“Hey pal,” I bantered in his direction, “I like Buddy Holly as much as the next guy, but let’s see what else they got in the ole juke box.”
Expecting no response from him, I started flipping through the pages of the little juke box at the table. Songs by Elvis, The Big Bopper, and a bunch of country and western artists of yore filled the menu. This place was a nostalgia buff’s dream.
“I guess we’re stuck with the Golden Oldies tonight.” I informed my silent partner, “Sometimes you just can’t escape the past.”
He didn’t move, but the softest of moans escaped him.
“You okay?” I started. “Okay scratch that… dumb question. Just don’t die on me here, the sheriff will be here shortly and you’ll be fine. Just hang in there, okay buddy?”
I lifted the corner of the blind covering the window we were next to, in order to peek out into the night and see if any headlights were coming. The parking lot sat out there, small and mostly empty…the little island of blue light crowded by the night from all directions. There were just a couple of farm trucks, a little VW Bug, and an old convertible that some coot probably enjoyed reliving his glory days in. No sign of headlights yet.
I started to lower the blind and then froze, with my heart leaping up into my throat.
The bright indoor fluorescents, combined with the darkness outside, made the windows very effective mirrors from this side of the glass. If not for the fact of the blinds being down, the entire diner would have been mirrored in the large windows. I had been somewhat curious why the café would want to keep its blinds down at night.
Now I knew.
From my angle, the old fellow in overalls sitting at the end of the bar was reflected in stark clarity. But the reflection showed something entirely different than the rustic gent that shared the room with me. In the window, a stiffened corpse dressed in a suit like one wore in a coffin, smiled a rictus grin down at the plate before it. Its hollow sockets were framed by wiry white hair, attached to loose clumps of scalp that clung to the emerging skull. Suddenly, its reflection got obscured by something moving in the way.
“Don’t worry,” Cora drawled while she sat down my coffee, “the sheriff will be along shortly.” Right as I dropped the blind, I caught a glimpse of the skeletal hand that held the cup in the window. Standing before me though, she looked as normal and alive as…well, as everybody else in the room. “He’ll know what to do with this poor soul,” she continued, “he’s good at figuring things like that out. I guess it goes with the job.”
I struggled to prevent any evidence of my newfound knowledge from showing on my face.
“Thanks…um…Cora.” I stammered, “I’ll just sit here with this guy till the sheriff arrives, then I’ll be on my way.”
She frowned at me again, and then returned to her spot near the cash register behind the bar. Staring down at the coffee she left for me, I wondered what the window would reveal about the contents of that cup. Just the possibilities filling my mind killed any desire to take a drink. On the other hand, Cora’s return to her place at the register opened a straight path to the front door.
My eyes did a quick scan of the diner, seeing if anybody else would be in a position to cut me off when I made my dash for freedom. Would they shamble like zombies after me, or could they move as swift as they did in life? The fact that I would soon be finding out filled my gut with terror. Fortunately, the two of us sat nearest to the door, and nobody else even bothered to look our way anymore. My hand slid beneath the table and gently started fishing my keys out of my pocket. If they gave any pursuit, those keys needed to be in my hand and ready to use when I got to the car.
Soundlessly, my finger worked to tease the keys out of my pocket. All the while, I made a show of leaning over and talking to my former passenger. He didn’t need me anymore; he sat amongst his own kind now. Who knows where the sheriff intended to help him go, but it wasn’t my job to hang around and see to it that he “stepped into the light.” I had already been a far better Samaritan tonight than I ever envisioned being. My one priority now entailed getting back out on the road and racing for that glow I remembered seeing on the horizon. Whether it was Temple, Waco, or Timbuktu didn’t matter anymore. The time to leave had arrived. I shifted my weight, preparing to make my dash…
…and that’s when the door opened.
Sheriff Gartner strode into the diner and, with a nod from Cora in our direction, headed straight to our table. A large, beefy man in a white cowboy hat, his short grey hair and mustache highlighted a surprisingly kind face. People nowadays tend to think of southern sheriffs as an ominous, intimidating lot, and that’s just not always the case. As he walked towards us, he radiated both competence and concern. He wore no uniform, just a suit with a narrow tie and a badge pinned on the breast pocket. All in all, he could have been a small country sheriff from any time in the past sixty or seventy years.
I reminded myself that he would look far different in the window behind those blinds.
He came to a stop at our booth. With a nod in my direction he leaned forward and put both hands on the table, peering at my former passenger with intent scrutiny. The man from the station wagon sat pale in his chair, eyes closed and breathing in shallow gulps. He looked even worse than before.
“Is there anything you can do for him, Carl?” Cora asked, coming up behind the sheriff. With them all crowded this close, my imagination started providing the smell of decay even though my nose reported nothing but the odor of a coffee. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to bolt screaming from the booth. Instead I just gripped the ring of my keys with my hand down in my pocket, and watched the sheriff as if there were nothing unusual going on.
The sheriff studied the man with a long, thoughtful squint. He put his hand on the guy’s neck, then his shoulder, and then gave him a gentle shake. This elicited no response but another soft moan. He examined him for another minute before answering.
