In the valley of California, during the winter, it can get so full of fog that you would think Death itself is hiding in there. Why not? Every year it claims the lives of so many poor souls. Its always is in patches everywhere just outside the nearby major city. A good amount of small towns exist all around it. Some have 10,000 citizens, others as little as a few 100. Every winter every driver has to contend with this devouring fog as Death simply waits within carefully choosing it's victims.
It is true that some are late night drunks, but others are just working people out of a graveyard shift. I found out, as you shall too, that Death has no mercy only a primal desire to feed its insatiable hunger by some grand design. Who knows what it was in its inception, but I know now it's sadistic.
My encounter with this ancient creature originated late one night driving home through that fog (of course). I had went to an all-too-familiar bar just to meet with friends. I could have drove in my car, but I took my used Victory 8-Ball instead. I thought I would look cooler pulling up on a bike. I believe this until that cool breeze hit me at 70 miles per hour.
After roughly two hours and just as many drinks, I decided to bid my friends goodnight. The place was dead for lack of a better term. Something about that night kept people in and the fog was so ominous it poured through the city like tentacles. The city was were all the bars were (At least, all of the good ones.) and that's where you had to go to have some fun. For my friends, it was a short drive, but for me, it was twenty miles outside the city...through the fog.
There was a short-cut home and as every horror movie warns us, never take the quick way home unless someone is chasing you with chainsaw and a hockey mask. It was extra chilly that night and, like everyone else, I believed things in horror movies happened to other poor bastards. Ancient monsters are pure fiction, I recalled thinking to myself. Another thought followed after like an inner voice that never took a drink with my friends.
¨What if evil monsters do exist, but they're never stupid enough to leave evidence behind?¨ This voice inside said. ¨Or they always make it look like an accident?¨
I laughed to myself and wondered if my inner voice was always stuck in the toilet when I was dating someone new. A chill still had run down my spin that night as I entered the road. This long, country path lead straight into my town unhindered by stop signs. The entire passage was flanked on both sides with giant 100 year old palm trees about a yard apart for twenty miles. Travelers have claimed to see things and those ancient behemoths have never wavered for any vehicle. Few liked to use this way at night with good weather, none in the fog, unless a foolish invincibility had overtaken them. I convinced myself that a little doubt wasn't going to masquerade as fear. Of course, at that moment, ¨fear¨ was meaningless.
My last memory, before I found myself lying on the side of the road staring at my bike 100 feet away, was I thought I had seen someone. It was only a flash, but I had seen a woman, but her face was not there. She wore a white dress and had milky, white skin, but her face was not visible. It was missing like when they do interviews on television with someone who wants to be unknown. To this day, I'm still not certain. Sometimes the mind sees things that are not there and, sometimes, the mind protects us from the things that are there.
It was a good thing that I had rode with a thick leather jacket, biker pants, thick gloves, and a full helmet. My body was sore, but nothing was broken. Looking up I had notice other cars smashed and mangled further up the road. Reaching in my pocket I had pulled out a shattered phone and put it back. Damn cell phones cost so much, I thought, that they should be bullet proof and get a signal on the moon.
The first car I got to was empty. The front of the car was almost completely gone and glass was everywhere. The inside light was still on somehow and it showed me no sign of blood anywhere. Fifty feet away a recent model F-150 was rammed into one of the giant, unyielding palm trees. Again no sign of life. Down further an SUV with a caved in bumper, doors open with nobody in it. Clearly, this was an accident created by fools that should have known better than to take an infamous road draped in a nightmarish fog.
All I could think of was to walk towards home. My bike was totaled much like my phone along with the passenger free vehicles on the side of the road. The air had no noise in it. Usually, in the country, there was something. With more than my share of bonfires under my belt, I have always known the country side to be abundant with some sort of sound. Maybe a coyote, crickets, or the palm leaves shuffling in a small breeze. No bodies in the vehicles, not a damn sound anywhere, and I was walking down a certifiable haunted road. The palm trees made me feel like an ant and the fog felt like there was something in it biding its time.
After walking a mile or so, I see a small building with a light on. As I drew closer, a bar/liquor store revealed itself from out of the mist. I recognized the convenient store/dive bar, entrepreneurial venture as something that should be miles away. This establishment I knew to be many country roads from the path I had taken originally. There was no way I had walked ten miles in the adjacent direction. How could I lose this much time?! I wondered momentarily reaching for my phone which doubles as modern man's pocket watch. The store was darkened and definitely closed, but I had heard voices coming from the bar section.
It felt good to hear other people, because I had began to think this night would never come close to an end. When I had opened the door, the people inside went utterly quite. They looked as though they had seen a ghost. An older couple, maybe in their sixties, were at the bar. A large, stocky, bald, extremely sun burnt, tan skinned man, somewhere in his early fifties, stood behind the bar.
