Love Bites

Love in the Time of Monsters

Only a few buildings lined the main road. There was a pizza place, a truck stop restaurant and an antique shop. The gas station was on the right side, and Judy pulled the sputtering car onto the cracked pavement of the gas bar. Then it happened. The car rolled up beside the pump, gave one last wheeze...and died.

We sat there listening to the silence, and then Judy said, "Well, at least we're at a gas station, right?"

"Right. Where is everyone anyways?"

There was no movement behind the dirty windows of the convenience store. In fact, it sort of looked abandoned. The sidewalk in front was littered with garbage, and the shelves inside looked empty. It felt like the smudged window panes were watching us.

I pulled my sweater closed, as if the soft cotton would act like a shield against...what? There was no one here, so why did the back of my neck prickle?

"Oh," said Judy. "Shit."

There was a sign on the gas pump. One I hadn't noticed before. In sprawling cursive it proclaimed "Station Closed. Sorry for Your Inconvenience".

The sign didn't look sorry. In fact, the sloping black letters looked a bit smug about the whole thing.

"That's okay." Judy combed her fingers through her short black hair, beaming at me. "It's fine. We'll just go ask at the pizza place. It looks...cute."

We hiked over to the other side, not bothering to look both ways before crossing since the street was totally dead. The "cute" pizza place was in shambles, on the verge of collapse, and the windows obviously hadn't been cleaned in the last decade. The door hinges shrieked in rusty protest as Judy shoved her way through.

Grit crunched on the tile beneath our shoes as we entered. I'd been expecting that delicious waft of cooking pizza when we walked in. Instead, there was something foul lingering in the air. Judy paused just inside, wrinkling her nose. She smelled it too.

"Yeah, what can I getcha?"

The woman at the counter trained dull blue eyes on us. Instantly I thought...drugs. It has to be drugs. There was something off about her. She was there, but she wasn't. When she spoke her face remained still, like a puppet moving its mouth. Her eyes were glassy.

Judy didn't seem to notice there was anything wrong. "Hi," she chirped. "Can I use your phone? My car broke down at the gas station."

"Got no phone." The mouth moved again, revealing flashes of black teeth. "Phone line's down."

Something made me step closer, maybe that grim attraction that presses us closer to tragic car accidents and bloody fights. There was something really wrong with this woman. "You're a pizza place," I said, "and you have no phone?"

"Line is down," she repeated. "Say, you folks should stop by the lake before you leave. It's real nice this time of year."

I glanced out the murky window. "It's completely grey outside. It looks like rain."

"It's real nice this time of year." Her voice was robotic.

Judy gave her that crooked, charming smile. "Okay, thanks. We'll try the phone at the antique shop." She looked down at her watch, then back up at me. "Come on, Sam. We'll find a phone somewhere in this town."

I followed her outside. It was a ridiculous thing to think in that moment, but I liked the way she said my name. It was different the way she pronounced it. Softer somehow. "Do you have to be somewhere?"

"Not yet. Here, let's try the antiques shop."

Obviously she wasn't going to tell me where she was going. That was fine. Everyone has their secrets. Secrets like angry red belt scars and long-healed bones that still ache in the night. I pushed the thought away and concentrated on following Judy over the uneven pavement to the squat building next-door.