Barns, Blood and Rock and Roll

by Joe Zito

  “Hey! Anybody in there?” He yelled out and then cautiously stepped forward. The car wasn’t on but Wyatt could hear the ticks of the settling engine. He looked around and across 350 south and then moved a little closer, gripping the ball bat just a little tighter. An engulfing fog smothered the body of the black and burnt Slylark like a ghost. Its windows were pitch black. Wyatt crept towards the car. Nervously he raised the bat up above his shoulder ready to strike if need be. “It ain’t everyday a car lookin’ like it came straight outta hell comes rumblin’ in here. Now whoever or whatever is in there best get on outta here!” Fearfully he glanced around again, feeling the blackness of the night and hearing that distant thunder booming from far off somewhere. Meanwhile, Ellen Sue stood by the door, looking out into the night with her arms crossed around her waist with a worried look on her face. Somethin’ ain’t right about this. That car ain’t a real car, she thought to herself and then a gust of horror blew through her at another thought, The devils in that car. He’s been watchin’ me and the stuff I’ve been doin’ with my uncle and now he’s come for me. Stop it Ellen Sue you’re thinkin’ crazy thoughts, now just stop it. A mosquito landed on Wyatt’s neck making him flinch when it began sucking his blood. He slapped at his neck and just then the Buick turned on. Ellen Sue jumped and let out a small, girlish scream and covered her mouth. She could smell her sex on her hand from earlier. The stench made her stomach queasy but not because of the odor but rather it’s reminder of the sin she had committed with her uncle and the possibility of death coming to embrace her in its cold, black arms. Wyatt quickly jerked his head downward at the sound of the starting engine. His eyes landed on the hood. Underneath it rumbled and growled an unholy rhythm of hate. The engine revved up hard and loud. Wyatt trembled, still holding the bat in his nervous and sweaty hand. The hellish car bore down making its wheels spin and smoke and the engine blast out a constant roar of pedal to the metal asphalt suicide. Wyatt staggered back and instinctively dropped his lame weapon and covered his ears. Ellen Sue looked on and screamed in terror as she stood inside protected by the big square window on front of her. The bastard car kept going and going and spinning and smoking and roaring and then nothing.

  Sweet silence.

  Wyatt hunkered down still with his hands covering his ears. Slowly, he lowered them, looking on in terror at the car. A high pitch buzz played in his ears but he could still hear cicada’s buzzing across 350 s in the cornfield. And then that distant thunder boomed once again. A flash of bright blue light in the sky followed. Ellen Sue’s fingertips trembled over her lips. Her legs felt wobbly and she had to pee again. Her uncle was now standing up straight. From where she stood it looked as if he was brave and unafraid. But she knew better. He turned and looked at her standing there in the window. She frantically waved for him to come back. He shook his head slowly as if it was his fate to go to the car and see what was in store for him. And that’s what he did. First he tapped at the window with his bat. Nothing. Then he banged the top of the hood with his closed fist. He did it gently at first but then started pounding the flat black finish over and over again until his hand was sore. He stopped. Nothing. He turned around and faced Ellen Sue. He began laughing to himself. First a little chuckle and then a full blown insane howl of laughter with his arms outstretched. Ellen Sue waved to him to come back and she was screaming it too but he was oblivious to her anxiety and terror because he was losing his mind out there in the black of night under bright lights hanging over two old and lonely gas pumps and an ancient, demon car shrouded in smoke. His insane laughter boomed into the night and over the cornfield. What’s so funny uncle Wyatt? Are you afraid of what might be in that car, sitting behind the wheel waiting for you? Or are you just scared out of your ever loving wits because of the dream you had three nights ago of a black car smothered in smoke pulling up to two old and lonely gas pumps at the place of business that bears your name; your good and trustworthy I would never fuck my sisters fifteen year old daughter name. He leaned back against the car and his stupid laughter began to cease. Those ticks of the cooling engine started again. They seemed to mingle nicely with the cicada’s buzzing throughout the night. Wyatt stood there with his back against the car door for what seemed like an eternity to Ellen Sue. He looked up to the black sky and sobbed pathetically, yet quietly to himself. He took a step forward with the intent of going back inside his place of business to call the police on this jackweed fucking up his night of sex and then a bout of hard drinking much later but then an unseen force grabbed his ankle and pulled him to the ground where it then drug him under the belly of the beastly Chevy with him screaming and thrashing and his mouth wide open and full of terror, reaching out towards Ellen Sue as she watched him being pulled violently under the car. Too frozen to scream or move, she could only stand there like a statue. Then her bladder gave way and warm urine rushed out from between her legs. She felt nothing.

