Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1)

by Samuel Belcher

  He picked up the mic. and timidly keyed it. “580, over.” It was a force of habit to use his call numbers.

  The phantom voice replied, “Your first job for the night will be waiting for you at the corner of Euclid and First. You will see a female waiting for you there. Please take her to the address specified on the note she will hand you.”

  “Understood. 580 outbound.” He responded and started the car. It was time to see what this was all about.

  The thought that no one would be standing on the corner of Euclid and First when he got there never left his mind as he made the meandering trek over to that area of St. Petersburg. But, he was happily disappointed when he arrived and saw the silhouette of the woman standing alone, waiting patiently. Her face was darkened by the shadows and her thin figure cloaked in the same. But, he could still make out some detail, especially from her strange clothing. It, too, was dark colored, earth tones. She was in a long plain dress with a white shawl over her shoulders. It looked to him, in the darkness, as if she had a bonnet of some kind on her head and she was holding a basket. He was alarmed at first, his imagination driving his paranoia further then he had realized. But, it wasn’t just the sight of someone dressed in what appeared to be a colonial outfit on a street alone at night that rang his panic bell. No, his panic came from the fact that it wasn’t something more unusual than that. This part of town was notorious for very strange things. It wasn’t unusual to pick someone up in the middle of the night, liquored up from some party nearby and have them wearing anything from an astronaut’s suit to a dancing monkey outfit. He was very accustomed to seeing these strange things. He was so accustomed to it that he felt a slight pang of disappointment. Is this it? Is this the big deal? Then he thought; I better get paid.

  The fare went smoothly and without a hitch. She didn’t say anything to him. She just handed him a piece of paper with an address to a place across town, toward New Port Richey. Her destination, oddly, was another dark lonely street. He felt a little touch of worry about dropping her off in such an unsavory area; fearful something might happen to her. But, without a word, she exited the cab, closed the door and disappeared into the night. He waited for a few moments as he lost sight of her, watching to see if she was alright. Then he twisted his butt to the right and pulled his phone from his pocket. The driver’s seat complained from the shift in his weight. He quickly dialed the automated number to his checking account to see if anything had happened yet. It’s too soon, he thought. But, when he accessed the account there was a nice new figure shining up at him with three zeroes trailing from it. He was stunned. That’s all there was to it? No big show, no trying to hide a drug transaction or someone trying to pick up a prostitute? He sat alone on the street for another ten minutes before he pulled away.

  Rick’s previous ill and foreboding feeling was quickly replaced by one of exhilaration and satisfaction. The fear of criminal involvement was put to rest, and he began to relax, realizing that this was just as simple as picking a person up at one place and dropping them off at another, with the bonus of his bank account expanding like a Wall Street financier’s waistline. He could practically hear the collective gasp of bank employees everywhere as Rick Carter’s checking account actually had money in it, real money, not the transient kind that so often slid threw his account like a chipotle chicken bean burrito from the Mexican food truck. He drove silently down the empty streets anxious to have another crack at this new job. The next fare was only moments away. Before he could make it through two lights, he was already being hailed by the same aged and soft voice as before. He listened closely to the instructions and typed the address into his phone’s GPS. Seconds later he was on his way to another rendezvous with beautiful capitalism. If this kept up all night his bank manager, the obnoxious guy that drove the old BMW, was going to be a happy man when he went over the books in the morning.

