The Brotherhood of the Wheel

by R. S. Belcher

  “Great.” Alana sighed, putting the first-aid kit back in her tote. “Come on, Ted Nugent.”

  The girls huddled together, cramped in the small bench seat in the back of the tow truck’s cab. Cole and Gerry sat on either side of the winch arm, their backs to the rear window of the truck cab. The truck groaned as it pulled onto U.S. 36 and headed west. The engine made a hollow, choking pock-pock sound as it struggled to drag the weight of the SUV. Wald jerked the long gearshift, wrestling with it for a moment; then the truck lurched into gear, and the engine began to hum with renewed strength. The stars were out now, brilliant and endless. The fields and the patches of woods, the silos and the windmills and the barns were dark, featureless shadows. The only light came from the piercing brights of the old Ford. Toby snapped on the radio in the cab, and to the girls’ surprise a radio signal came through. It was scratchy AM, but it was music—Patty Loveless’s “Nothin’ but the Wheel” sounding lost and tinny in the bottom of a well—but it was better than the silence of the road.

  “We couldn’t get any signal out here at all on our radio,” Lexi said.

  Toby nodded and looked back at her. His eyes drifted from her face to her short skirt and legs. “It’s the only station we can get out here,” he said. “The signal even comes in sometimes in Four Houses.”

  “Mind your hole, Toby,” Wald said, keeping his eyes on the road. Toby was silent and kept his eyes forward. “Everyone just shut up. We’ll be there soon.”

  The tow truck turned right onto Route 281. It was getting colder. Gerry and Cole both huddled as close to the back of the cab as they could and slid lower to avoid more of the biting wind. Inside the truck, the girls were leaning on one another for warmth and as pillows. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the gentle sway of the truck combined with the long day, the beer, the pot, and the stress to lull everyone to sleep.

  There was soft music hissing from the radio, playing some big-band music from the thirties, maybe Tommy Dorsey, Alana thought, her eyes fighting to stay open. She looked over and saw Ava and Lexi both asleep. Out the back window, she saw the boys huddled and still. A peaceful memory of childhood—asleep in the backseat, safe, headed home—wrapped itself around her. Alana looked out the window at the dark countryside drifting by. For a moment she thought it was raining, that raindrops were running down the glass, smearing and distorting her view of outside, but it wasn’t raining. The dark fields were blurring and warping, as if she were looking at them through a curtain of rain. There was a huge dark mountain off to the left. In her half-awake state the incongruity of the mountain, which seemed closer now, seemed irrelevant, and, anyway, a few moments later, when she opened her eyes again it was gone. She felt a thrill of panic struggle to come to the surface, to wake her, but it was too little, too late, to keep her eyes open or her mind from slipping away. Alana slept, and the old truck hummed down the road, her rusted cradle.

  “Get up.” Wald’s harsh voice broke the spell. “We’re here.”

  Alana blinked, forced her eyes to open wide—a trick she had learned during long nights at the ER, to chase sleep away. She was cold, shivering. It was deep night, and the truck was shuddering down an empty two-lane. There were buildings on either side of the main road, mostly squat and dark. To her right, past a few slumbering houses and trailers, she saw a low, long one-story building with a sign in the window that proclaimed it BUDDY’S ROADHOUSE in red neon. A smaller sign in blue glowed OPEN.

  A little farther up the blacktop and on the left was a once grand old house on a low hill that appeared to have been burned down to its rotted skeletal remains. The shadows of a deep forest were already beginning to encroach on the ruins. Alana felt a wave of sadness and loss pass over her as she looked at the dying old mansion. She didn’t understand why.

  “Where are we, exactly?” Lexi said, yawning and rubbing her eyes, smearing her mascara wings. The tow truck passed abandoned houses, mobile homes, and antique cars, squatting on cinder blocks in weed-covered fields. Under the buttery light of a sodium-light streetlamp—the only apparent one on the road—Alana saw a group of hoodie-wearing kids huddling, their faces dipped in shadow.

  “Almost to the garage,” Toby said to Lexi. “Then we can get you all fixed up proper. Find you a place to sleep.” They passed another once beautiful, now ruined home on the right. It sat back off the highway by way of a winding gravel drive. A waist-high, chain-link fence circled the front yard and disappeared behind the half-collapsing house. A NO TRESPASSING sign was posted at the end of the driveway and was faintly illuminated with the tow truck’s passing.

