Friends Down Low (ONC2022)

Chapter 8 - The Saint

The sole waitress gave us a booth in the back of the establishment. There was a decent crowd for the size of the place. Six other diners. All eating solo. A small woman with wire-rim spectacles peered at us before returning to her texting. At the counter, a man with a ridiculously long mullet jutting out from his knit cap was just about face down on his plate.

I ordered two slices of pecan pie and two coffees. We were served promptly, and the waitress returned to wiping the counter.

McGavin stood up. "I got to use the restroom. I've had a storm brewing all morning while you've been driving us around." He patted his stomach, and I gave him a slightly revolted nod. Stick in hand, he tapped his way to the bathroom.

Alone now, I prepped my coffee and tried to clear my head. The pie looked amazing, but my hunger had evaporated after the roadblock and unexpected return to town.

The atmosphere dimmed as someone pulled a window shade on the other side of the restaurant. I paid it no mind and absentmindedly dragged my fork through the whipped cream, leaving various patterns of parallel lines as though it were some form of sweetened Zen garden. It didn't relax me. Instead, playing with the dish only reminded me that I should be hungry, which in turn made my stomach hurt. I reached for my coffee.

The lights darkened again as a second shade was pulled. It caught my attention as the sunlight streaming in reduced again. I glanced up.

The Venetian blinds hadn't been lowered. The plastic white strips were still gathered at the tops of the windows. Still, no light shone through. The glass remained clean, not tinted or obscured, but beyond the sun had vanished, and night had fallen along Main Street. However, through the third window on the same wall, sunlight beamed in and the day stayed unchanged. I peered in confusion at two different times of day juxtaposed.

None of the other handful of customers appeared to notice and continued about their business. How could they ignore this phenomenon? Hyperaware now, their indifference drew my scrutiny and I realized none of them were actually eating. Or talking. Each sat still, eyes straight ahead, hands folded on the table before them. Only the waitress moved as she wiped down the counter. The same counter she'd been wiping since we'd arrived. She should have polished it down to the wood by now.

The light level shifted again and this time I snapped my gaze right to the next window, just as shadows lowered. Like a shade being pulled on the outside world, darkness rolled down the window, blotting out the sun. Night had fallen beyond the third window.

The process quickened and two more darkened in tandem. This left only one daytime window—the one I sat next to. In horrid fascination I put my fingertips to the glass, warm in the sunlight. Then it faded as if impenetrable storm clouds instantaneously rolled in. I could still see my car, parked at the meter. A pedestrian meandered down the sidewalk, chatting on his phone, sunglasses on.

I knew then the night only existed for those of us in the diner.

"Hey there. Learn your name yet?"

I recognized the voice.

The man at the counter removed his knit cap, which had a long-haired wig stitched to the inside. On closer inspection, it looked so silly that I was shocked I hadn't noticed it when I walked in. But it had been a decent enough disguise for Baldie, my previously defeated erstwhile kidnapper. Course, I'd been so distracted that he could have escaped my notice while wearing a rainbow clown afro and red nose.

"You healed up quick." Indeed, the man bore no signs of his recent beating.

He rotated on his stool to face me. "The Saint takes care of those who serve her faithfully."