  He maintained the same rules of engagement as before and never varied from the established pattern. The next one turned out to be a guy dressed in a suit that looked like it came from a 1920s swingers club. He was a quick drop off several blocks away. Rick followed that up with another check on the bank records and another satisfied grin. Then the call came again. They came fast and easy. As soon as he dropped one off, another call came. Each acted the same as the one before, strangely dressed and perfectly silent. He didn’t know if he was making runs for a Shriner’s convention or a Cosplay party. One fare was a young man in a soldier’s uniform, gray, like a Confederate infantryman. It was well made, very authentic looking and made of wool. It was even dirty and torn like it was in real combat. The boy looked young, and he had blood streaming down his face, or fake blood as Rick hoped. But, there was a strange vacant expression in his eyes. Rick found he wanted to say something to this fare as if he were drawn to a sudden sense of sadness and lose that he couldn’t explain, but he adhered to the conditions of the agreement. Several times during many of the fares he had to fight the urge to speak. It was perfectly natural, after all. He was a talker by habit and by nature and driving a cab had nurtured that aspect of his character. Not speaking to fares was like a salmon swimming the opposite direction. But he fought it and instead he just took their notes, drove them to where they wanted to go and let them out. Nothing more was said or done. Each time he delivered his fare, he checked his account. And each time there was another thousand dollars deposited there. Suddenly he wasn’t a poor struggling cab driver anymore. A couple more nights of this, a week maybe, would see him entering a new tax bracket.

  The next two calls turned out to be a guy dressed in buckskin and a barefooted young boy who was unaccompanied. At each destination, he waited as each person disappeared into the night. But, he didn’t see where they went even though he waited nearby in case he was needed. A twinge of regret went through him when he let the young boy out. He didn’t like leaving a kid alone on a dark street. But, nothing seemed to happen, and the boy was eager to be on his way. Rick hummed to himself as he inspected the growing number of digits on his bank account. He consoled himself with a mental list of all the things he was going to buy tomorrow with his new found wealth. A new recliner and flat screen television were high on that list.

  He parked the Crown Victoria in an empty mall parking lot, a favorite place of his during the slow hours. Dawn was just another hour away. His radio had gone back to its normal backlight, and he was feeling rather proud of his night. It was time to do some unwinding, to take a few breaths before calling it a night. As his thoughts drifted, he began to focus a lot on the past few nights. The excitement of the money nearly drove the image of Mel out of his memory, nearly but not entirely. He sat back in the seat and folded his arms across his stomach. What did he say? Didn’t he say he would be back? I wonder what he meant by that? How is he going to find me? Well, he knows what cab company I lease with. He might track me down that way, I suppose. His thoughts wandered back and forth across the different possibilities of Mel’s return when he began to nod off. Then something caught his attention through his half-closed eyelids. What’s that green light?

  The hood of his car looked like it was glowing green. He sat upright, concerned. But, he quickly realized that the light wasn’t coming from the hood. It was coming from above the hood. The light was just reflecting off the surface of the blue paint. The source of the strange, eerie light was coming from somewhere above the car. He twisted and tried to look upward out of the windshield but couldn’t quite see where it was coming from. Just as he was getting ready to get out of the car, he was startled by the black silhouette of a body falling from the sky onto the hood of his car. The impact rocked the big heavy vehicle, and the person let out a painful yelp to accompany his loud thud. Rick sat there wide- eyed, both hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that he nearly bent it backward. His heart rate was through the roof again. No words escaped his tight clinched lips.

  The car rocked for several more seconds after the impact. Rick didn’t let go of the steering wheel.
He continued to stare wide-eyed out of the windshield at the figure on his hood that was face down with arms spread wide. He was groaning. Then Rick heard a muffled voice say, “That didn’t work well at all…..aww, mnnnggghh.”

  The man lifted his head, and Rick could plainly see Mel’s face staring back at him through the dirty windshield. His face was smeared with black soot and a streak of fresh blood was oozing out of his left nostril. He smiled as he recognized Rick still sitting there in horror, staring back. The blood was oozing down into Mel’s open mouth and staining his teeth and gums. “Rick! I told you I’d be back…” then his expression strangely turned to one of concern, “What happened to your hair?” His voice trailed away as he slipped into unconsciousness and his face thudded back onto the hood.