  Wyatt had vanished like magic, slithering away right in front of her eyes. But where did he go? Ellen Sue could clearly see the open space under the car indicating that nothing was there. She then moved backwards without even knowing she was moving. Her sweaty, stringy blonde hair covered her eyes, blotting out some of the horror image through the window. She whimpered a girlish, weak sounding cry like a she was trying to let out a scream but couldn’t. It was just her and the window in front of her protecting her from whatever it was that was out there. Then the passenger’s side window exploded, bursting out a long gush of blood in the night. Sharp, shards of glass flew everywhere. It looked like sparkling red diamonds. Ellen Sue found the scream trapped in her throat and she howled out in fright. The blood fountain seemed to go on and on. Her heart was beating out of control as she instinctively ran back behind the checkout counter, huddling down, covering her ears and shutting her eyes tight. It did no good. She could still hear blood hitting the pavement like a water hose. She cried out, “Mama, please help me. I’m so scared.” And then it stopped. It was silent once again but she didn’t move an inch. She did open her eyes though. In front of her was a stack of 1030 oil boxes and a few six packs of orange soda and coke in bottles. Despite her horror and dreadful feeling of unreality, she suddenly craved the sweet, sugary goodness of an ice cold coke. She remembered sucking down three cokes last weekend at her house when her family had a barbecue and uncle Wyatt kept staring at her and she would lick her lips at him, feeling herself get wet. She fled behind her house and he followed her. He found her bare bottomed and squatting down by an oak tree taking a pee. Steam rose up from her piss puddle. She smiled at him and said, “You like watchin’ me pee?” in her strong southern Indiana drawl and a teasing, cunning look in her young eyes. He went to her with his pants already down to his ankles. He fucked her right there in the black of the summer night with mosquitos biting and sucking and Ellen Sue’s mother sipping an ice tea, smoking a cigarette wondering where in the sam hell her daughter had run off to.

  With her heart racing, Ellen Sue sat huddled behind the counter of Wyatts gas-n-go for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes wide and scared. Then the long rusty creak of a door opening came from outside. She gasped and covered her mouth. The door slammed shut. She unknowingly peed some more. Slow and muffled sounding footsteps crept forth. They made a scuffing sound across the pavement like they were fancy dress shoes possibly. She whimpered as they lurched closer. The jingle of two bells sounded when the door open. Her eyes squinted tightly shut as she tried her best to hold in her terror. The door shut and the scuffing sound of the shoes started again. Click, click, click. It was the sound of death drawing near. Ellen Sue knew it had come for her, for she had seen herself hanging from the oak tree behind her house in her nightmare she had last night; a thick brown rope tight around her neck, her innards dangling out of her stomach laying in a steaming pile under her lifeless swaying body. Click, click, click and then stop. Sharp fingernails tapped eerily on the counter and then a bored sigh followed. Vomit rose up in Ellen Sue’s throat. It filled h
er mouth and seeped through her fingers covering her mouth. “Oh now dear Ellen Sue,” a sharp, cunning voice said from behind the counter, “Don’t fret now child. It’s a very strong rope.” And then a horrid laugh and the strong odor of something burning filled the dark room. “Oh, lovely, sweet little Ellen Sue. I was assigned to you fifteen years ago and I asked why master why? What could this dear wonderful child ever do to earn her a place in your hot, kingdom of fire? And then I saw. Oh dear master in hell I saw. And little girl, if you’re thinking the reason I’m here is because of the fun you’ve been having with your uncle, I can tell you that it’s not.” A cry full of puke exited Ellen Sue’s mouth. The voice continued, “I’m here for that other thing. You know what I’m talking about don’t you Ellen Sue?” Her cries elevated. “Oh come on now girl, you know why I’m here and you know what you did. It happened only just a few short months ago didn’t it. You were babysitting little five year old Freddy Sutton down the road from your house and you just couldn’t keep your dirty little hands off of him could you.” She let out a mournful, sick moan. “So c’mon. The old oak is waiting and so is the master and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Then, a large shadow moved in front of Ellen Sue. A blanket of doom fell over her as darkness wrapped it’s arms around her, preparing to take her to her fiery fate.

