CHAPTER 7
GUS PEDDLE
The streets remained empty as ever, the dashboard clock now cracking the 10 o’clock hour. Chase didn’t bother looking into any of his truck’s mirrors. He’d had enough of Helensview as a whole and the diner in particular. He wouldn’t waste any time in trying to forget this place, or the people he was about to leave behind for good.
He just wished he didn’t have to tell Pa and Ma why Dylan wasn’t going to join them on the farm. It wasn’t that they were oblivious to Dyl’s age and lack of maturity. They just clung firmly to the hope that maybe Dylan might grow out of this childish behavior someday like Chase had.
Then again, Chase had taught Dylan how to shirk any and all responsibility. If only he’d set the better example as the older brother, Dylan wouldn’t have thrown away everything that truly mattered for relationships that barely lasted beyond a morning shower.
He’d have to tell the folks something. They’d surely want to know what happened with Dylan. He could probably get away with saying something about Dylan changing his mind, and just leave it at that. Anything else was for Dylan to sort out with the folks, assuming they asked the younger Weaverson about it.
He stroked his forehead, the glint of sunlight in the east trying its hardest to evade his visor. Soon he’d be driving north again. Then it wouldn’t be long before the sun came at him from the south. That he could handle, since it’d be one more thing he’d be putting behind himself.
As he closed in on the final stretch of Main Street, he again came upon the gas station with the insanely cheap pricing. The four cars that were actually out and about sat waiting for the pump. At least this time the line didn’t stretch all the way out to the road.
Presently, his conversation with the waitress sprang to mind. Although he still had no intention of filling up, he needed to make sure that Dylan would be okay. Even though they’d gotten into fisticuffs, Chase truly wanted nothing but happiness for Dylan.
Parking his truck and getting out, he then made a zigzag through the line of cars, oddly finding every motor shut off. The reason for this became evident soon enough as Chase peered inside each vehicle’s cabin, none of which contained any occupants. Outside of this, he uncovered no evidence of foul play. No broken glass, no doors hanging on their hinges, nothing. It was as if everyone had up and abandoned their cars altogether. No one was loitering around the pumps, despite the fact that the nozzle remained inserted into the Humvee’s gas tank.
He crept up to the Mini-Mart. Liquid motion in the pit of his stomach swirled about. Maybe the cobbler had been a mistake, especially since he’d gone half the day before without food. The desert’s arid heat certainly didn’t help things, especially with no end of the sun’s reign in sight. In the distance, a vulture cawed, the first sound he heard aside from the shambling of his feet along the concrete. Chase just about jumped out of his skin and had to check that the contents of both his bladder and bowels hadn’t spilled.
Fortunately, they hadn’t.
Inside the store, he found a man standing at the cash register, attired in a jet-black shirt and a nametag to the left of a crimson tie. He could barely make out the guy’s pencil-thin goatee in the dim lighting. Despite the jingle of the bell on the door, the gas station employee appeared too preoccupied to glance up and acknowledge Chase. A rectangular gadget of some sort rested in the man’s palm as he mashed his finger down on alternating buttons, his gaze toward something underneath the counter that Chase couldn’t see.
“How could I be missing a whole case of cigarettes? She’d better not have walked out with them,” the man uttered. He glanced up at the gas pump and sighed. “And what’s taking that tow truck so long? I can’t have those cars blocking that one side of my pump.”
Chase glanced away, pretending to examine the headlines of the local newspaper in the display under the counter.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, finally taking note of Chase’s presence, running a hand through his sandy hair. “I’m taking stock of my inventory. Apparently some cigarettes went missing after last night’s events.”
“Oh?” Still caught up in the shock of watching a cop being gutted so viciously, Chase still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that this man and several others could carry on like nothing had happened.
“Yeah.” The man grabbed a paper towel from off a roll behind him and soaked it with his sweat. “According to my on-duty cashier during the overnight, something weird happened. Everyone got out of their cars, and then they just…changed. Grew horns on their heads and everything. Now, I don’t think any of them came inside the store, but just to be safe I need to count my merchandise.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Chase, trying to sound surprised as he took in another glance of the place. “Your store doesn’t appear to have suffered much damage.”