  Alana thought she saw dark shapes moving in the yard behind the fence—guard dogs, perhaps. “What happened to these old houses?” she asked. “They look like they were burned.”

  “They were,” Toby replied. “In the war.”

  “The Civil War?” Alana said.

  “No,” Toby said. “What’s that?”

  Wald gave him a withering scowl. Toby shut up.

  “It’s a shame,” Alana said. “That’s beautiful architecture. Don’t you guys have a historical- preservation society around here?” Wald’s laughter was one of the most horrifying things Alana had ever heard. It was as if the dried husk of a soul that resided inside him was being scraped out with a rusty rake—a bass moan and a sharp hissing.

  “Preservation society,” he muttered. “Funny.”

  About a quarter of a mile down the highway from the ruined house on the opposite side of the two-lane was a series of weathered, squat one-story bungalows clustered around what appeared to be a cement inground swimming pool and a tiny brick building. The building had a lighted sign hanging above the door that said OFFICE. A palsied, old neon sign in pinks, blues, and yellows shaped like an elongated eight-point starburst was mounted on a crumbling cement base by the edge of the road in front. Many of the bulbs of the star were blackened and dead. It made Alana suddenly recall every cheap fifties no-tell motel she had ever passed on the highway. The sign said STAG’S REST MOTEL. Beneath it was a small white neon sign that declared simply VACANCY. The “N” in the sign fluttered on and off.

  “God, I hope there’s somewhere else to sleep in this hole,” Ava muttered to Alana.

  “I don’t think so,” Alana said.

  After another mile of passing more dilapidated cars and vans, choked by rusty vines, and then a few more trailers, another fine old house appeared on the left. It was most likely built near the turn of the nineteenth century. This one, unlike its ruined cousins, looked in good repair and there were lights on inside, peeking out behind the thick drapes in the windows.

  “What is that?” Lexi said, pointing out the window to the house.

  “Damn an Crone d’aois. Bealtaine an Horned amháin a chosaint dúinn,” Wald said, almost spitting the words out like a curse. He raised his hand, extending his index and little fingers while folding his middle and ring fingers down, covering them with his thumb. Alana thought he performed the gesture the way a Catholic might cross himself. “That’s the old witch’s house,” he said.

  “Uh, rock on, dude,” Lexi said with a grin. She made the same “finger horns” gesture with both hands and flexed her wrists. Wald snapped his head back to glower at the girl; his face darkened and his eyes were bright with sudden anger. Lexi’s grin faded, and she retreated farther into the back of the truck.

  “You need to be careful,” Wald growled. “Folks here honor the old ways and don’t take kindly to them being made light of. Hold your damned tongue, girly.”

  Lexi started to respond, but Alana tugged her arm gently and shook her head. “Not now,” Alana said softly. Lexi flipped off Wald’s back and crossed her arms, mouthing the word “asshole.” The truck picked up speed as Wald hurried past the old house. They seemed to travel a little over a mile, passing a graveyard of cars, trucks, and campers, and more houses in various stages of decay, some occupied, others long abandoned, a few RVs, and more trailer homes. They finally pulled into the gravel lot of
a dirty two-bay garage with a pair of old bubbleheaded Esso gas pumps out front that still seemed to be in service. The grimy, rusting sheet-metal sign hung on the roof said SCODE’S GARAGE.

  “All right, we’re here,” Wald said. “Get out.”

  “Gladly,” Lexi said. The girls climbed out of the cramped backseat once Wald and Toby had cleared space. They stretched. Cole and Gerry, yawning and shivering, climbed down from the back of the truck. Gerry looked around at the rows of dark, shabby homes and the deep, immense forest that yawned behind them.

  “Where are we, man?” he asked.

  “Apparently, this is Four Houses,” Ava said. “You didn’t miss anything. It’s a real shithole.”

  Cole laughed a little. “At least they can fix up the car. Any hotels?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lexi said. “You’re gonna love it.”

  Wald started to climb back into the truck to back the Honda into the garage bay. Gerry caught him before he closed the door. “Hey, man, how long do you think it will take to fix this up?”