¨I thought we locked that damn door!¨ The bartender had exclaimed scorned.
¨Sorry.¨ I explained. ¨I've been in an accident and I just need to use a phone.¨
¨We've all been in an accident!¨ A thin man, mid-thirties, very light complected had declared as he sat at a corner table with his wife and young child of no more than ten. ¨You didn't see that thing outside?!¨
¨What thing?!¨ I wondered as I realized that there were no actual cars outside.
¨It's a damn monster from the gates of hell itself.¨ An elderly, African man possible in his sixties answered as he entered the room from the restroom.
¨Holy shit, you look like Morgan Freeman.¨ I had said not believing one word about a monster. ¨Seriously, is it a pack of animals or something?¨
The man fresh out of the restroom just shook his head in disbelief. Then a large ¨thump¨ came from the roof. A biker couple sitting at another table, probably in their late twenties, stood up and they both pulled out knives as they looked up. They were dressed like bikers with the stereotypical leather attire. The bartender put his bat on the bar and had slide the jukebox in front of the door. Large, male-biker-guy gave him a hand stabilizing the door with additional tables and chairs. Another two heavy steps made themselves know above us.
¨So is there some psychopath on the roof?¨ I had asked because monster from hell just didn't compute at that moment.
¨It ate my grandma!¨ The little girl had let me know dissatisfied with my lack of belief.
Those words had hit me in the stomach with the sincerity of her voice. The look in those people's faces of fear devoured much of my doubt. How could this be possible, I had wondered. Maybe it a bunch of nut-balls who've gotten together with some elaborate costumes and a hidden talent for disguise. Monsters aren't real, but evil is.
You know monsters CAN be real, that-little-voice-inside-me had said. They're not like Freddy Krueger or Jason real. They're more like Mothman/Blair Witch real. They don't leave any evidence behind. That's how they can keep on being real. Nothing over the top, just kill with style and move on to the next group of idiots who take an isolated road despite all the warnings.
Things got quite after that loud thump on the roof. Introductions were made and, of course, no one had a cell signal. The bartender was named Al and he was about to close up when everyone started to show up. The elderly couple at the bar were Jack and Vivian, married for thirty years. With excessive leather and switchblades, the biker couple went by Bill and Jess (I guess short for Jessica.) Both had long sleeves of tattoos and seemed the most eager to want out. Maybe they had the idea that the first signal we got would be to the authorities. That was my best assumption. She had beautiful long, blonde hair and might have been model material out of high school, but her lifestyle probably added a decade from hard living. Her boyfriend looked like a brawler. A long knife scar ran down the side of his neck and his bald head had a few tattoos with only a little real estate for more.
The other somewhat younger couple were pretty clean-cut attractive. They're names were Andrew and Alice and their ten year old daughter was Beth. Andrew had a nice, white dress shirt on with a loosely fitted tie. He had a chiseled face with combed back, black hair and light, blue eyes that he gave his daughter. Alice was in a long, blue dress and her big, green eyes would often stare into the abyss throughout that night like a mannequin. The man who entered out of the restroom called himself Calvin and, yes, he really looked like Morgan Freeman.
We talked for about an hour and, for a moment, Biker Bill, looked as though he was going to make a run for his bike outside. Long scratches began to run along the roof and down the side of the wall. They stopped where the pay phone was. Then the it let out a loud ring cutting through the silence like a megaphone. It blared like it was laughing at us and then had stopped as quickly as it had begun.
¨I didn't know these things existed anymore.¨ I had told the bartender.
¨It's been disconnected for several years.¨ The bartender had said.
It rang again and the receiver fell off the perch dangling and swaying under the momentum of the fall. ¨I am going to eat your light. Devour.¨ Something said in a deep voice sounding like it was filled with glass.
Afterwards, the voice laughed at us, but it sounded like a pig. Yeah, that's right, it was like a pig was mocking us. The memory of that night grows a little fainter every time I care to retrieve it. It's as though my mind is trying to protect my sanity from such things. There have been times when I start to doubt some of the details. This is the very reason why I have chosen to write this down.
Al the bartender knocked the phone off the wall with his baseball bat. He pounded the old metal box as if to kill the damn thing, but it simply snorted and squealed with pleasure. The phone spilled its innards of change all over the floor. Clobbering it a few more times, Al had stopped to catch his breath. That old machine would not so much as show us a dent and the receiver held its own quite well. It snarled at us sounding like a very angry swine. Our bartender was preparing for another inning, but it stopped right after I said, ¨Jesus.¨ under my breath.
