dropping the bomb on them and telling the truth. That this wasn’t just some monster outbreak. About what she suspected might be coming. But she didn’t. Her mind reeled at formulating that message, and at the thought she might end up fighting and dying alone. So she held her silence a bit longer. If they failed, it wouldn’t matter, anyway. Or at least that’s what she would keep telling herself.

  An hour later, the trickle of traffic picked up a little. A man and a woman in a mini van pulled up, the whole thing full of kids with their faces painted maize and blue. “Is it over?” asked Sam as she helped the man with his ticket.

  “It might as well be,” he grumbled. “Ref made some terrible calls.”

  So, the exodus was already starting. “Sorry to hear that,” said Sam as the gate popped up. “Have a nice night.”

  The man rolled up his window and drove away.

  Fifteen minutes later, it was officially over, the end of the game punctuated by the sound of distant police sirens. It took another ten minutes for the wave of traffic to hit, with every grumpy Wolverine fan wanting to get out of town. The major jams seemed to stem from Main Street getting backed up. It was one lane each way and was always choked with pedestrians on the weekend, so the whole thing was deadlocked the length of downtown. The other streets branching off were just as narrow and filled up with perturbed football fans. With street traffic at a standstill out on Washington, Seven-One traffic ground to a halt. Within a few minutes, cars stood backed up the ramps to the fourth level, and soon, the honking would start. The expressions of the people in line already were getting increasingly furious, the longer they waited.

  She watched as a man in a sedan rolled down his window. Last year, this would have frightened that part of her that only wanted to please people. She wondered if that part of her had died or only stepped out for a moment. “What the hell is taking so long?” he demanded.

  “The game just let out,” she said, “we’re having a bit of a traffic jam.”

  “I’ve been in line for like, ten minutes!”

  “I know,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “Hopefully, it’ll clear up in a second.” She felt like she was comforting a small child. Of course, the way he frowned wasn’t exactly adult behavior.

  Unfortunately, the traffic did n
ot clear in a minute. The cars stood in the street like they were in it for the long haul. The walkie crackled on her belt with messages flying back and forth between other attendants and HQ.

  Here’s a little taste of what was going on at the time;

  Over at Seven-Three, near the undergrad bars, a fight had broken out on the sidewalk in front of the garage, blocking an exit. The police and an ambulance had to be called.

  The streets all around Main Street were blocked up with cars, so Seven-Seven, Seven-Four, Seven-Six and the two open lots were full of angry customers.

  There was a massive ticket jam at one of the automated lots, and one of the cash machines had eaten a credit card.

  And to top it all off, maintenance had found a young man partially conscious and mostly naked in one of the stairwells of Seven-Nine, requiring another ambulance. It was unclear if he’d removed the clothing himself, but a police car was on the way.

  It was chaos out there. Slipping under management’s radar might end up being easier than Sam had thought.

  She wasn’t sure if she was picking up on the massive rage building from those trapped in the garage, or something else, but the hairs on Sam’s neck stood on end. A sense of foreboding, almost bone-deep crept over her. The feeling her caveman ancestors might have gotten just before the saber-tooth tiger leaped down on them from behind.

  Above her head, the florescent light began to buzz. The first car horn sounded, up a level or two, echoing angry and impatient over the concrete. Another joined it and another until the noise was deafening. If it hadn’t been for the cacophony of customers, she might have known what else was happening.