  “Check back tomorrow,” Wald said, and slammed the truck’s door.

  “They’ll have rooms for you up at the Rest,” Toby said to Lexi. “Be careful walking up there, you hear? Stay to the light.”

  “Toby!” Wald shouted through the partly lowered truck window. “Move your worthless ass!”

  “Ah … thanks,” Lexi said, hoisting her backpack while the others also gathered their gear. The group walked away from the garage. Their breath streamed from their faces as they regarded the side of the two-lane.

  “Okay, anyone got any signal at all?” Ava asked, looking at her phone.

  “Nope,” Cole said, slipping his iPhone back into his pocket. The others nodded in agreement.

  “Come on,” Alana said. “The motel is this way. It’s not too far.”

  “I get the feeling nothing is very far from anything in this town,” Lexi said.

  The side of the highway had a fringe of high grass littered with broken bottles, crushed and sun-faded beer and soda cans, gravel, and damp paper bags. They made their way carefully in the faint light the town provided. In between the few storefronts and occupied houses were long stretches of pitch-blackness.

  “How much longer?” Gerry asked, already trailing behind. “My dogs are barking, man.”

  “Another mile, mile and a half,” Alana said, looking back. “C’mon, Gerr, man up.”

  “We wouldn’t even be out here, hoofin’ it, if you hadn’t talked us into this stupid party, Gerry,” Ava added.

  Gerry started to say something when there was a swishing noise off to the right, in the deep darkness. It sounded like someone moving quickly through the tall grass. It stopped an instant after they stopped talking and moving.

  “What was that?” Lexi asked.

  “Probably just an animal,” Cole said. “Raccoon, or a rabbit. No big—”

  “I really fucking hate this,” Lexi said as they began to walk again. “We’re going to get jumped by dogs or wolves or some weird redneck mutants. Anyone got a flashlight?”

  “I got an app on my phone,” Ava said. “Hang on.”

  The darkness was split by a bright white beam from Ava’s phone screen. She moved to the front of the group, beside Alana, and swept the ragged circle of light before the group.

  “What time is it,” Cole asked. “My phone died.”

  “A little after nine,” Gerry said. “They sure as hell roll up the sidewalks here, don’t they?”

  They trudged on and moved a little farther off the awkward terrain of the shoulder of the road and toward the edge of a wide field that stretched between clusters of dark, empty houses.

  “So about sleeping arrangements,” Cole said, grinning. Ava stopped and swung the bright light of the flashlight around to catch Cole in the face.

  “One room boys, one room girls. If you seriously think anything other than sleeping is happening tonight, then you do have a concussion.” Everyone laughed. The rustling sound returned closer and ahead of them. The laughter stopped.

  “What is that?” Alana said. Ava turned and spun the light in front of them again. Standing in the beam were four figures directly ahead of them. They were man-shaped but had no features, no details to them at all, as if the darkest corner of the night had torn itself free and been given arms and legs, and a vacant face. Lexi screamed.

  “Shit!” Alana said. The shadows moved toward them, grass bending as they pushed through it, as if they had mass, substance. “Run!” she shouted. “Everybody run!” There were more shouts now; it was Gerry, bellowing with fear.

  “They’re back here, too. Oh fuck, oh fu … Ahhhhhhh! No! No!”

  Ava swung the light around to see Gerry being grabbed by two of the shadows. He was screaming. His skin was growing almost translucent, and black veins were running across his face and arms. A stain was growing in the crotch of his jeans as he pissed himself. The things dragged him out of the circle of light. He screamed again and then made a choking, gurgling sound and was silent. Cole had a gun in his hands now and was shooting at the things. He grabbed Ava’s arm.

  “Come on!” he shouted. Ava turned the light back to where Alana was standing to call for her to follow. She was sitting on the ground, her arms held by two of the shadow things. Alana’s eyes were rolling up into her head, as if she were in shock. She managed to focus for a second and looked at Ava.

  “My bag … flare…” she whispered. The two shadows’ fingers slipped through Alana’s shoulders, her skin, as if they were nothing more than smoke. Alana became pale, almost blue. Black veins began to spread across her skin, especially her face. The shadow men raised their arms violently, and Alana’s arms tore off at the shoulders in a spray of blood. Alana’s expressionless face animated into a shriek of pain and fear, as her arms flew off into the darkness of the field. She slumped in the grass, twitching, and then was silent and still.