¨Well, they don't make 'em like that anymore.¨ I had said trying lighten-up the macabre mood. ¨I can't drop my cell phone off a coffee table without the screen cracking in half.¨
¨This is bullshit! Someone's fucking with us!¨ Biker Bill had screamed. ¨No one fucks with me like this...no one!¨
Biker Bill reaches into his outdated leather jacket and pulls out a .45. His girl, Biker Jess, on cue, removes a .22 out of the back of her skin-tight jeans. The elderly couple looked at them in both horror and disbelief as if their fear of the bikers being armed just became a confirmed reality. Al and Calvin just stared with look that they knew this would be coming and the couple with the little girl were oddly motionless like mannequins. I had thought, if it were a psychopath, then there chances were good, if not...they're the first to go.
¨Any of you pussies going to back us up? 'Cause if not, get out the way, 'cause we're done here.¨ Biker Bill had made abundantly clear.
¨If we were pussies then would you really have to ask?¨ I had asked presenting Biker Bill with my conundrum.
¨What the-¨ Biker Bill had started then requested, ¨I just need you guys to watch our backs while we start my bike and get some fucking help.¨
¨I got you.¨ Al had said.
¨I'm your huckleberry.¨ I had agreed as well.
We moved the jukebox and stepped out. Jack and Vivian, the elderly couple, stood by the door with it only slightly ajar. After walking a few feet towards the bikes, I had looked back at the bar and I could barely see the light from the cracked door. The fog had gotten much worse after I arrived. There was no sound as if nature's volume had been turned off. Out in the countryside you would always here something. The distinct sound of a truck exceeding the speed limit by 20 miles per hour. Sometimes you would coyotes on the hunt or taunting potential prey or the slight sound of wind. There was nothing as if the wild kingdom decided to stay as far away as possible. Bill started his bike right away and Jess jumped on. They sped off into the fog with Jess holding onto Bill with one arm and a gun searching for danger in the other. Both of them were swallowed up by the fog immediately. A growl made itself know above our heads and the flapping of large wings followed like that of a bat after them.
Me and Al ran for our lives back into the bar so fast that we almost knocked Jack and Vivian over. Together we pushed the jukebox back in front of the door complete with tables and chairs. Gun shots split any silence that was outside. A few rounds at a time and then a flurry cracked the night air. Nothing followed for a few long minutes as we tried to see anything through the bar's only window except for Andrew, Alice, and Beth. Maybe they're too terrified I had assumed at the time.
The headlight of Biker Bill's motorcycle broke out of the fog and moved towards us. It had pierced the dense fog slowly as if the danger was over. Jess had both her arms tightly around Bill. The two stopped their bike a few feet in front of us and stood there momentarily. What happens next is a memory burned so deeply in my brain that it helps me remember that night when I start to forget.
Both their heads fell off, one to the left and the other to the right. Then their bodies follow in the same manner. Vivian passed out and hits the floor hard, while it had taken Jack a few seconds to remove his shock before turning to check on her. The engine had shut off as the last of the gasoline poured out of the ruptured tank. In the distance we saw a figure of a extraordinary, tall, thin man of at least nine feet. Only his dark outline could be seen nothing more. He made no attempt to draw any closer so that we might possibly get more detail. A line of fire left him on the ground and made its way to where Bill and Jess laid. The flame found the motorcycle and soon burned their bodies as well.
The mysterious shadowy figure had sprouted large, bat wings and then two curled, goat horns on its' head to add icing on this horrific cake of a story. It never flew off or charged us like some horror movie, it simply faded away like it was an illusion. Al had looked away and down as if he had just given up. Jack carried Vivian towards the restroom. I know he had seen the same thing, but he did not want to acknowledge it. This is crappy way to end it all was all I could think. I told you this stuff was real, my inner voice had said vindicated, when they find us tomorrow it'll just look like a homicide. No evidence is how these things happen. I tell ya, as soon as Sasquatch hears a camera click or a flash, you're dead meat!
¨Wow, we're really fucked.¨ Calvin had said as he went to the bar and poured himself a drink.
Al had dropped his baseball bat behind the bar as if it was as useless as a knife at a gun fight (because it was) and poured himself a Jim Bean and Coke. Sighing letting all the hopeful air out of my chest, I had taken a seat at the bar as well. Bartender Al had simply smiled at me when I had ordered a Long Island Iced-Tea and to show no mercy. We talked for roughly an hour about our lives and what we might do if we had taken another route. (Al wished we had too.)
The couple with the little girl had said nothing. Al asked them if they wanted a drink, but they just ignored him. We just assumed they were scared out of their mind. Calvin gestured to him to let them be. So the three of us just kept drinking and talking. After seeing whatever it was out in that fog, our chances hadn't look so good. In fact, the consensus was at the point where, if it wanted to, that thing can get through our meager barricade and finish the job. I remember when we had just started laughing and exchanging tales, the thing outside just growled right at the front door.
