“Guess we won’t see each other for a bit?” Harvey said as he fiddled with his keys.
“I don’t know…” Lucy flashed a playful smirk and lowered her eyebrows, “I got some feelin’ you’re gonna start needin’ us soon. When that time comes, I’d be happy to start some work with ya.” Lucy popped up her kickstand, “see ya around.” She sent the bike into an exploding roar as it wheeled down the highway.
September 4th, 1977 7:56 pm
Harvey glanced at himself in the rear-view mirror as he waited for Debbie to walk out of the lodge. Fine night. He rolled down the window and felt the air. A mist of rain stung his palm. Debbie exited the building in an enchanting, yet simple, white dress. And a fine woman.
He opened the door and crossed his arms on the roof of the car. “So, did you think of any plans?”
“I guess we could go to brookside… well, actually I could go for something to eat, there’s a place off Cherokee drive if you’re feelin’ that.”
“Let’s head on over,” He hopped back into the car and revved the engine.
The words “Wild Rye Dinner” shook as the wind jostled the neon sign. Harvey held one side of the silver double doors for Debbie. The wood-paneled ceiling fans brushed the scent of flour, oil, and dust over them. Debbie hung her raincoat on a rack beside the door; Harvey followed suit.
“How many, Sir?” a mop-haired teenager called from behind a podium.
“Two,” Harvey said with a smirk.
The teenager grabbed two worn menus, “Right this way.” An unstrung guitar hung on the light blue walls, records were nailed into the drywall, and a neon blue-rimmed clock hung above the entrance to another dining room. Two black mesh speakers and an 8-track player hung on the ceiling muttering Chet Atkins music. A white strip stretched around the baby blue wall.
“You know your plates are missin’ on the back of your car?” Debbie said, proceeding to sip on a glass of Coke.
“They must have fallen off,” Harvey had his fingers together in an almost prayer-like position at the edge of the wood-paneled table. “So how long have you worked in Beaumont?”
“About three years. It was my grandma’s business at first, then my moms, and then it was passed on to me. You got any family nearby?” Debbie cocked her head as she noticed a sudden shift in his posture and tone.
“Oh, family.” He brushed back his hair and glanced at a vintage poster on the wall. “I’ve got two younger brothers.” He grinned for the first time with teeth that didn’t resemble a dog’s smile. “Good people… there are some moments when family is all I have… you know what I mean. When work gets tiering, I have something to look back on.”
“Yeah... I get it, sometimes just seein’ mama stop on by can be the best feelin’. I get what you mean, the lonely nights.” Debbie stopped talking and squinted at Harvey. He covered his mouth in a faulty effort to hide a snicker. “What!?”
“Oh nothing, I just think it’s funny… we never grow up sometimes. We run around acting as if we are some grown-up person. Yet, these bones of ours-” Harvey tugged on the skin from the back of his hand, “Is about the same we had when we were young, no matter what shit—Pardon my French—no matter what clothes you throw on you’re still the same you. I always felt like…” Wait, what the hell is she playing on me? Harvey’s mind recoiled. She had gotten something out of him that nobody else ever could.
Debbie’s let her gaze glide to the window, “I can understand, but-” she sighed. “People grow though. If you are around livin’ like that, then you ain’t livin’ at all.” Debbie flashed a concerned grin as she cut off a slice. The only sounds that filled the air after that were the slow churns of pizza, the hum of the music above, and a few strands of small talk. As their conversation dwindled, Harvey grew on Debbie. Her face lit when he flipped open his wallet to pay. She saw a picture of his family tucked along with his dollars.
Harvey grew on her, grew the way all weeds spread their roots.
Side D, Track 5
Fire On the Mountain
A dull, familiar pain throbbed in the recesses of Michael’s mind. Jesus, what time is it!
September 4th, 1977 10:31pm
The time wouldn’t have been late for Lara or Dian, but to Michael, this was as good as midnight. He was scheduled to take in the opening shift with his father at five, which took waking up at four to get ready.