  As Rick’s heart rate started to return to normal, he sat back in his seat, the look of alarm and panic washing away into one of uncertainty and confusion. This just keeps getting better, he thought. He stayed in his seat looking out at Mel’s lifeless body spread eagle on his hood for a few moments before he finally got out and began the laborious process of getting him off the hood and into the back seat of his cab. Well, Rick thought, I guess that’s the end of my night. He decided to drive straight to his apartment and was only slightly annoyed along the way when all the stop lights turned red in perfect sequence.

  Rick grunted and moaned and complained every step of the way as he hauled Mel’s lifeless body up two flights of stairs, down the hallway, through his door that had to be unlocked, before depositing him like a sack of potatoes on his couch. The fall onto the sofa caused him to stir and mumble something about a multi string jump and how much that hurt. Rick sat for a long time in his old broken recliner, his back screaming from the workout, staring at an unconscious Mel on his couch in the dark. Finally, with nothing else left to do, he made up his mind to go and grab a grape soda out of the refrigerator and sit back down in frustration and wait. He silently drank his soda, pondering Mel’s new arrival. As he waited in the darkness, he began to fall asleep as well, overcome by a wave of tiredness. He nodded off just as the sun was starting to come up and shinning through the curtains. He slept for hours.

  When he awoke it was already past noon and a light rain shower was pelting the glass doors on his balcony. The sky was a shade of gray typical of summer rainstorms in Florida. Rick yawned widely. He could hear the sound of his bathroom shower in full blast. He looked at the sofa, but it was empty. Mel must be in the shower, he thought. At least, I hope that’s Mel in the shower. He got up and stretched, looking out the curtains of his balcony at the rain. His apartment was on the third floor, facing east where most of the rain came from. He decided that he needed some iced coffee, and he went into the kitchen to fix some. Mel appeared shortly after that, one of Rick’s towels around his shoulders, rubbing his wet hair dry. Fortunately, he had his dark brown trousers on, but no shirt. Rick noticed how thin and gnarled looking he was, the bones of his shoulders sticking out and his ribs visible. There were old scars across his hairy chest.

  “I hope you don’t mind me getting a shower. I don’t get the luxury of a shower often.” He said, smiling again.

  Rick looked over at him as he prepared his coffee maker. “Really?” he said, sarcastically, “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, always running about. Hey, I like your apartment. Nice, but bare. I take it you’re not married than?” Mel’s attention span seemed to drift and flutter about. He hadn’t lost any of that over active mind of his or agitated way of speaking.

  Rick seemed a little annoyed at that question, but he kept his attention on the coffee process. “No, but I almost did a few years back.”

  Mel sat down in Rick’s old recliner, admiring the broken fabric and the comfort. From where he was standing in the kitchen, Rick could see scars running across his bare shoulders. He had obviously seen some brutal days in the past. “Me either. No time for it. Always on the go. Hey, I wanted to thank you for bringing me here last night. I’m terribly sorry about your taxi. I hope I didn’t hurt it. I wasn’t aiming for the taxi.”

  Rick walked slowly back into the living room; everything accomplished on the coffee maker that could be done. “It’s a Crown Vic. The things built like a tank. It would take more than you landing on it to hurt it.”

  Mel popped up from the chair, still full of energy, and walked over to the glass doors of the balcony. He parted the long plain curtains and looked down at the parking lot below. He could see Rick’s taxi parked in its usual spot three stories below. He stared at it a few moments in silence.

  Rick did not move. But, he grew impatient. “Look, Mel, we have to get something straight here. This is all just a bit too much. I mean, you reappear out of nowhere, disappear then you reappear again and fall on my car. Just exactly what is happening here?” Rick tried to hide the frustration he was feeling, but it crept into his tone anyway.

  Mel didn’t turn around to face him. “Have you met the Managers yet?”

  Rick didn’t immediately respond. “How do you know about that?” He finally said.

  Mel kept his back to him, still looking out at the rainy world outside. “I take that as a yes, then. Did they explain everything to you?”

  “They offered me a job,” He replied.

  Mel twisted around, his eyebrows narrowed in confusion. “I thought you already had a job.”

