Lara's muscles were soft and unrestrained. “Thanks... but-” She wiped the stay tears on her face and put the car into drive and wheeled down the highway, “I’m not planning on settlin’ here anytime soon.”
“Lara? Lara!” Dian patted the window, watching the highway exit sign float out of view. “We’re reachin’ town limits.”
“So! I don’t give a shit about this town, have you ever thought about leavin’.”
“We can’t.”
Lara increased her strength on the gas.
“Have you ever tried… no. So let’s go runnin’ a little test for ourselves. I can’t think of anyone better to go with than you.” Trees blurred past their sides. Rain shrouded the miles of tall grass and trees.
“Lara, we have people here that need us, I’m sure as hell Michael would like to see us sometime. There’s an entire world of people out there.” The tires hydroplaned for the faintest second, then caught back control.
Lara slammed a fist into the dashboard. “Well, not for me there ain’t.” Her breath twisted into a slight sob, “no… not for me…”
“Well… that Johnathan was there for ya. How did you two meet?”
Lara paused, even slowing down a little, then shot a look of confused anger towards Dian. “The hell you talkin’ about? You were there! You were the one who showed me him.”
“When?”
“When! My god, it was a month ago, you met at him Deerfields bar?” The rain hampered Lara’s view of the road, only broken in those seconds of relief that the wipers brought in.
“I…” Dian rested her hand against her chin. “I don't know-”
“He won some award back in high school. He was a year older than us and had wavy black hair.”
“I don’t think I’ve even been in Deerfields for more than a minute.”
“Goddamn it Dian!” Lara’s eyes widened, catching what she had just said. She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for its been a bullshit day and I-”
“I know… it’s alright.” Dian turned towards her side window. The rain tapping on the windshield filled the silence. Lara tried to fiddle with the radio but was left with static. After a minute, Dian turned, looking forward, she grasped the leather seat and let out a violent scream.
“Dian, what!?”
“Lara, stop!” The Chevy halted, skidding about 10 feet before finally coming to a stop.
“What!?”
“Lara… look.” Dian raised a shivering hand towards the windshield. Down the tree-lined highway, lit with the faintest illumination in the fog of rain, was a figure, same ink black skin and beady white eyes.
Lara could only see the glistening outline of a torso in the headlights. Its eyes shook It slid towards them at the speed of an insane dog.
“Lara, move!” Dian shouted. The thing was too close to drive forward and do a U-turn. Lara reversed the truck and she could see the glare of weaving headlights in the rear view mirror.
Someone was hurtling towards them.
“Shit! Shit!” Without hesitation, Lara slammed on the gas and turned the car. Dian let out another scream. The maneuver got them out of the way. However, the force of the curve flung the Chevy into a ditch beside the road. As the truck tipped over, Lara saw the car behind them. Its headlights created a circle of light as it spun across the pavement.
There was a shrill scratching noise as the truck toppled into a patch of brush. The entire vehicle bobbed like a ship in low wake waters.
Lara saw the shadow behind the twigs around the windshield. It shambled forward and then out of her view. Dian's body slopped against the side window as she passed out below Lara. “No, no, no!” Lara grabbed her then froze.
Something crept up the upturned bottom of the car, producing dull clicking noise below the truck’s floor. Lara followed the noise with her eyes as it slithered up.
A slow trickle-like sound slid across the top of the car. Lara's heart pulsed in her ears. Breath frantic and uneven, she tried to open the door below Dian. It wouldn’t budge. A jet-black hand smacked against the window above. Lara screamed.
Side B, Track 3
Cookin’ With Gas
Harvey rode his slick red stallion in the Gulf Gas Station parking lot. Neon yellow and red lights encased the wraparound windows of the disk-like building. The pale fluorescent tubes lit the wide overhang roof. Two foundations formed a pair of triangles as they held the metal ceiling.
Pressing his hands against the building’s window, Harvey looked around for an attendant. A light bloomed under the staff room door. He noticed the pile of newspapers by the cash register. Jackpot. Across one newspaper were the words ‘Joselean Springs Tribune’ in bold font. He tried pulling the door bar, to no success.
