CHAPTER 12
LOCAL FOLKS
Aside from the fact that the building’s yellow stucco paint was peeling off underneath the porch light, Simon’s home didn’t look any worse for wear, considering how the demons thrashed other parts of town, like the inside of Peddle’s Mini-Mart. A small, wooden walkway sloped upward from the driveway to the step right outside the front door. The oak used in the platform appeared to have been furbished within the last two years, as it looked newer and slightly out of place with the rest of the house.
“Dad built this ramp for me,” Simon said. “I watched him work on it every day. Sometimes he stopped and threw ball with me while I sat in my chair on the porch.”
“Good for you,” said Chase, thinking of how Simon’s dad might respond to Helensview’s situation today. At least Simon still had his dad out there somewhere. Hopefully whatever was turning people into demons remained contained to just Helensview, and had not grown into a national or even worldwide pandemic.
Perhaps there was still time to do something. If he could control it, Chase would make damn sure no one else turned. However, not knowing what caused the transformations to begin with put that strategy in jeopardy.
“Door’s not locked,” Simon said. “We can go right in.”
“Hopefully the demons don’t know that,” Chase said, rolling Simon up the platform to the front door. Finding it unlocked as promised, he had Peddle go in first, just in case something was awaiting them inside the house. It didn’t seem likely, given how the door was shut and none of the windows had been busted. A demon would’ve ripped the door off its hinges or shatter the first window they came upon.
“Your neighbor didn’t die in here, did he?” Peddle asked, sniffing the air as though he expected the stench of a rotting body to greet him.
“No,” said Simon. “Mr. Sorray didn’t die in my house.”
“Sorray…Sorray…hmm. That names sounds familiar for some reason,” Peddle said, opening the door and setting foot inside the house.
Simon cocked his head at Peddle as Chase wheeled him over the threshold right on the gas station owner’s heels.
“It should be. You’re the creep that owns the new gas station in town, aren’t you?”
Peddle tugged at his shirt collar, making exaggerated noises with his throat as if pretending he needed water.
“Um, yeah, I am,” he said, apparently caught off guard.
“Mr. Sorray told me all about you. He said he went to your store the day it opened. He wasn’t happy that your lower gas prices threatened to drive our other stations out of business.”
“It’s not my fault if my rivals can’t handle competitive pricing. The problem with this town is that it’s been run by dumb-as-brick fossils who wouldn’t know entrepreneur savvy if it bit them in the butt.”
“It’s not your fault?” Chase’s words made the color in Peddle’s face fade. “According to a waitress who works at the diner down the road, no one from the highway’s been coming up past your gas station.”
Simon glanced up at Peddle, the light from a ceiling sconce glinting off his lenses.
“Mr. Sorray said you shouldn’t have come to town, that people should only do business with those they can trust.”
Chase could see how Mr. Sorray would’ve believed this. Peddle’s place notwithstanding, the heart of Helensview belonged to the blue-collar, working class. The experience at the diner proved this. The fatigue, the scruffiness, and the near absence of hope in the waitress’s eyes spoke volumes of both the town’s suffering and resilience. Although he still wouldn’t move here on a whim, he did see what made the town special to the people who called it home.
Even if many of those people were now demons.
“I haven’t been here a week, and people already want to condemn me? What a bunch of crock!” Peddle said.
Chase found it easier to ignore Peddle’s every snide comment. If the man couldn’t handle being criticized, he had no right to own a business. Working in the public sector meant dealing with the public. Not every person who came along would be receptive to the services he offered.
Although a distinctively lower gas price did give Peddle an edge over the competition, Chase grudgingly thought.
He stepped onto the shag carpeting of Simon’s living room, instantly getting a 70’s vibe from the area’s appearance. Orange, circular flowers lined the walls, matching the patterns on the chairs and sofa, as well as the color of the shag carpeting. On the coffee table next to where Simon was turning himself around, a lava lamp lit up the immediate two or three feet of surrounding area in its glow.