“Well,” he stood up and scratched the back of his head under the hat, “this sure don’t happen often. I’ve heard of it before, but never seen it for myself. It’s kind of like that story Charlie Tucker used to tell. Anyways, it’ll take some doing but I think I can get him where the right people will find him. How did he get here?”
“I found him beside the road a ways back down that way.” I pointed as I slid out of my booth, “There is a wrecked station wagon up against a pole a little further on. I think he got ran off the road.”
“Do tell,” the sheriff replied, watching me now.
“Um yeah,” I went on, “I saw an old farm truck earlier, hauling a cotton trailer with his lights out. He might have run into something like that earlier in the night.” I kept backing toward the door. I had done my good deed and delivered my passenger to the proper hands. He now sat amongst his own, and they would know how to take care of him. I truly wished him the best, but I needed to get out of there. I needed to get out of there right now.
“Son, where do you think you’re going?” Sheriff Gartner asked in a low voice.
“Look,” I stammered, dropping all pretenses while still backing away, “I’m glad I could help. I really am! And I hope everything ends up okay with that guy. But this doesn’t involve me! I don’t belong here and I need to get to Temple. There are people there waiting for me!”
I gripped the keys in my hand now and whirled around to open the door and get the hell out of there.
Then I stopped in horror, my hand on the handle.
The glass door of the diner featured no blinds, and it acted as a full length mirror. The face looking back at me from the glass wasn’t even recognizable as mine. Covered with blood and torn skin, broken splinters of bone and teeth protruded from the head shaped mess. Strips of meat hung down from the arm that reached out and grabbed the handle in the reflection, and the other arm was missing entirely.
I could imagine no way someone could look like that and live.
“Oh, you poor thing!” Cora crie
d, coming up behind me, “You had it all backwards, didn’t you! You thought he was the dead man.”
I just continued to stare at the ghastly image reflected in the door. Outside, I could see the tangled mess that remained of my car. It revealed all I needed to know. Nobody crawled away from a wreck like that. I guess I hadn’t dodged that farm truck after all. A quick glance around the parking lot revealed all of the cars to be wrecks.
And beyond those wrecks loomed the blackest of all nights.
“Oh honey, come on back and sit down.” Cora soothed, “It’s warm and bright in here. There’s coffee, good food, and good music…and believe me, none of those roads out there go where you want them to.”
That Last, Lone Kiss Goodbye
It was on the wrong side of eleven-thirty at night, not the time for social calls, so Colin had the phone in his hand before the third ring.
“Hello?” his mouth answered while his brain fought to wake up.
No answer.
“Hellooooo…?” he snarled.
If this turned out to be Cindy calling about her clothes again he was going to put them all in a cardboard box, drop them out in the parking lot, and set the whole damn mess on fire. He had already told her she could pick her stuff up on Saturday. She hadn’t been a bad live-in girlfriend as far as looks and enthusiasm went, but her inability to cook or fold clothes correctly had doomed her to being thrown out within a week. And after that abortion of a meatloaf she tried to serve him she was lucky that was all he had thrown at her after tossing her blubbering ass out the door. Colin had little patience for incompetence in the people he had to deal with.
But it wasn’t Cindy.
“Hello, Colin.”
The small voice hit like a punch in the chest. A punch he physically felt. Even after nearly a year, recognition came in an instant. Colin actually stopped breathing for a second, his throat locked tight in the darkness.
Hang up, a voice in his head commanded. Don’t even answer. Just hang up and go back to sleep. Do it right now.
“Colin? Are you there?”
Don’t say a goddamn word, just hang up. Do it!
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Colin threw the covers off and put his feet to the floor. Another look at the clock confirmed it to be half past eleven. He hung his head and ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to think about the nine o’clock lecture in Professor Bradley’s class.
No, THINK about the upcoming lecture in Bradley’s class. That matters. That’s about the future. Your career. Your ticket out of this miserable existence. This is the past on the phone, and the shittiest part of the past at that. She’s not worthy of you, and damn sure not worthy of waking you up. She’s trash. Hang up.
“Barbara?” he queried the now silent earpiece. “I’m here. What is it?”
“I know I woke you up. I’m sorry.”
Great! That’s settled! Now hang up and go back to bed.
“No problem,” he sighed. “What’s up? It’s been a while…”
“I know. I’ve thought about you.”
Well that explains all the phone calls over the past year….oh wait, that was Mom.
Colin rubbed his eyes and fought to hold on to the anger. The way his heart leaped at her words both alarmed and angered him, and he struggled for any defense he could muster. He was supposed to be beyond this. Better than this. What she said didn’t mean a god-damned thing and every ounce of common sense he possessed told him that. Yet…yet…
Stop it. Stop that shit, right now.
“Thanks. It’s good to hear from you, too.
Another pause hung in the darkness, and Colin could picture her biting her lip while holding the phone. He hated that…mostly because he hated what that meant. She was bracing herself.
“Colin...” she hesitated again then drew an audible breath over the phone, “Colin…I need your help.”
Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! The tramp finally calls when she needs something. Now tell her to get lost and hang up. You spent way too long dying inside over this little idiot, and you know damn well she didn’t think of you once between the time she decided that cave troll was her kind of guy till tonight. You KNOW that!
Colin rubbed his temples, bitter memories of the past at war with the sudden tightness in his chest.
“What do you mean, Barbara? What’s going on?”
“It’s not a big deal,” she sounded slightly defensive. “I just need you to come pick me up. Can you do that?”
Why? Jerry the Neanderthal doesn’t come equipped with a truck anymore? Or did he kick you to the curb for a model with less mileage on her. It may surprise you to know that I wouldn’t really blame him these days…
“Yeah, I guess,” he answered as he switched on the dresser lamp beside the bed and winced at the brightness, “Where are you?”
“I’m out on Huntington Road, in front of Elkwood Estates.”
Ah, Jerry’s trailer park. Color me surprised. Now turn off the light and go back to bed. The bitch made her choice and walked into that world with eyes wide open, let her live with it.
“Okay.” He rummaged in the dresser for some socks. “Let me get dressed and I can be there in half an hour. Will you be alright?”
Dear god, you are pathetic.
“Yeah, but it’s acting like it’s gonna rain. Can you hurry?”
What? Jerry didn’t buy you an umbrella? Who would have thought it? Oh, while we’re thinking of it…you’re welcome! Bitch.
“Sure thing. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
He hung up and finished pulling on some clothes.
By the way, what if good ol’ Jerry is there to greet you too? Have you thought about that? Maybe she’s just bored and wants to see a rematch.
Colin’s eyes went hard, and the slight smile that crossed his lips held nothing that resembled humor. He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a large switchblade knife. The dark blade flicked out with a press of his thumb. He eyed it with the calm appraisal of a craftsman studying a jewel. Its gun-blued metal was a matte black, contrasting with a bright silver edge where he had sharpened it to razor keenness.
He twirled the blade with expert ease, closed it, and slipped the weapon into his pocket.
The idea of Jerry wanting a rematch almost amused him…because the Colin he encountered last time no longer existed.
And if it comes to that, the blackness whispered, why stop with Jerry?
###
The first hint of rain pebbled his windshield as Colin turned off the highway onto Huntington Road. The gravel stretch receded into the darkness. Turning on his high beams helped some, but also reflected back more of the misting rain. Apparently nothing was going to be easy tonight.
His gut already churned from the blackness and self-hatred that warred within, but he figured another Tums was out of the question.
It had been over a year since he first spotted Barbara Laurell at Fat Franco’s Pizza. It seemed like a different century. A very different century.
A very different Colin.
He had been there with his engineering club, celebrating a victory in the University’s Three Story Egg-Drop competition. They designed a Styrofoam crate with inner rubber band suspension that allowed their egg to successfully survive the drop from the third floor. Now the apparatus sat open on the table while they laughed, ate pizza rolls, and debated modifications for next year’s event.
He saw Barbara standing at the edge of the crowd with a couple of his classmate’s girlfriends, watching the festivities. Unlike her companions, she wore a dress…a long blue figure-hugging affair that somehow managed to be sleek yet at the same time accent the elegant curves it contained. Her golden hair almost glowed in the yellow lights of Fat Franco’s, setting off the sapphire glow of her large eyes, and he remembered even then thinking that here was a girl one took chances in life for.
So, for the first time in his life, he did.
For Colin, still in the full glory of geekdom
, taking chances meant working up the courage to tell everybody to move in and let the ladies join them…and when they did, trying to arrange it so he ended up sitting beside the beautiful newcomer. To his mild amazement, the stratagem worked. And now that he found himself actually sitting next to the gorgeous woman, there remained nothing to do but summon the courage to actually talk to her.
That proved to be easier than he imagined as well.
Barbara was intelligent, witty, and a good conversationalist. She showed an honest interest in the project they had just done and seemed to have no trouble following his giddy explanations of their design. She asked intelligent questions, yet at the same time showed delighted amusement at the absurd things a bunch of guys could put so much thought and effort into. But he could detect no hint of contempt in her glee, and Colin found himself in a state of euphoria as the night continued. The jealous glances from a couple of his class mates only cemented the success of his evening.
But every evening ends, and when the party broke up Colin made a few hasty arrangements to meet a couple of his classmates in the Physics building lobby the next day, only to turn around and find that Barbara had vanished. Gone without a trace. Not wanting to look desperate, Colin still did another quick scan of the building, and even asked one of the other women if she had seen her leave, but no luck.
Deflated, but not exactly surprised, Colin settled for contenting himself with the knowledge that he actually managed to have a fun evening with a beautiful woman without embarrassing himself…even if she had snuck off at the end when he wasn’t looking. For him, that counted as a big step forward. One took one’s victories where one found them, pathetic though they may be. He figured he would never see her again, but maybe the nights experience would give him the confidence to at least ask the next girl for her number.
So imagine his surprise to find her waiting outside in the hall after Physics class.
“Hey,” she practically sparkled, “I was walking by and saw you sitting in class through the open door. I don’t know the campus here very well, so I wondered if I could use you as a guide.”
Ghosts, Monsters and Madmen Page 21
