Grabbing an egg, she cracked it right onto the griddle, listening to it sizzle.
“Okay, this meat is done,” she announced, using the spatula to transfer them to a cutting board. “Now we chop all of this finely.” Grabbing a butcher knife, she got whacking, forming the sausage patties and bacon strips into perfectly sized little pieces.
Walking across the kitchen, she poured the meat into the batter and giving it a mix. “There,” she declared, picking up the bowl. “The batter is ready.”
Brenda instinctively opened the iron and let Sonja pour in a helping. The mixture sizzled on contact and they closed the lid to let it cook.
“Smells amazing, hon.”
“Let’s hope it tastes just as good.”
She waited for the iron to stop steaming—the sure sign that it was done—and then took the waffle out. It looked perfect, little specks of maple fried breakfast throughout the batter.
“It looks perfect,” Brenda smiled.
“Just one final touch,” Sonja pointed a finger in the air. Dashing over to the griddle she scooped the egg, sunny side up, and then laid it on top of the waffle. A light drizzle of syrup finished the whole thing off. “There. It’s ready.”
Brenda turned red with joy, her face almost matching the shade of her curly hair. “Delicious.”
“Now, let’s see if anyone wants a taste.” Picking up the plate, Sonja led the way out the swinging kitchen door and toward the main dining room. Brenda followed proudly, clearly excited to be a part of this little moment.
“Who’s in the mood for a waffle?” she exclaimed. Upon entering the room, she was surprised to see it almost completely empty. All the tables were vacant except for the one with the bald gentleman in the suit. He glanced up with a hint of confusion in his eyes, his head wet with what looked like perspiration. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Where is everyone?” Sonja asked.
The man was about to answer when a loud clap of thunder shook the window panes in their moldings. This was accompanied by the sudden zap of the power dying and the blackness of the lights going out.
In the next room, where the convenience store was, there was a loud crash followed by someone screaming.
It sounded like Alison.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
“What was that?” Brenda exclaimed.
“It sounded like Ally,” Sonja gasped, plopping the plate down on a nearby table and dashing toward the gift shop.
Turning the corner, Brenda and Sonja found Alison standing in the far corner in the dark. Her face was pale and her eyes wide. The display of animal skulls and skins lay on the floor at her feet. She didn’t acknowledge the women when they came in and instead kept her eyes trained on the glass front door.
“Ally,” Sonja ran over. “What is it?”
“I saw him,” she moaned. “I swear I saw him standing outside.”
“Who? Where?”
Alison raised a finger, pointing at the glass door. “Right there. He was right there.”
“Who was right there, dear?” Brenda cut in.
“The hitchhiker from earlier.”
“The girl?” Brenda asked. “Dillon?”
“The man,” she whispered. “The one we picked up in the van.”
“He was out there?” Sonja eagerly asked. If that man was a ghost, and she was pretty sure he was, he just seemed to keep popping up, but she was surprised her friend could see the ghost as well.
She’d read about ghosts who had enough energy or power to show themselves to people who weren’t spiritually sensitive. Usually, these ghosts were people who had recently died and still had a strong attachment to the world of the living.
Sonja thought about the car accident up the road again, which caused her to wonder.
The second option was that the specter had strong spiritual energies during his life, and could therefore cling to the real world after his death. Sometimes this happened when ghosts were angry or vindictive. Sonja’s mind return to her original assumption—perhaps he was a murder victim looking for redemption.
“He was just standing there watching me.” For the first time since the lights had gone out, she turned to face Sonja. “H-He had hair on his face . . . and fangs.” Then, without warning, she passed out.
* * *
Picking up her friend from the floor, with a little help from Brenda, they moved Alison back into the dining room and had her sit down.
The gentleman in the suit stood up as the women came back in, “What happened?”
“She just got scared because of the power outage.”
“No,” Ally insisted, waking back up as they slipped her into a chair. “It was the hitchhiker. He looked like a monster.”
“You’re a little shaken up,” Brenda patted her hand. “Let me get you some more coffee.” She hurried over to the counter and grabbed the hot pot.
“And I’m sure what you saw was just a trick of the light,” Sonja offered, knowing full well her friend had probably indeed seen someone—a ghost most likely—outside.
“I know what I saw,” she argued.
“Fine, how about this? I’ll go outside and check for myself.”
“You’d do that?”
“I’ve done scarier things.”
“Okay,” Ally relented, much to Sonja’s relief. She didn’t want her friend getting riled up over this supernatural encounter.
What bothered Sonja the most about her friend’s experience was the description of the ghost. What could that mean? Why would he have a furry face and fangs?
Sonja herself had met one other ghost that was an animal, and that was Misty—her little cat. Sometimes when Sonja would go on trips Misty would follow. This time, the little transparent kitty stayed behind.
Unfortunately, she never had any experience with ghosts or spirits that looked like a human but took on animal-like qualities. Why would that even happen?
The image which her friend described made Sonja remember the old black and white monster movies she’d grown up on—especially the werewolf. She shrugged it off, thinking of how ridiculous it was. Ghosts and spirits were one thing, but shapeshifting humans who could turn into a wolf was just too much. She couldn’t believe it.