“Shit!” With hands on his hips, he wandered in a circle. Okay, so you’re here, that’s a plus. Drive on down and try to find some more buildings.
Something sparked both fear and hope as he looked up. A person stood out in the cornfield across the road. He saw the faint outline of the person as they hiked through the field.
“You from here?” Harvey waved his arms as he walked out from under the overhang and into the rain. “Ahch, shit!” He jerked back. The rain stung his wrist. He squinted at the downpour, then reached towards the rain and yanked his hand back the second the shower flared it. He glanced at his hand as if it were not his own, then looked at the ground. There wasn’t any steam or bubbles—just plain old rain. The air even felt a little cool. An odd mix of confusion and fear swelled in his mind as he looked back up.
The person out in the field raced towards him. He saw their glowing white eyes bobbed between the cornstalks. It looked like a man running in a wet suit.
Harvey drew his gun with hesitant hands, “I’m with the FBI, don’t try anything stupid!” The words fell out of his mouth with the neatness of a collapsed building. The figure bolted through the cornfields and ducked its head down, leaving a trail of wobbling corn stalks in their wake. Harvey scampered backward towards the gas station’s door. He shook the metal bar handle, making the door clank in its frame, “come on!” The figure’s eyes glowed like a pair of flashlights. Its body became more defined the closer it raced. From this distance, Harvey noticed it had no face.
The shiver from the top of the corn gave Harvey a clear sign of how far the bring was—which wasn’t very far at all. Harvey bashed the glass door with the end of his gun, creating a shimmering flood of glass. The shadowy figure emerged bullet-like from the cornfield, breezing over the rain-soaked grass towards the glistening highway.
Harvey scanned for some place to hide, then aimed his pistol at the thing. The slick black shadow bounded like a cheetah across the highway. Great bright white lights illuminated its left side as-
THUNK!
A grand silver semi-truck smacked into the being, sending it flying off the road, then twisting and contorting as it rolled. The truck came to a screeching halt. Harvey rushed to his car, snatching his bag of clothes and phone suitcase. He ran onto the highway, his clothes bag above his head. The hand that held the briefcase burned.
A muscular man unfolded himself from the driver’s side door, his black rubber boots splashed the puddles on the pavement. His bearded face was shrouded in a camo rain jacket. He turned down the road, where the being lay, town into two; right arm and shoulder on one lane, left arm and torso on the other.
Harvey placed the suitcase on the ground and slipped out his wallet, “FBI. Names Harvey Becket! I need to use your vehicle.” Harvey flipped open his badge.
The man strode toward him. With fingers like thick cigars, he inspected the badge then let out a chuckle, “Sure thing bud, here hop in I’ll take ya wherever ya need!”
Harvey stared at the rain pattering against the semi’s tall windshield. He sat, pent up in the large black leather seats, his bag down by the rubber padded floor, his suitcase in his lap. The tuck shook as it ran over the thing.
“Names Al, Al Bellisario,” Al flashed a s
light smirk. “So where ya headed”
“What was that thing?”
“Nothin’. where ya headed?”
“You hit it with your tuck.”
Al glanced in the mirror, “Guess I did. Consider it a bug, now where you headed.”
Harvey look down as its hush puppy shoes, “Joselean Springs. What was that thing?”
“Hey! You made it; I’m just about to do a shipment down in Joselean Springs. Harvey was your name?”
“yup… so what exactly are you shipping back here?”
“Just a bit of goods to stores, what’s got you shipped up over here,” Al moved a little green rubber duck from the cup holder to the dashboard.
Harvey didn’t know what to say. He planned on keeping himself a secret, but he already outed himself as an agent.
“It must be somethin’ pretty important, ain’t it?” Al propped himself up in his seat to listen.
“I just need to grab some paperwork.”
“Nice choice!” Al said with a smile and an jovial edge that Harvey couldn’t understand.
“Towns a strange place, come here often?”