  Ava felt her world spin, tumble, and start to shatter. There was a strong hand on her arm. She screamed, in anticipation of the icy black fingers slipping under her skin.

  “No! No!” Ava screamed and pulled away. She staggered toward Alana’s body and grabbed the canvas straps of the bag. The hand grabbed her again. It was pulling her up, pulling her forward. A gun was barking again and again. It was Cole pulling her forward. He had Alana’s blood all over him. Ava kept screaming, but she was running now, running ahead, the light from her phone bouncing and jumping across the grass in front of her. She heard the rustling behind her, getting closer, but no breath, no panting of a living pursuer. She knew those things were gaining on her. She ran faster and looked over her shoulder with the flashlight. The shadow was almost on her but, as the circle of light caught it, it steamed like smoke and slipped back into the night, falling farther behind.

  “Run! Run! Fucking run! Jesus!” Lexi was screaming ahead. She was approaching a house near the road. Ava saw her jump up on the porch and start beating on the door. “Let us in, Let us fucking in please! God! They’re going to kill us!” The porch light snapped on as Cole and Ava reached it. Ava looked out into the yard. The shadows were all around them. She counted eight, empty darkness with a thin blur at the edges of them to separate them from the night. No eyes, no mouth, no indication of pity, or any emotion. They moved the way humans move, but with an almost jerky quality, like a film missing a few frames; as if they weren’t quite in sync with the rest of the world. They stopped just at the edge of the porch light, spread out, and waited.

  “Please,” Lexi was sobbing. “I just want to call my mom and go home, please let us in!” She struck the door with a sudden frantic anger. “Let us in, you motherfuckers! They are going to kill us!” She slid down to the base of the door and cried, her whole body heaving. Ava looked at Cole. He was sweeping the pistol in his shaking hand, back and forth, covering the shadows. He looked like a scared little boy playing guns. Ava realized that he was fighting so hard to be brave, for her, for Lexi. She felt very sorry for him in this mo
ment. He was scared as shitless as they were, but he felt he had to be something else, had been taught to be something else. He hadn’t cracked yet, but he would.

  “What are they?” Cole said. “They look like a special effect, like something from a movie.”

  “They can’t be real, they can’t be real,” Lexi muttered, her face against the door. “I’m back in the hospital, I’m in the hospital.…”

  Ava beat on the door. She looked down at her cell phone; the charge bar was in the red. The flashlight drew an enormous amount of power from the small phone’s battery. “Please,” she called out. “Let us in, we need help!”

  “Go away!” a muffled voice on the other side of the door said. It sounded like a woman. “You brought them right to our door. Go on! Get the hell out of here! You trying to get my kids killed, or worse! Go!”

  “Please, ma’am,” Ava said, leaning close to the door. “Our car broke down on thirty-six. We just came into town to get it fixed. These things came out of nowhere. Please, help us!”

  There was a pause. Then the voice on the other side of the door said, “You poor children. I can’t help you. No one can help any of us. Head for the Crone’s house. Just up the road a spell. She’ll protect you, if you can make it. Dia duit.”

  “What?” Ava said. The porch light went out, and darkness devoured them.

  Lexi screamed. She pounded on the door with her feet and her hands. “Goddamnit! No! Let us in, let us in! You’re killing us, you crazy bitch!”

  Ava acted—there was no time for thinking. She reached into Alana’s tote and pulled out one of the road flares. She remembered watching Alana pull off the plastic cap and strike the flare to it like a match. She did it as Cole fired off the last few rounds of the pistol. She heard the shadow people moving toward them in the dark, heard the rustle of the grass as they swarmed in. She stuck the flare once, nothing. Lexi was making gurgling sounds. She could feel something filling the darkness ahead of her, rushing at her. She struck the flare to the cap, and the world erupted in ruby red fire and light. The shadow directly in front of her caught the flare’s blast where its face would be if it had one. It staggered backward, collapsing, losing its sharp outline as it fell, like ink diluting in water. Ava jumped off the pouch and swung the flare around. A star of searing pain bit her hand, but she held on. She didn’t look back at Cole or at Lexi. As she ran, she shouted, “Head for the old house up ahead, run!”