Every time his eyes would start to dim, and his body unfurled into slumber, he would hear that deep voice in his mind speak and would see a white glow in front of him, each time it appeared, it shocked him back into reality.
Sickness lurked in his stomach as he stumbled out of his covers and ambled towards the bathroom. He felt the wall but couldn’t find his door. His eyes had little to no time to adjust from the most recent flash of white. As he padded the wall in a mad, blind search for the light switch, a wet chill coursed through the floorboards.
He grasped the bed and collapsed though where the bedframe should have been. A chill splash rode up his spine as his bottom hit the floor. He sloshed his hands around like some aimless child in a kiddy pool. He lifted his toothpick body off the ground. A damp freeze soaked the back of his pajama pants and slid down his knees in shuddering trickles.
He walked towards the front door, aimlessly swinging his icy hands till he sensed something. He waved three feet in front of him and felt nothing. Stepping forward a few feet again, Michael swept through the air, there was no sign of the door or anything out in front of him. He walked as far as he thought his room would go.
His feet dragged through the water, producing a faint churning sound. He swung his hands like a conductor in the dark. Where the heck, I don’t… dear god no… no… A white glow illuminated the backside of his body and casted a sharp shadow in the rippling water in front of him.
Water sprayed as he ran. The cream-white reflection of the surrounding ripples resembled an expansive target shimmering into obscurity. His stalk-like legs wobbled. Michael felt the cramped bend of his right leg as if it were about to snap. The shine gained on him. He could see the reflection of the glare distort below his feet. A sound like the chewing of ice crunched from his right leg as the light caught up.
Michael’s leg caved in, landing on his elbows. He couldn’t feel any pain, but knew his leg was snapped from the unsightly curvature of his foot and the inky whisk of pink that swayed in the water around it.
The flare blurred overhead and froze a few feet ahead of him. Michael noticed that the thing made rippling footprints yet had no feet. The glaring orb stood in front of him. He knew it had a shape yet couldn’t make out its body.
“What do ya…” Michael spoke but no sound escaped his lips. “What do you want from me!” He mouthed.
“Call me Cassiel. I have been watching over you.” Cassiel’s voice sent blooming reverberations into the water.
“Watching? Watching for what?” Michael prepared to pick himself up, but his right leg slid out from under him and nailed him back to the ground.
“We have been one for 14 years now,” Cassiel dimmed as he spoke. “There are 4 days left. Time will wash this tainted soil, and I need you to set that first step in motion. Right now, you have more pressing matters; Debbie will die at ten fifty-two tonight. You can save her memory.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Journey to Beaumont Lodge. She isn’t dead but will be.” Cassiel vanished, leaving Michael in the boundless darkness.
Michael sat there, listening to his own breath and the subtle wake of the water. He felt the ground, the water was sinking. His world came back to him piece by piece, like shards of a broken window slipping back into frame. He felt the water, or what was once water.
Michael patted the bed and prayed he was actually in his room. He let out a sigh of relief as he swiveled out of bed and walked on his perfectly fine legs. The dang thing tricked me into sleep, he thought as he meandered towards the door. He touched the knob, hoping that it would fall out his hand or somehow
smack him upside the head. “Oh, thank god.” He whispered, as the door opened to his hallway.
He lurked through the living room, trying to not wake anyone up. A phone hung on the hazelnut wall in the kitchen ahead of him. His footsteps faded from hushed brushes to slow pats as he walked out of the living room carpet and into the linoleum tiled kitchen.
A faint hum and tick creaked from the gas burner stove. A bar light above the sink lit dim beige throughout the kitchen. He grasped the phone and dialed for Lara’s home.
Michael felt a childlike fear as he stared out into the darkness. He imagined water pooling around his feet and a flickering white light jetting towards him through one of the hallways.
No one answered. He dialed Dian’s house. The seconds on hold dragged on for infinity. He flinched as he heard the other side click on.
Michael struggled to keep at a whisper, “Dian!”
“Michael? Michael! What are you doin’ up at this hour?” Dian asked.