¨What?!¨ Al had scolded it. ¨You want a drink, you got to come in and get it, but you're going to have to step up to the plate!¨
Al waved his bat at the door as he stabilized himself with the edge of the bar. In the mirror behind the bar, I had noticed Beth was no longer with her parents. She had been in front of the restroom with the door open staring at Jack and Vivian. We had forgotten all about the elderly couple right after the first sip of booze. Before peering inside, that gut feeling churned inside me that this never turns out well. Our universal horror story education always tells us that any characters missing for awhile are not seen breathing air again. They were inside, but not alive. Jack's head was faced down in the toilet and Vivian had water all over her face, hair, and on the front of her dress. Calvin moved Beth to where her parents sat almost catatonic. After removing Jack and checking both their pulses, I had turned to look for Al. He was gone along with his bat and the door was wide open.
There was no sign of our bartender friend when I got to the door and closed it. Thinking it was a waste of time, I never put the jukebox back, I simply locked the door. How could this be real I thought. It just seemed unfair even for a world that prides itself on being unfair. Damn, if I died tonight, I really don't think I have any shot at Heaven, I had pondered. Sure, I had given a buck and some change to a homeless guy, but they're just going to give me two dollars at the Gates of Heaven and tell me to go to hell.
¨Jay.¨ Calvin's voice had struggled and whispered behind me.
Calvin had been laying on the floor clutching his chest. He had been having a heart-attack while I pondered life at the door. While he was breathing his last breath of life, Calvin was trying to tell me something. Pleading with him that he should save his respiration, he had become determined to say something.
¨eth. eth.¨ Calvin had fought to say. ¨Beth...death.¨ Then he was gone.
¨What the hell is wrong with you peop-¨ I had began to say as I turned to the couple in the corner.
Andrew and Alice were no more. In their place were shells of skin and nothing more. Their flesh was there, clothes, and hair, but that was all. No eyes, no teeth, and no bones like they were costumes left behind and that was all. Both of them stood up and I had become paralyzed with awe. My mind screamed run and take your chances in the fog, but my body had refused to listen. Soon after the couple of flesh bags rose up they fell to the floor like discarded trash. Then I had seen her staring at me in the shadow in the corner behind them.
Beth had stepped out of the shadow slightly staring at me with large, black pupils, a thin trim of green in her irises with blood, red sockets. Her skin was pale and partially rotted with tiny worms flowing through it. It was at that point I had realized Calvin had meant to say ¨Death¨. The room temperature dropped to what felt like 30 degrees. It was over I thought to myself and I had had apologized to God for everything I didn't do.
¨I'm not...here for you.¨ She had told me in my mind (because her lips had never moved) as she stepped back into her dark corner. ¨Not yet.¨
¨So I can go after all this?¨ I had wondered believing it'll get me as soon as I turn my back.
¨Yes.¨
Just before I had gotten to the door she had said, ¨Leave me a...a...a cigarette.¨
¨Ok.¨ I had responded confused. One Death stick coming up I had thought.
It had moved its face again slightly out of the darkness to show me a black, leathery lipped mouth with an ample amount of razor sharp, jagged, decaying teeth in a smile. Looking back, I suppose this was a sign of an appreciation of the humor, but it was still not to trifled with. Reaching in my coat pocket, I pulled the whole pack of cigarettes out, and placed them on the bar table. It was my gesture to Death that I was done with them and that it would have try something else one day. The foolish thing is that I could have simply left, but there was a burning question inside of me that I might regret never asking.
¨Why?¨ I asked pressing the last bit of luck I might have.
There was a long silence as it, again, drifted into the darkness and then she said, ¨This is what I do to those I carry to...to hell. Go.¨
As soon as I had made it a few feet from the bar, I ran my ass off. I had only dropped, briefly, to catch my breath, then I ran some more. I had run through fog so thick, I was afraid I'd ran a full circle. Eventually I found myself at the scene of the accident.
All of them, Calvin, Jack, Vivian, Bill, and Jess (except for Al) we're being loaded into body bags. The glare of the ambulances blinded me as I began to feel warm fluid running down my arms and legs...it was blood.
A Voice behind me said as I fell to one knee, "not yet."
"Not yet, here's another one." An officer had said to another as they had helped me into my feet.
____________________________________________________
A few months later I discovered the true lives of my terrorized, bar friends. Jack and Vivian owned and operate a senior convalescent home they've been ripping off for years. It was shut down almost immediately after their death and they found a few bodies under the basement.
Biker Bill and Jess were wanted for a long string of robberies and they murdered a lot of people along the way. They had mad it all the way from the coast hoping to hide out in the valley. Calvin had been the leader of a large cult of devil worshipers tied into the courts, entertainment, and government. His autopsy revealed that pieces of missing people were still in his digestive tract later discovered in his garage freezer. Bartender Al, who was never at the accident, was found on the road by the bar. He had been hit by a truck and died instantly. Three teenagers, who've had vanished for a over a year, were in Al's basement famished, but alive. As for me, well, I've given serious consideration on changing my ways.