However, it didn’t stop the thought from scratching against her brain.
* * *
Pulling her coat on (and not particularly likening the looks of the storm) she opened the glass front door and stepped out into the magnificent downpour of rain. In a matter of seconds, she was already getting soaked through to the skin.
“Dang,” she muttered, taking a few steps out into the parking lot. Turning one way and then the other, she took in her surroundings—trying to spot the ghost who had been there just moments before and spooked Ally.
The rain was so heavy, and the night dark, that it seemed almost impossible to see the trees or the mountains in the distance. Glancing behind herself, she realized that she could barely make out the building she’d just walked out of. She’d stepped far enough away from it that it was beginning to fade into the curtain of the storm.
Instantly, she felt sick to her stomach with worry. This was like being trapped in a black hole, or in a cave. Completely surrounded by the darkness and the cold, she worried about Dillon and Harvey. Where were they?
What if Dillon had run off into the night to escape the verbal abuse? She could very well run off a cliff in this weather.
“Is anyone out there?” she shouted, trying to project her voice above the roar of the water from the sky. “Dillon? Harvey? Can anyone hear me?”
Pausing to listen, she couldn’t make out any noise but the constant downpour and wind.
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the landscape like it were daylight for a brief second. As the thunder roared its mighty call, Sonja was sure she’d seen someone just standing in the trees at the edge of the parking lot.
Making a mental note of what direction she was walking, and which way she’d ne
ed to go to find her way back to the restaurant, she headed for the trees.
“Hello?” she called again, holding her hands out in front of her so that she wouldn’t run face first into anything in the dark. She could make out vague shapes, but wasn’t taking any chances. Approaching the edge of the forest, her hand brushed against the bark of one of the tress. Leaning on the trunk, she shouted again. “Is anyone in there?”
She waited and listened for another few seconds. No one responded.
She was about to turn and head back when another flash of brilliant lightning filled the sky.
Suddenly, Sonja saw the face in the darkness right in front of her. It was a matted mess of wet fur, black nose, and protruding white teeth that glimmered in the lightning.
Screaming, she stumbled backward onto the pavement.
A low snarl escaped its throat as its looming figure emerged from between the trees. He appeared as a man, but had the ragged face of an animal. The rain passed through his body and made the ghostly essence steam.
Dropping something from his hand, it rolled along the ground down the small incline and bumped Sonja’s foot. Glancing at the item, she realized it was an old milk bottle filled with a dark liquid.
“Y-You’re the hitchhiker,” she yelled. “What do you need from me?”
The man with the monstrous face didn’t answer. Instead, he growled loudly, leaping toward the prone woman on the ground.
Screaming for her life, Sonja rolled out of the way as he pounced.
Stumbling and gripping at anything to help her up, she managed to pull herself to her feet and bolt toward the restaurant. The thud of heavy footfalls, which strangely began to sound like the pad of wolf’s paws, were close behind her.
“No, no,” she shouted, afraid for her own life.
A flash of light illuminated the building. Just as she reached the entrance, she ripped open the door and stumbled inside.
“Sonja, are you okay?” Alison gasped.
Shutting the door violently behind herself, Sonja peered out into the night.
The ghost was nowhere in sight.
CHAPTER 9
* * *
“Here you go, hon,” Brenda offered, filling Alison’s and Sonja’s mugs with delicious, hot liquid. Luckily, the restaurant owner had a change of clothes in the back so Sonja didn’t need to stay in her own wet and muddy outfit.
“Does she need medical attention?” the man in the suit asked. “Did she hit her head when she fell or anything?”
“No, I’m fine,” Sonja nodded toward him, giving a smile of thankfulness for his concern, even if it would have been more gentlemanly to do something more to help. If he had even run to see who was screaming when Ally had first saw the ghost, or offered to look outside himself, Sonja would have been more grateful to him. Instead, he’d sat there on his butt.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” he nodded, as if he’d done a great deed of help.
“Why, are you a doctor, sweetheart?” Branda asked, a look of confusion going over her face.
“Oh, no, no,” he held up his hands. “I meant the man in the fishing gear. He’s a doctor.”
“How do you know that?” Sonja asked.
“I think it said M.D. on his briefcase he brought in.”
She wracked her brain, trying to remember seeing anything like that.
“Where is he?” Brenda asked, looking around the whole room.
“Said he was going to the bathroom,” the man shrugged.
“Well, okay.” Brenda nodded. “But it sure must be dark back there with no lights at all. Those bathrooms only have one tiny window each.”
“Hey,” Sonja changed the subject, “speaking of lights, does this place have a generator?” She knew that her diner had its own generator in a shed out back, just in case the power went out for long periods of time. It was mostly to help the fridge and freezer stay cold during an outage.
In this instance, however, she was hoping that getting the lights back on would help Ally stay calm—as well as herself.
“As a matter-of-fact, it does,” Brenda confirmed, “but I don’t know how to work the thing. That’s P.J.’s expertise, not mine.”
