“Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel better.” She wondered how being twenty-five made her high school years “ancient times.”
“No problem. The Doobster is always there for a lady in distress.”
“That’s sweet. But it’s midnight, and time for “the Doobster” to hit the trail. Thanks for the help, and I won’t forget the free credits tomorrow night.” She walked around the line of shelves and went to the front door, holding it open in a meaningful manner.
Doobie shrugged and shuffled past her out the door. Pulling a crumpled pack of smokes from his pocket, he retrieved one pitiful, bent specimen with his teeth and lit it. Then with a half grinning salute in Erin’s direction, he turned and strolled out into the night. She leaned against the doorframe and watched his lanky silhouette cross the parking lot then head down the deserted street. The bright cherry of his cigarette made a lone, red point of light that she tracked as he reached the end of the block and then turned the corner out of sight.
Alone at last.
Before closing the door, she glanced over toward the car that prompted tonight’s little drama. She tapped a nail against the glass door, debating a closer look at the thing herself. It still rested out there, unmoving, and a distant flash of heat lightning on the horizon did nothing to illuminate it.
“That was seven years ago and over six hundred miles away,” she reminded herself. “Let it go.”
With a shake of her head, she pulled the door closed and locked it with an emphatic twist of the large key ring. She intended to waste no more time. The clack of her boot heels now echoed in the empty store as she headed back to finish the shelves, with just the hum of the coolers mitigating the silence.
For the next ten minutes Erin worked with quick efficiency, fronting the shelves, stocking the cooler, and then doing a quick final mop of the game room. Having already completed most of her closing work earlier during slow periods, she now applied the final touches with brisk precision.
With the mop water poured out and the bucket stowed in the sink, Erin headed for the back office. Stepping inside, she sat down at the desk and started filling out her night tally sheets. Her pencil flew down the paper, the single pause being when she stopped to rub her arms due to the cold. The air conditioner must have got its settings messed up, because the temperature had plunged in the past few minutes. She didn’t concern herself with that now, since Mr. Cross carried the sole key that opened the panel to the thermostat. He could fix it tomorrow.
Finishing her paperwork, she scooped up her purse and started snapping off the light switches on the back wall. Once done, a single small light under the front awning and the gas pumps remained lit. Mr. Cross believed in leaving the lights on out at the island of gas pumps to deter gas thieves. The rest of the store, he seemed content to leave shrouded in blackness. That accomplished, Erin stepped back out and pulled the office door closed behind her. The cold bit with even more intensity out here.
“Good grief! Tomorrow night I bring a jacket.” She hugged her arms to herself.
Erin wrinkled her nose at a new pungent, chemical stench that arose as she navigated her way down the back hallway from the office. She tried to imagine its source, thinking perhaps a coolant leak in a freezer or maybe that crazy air conditioner. Whatever its origin, it smelled unpleasant and carried an even nastier undertone to it. At this late hour, she didn’t intend to wait around and track it down, planning to make the simple claim that she didn’t smell anything when she left. Shouldering her purse strap, she turned the corner into the store proper and made it almost halfway to the front before stumbling to an abrupt stop.
The two large plate-glass windows were now fogged over with condensation due to the frigid air in the store, and that diffused what little light made it in from the lone bulb left burning up in the outside awning. On the other hand, the heavier security glass of the front door remained clear, providing a view straight out front…
…to the black Camaro that now sat right outside.
Erin gaped in astonishment, taking two steps back.
Then the knuckles of her free hand filled her mouth as her vision zeroed in on the small troll doll hanging from the rear-view mirror.
Her stomach knotted and she stood, almost paralyzed, fighting to breathe. Another step backwards and she bumped into the candy rack at the end of the last aisle, causing her to stumble and tip over the wire apparatus. She ignored the rolls of candy as they scattered across the floor.
“No! That can’t be!” She gasped, retreating another pace away from the car that glared in at her through the glass.
That next step back landed on a roll of hard candy.
Her foot kicked up into the air as she almost jackknifed backwards in the dark. Keys and purse flew as she grabbed her head in an attempt to shield it from the impact.
“Ouufff!!! Ow!”
Rolling to her side, Erin cradled her head with one hand while clutching at her back with the other. Pain lanced from where she landed on a roll of candy, and her mashed fingers throbbed from their ineffectual attempt to stop her head from contacting floor. Stars crowded the edges of her vision as she tried to pull herself further along the floor, away from that horrid car. Even the floor felt slick with condensation now.
Meanwhile some part of her mind—the part involved with self-preservation—screamed at her for attention. But it didn’t scream about the car.
It screamed something about that chemical smell. Something important. The smell that now seemed stronger, and suffused the darkness of the store. A smell that meant something very bad. Dazed, she tried to clear her head while getting to her knees. That smell… She now remembered that she last encountered it in biology class in high school. She didn’t like it then either. It had been the smell…the smell of…
…the smell of formaldehyde.