  Psycho ‘78

  The line at the supermarket seemed to stretch for miles. There was a four year old kid screaming his head off at the end of the line about wanting some candy. In the middle there was a young married couple with yuppie food in their cart. They were arguing about President Carter. And in the front were sixteen year old Stacy and her dad. She was decked out in what was considered extreme clothing in 1978: A short black leather mini skirt, a neon pink Sex Pistols t-shirt, a safety pin impaled into her left eyebrow and a black leather jacket despite the hot July weather outside. A round wire like contraption sat on top of her head with two round fuzzy things covering her ears. It was her headset and she was listening to Cretin Hop by the Ramones, chewing and popping her bubbalicous bubble gum looking bored as fuck waiting in line. Her dad adjusted his comb over on top of his middle aged head and displayed an embarrassed smile that seemed to say, ‘kids these days.’ An old lady with old lady blue hair waddled through the entrance of the supermarket and gave an appalled look of disgust to Stacy. The black female cashier’s mouth hung open in awe as she stared at the punk rock chic and mindlessly rang up their food items on the conveyor. Stacy just kept chewing and popping her gum, still not giving a fuck. 1234 cretin’s want to have some more. Her dad couldn’t wait to get out of the store. He could feel every eye on him and his colorful daughter. He thought he knew his only daughter well and didn’t understand what went wrong or what changed in her to make her dress this way and act so defiant. What he also didn’t know was that his daughter was a master of sneaking out of the house on school nights and it wasn’t to go drink at the park or pop pills in the mall parking lot or to suck Johnny’s cock in the backseat of his ’67 camaro or to shoplift, snatch an old ladies handbag, scare some little kids or finger bang that red head she’s had her eye on in history class. No dad. Your daughter likes to kill people. Sneaking out of the house on a random Tuesday night and slashing some fucks neck wide open has been Stacy’s extracurricular activity for some time now. Fuck cheerleading. She could kill the cheerleaders if she wanted to. Murder is in daddy-o, don’t you know. In fact she’s thinking about it right now waiting in line listening to the Ramones. 4567 only cretin’s go to heaven. In her mind she’s already killed the dumb cashier gawking at her, the old lady with old lady blue hair, the arguing yuppie couple bitching about President Carter and if that kid doesn’t shut up about the candy by god he’ll be the first child to have met her deadly touch. Then out of nowhere she yells, “Fuck!” Her dad jumped from her abrasive yell as if a firecracker went off by his shoe. He said as calmly as he could and almost in a whisper, “What is it honey?” And then looked at the other customers with a ‘it’s all right’ smile. “Look,” Stacy said and raised her hand. His face turned to a mask of disgust at the sight of blood on her fingers. “I started my fucking period!”

  “What’s a period mommy?” The screaming candy crazed kid asked his mother and then she quickly covered his ears with her hands giving him human earmuffs.

  Stacy’s dad was smiling nervously and through his grin and clenched teeth he said to his daughter, “Honey, is this necessary?”

  Oblivious to his embarrassment she began searching through the plethora of food on the conveyor belt trying to find the tampons she threw on there. She found it and started to open it, getting blood on the package. “Gross,” she said with a disgruntled look on her face as she wiped the color red from her hand with the pink plastic package. The cashier’s eyes grew large with shock at what she was seeing and the yuppie woman let out a gagging sound and covered her mouth with a horrid look of disgust on her face. Then the cashier turned to the girl’s father, pursing her lips together giving him an ultra-sarcastic look as if to say ‘Really? You’re going to let your daughter get by with this?’ Still with that goofy, nervous smile on his face he raised his hands and said, “Kids these days.”