“Well, I’ve worked with a generator before. I could take a look at it if you want,” she offered. Even if it meant going outside again for just a minute or two, she would be much happier if the lights were on.
“Well, hon, that would be perfect.” Walking over to a cabinet on the wall of the dining room, she opened it and pulled out a flashlight. “Follow me and I’ll show you where it is.”
* * *
“Odd about what your friend said,” Brenda mentioned as she stood in the storage room at the back of the restaurant, pulling on a rain poncho they had in a box. Reaching into the box again, she pulled out a second orange poncho and handed it to Sonja. “No reason for you to get your new outfit wet, too.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking it and slipping it over her head. “And what do you mean? About what Ally said and all?”
“Oh, it’s silly, really,” Brenda admitted, shining the flashlight around the dark storage room to see if there was anything else useful. “You said you’d need some tools?”
“Yep,” Sonja agreed, smoothing out the poncho so it had the most coverage. “How is it silly?”
“Oh, there is just this old legend about the stretch of road where the Roadside Gas and Restaurant is built.” She knelt down and rummaged through the piles for a toolkit.
Sonja shrugged, “about a boy left in the woods who became a wolf?”
Brenda straightened up, toolbox in hand, with a look of surprise on her face. “So you’ve heard it?”
“Well, sort of. I’m not very clear on the details.” She strained to remember what the hitchhiker had said. “A young boy and his father get in an accident. The father dies, but the boy lives. A pack of wolves pick him up and raise him. Am I in the right ballpark here?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“And he turned into half human, half wolf and still wanders the woods around the area.”
“That’s right,” Brenda nodded, leading the way out of the storage room. “But it isn’t all.”
“It’s not?” Sonja asked. She was sincerely interested in this old legend and how it played into everything they were experiencing that very night.
“No. In fact, there’s more.”
“Tell me,” Sonja insisted.
“Well, many people have claimed to see, or at least believe they’ve seen, the human wolf. As it goes, the wolf boy died a long time ago—possibly right after the car accident. Instead, his spirit lives on among the trees possessed by the power of the wolf, and each passing year the wolf grows stronger.”
Now Sonja was very intrigued. Wolfmen, she couldn’t bring herself to believe in, a spirit possessed by the power of the wolf was far more likely. “So, what does it all mean?”
“Your friend saw someone standing outside with wolfish hair growing on his face.”
“That’s right.” Sonja hadn’t mentioned that she too had seen the creature. She’d claimed she’d been spooked by the lightning and ran back inside.
“The final part of the legend is this. The spirit of the wolf will lead drivers off the road and into car accidents. Anyone who dies out on the stretch of road becomes one of the wolf’s pack.”
Sonja instantly thought of the car wreck they’d passed on the way through.
Brenda got really quiet, leaning in. “Maybe, the man your friend saw was someone who died out here recently and has only begun the transformation into one of the members of the wolfpack.”
Sonja felt her skin prickle with the cold. Had their hitchhiker been the poor driver from the wreck? When they picked him up, he had been confused about who he was? Was the transformation to wolf so fast that he had already begun to change? Maybe that was why he’d been so confused—his identity was fading into the form of the wolf.
If it really was the driver, had he been purposeful
ly driven off the road by a ghost? Worse than that, had he decided to follow them to the restaurant? If so, what for? Was he planning to try and integrate Ally and the rest of the people into the wolfpack?
If a ghost was the cause of the accident, could it be considered murder? Supernatural murder perhaps?
How could she convince Frank of that?
Sonja shivered as she thought of the endless horrifying possibilities.
“Ready to go?” Brenda asked, approaching the back door.
“Ready,” Sonja agreed.
Following the restaurant owner to the backdoor, Sonja let out a startled cry when her foot caught on something sitting on the floor.
“What is it?” Brenda exclaimed.
“I tripped on something near the door,” bending down, she got a closer look. “Looks like a bag of flour.”
“That’s not supposed to be there. I’ll have to take care of it later.” Opening the door, the rain blew into the hallway. “Come on.”
The two women stepped out into the downpour.
CHAPTER 10
* * *
The rain was coming down harder than before, and Sonja could see large torrents of water pouring over the parking lot like rivers. She thanked her lucky stars for having been wise enough to get off the road when they did. If they hadn’t, they could easily have been washed into the ravine by a flash flood.
They’d be dead just like that driver, and possibly turning into wolves themselves.
“Over here,” Brenda shouted, motioned for Sonja to follow her.
The generator was inside a small shed located just out back of the building beside the dumpster. It was almost like a lean-to shanty against the backside of the building, and she was surprised it hadn’t been blown away in the storm.
Pulling the rickety door open, Brenda almost got blown away herself as the wind caught the large flat surface. “Hurry! Inside,” she insisted, pushing the younger woman into the shelter.
The interior of the shed seemed larger than it had looked on the outside, something that surprised Sonja. The room held all manner of rusted and misused tools, all hanging from the walls and the rafters, all collecting a suit of rust.
Scary Sausage Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 13) Page 4