Erin froze, the implication of the growing stench sinking home. Not even daring to breathe, she raised her head in a futile attempt to scan the surrounding blackness, as every hair on her body started to rise. The terrified shock she suffered at the sight of the old Camaro paled in comparison to this. This changed things, and a far worse possibility than the waiting car outside now threatened. The next second confirmed that possibility.
“RRrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnn…….”
It sounded like an exhalation, a failed attempt at speech from a long disused throat. From her place on the floor, she couldn’t locate the source in the gloom. The shelves towered over her, black mountains in the crowding murk of the store, cutting off her view of most of the room. Erin stretched every sense to its limit, all the while fighting the urge to curl up in a ball and start screaming.
“Eeerrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnn…….”
Erin moved in a flash, scuttling toward the back of the store, and then around the last line of shelves. That sound came from somewhere behind her, towards the front of the store. Her back up against shelves, she tried to get control of her now ragged breathing in an effort to hear again. Somewhere behind her, the rattle of cans hitting the floor broke the silence. She bit the side of her hand to keep the hysteria at bay.
“Think, girl,” she breathed to herself. “Those were cans falling. That means he’s somewhere on the second aisle, canned foods.”
She clenched her eyes shut in concentration. She couldn’t reach the front door, and the back door featured two locks that required separate keys to open. It would take far too long to open in the dark. Then she remembered her keys. Her keys were gone, dropped somewhere in the blackness when she slipped and fell.
She was locked in here with this thing.
“Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrinnnnnnnn…….” It came out as a rattle, a wheeze, and it now sounded closer. She fought down a whimper and started working her feet up under her. There came a crash and the crunch of stiff plastic bags and chips, which meant the display on the end of aisle three had been toppled. One more aisle and he would be coming around the shelves where she crouched.
She needed to move.
/>
The temperature fell even further and Erin knew her breath must be fogging in front of her. With her feet now under her, she pushed herself up into a crouch and started working her way with care down the aisle, away from the end with the display racks. Her breath sounded thunderous in her ears, making it hard to make out any noises which might give away the location of her pursuer.
She paused, pressed against the shelves, trying to make out the dim outline of the end of the aisle. The thing should have reached it by now, but she detected no shadow moving in the darkness back there. Where did it go? What if it moved back to the front door? What if it still stood at the fallen chips rack? What if it went down the aisle on the other side of these shelves and now waited at the far end for her?
Torn by indecision, Erin bit her lip as she realized what she must do. She needed to know where the horror waited, and the single way that could be found out would be to stand up and look.
“I don’t want to see this,” she half sobbed to herself, but she put her hands against the shelf and got ready. Clenching her teeth, she took a deep a breath, gathered her courage, and then stood up.
The thing stood right across the shelf from her, about four feet away.
Erin’s shriek split the air as the large silhouette with the ruin of a head reached across the shelves for her. Cold fingers, smelling of rot and formaldehyde, brushed her face as she rocketed backwards. Her back cracked against the counter that ran along the rear of the store, where the hot snacks and condiments resided.
“EEERRRRNNNNNN!!” grottled the thing that used to be Bobby Cauldfeld. It slammed into the shelves with insane force, causing boxes of cookies and bags of donuts to fall around her feet as it tried to reach over toward her. The shelf tilted at an alarming angle, causing Erin to pull herself up onto the counter behind her.
“EEERRRRINNNNNNN!!” It hit the shelves again, this time causing them to topple over toward her with a crash. The stinking shape then thrashed its way with mindless abandon over the fallen shelves in an effort to reach her.
Trapped, she screamed while trying to gain her feet atop the counter. Small bags of condiments scattered and slipped beneath her as she scrabbled against the wall. The hot dog machine crashed to the floor, giving her more room and at last she managed to stand. As she straightened up, her head hit the ceiling, dislodging a tile and causing it to fall into the growing pile of debris at her feet.
The ceiling!
Whirling around she reached up through the black hole made by the missing ceiling tile and grabbed the top of the back wall. She ignored the filth and cobwebs that stuck to her hands and jumped in an effort to pull herself up through the gap. Her feet kicked in wild exertion as she levered herself up on her elbows, trying to fend off the grip she feared happening any second. The dead thing crashed around beneath her now, and she knew she needed to move now. With a wail of both fear and effort, she heaved herself up and onto the top of the wall. Gasping for breath, she heard the stumbling corpse slam into the counter below.
“EEEERRRRRINNNNNN!!!!” It became a full-throated howl and the stench grew unbearable, as if it emptied clouds of putrefaction from its long unused lungs. She could hear it starting to clamber up on the counter below. Where else could she go? She scanned around her in desperation, now blind in the blackness above the ceiling.
No, not quite blind.
Off to her right, there appeared a patch of darkness above her, not quite as dark as its surroundings. She scooted down the filthy top of the wall toward it, and it became much more visible. Slices of the night sky shone down through the roof, and the blessed scent of fresh air reached her.
It was a vent in the roof.