“Once or twice,” Harvey waved his hand with a casual flair—as if nearly crashing his car and seeing some shadowy being was an everyday occurrence.
“Ooh, we got a bit of a traveler over here.” The semi turned at a broken intersection.
Joselean Springs looked like it was on life support, each abandoned building a dip in its heartbeat. Al pointed towards Harvey’s window, “You’re probably goin’ to be doin’ ya paperwork in that tall buildin’. That’s town hall; the only three-story buildin’ in this hell hole—hard to miss.” The mammoth semi swung into a tight turn and stopped in front of an impressive two-story lodge. “Don't trust anyone who says go to the Sun Inn, this place has better prices and rooms. Say you’re a part of the police force, and they’ll get you a good spot.”
Harvey grabbed his suitcase, “Why not say I’m from the FBI?”
Al sighed and reached into his glove compartment, tossing a clear poncho at Harvey. “Ya can’t throw that out to the wrong people. Hell, I am that wrong people. I could expel your ass outta here, but hey,” Al shrugged. “You needed help, and I’m not gonna let you down… Plus paper work’s a bitch.”
Harvey unwrapped the poncho. “I understand.”
Al clicked a pen and wrote on the front of a playing card, “Before ya go take this.” Harvey glanced at the note; ‘Al Bellisario 555-464-9737.’ “If you’re ever in dire straits, I might be able to help.”
The truck wheeled out of Harvey’s sight as he strutted up to the Beaumont lodge. In the center of the tattered shops and abandoned houses was this beaut of a cabin. Its dark wood and symmetrical frame almost blended into the night sky. He drifted to the front porch and pulled back his button-up sleeves to check his watch. 12:13 is this place even open? Looking through the foggy front door windows, he could see a dim yellow light hovering over a wooden desk in the center of the room and a flickering orange glow from a fireplace on the right.
Harvey entered the lodge like a stay, wet dog. The wooden floor was a sand tan and amid the desert was a statue, a pillar of blonde beauty dressed in a black frilled v-neck with a green name tag: Debbie.D.
She glanced up, “Shoot!” and dropped a book behind the counter. “Sir, we’re only open till ten.”
“Sorry I couldn’t find anything saying the times,” Harvey slid out his wallet and flipped his badge out like a flashbulb. “I’m with the F-” He put his badge back in his pocket, “From the police force, you think I got a place I could stay for a while?”
She slid open a brown binder from her workspace, “You can get $10 for a week at a federal rate.”
“That works out fine,” Harvey placed both elbows on the desk, “You room here?”
Debbie dipped below the counter to grab a key, “A room in a house a good mile away.” She slid the keys a good distance away from her, forming a barrier between the two of them. “Room 215 is just upstairs and to the right.”
Like the wet stray he was, Harvey fetched the keys with one finger, “you read much?”
“A little,” She hid a book back behind the counter’s outcropping. “it’s nothin’ important.”
“Nothing important?” Harvey cocked his head. “Every book is of some importance,” he lifted his elbows off the counter, still waiting for some treat. “You know I have been dabbling into reading myself, ever heard of Alex Haley?”
“The man who wrote roots?”
“The one and only,” Harvey knew of the man, but only saw him, in a Playboy, as filler stapled between two shots of Susan Kiger. Harvey noticed a resemblance between Debbie and Susan, how their golden hair floated, their faces sharp, their eyes lost lakes of blue. Harvey’s grimy gears spun in his head as he studied—a little too close—around the name tag. “If you’re still working tomorrow, I could stop by and maybe have a chat,” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be here around 12.”
“Yeah… I’ll be here,” she said, looking at the right corner of the desk.
He lifted his briefcase and bag, then walked up the regal stairs to the second floor. “You take care, night!”
Harvey gawked at himself in the bathroom mirror, wearing only a white towel. His hair went from dirty blonde to dark brown when wet. Leaning against the cedar-paneled wall, he examined the valleys of his muscles. I’m looking good... Right? He was always steadfast on the dream that he was some dirty bold bachelor. You’ll find love, it all just takes time, he thought as he looked back at the man in the mirror—A man he still couldn't recognize.