“Debbie's in trouble.” He paused, trying to wrap his head around the insanity of the situation. “We need to all head up at the Beaumont lodge.”
“Hey, hold up. What’s Debbie gotten herself into?”
“I… okay, I don’t know exactly what’s going on. All I know is we got about twenty minutes now to try to get her. What I know is that she was with some weird dude; we need to at least check on her.”
“Okay, okay, hold on, I’m headin’ out.”
“Is Lara home?” Michael asked.
“Lara was kicked out yesterday.”
“Well, where is she now?”
“At work.”
“I’ll call her. Meet me at the lodge soon as ya can.” Michael slid the phone back on the holster, leaving no room for Dian to question further. After grabbing his blue raincoat, he scoured the thin phone book and rang Walling’s Convenience Store.
Chapter 6
Side A, Track 6
I’ll Be There
September 4th, 1977 10:45pm
Lara and Denver woke up in the musty backrooms of Wailings and couldn’t fall back asleep. Their restlessness was partially due to the pressure between them and also due to the irritating ring of the phone on the store’s front counter.
“It’s gotta be somethin’ important. They called bout three times now,” Lara said as she sat upright from the cold floor and felt the imprints of the concrete stamped on her backside.
“Hold on, what if it’s a trick those things are playin’.” Denver said. His hands lingered on her palm.
“Well…” Lara opened the stockroom door and saw that the glass entrance ceased its pendulum swing. Ink black blood pooled to the door. Popcorn waded in the black puddle beside the aisle, and blood coated the bars that once nailed the demonic being. “Looks pretty clear to me.”
“Lara, wait-” Denver’s hand slid off Lara’s fingers as she stepped over him. She listened to the air conditioner hum as she crept down the breakfast aisle. The phone still chimed on. She picked it up and kept her eyes glued to the wide front window.
Someone gasped on the other end, “Lara! Thank god! It’s Michael. Look I need you to-”
“Michael? Well shit, what you doin’ up? Church let you out late?” Denver looked baffled at her. She waved him off with a ‘hold on a minute’ expression.
“Look, It’s Debbie, she’s… Debbie’s gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. We gotta head out right now to Beaumont Lodge.”
Lara’s hand rose to her cheek.
“Got it, yeah, I’ll… Are you sure? How do you know?”
“I just know, I'll explain later. We don’t have time, just go.” Michael hung up. Lara stared at the phone, then pressed it into its silver cuffs. “Denver I… I gotta go.” Lara roamed towards Clem’s office.
“Well hold it, what about the rain and those things outside?” Denver said, slipping on his leather jacket. “You can’t think it’s safe out there?”
“Safe?” Lara tossed on a trash bag and pulled up the hood. “I got more things to worry about than bein’ safe. You can come along. I gotta’ friend who just… well, I don’t know.” Lara grabbed another trash bag and tossed it onto his lap.
Rain flooded over the two of them through the folds of their hoods. The glow of the storefront illuminated ruby red ripples across the ground.
As soon as Lara hopped in her car and flicked on the truck headlights, she screamed. A black shadow swayed in front of them. The rain thrashed against the windshield, almost blocking it from view. Lara pulled into reverse and floored it. The shadow trailed behind them as they raced through the parking lot. The being’s legs blurred as Lara picked up speed.
In the corner of her eye, she spotted a harsh yellow light illuminate a row of stores in front of Walling’s. It was the silver mammoth of a semi-truck. Its headlights cut luminescent cones from the darkness. Lara turned down East Broadway and picked up speed, the semi’s lights glimmered in her rear-view mirror. The streetlamps blurred overhead as they shot past. The semi ignored Walling's and trailed behind the being, giving Lara a clean outline of the shadow’s body as it bounded towards them, legs heaving and head absolutely still.
“Hold on!” Lara called as she gripped the wheel and swerved into the empty left lane. The semi pushed forward and was almost within range of flattening the shadow but the being leaped out of the way. Denver cursed something inaudible as Lara careened Left, then turned right down 1st Main.
