Love Bites

Love in the Time of Monsters

The windows were slightly cleaner, and you could see the junk that had drifted in the corners of the windowsills like so much garbage washed up on shore. Old sewing machines and broken mannequins, dusty tapered candles and hurricane lanterns. A musical chime announced our arrival, and Judy smiled politely at the man behind the desk. He was a short fellow dressed in overalls and a checkered shirt. His bristling grey haircut and bulky, tattooed forearms gave him away as a military man.

But - and I had that sinking sensation of dread – his eyes had the same weird, empty look to them.

"Do you have a phone?" Judy asked politely. "We seemed to have broken down in front of your gas station."

"Phones broke," the man said gruffly. "Has been for a long time."

I was only half listening to the conversation. The other half was watching a fat, black spider spin a web over a pile of broken chairs. Gross.

"Um, does no one have a phone anywhere?" Judy's smile wavered a little.

"Phones broke," he said, leaning his elbows on the desk. "Say, while you folks are here you should go check out the lake. It's really beautiful this time of year."

Tearing myself away from the spectacle of the spider, I focused my attention on the man in front of me. Something made me blurt out, "What did you think of the ball game last night?"

There was no ball game of course. Personally I hated sports. They never failed to turn people into animals. There'd been too many raucous 'boys nights' that had ended in booze drenched terror for me. But whatever I'd been trying to prove, it seemed to work. The man looked stunned. His mouth worked and nothing came out. Finally he stuttered, "Phones...broke."

He was like a skipping record. My skin was crawling, and I moved closer to Judy. When our shoulders brushed she glanced sideways at me and gave me another easy smile. It made me feel a little better, but I still wanted to leave. "Let's get out of here."

Judy shrugged. She looked oblivious, but when I turned to leave she followed.  Out on the street she paused in front of a battered soda machine, which glowed eerily against the grey walls of the truck stop restaurant. "I'm parched. You got a quarter?"

No. No quarter. I spent it on a phone call that was supposed to give me closure, but might have resulted in making him angry enough to do something stupid. I didn't say it. Reflexes made me pat my pockets, even though I only had that one sad penny left.  "No. Sorry. Say, aren't you the least bit worried?"

"I've only got three quarters." Judy stared at the coins in her hand, like they might equal a dollar if she counted again. "I'm really thirsty."

I shifted from foot to foot, anxious to express what I was feeling but reluctant to sound like a crazy person. "Don't you think it's kinda... I dunno...creepy here?"

"It's totally creepy."  She frowned at the quarters.

Frustration was about to overcome me. We couldn't stand around counting spare change. I had to put the miles behind me. I had to get myself good and lost, in case he was looking for me. On top of that already constant worry, was the hair raising possibility that we'd stumbled into some sort of creepy cannibal town. But Judy just stood there, a far away look on her face. Later I would come to recognize the expression, and it would send a thrill through me when I noticed it, knowing shit was about to go down. But at that moment I thought she was just ignoring me, and I might have lost my temper with her if I wasn't stopped by a very strange sound from behind us. A dragging, squishing noise.

When I turned around I wished I hadn't.

There was something coming down the sidewalk. A nightmare creature, all scabs and oozing. Dragging its limbs behind it, it shuffled and limped and grunted its way over.  Black water was leaking from slits in its sides. Gills.