On a fireplace mantel, Chase found several photos of various members of Simon’s family. Two in particular caught his attention. A man and a woman attired in 70’s flair each held up a waving pose, the man sporting a vest and a peace sign on his shirt, the woman in a blue blouse and matching long skirt. Both of them wore their hair down to the shoulders, the man having a lighter shade of brown in his mane as opposed to his lady friend. Chase couldn’t tell if the dreamy gaze in their eyes was hope for the future, or something likely related to smoking.
“Those are my grandparents,” Simon said, rolling up next to Chase. “They both died a couple years ago, but they were happy right on up until the end. Mom took their deaths pretty hard. She and Dad started to fight a lot after that. Dad left a few months later.”
“Do you have a contact number for your father?” Chase asked, hoping that the phone system in town was up and running once again. A phone call right now to Simon’s dad might drive the boy’s attention away from thinking of losing his mom.
“I just talked to him yesterday, before all of this started. He said he loved me and that he was going out of town for a few days, so I can’t reach him.”
“Does he still live here, in Helensview?”
Simon shook his head. “He moved to the city to get a new start on life. Mom said something about him going there to drink like a booze hound.”
Can’t believe she’d say that right in front of her kid. That’s just not right, thought Chase, the air in the room growing stuffier by the moment. Unfortunately, the threat of the demons remained too great to keep any way into the house open for attack, the windows included.
“Can’t say I blame him for leaving,” Peddle said. “If I was born and raised here, I’d be on the first bus out of town in a heartbeat.”
“If you hate my town so much, Mr. Peddle, then why’d you set up shop here?”
“Technically, I didn’t set up shop in your town. I set up shop right by the highway, at a prime location where people could come and go without the hassle of driving into a town that’s as backwards as any I’ve ever seen,” Peddle remarked, grunting as though annoyed at constantly defending himself.
Simon gripped the arms of his wheelchair. The way his knuckles trembled and blanched indicated just how hard his hold was on the armrests.
“Stop talking trash about my town. It’s not much, but it’s mine and I’m proud of it.”
The way Simon laid into Peddle with his words made Chase especially grateful that he’d kept his own opinion of the town to himself.
“Calm down,” Peddle said, reaching toward Simon.
Simon jerked away from Peddle. “Oh? So I’m supposed to just accept the bad things you say about my town?”
“Peddle, back off.” Sensing the need to intervene, Chase pried Peddle away from the kid. Once he’d separated the two, he decided a change in topic was appropriate. “Simon, do you have any idea what might have made the people turn into demons?”
“No, sir.” Simon continued to glare at Peddle, even while speaking to Chase. “No one ever became a demon before his gas station opened up.”
“My station opened up days ago,” Peddle argued. “If it was responsible for the transformations, how come people only started to transform yesterday?”
Chase caught onto Peddle before the man even realized he’d just blundered big time. He hadn’t even brought u
p the matter of when the first transformation took place, only that the demon had called off its attack against him.
“That’s now at least two people who think there’s something shady going on with your business. Three if you count Mr. Sorray,” Chase said, keeping his gaze fixed on Peddle. “I’m not suggesting anything bad about it. But then again, Ma Weaverson always said that once was a coincidence, twice was a moldy checker-patterned blanket you couldn’t wash clean even after you got the manure off it.”
Peddle sputtered at the insinuation, his response consisting mainly of choked-upon syllables and utterances. The color faded from his flesh as he appeared caught in a trap of his own making.
“If that’s the way you’re going to be, maybe I should go back to my store,” he said after taking a quick breath.
Chase gripped Peddle by the shoulder. “Yeah, you go do that. Then what? How do you expect to defend yourself alone against these beasts?”
“I can manage.”
“No, you can’t,” Chase barked at the guy. “You weren’t even aware that those demons were about to attack your convenience store. Like it or not, you’re stuck with us.”
“Fine.” Peddle folded his arms against his chest. “I just hope you find your brother soon so I can be rid of you.”
Chase scowled. The snide way the gas station owner mentioned Dylan drew fire from the shadows of Chase’s mind. If not for the pills, Chase would’ve let his inner demon out to play. And Peddle would’ve likely have been his first prey.
Fortunately, that hadn’t happened. Now if he could find Dylan and get the hell out of town, it might never happen, either.