Chapter 1
I’m convinced that I met Satan at a Waffle House just a few miles south of San Antonio, Texas.
It was a stifling summer night, too damn hot to go home. Lenny and I had been out partying. Somewhere along the line he managed to score some crank, and was being an asshole, the way he always got when he was high. Hungry, I convinced Lenny to take me out for breakfast.
As we walked in the door, every employee in the joint said, almost in unison, “Good Morning!” Cheeriness at three o’clock in the morning must be hard to achieve, especially at minimum wage. We slid into the only empty booth, although the dirty dishes had yet to be cleared.
“Hey goofy, how about getting this crap out of our way?”
God, Lenny was a jerk when he was loaded. The sole bus ‘boy’ was a young Mexican girl with Down’s syndrome. She was fumbling with a broom and dustpan in front of the doughnut rack.
“Len, give her a break,” I whispered, embarrassed. “Can’t you see that she’s slow?”
“Well tell her to get her slow ass over here and clear our table,” Lenny loudly grumbled, pushing the dirty dishes and glasses to the center of the table.
That’s when I saw him. He was seated at the counter with a cup of coffee in front of him, just a few feet from our booth. His clothes were dusty, almost as if a layer of fine ash covered him from head to toe. His pants were black and his shirt was gray. Short and thin, he crouched over his coffee, his head in his hands, staring directly ahead into the mirror behind the counter.
His eyes met mine in that mirror. The moment I saw those eyes, black and blood-red, I knew that he was not of this earth. As he stared into my soul, I wanted to run, screaming, into the night. I wanted to get away from that place, away from him. But I didn’t get up. I couldn’t get up.
I really don’t think that Lenny even noticed him until the man with the terrible eyes got up from the counter, turned, and stood over our table.
I don’t know why I can’t remember what he looked like. I do remember that he was old, and very pale, as if his skin had never been exposed to sunlight. And I remember the smell. The smell is not something that can easily be described. Try to imagine the aromas of death, disease, broken hearts, broken promises, and unfulfilled dreams all mixed together in equal measure. Then add a dash of despair, a sprinkling of horror, and you might have something that comes close.
“Leonard, why do you torment her so?” the old man hissed, leaning forward toward Lenny. He smiled evilly, displaying crooked, decaying teeth. “Can’t you see that she’s already serving her sentence?”
“Back up old man,” Lenny stammered. Even Lenny, smashed as he was, was taken back by this guy’s appearance. Did he call Lenny by name? “Get the fuck away from me, you old drunk!”
The old man reached out and grabbed Lenny’s wrist. Startled, Lenny pulled back, and for a moment there was a tug of war as Lenny worked to extricate himself from the old man’s grip. Lenny raised his free hand and curled his fingers into a fist, preparing to deliver a blow to his head, and then he froze. For what seemed an eternity, they were perfectly still, staring into one another’s eyes.
“DONE!” the old man croaked, releasing Lenny’s wrist.
Lenny plastered himself, wide eyed with fear, into the far corner of the booth as the man in black turned to me. “You need to teach your friend some manners, Mary Elizabeth,” he said evenly. “Now you’ll have that chance.” He paused at the door, and placed a black felt cowboy hat on his head. Oddly, I remember thinking that most native Texans don’t bother to remover their hats indoors. He looked up and grinned at me; he seemed almost proud of his ugly teeth. “I’ll probably be here next week at this time. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