Lara saw the top of the semi over the shop’s roofs as they drove perpendicular to each other. Its headlights flooded through the spaces between buildings. For a fraction of a second, the grand semi was in full view as an empty used car lot blurred by. The shadow scurried between houses and bounded onto the road behind her.
The being was gaining, and Lara couldn’t push the pedal further. Her palms burned with an electric pain. She was unsure if it was the fear of the oncoming monstrosity or her tight grip as the wind pressed against the truck. What she was sure of was that it hurt like hell.
The shadow slung out its arms like two fishing lines. Its hands landed on the lip of the truck bed. It tried to yank back and slow Lara down, but it couldn’t grip the road. Its outstretched limbs rippled and weaved like a clothesline in the wind as it clung. A harsh white light flooded her rear view mirror as the semi rushed in.
A gunshot echoed. The bullet ricocheted off the road behind them.
“Jesus!” Denver shouted as he ducked into his seat. The semi driver shot again, this time, landing a bullet in the center of her truck’s bed and through the shadow. Its head popped like a small water balloon. The being tumbled to the ground, still gripping to the back of Lara’s Chevy. It shook as the street scraped its front side like an unending belt of sandpaper.
“Lara! you need to slow down and turn!” Denver said. The semi-truck weaved out of control behind them. If Lara turned at this speed, she would send them spinning into the front side of a building. An ear-splitting squeal whined behind them, as the mammoth semi failed to slow.
Radio static blared out of the Lara’s speakers. It wasn’t as clear as the music that appeared at Walling’s, but rather a constant change of stations.
The semi blinded Lara as it flooded her mirrors with a harsh yellow-white light. The metal mammoth howled behind them, weaving in its effort to break. Lara tried slowing down; however, it only put the semi five feet behind them. The power lines above bobbed madly as they passed. The vomit of radio warbled and blared as if there were speakers on every inch of the truck’s interior.
The semi was inching closer.
If I could only be on some other road, any road but here. If they didn’t turn within the next fifteen seconds, 1st Main would merge into a dead end. The Chevy's interior blazed white as the semi drove a foot away.
The rain ceased, and the radio became mute.
Lara’s hands shook with pain. For a flash of a second, it felt as though the air pressure tugged on her. The semi was gone, the rain was gone, and the entire street in fro
nt of them was gone.
— — —
The truck bumped across a moonlit grassy plain. The forest on their far left was a dark haze. The stars above were brighter than either of them had ever seen. Lara slowed the Chevy, and the pain slumbered in her palms. The only sounds that stirred were the ticks of the truck and their heavy breaths. The moon shone bone-white waves on the grass. Her headlights cut out bleak white cones of light across the field. She felt lost yet grounded at the same time.
Are we dead? Lara thought as she cruised the truck. She opened her mouth to speak but clenched it back. Pain burst in fiery sparks through her palms. The radio gave a short shotgun burst of sound. Lara slammed on the brake and flung her hands off the wheel.
— — —
The air pressure changed once more, and the rain began to beat back on the windshield. The green East Broadway street sign glinted as the rain tapped against it. They were at the end of 1st Main. Lara glanced at her hands as if they were props stitched to the ends of her wrists.
“You alright?” Denver said.
“I’m,” her fingers shook, “I don’t know.” She wanted to cry, had to cry, yet was lost. “What the hell happened?” She melted into silence as Denver rubbed his thumb against her arm and kept his eyes glued to the street.
“I don’t know,” he said. Lara felt his racing pulse. “We’re back… hopefully.”
“You see that big anywhere?”
“Nothin’.”
“I stayed at work to search for it. Ever wonder how stuff gets into town?” Lara’s question caused Denver to pause.
“I can’t say I have.”
Lara was unsure why his gaze was glued out the window. Something felt off about the street ahead. Lara let the truck cruise as she studied her surroundings. “That semi comes in and drops shit off at buildings. I was just wonderin’ where it comes from... You saw what I saw right, I'm not crazy. Please-”
Out There: A Rural Horror Story Page 8