“I came in to find out what went down,” the man said with a shrug, looking toward the road. “My employee left me a text message saying that people got out of those cars, changed, and howled like wolves. When I tried to reply to her, I got nothing. So I came in and found the store utterly abandoned. Since then, I’ve been waiting for someone to remove those blasted cars.”
Chase nodded. “And you’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary since you came in this morning?”
“No. Why?” The owner blinked, genuine confusion marring his features.
“Heard from someone in town that these things didn’t happen until after your gas station opened up, Mr.…?” Chase checked the nametag he hadn’t been able to read from the doorway.
“Peddle,” the man announced. “Gus Peddle.”
Mr. Peddle offered Chase his hand. Chase paused for a moment before accepting it with a shake.
“Chase Weaverson. You really seemed to be raking it in yesterday.” He only paid Peddle the compliment to keep from making it seem like he was accusing the man of anything.
“Yes,” Peddle remarked. “I’d tell you exactly how much, but this is a privately-run enterprise, and I don’t exactly find it in proper taste to discuss my sales with anyone outside of a tax agency.”
Chase didn’t shudder under the pressure of Peddle’s glare.
“I can appreciate that. My pa’s giving me his farm. I wouldn’t want anyone talking smack of his lifelong work, or asking about things that don’t concern them.”
These words seemed to calm Peddle. Sensing this, Chase pressed on, keeping in mind the need to not discuss anything potentially damning to the business.
“How long have you been in the fuel service industry, Mr. Peddle?” Perhaps if he prodded just enough, he might learn what the hell was happening to these poor bastards. With any luck, figuring this stuff out might prevent him from sharing their fate.
“A few years,” Peddle said, staring out the window at the cars that now appeared stranded there for good. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, though. People love their cars. They don’t just ditch them on a whim.”
“Unless something weird happened,” Chase said.
Peddle abandoned watching the road, diverting his full attention back to Chase.
“I hope the tow trucks get here soon. All those neglected vehicles can’t be good for business.”
“Well, I’ll be moving mine out of here soon enough, if that’ll help any.”
Peddle’s eyes gleamed as though the possibility of a sale thrilled him. “Going to fill up before you head on out?”
Chase felt the hairs of his underarms tickling him as he realized Peddle’s expectation.
“Nah. I just need a soda for the road,” he murmured, and then scoured the refrigerators for liquid refreshment. A moment later, he returned with a bottle of root beer, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
Peddle made no effort to conceal the glee on his lips.
“Thank you.” He snatched the bills and coins out of Chase’s hand as soon as they were presented to him. “Sure I can’t interest you in filling up here? It’s
only 99 cents for a gallon of gas,” Gus said, going in for that all-important suggestive sell.
Chase pointed in the direction of the pumps. “Just how am I supposed to refuel with all those vehicles in the way?”
At that, the smirk on Gus’s face broke away as he tucked the money neatly into the register before closing it.
Their transaction complete, Chase turned around and exited the store, twisting the cap off his drink. With a triumphant grin, he swigged a gulp down, wiping his lips clean with his arm.
Something smacked the root beer clear out of his hand, foamy brown liquid spilling out onto the pavement. He looked up to find the same woman who’d yelled at him in the motel’s parking lot the night before. Only now she had bony horns protruding beyond the rim of her head, her skin bloodied by the jagged enamel, the coppery threads appearing to have dried hours ago. Her flesh was a fiery beacon of damnation, her fangs sharp and dripping with drool, her breath about as hot as the desert air.
Chase leaped backward from her, toward the gas station entrance. His truck was too far away for him to effectively evade her, given the creatures’ apparently enhanced jumping skill.
Making matters worse, a pack of the altered humans emerged from near their cars. Some of them crept about on all fours, while those, like the parking lot woman, stood on two feet. Every single one of them had the same horns, the same tails, and the same shade of reddened skin. Some wore hats or curly hair, while others had lost such features, their skulls looking ready to burst through what little flesh remained on their heads.
He spun toward the gas station and felt something slash him in the back. Roaring in pain, he then glanced briefly over his shoulder. The old man demon who’d slain the cop had struck him.
Chase’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down as the demons drew closer.