  “I do. Now I have two. The new one pays better. Why are you so concerned?” Rick didn’t change his tone or expression.

  “Did they explain it?” He continued, looking back out the glass doors.

  “They explained the job. Not a whole lot else. How do you know about them, Mel?” He pressed again.

  “Figures,” He muttered. “They never do. I know about them because I work for the same people. I’ve worked for them for all this time. That’s where I’ve been, working for the Company. And, now, apparently so do you. They hired you as a transporter.” He said. He finally let the curtains fall back into place, and he came back to the chair and sat down. Rick didn’t respond to this revelation, so he decided to continue. “Let me see how I can explain things in a simple way. Have you ever had one of those feeling where you think the universe is conspiring against you? Like there’s some force in your everyday life that keeps pulling at you or pushing at you?”

  Rick reflected for a moment. “Yeah, but who hasn’t? That’s life.”

  “Exactly, that is life. It’s also reality, and that’s what the Company deals with.” Mel sounded a bit apprehensive like he was about to offer a class in physics to a bunch of second graders.

  “Reality?” Rick was not following his bizarre train of thought.

  “Yes, reality. All of this,” he waved his arms in the air, “is reality and you can see it can’t you?”

  “Yes.” Rick looked at him unsure. “Can you?”

  “Of course.” Mel huffed. “But, that’s not where the problems are. The problems are with us. You see, all of this is just particles and energies constantly fluctuating back and forth. But, the real problem comes with us, people. We make decisions in our lives, big decisions, small decisions. These decisions all have consequences. They have consequences because they interact with all of this. And they interact with other people. Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

  “Yeah. I have. Are you telling me a butterfly flapped its wings in China, and that’s why you fell on my car?” Rick was entering a firm state of skepticism.

  “No. I fell on your car because I tried a multi string reality jump and missed my exit by four meters. They’re tricky.” Mel rubbed his chin. “No, what I’m saying is that when you do something it affects other somethings, and they affect others and so on. You have this ability because of free-will. It’s a gift. But, those decisions can sometimes cause some pretty nasty strains on the very physical fabric of the universe and those strains can cause some really, really large problems. That’s where the Company comes in. We monitor and fix tears in reality.” He said somewhat
smugly.

  Rick took another few moments to think about that last statement. “Have you been doing drugs?”

  Mel laughed. “No. Never touch the stuff. Trust me I don’t need anything bending my sense of reality. I have to be attuned to my surroundings at all times.”

  “Yes, well, it doesn’t sound like to me that you are. I deal with a lot of…mentally unstable people in my line of work. You aren’t filling me with a whole lot of confidence.” Rick admitted.

  Mel sighed. “I’m trying my best here, Rick. I figure since you work with us now, you need to know.” He pleaded.

  “That’s another thing. Nobody mentioned anything the other night about reality or this Company. I met two guys who wanted me to pick up…” Rick started to explain.

  “Strange people from other time periods that have temporarily fallen out of reality.” Mel interrupted him.

  Rick looked at him exasperated. “No, they just…”

  “Happen to be dressed in period clothing and headed to unreasonable points in the city, right?” He finished his sentence for him again. “You do that sort of thing all the time, right?”

  Rick felt like he was being trapped into a delusional line of reasoning. “Stop that.”

  “It’s the truth, Rick. They’re refuges. That’s what happens when reality tears. Things, people, fall out, and they have to be helped back in. That’s what your new job is, Rick. You’re a transporter. You transport people back to a place where they can get back to their place in reality. It’s a very important and prestigious job. Only a handful of people ever get selected to do it. You should be proud.” Mel spoke in a conciliatory voice.

  “Mel.” Rick looked at him hard. “You’ve lost your mind. Do you honestly think that after thirty years you could just pop back into my life and start spouting some ridiculous crap about reality? Where have you been, Mel? Where did you go and leave everybody behind?” Rick tried to corner him.