“Name’s Harvey… yours?” He said to himself, then tried a different pose, “Name’s Harvey, Harvey Becket. I work for the FBI and I’m out on a covert mission to get your number…number?” Something slipped his mind. “Shit! The phone!” Harvey bounded out of the bathroom. Fumbling with the electrical outlet like a dog sniffing on the back wall, he plugged in the phone built into the suitcase. “There!” He dialed Donald’s number.
“Hello...?”
“Donald, it’s Harvey.”
“Holy crap, you actually called back,” Donald awoke into his usual sparky tone. “Where are you right now?”
“Donald, we did it, I’m in. I’ve made it to Joselean Springs, we’re!-”
Two dull knocks tapped against the door of his room. Harvey glanced at the door.
Chapter 4
Side A, Track 4
Fumes From the Fire
Lara couldn’t see a face or any other body part. The hand froze on the window above her. Root-like black tendrils branched out against the edge of the truck. She could hear the slick slithers they made as they seeped into the cracks of the window.
Lara was stuck in a vertical death trap.
The hand halted, then receded. A wet drag went up the car. For a second, she only heard the beat of her heart and a roaring silence. Then wet feet slapped on the car’s side above her. Plop... Plop… The sound grew. Plop… PLOP… The shadow stood on the driver's side window; its white lighthouse eyes fixed on them. Lara cried as she shook Dian. Two words kept spinning through her head.
Not again, not again, not again.
The figure dipped downward and raised a hand to bash, ape-like against the glass. Lara squinted and held Dian, bracing for the hellish shadow to burst through and massacre the two of them. Just as it swung down, the being froze and snapped its gaze back to the road, as if it were an animal hearing its name. A black tendril shot out a distance behind it and wrapped around its neck. Its legs flailed and knocked on the car door as it was yanked back.
The white truck was hoisted out of the brush and dragged onto the road. The entire vehicle screeched as the tires scraped across the pavement. Dian’s passed out body slumped onto the middle of the seat. In the headlight-lit view of the road, Lara saw one of the beings on the highway hunched as if it were roadkill. Lara's stomach invaded her throat as she saw what had drug the truck out.
A
nother shadow stood motionless, two arms stretched out twenty feet across the highway, tethering the truck. Its arms released their slick grip and dropped like two dead black snakes onto the asphalt. The being cocked its head at Lara then snapped its glare onto the other being that was lifting itself off the ground. Its face oozed black ink. It shot up, its arms drooped and slung back into place like a slinky tossed in the air.
The hurt being lunged towards the woods. The other one chased it down, bulleting around the trees. Lara saw the pairs of pearl eyes dancing within the forest as the two beings fought. She took this as her chance to run. She pressed the gas and sent the car into a sputtering roar off into the distance.
She stopped at the oval-shaped Gulf gas station beside the highway and turned the muddied ivory truck under the broad arching roof.
Lara surveyed the area before she stepped out of the car, noting the cherry red BMW on her walk toward the unlit gas station—the place was grave silent.
Ducking into the broken glass front door, Lara found a phone hanging on the back wall behind the counter. She dialed for 911 and pressed herself down on the back wall, dipping into a squat as the phone droned on. She slid into the darkness, away from the bright frost white glow of the outside lights through the windows. To her left was a door to a stock room.
“Joselean Springs police, how may we be of your service?” A man mumbled from the other end.
“Yes! Hello, there’s some black creature out, it sounds stupid but-” The call cut off into static. She redialed the number.
“Joselean Springs police how-”
“It’s the rain, it killed my friend, and now it’s bringin’ these things after me.” The phone cut to clear static. Tears swelled into her eyes as she once again dialed 911. “Come on… Come on…. Son of a bitch!” The phone once again cut to static. “Come on,” she sulked as she dropped the phone, letting it swing like a pendulum.
She heard keys jangle though the wall behind her, soft at first like the drop of a coin. Then more defined as the person holding the keys stumbled closer, towards the door.
Out There: A Rural Horror Story Page 4