  The Diner

  “Well you dumb broad, looks like you’ve got yourself in another predicament.” The last time Lila shuddered at this thought she was eighteen and knocked up, crying on the floor to her mama explaining that it was true love for her and her man.

  “True love all right. No good dog left me and my baby high and dry two years later. It wasn’t easy just the two of us, me and Sara.”

  Easy though compared to the predicament she found herself in now.

  Lila’s knees were curled up close to her chin as she suddenly awoke from her slumber. A big bump jolted her awake. She was dirty, smelly and unaware of where she was, other than knowing she was sitting in a large moving object.

  A semi.

  The forty three year old with streaks of grey in her dark brown, reddish hair, glanced sleepily around the dark cabin of the semi. It smelled of old leather and had a tar like rank.

  Darkness engulfed her vision when she looked outside the window. The eerie shadows of pointed pine trees swaying in the wind outlined in the black night frightened her. It felt like a bad dream. Lila only wished it was. Everything around her was real, even the large beefy man behind the steering wheel driving the semi.

  Lila’s head throbbed. Her shoulders and neck to, like she’d been beat. But there was an even more aching pain below between her legs. Her body reeked of a filthy ashtray and smelled of oily fat man semen.

  “Oh dear God no,no,no, I was raped,” she thought.

  “That seems to be the case Ms. Lila.”

  She straightened up by the voice, clear as a cloudless day in her mind. Dark days have come to rear their ugly and vile faces again for you Lila.

  “No, not now, please god not know.”

  “Ms.Lila calm down, everything will be all right as long as you listen to me. I’m gonna help you get outta this.”

  She sobbed quietly to herself.

  “You best cut that out woman!” The big bearded drive squawked at her.

  “I hate to say it Ms. Lila, but you better listen to him if you wanna stay alive.”

  The voice was female. It was young sounding with a heavy southern Indiana accent.

  “Ms. Lila, it’s very important that you listen to me and do exactly as I say, understand?”

  Lila was silent.

  “It’s obvious you haven’t used your gift for a while. You haven’t said one word to me yet. Guess I’ll be doin’ all the talkin’ for now, so you better listen up and listen good if ya wanna stay alive, ya here!”

  “Ok” Lila reluctantly responded.

  “You is on route 11 right now. In about five miles your’re gonna see a big flashing sign on your right, say Joes Diner. You can’t miss it. I’ll be right in there waitin’ for ya. Now listen Ms.Lila, there is a truckstop just before
Joes, its Scotty’s reststop. Do not let that ape in overalls turn in to Scotty’s or I won’t be able to help you. Besides Scotty’s food sucks and they play Perry Como on their jukebox. We play Johnny Cash baby! Now get movin’.”

  Lila moaned. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Pipe down woman.” He spat tobacco juice into a metal can. Brown spit dangled from his beard.

  She rested her head on the back of the seat and stared into the passenger side mirror. Her face showed signs of aging as though the final years of youth were fading away. She felt young. Maybe too young when she was at the bar just hours ago as she danced in her tight bell bottoms with the fat rapist, drinking like a fish, trying to numb out the voices that have been haunting her for years. Sometimes they come for short visits, sometimes they hang around for a while.

  “Damnit, they’re still hanging around after all these years,” hopelessly she thought. Then another thought formed in her mind. How did this voice, the female voice I’m hearing now, know he was wearing overalls? A sense of urgency came over her like a hard slap in the face, waking her out of her daze.

  Bright, shining yellow lights were up ahead in the black of night. Quickly she said, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

  The driver gave her a look of annoyance. He sighed letting out a spray of brown spit.

  “Yeah ok, we’ll stop. I’m not finished with you yet.” Lila’s spine froze upon hearing this.

  “I’ll need a break before round two,” he said with an evil smile attatched to his face. “But listen here, if you try to run, you as much make a squeak to anyone, I will skin you alive you here!” She shook her head agreeing with him. He wiped his spit from his beard, giving her a watchful eye.