“Oh God, YES!” She clawed at the vent cover, then hammered it with her palm, trying to get it open. It didn’t budge, and she realized there existed a very real chance it had been screwed down. Uttering a strangled cry, Erin renewed her attack on the vent cover. Behind her, cold hands now fumbled at the top of the wall and the stench returned. Her options now amounted to the vent or nothing. There was nowhere else to go.
“EERRRRRRRRRRRINNNNN….” Behind her, she could tell its shattered head now stuck up through the hole in the ceiling. It would reach her within a minute.
The vent remained closed.
Changing position she put her shoulders under the vent, her feet braced on the top of the wall, and pushed. For a long despairing second, nothing happened.
“Come on, come ON!”
The sound of fumbling behind her told Erin she no longer sat atop the wall alone.
Suddenly the vent cover gave an inch, came to a jarring stop, then came free and tumbled off to the side. The sudden lack of resistance caused her to stand up, tearing her blouse and her side along a stripped screw in the vent hole. Night air flooded around her, bringing the song of crickets and the mutter of traffic on the distant highway. Erin scrambled at the sides of the vent, pulling herself up to sit on the side. Then she started to swing her legs out…
…just as a mottled grey hand reached up and caught her by the ankle.
Her scream came as much from pain as of fear, because the horror possessed a grip like a vise. Erin braced her other foot against the side of the hole and scrabbled at the roof for anything to hold onto. She gave a long ragged cry as she felt herself being dragged back down into the building. Her hands closed around an iron pipe that protruded from the roof, and she clung to it for dear life.
But the strength of the revenant wouldn’t be denied. It drug Erin back toward the blackness with slow, inexorable force. She wailed and clung with tearful desperation to the pipe. Bracing her other foot better against the side of the hole, she pushed with her leg and pulled on the pipe with every ounce of her strength. For a moment they deadlocked in a stalemate, then she felt something in that terrible grip give. With an anguished groan of strain, Erin did what she believed to be the impossible and redoubled her effort.
“Let…me…GO!” She cried out in both exertion and disgust as the skin of the hand that held her ankle slipped off of her captor like a glove. Erin tumbled backward out of the hole and scurried away on all fours. A violent crash issued from the opening, as if the thing had fallen through the ceiling back into the store below.
She was free.
Or was she?
A gentle pressure on her ankle caught her attention and she looked down to see the empty glove of skin still held her ankle.
Erin shrieked and batted at the thing in terrified revulsion, trying frantically to get it off of her. Even now, the thing wouldn’t let go. It clung like the remnant of a nightmare that just wouldn’t end. Hysterics took over and she thrashed and flailed at the gruesome relic, her mind now one agonized howl of horror.
Then at last, after several violent kicks, the horrid thing finally came loose and flew off into the darkness.
She was still screaming half an hour later when rescue personnel pulled her off the roof.
###
“So Dude, you’re moving away?” Doobie leaned on his bike at the end of her driveway.
With a rueful sigh, Erin accepted the fact that, to Doobie, she and every other human being on the planet would always be a ‘dude.’”
“Yeah, Doob,” she grunted while heaving the suitcase up into her trunk. “I’ve got to be moving on.” The sun had just come up but she intended to be far away from here before dark.
“Are you okay?”
She paused and favored him with a tired grin.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m actually okay. I’m…free.”
“Huh? I don’t get it.”
She knew it must seem strange to him, listening to her talk about freedom while running away, but she figured that if he cared enough to come check on her then she could at least try to explain.
“I finally realized that I didn’t kill Bobby Cauldfeld. That “thing”…that obsession that I ran into the other night in the store…that’s what did it. That wasn’t Bobby in there with me, Doobie. Bobby is dead. That
was just some terrible, single minded craving that first killed Bobby when he failed to satisfy it, and then it took what remained of him and came after me.”
“Whoah. That is like transcendental and philosophical…and stuff.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is. But, it found me. And it is still out there somewhere, so I need to move on.” Her eyes scanned the street for the hundredth time, noting each car.
“Where are ya gonna go?”
Erin came over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Somewhere far away, Doob.”
She hurried back and opened her driver’s side door, pausing to take another long look up and down the road.
“Somewhere like an island,” she mused, “or a town on top of some mountain. Somewhere the roads don’t go. And maybe somewhere with a future.”
The World in Strips
“Ryan, wait a minute. Stop rowing.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again. I’m telling you there is something under the water, and I just saw it move. But it’s hard to make out with you stirring up the water.”
“Honey, there is nothing under there but weeds, turtles, and fish. I think you just saw a gar.”
Cathy bit her lip in uncertainty, not wanting to make a big deal out of nothing. It had been her idea to row their way down Potter’s Creek, feeling that it made a romantic adventure that they could both enjoy. It had taken a little perseverance to get Ryan to take a weekend off from his home accounting business, and it surprised her how much guilt she needed to force down for insisting on her comp time at the school. She chose to look at that as proof that they buried themselves too much in their careers, and needed some time away to themselves, out of the reach of calling clients and faxes from officious superintendents.
Ghosts, Monsters and Madmen Page 2
