Chapter Eighteen

Honestly, it could have gone a lot worse. Sure, it could also have gone a lot better, but neither of us cried. I tried to soften the blow by telling her that I didn’t want to fire her, but the new owner of the gas station was making me do it. I let her know she could finish up the month if she wanted to, like a reverse two-weeks notice. She did not take me up on the offer, and assured me she was done being strung along by such a mediocre job. She gave me a strongly worded message to deliver to the new gas station owner, then left me alone at the bookstore wondering if I’d ever see her again.

By the time I started my night shift, I felt like the whole day had been a complete and total failure. The good thing about being at rock bottom is that there’s only one direction to go. The bad thing about rock bottom is the descent...

...When every step feels like it must be the end...

...But things just keep getting worse...

...And then, one day, you look back and realize that the moment you thought was bad—the moment you originally thought was rock bottom—was actually just the top of the precipice. I had no idea, but that’s exactly where I was.

I spent the first part of my night in a strange state of existential dread. Every drip and creak inside the building was amplified by the knowledge that nothing was going to get better unless I did something to make it better. The doctor’s latest offer was burning a hole in my psyche. I took out his card, ripped it to shreds, and tossed them into the garbage. 

Still, I could hear his voice. His words, taunting me. The buck stops here. I’m sure you’re on top of everything.

Around midnight, the phone started to ring. I no longer had the luxury of deciding whether or not I wanted to answer. It might be a customer. Letting the customer down could cost sales. And sales aren’t about making money anymore. Sales are about keeping the gas station out of Howard’s hands. I answered the phone right away.

“Hello?”

“Hello, shithead.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Beaux? I’m kinda busy.”

“I wanted to remind you how I was right all along. You thought you’d won, but now I’m more powerful than you can even imagine. Would you like to guess where I am right now?”

I already knew he was going to say something stupid like “I’m already inside the building,” just to get a reaction out of me, but I didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction.

“Hello?” I said again, “Are you still there? Beaux?”

“Yes. I’m still here. And I wanted to let you know that—”

“Hellooo?” I interrupted. “You’re breaking up. I can barely hear you.”

He grunted. “I was trying to say that—”

“It sounds like you’re underwater.”

“I was saying… Can you hear me? Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Jack?”

“Oh, I can hear you now. Go ahead.”

“I was saying that I’m more powerful now than you could have ever imagined. And now I—”

“Hang on.”

“What?!”

“I have another call coming in.”

“You what?!”

“Do you mind if I put you on hold for just a second?”

“Seriously?! Are you seriously being serious right now?!”

“Yeah, it’ll just take one second. I promise.”

He grunted again. “Fine! Make it quick, though! I have a lot to say to you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” I put the handset next to the receiver and decided that this would be a great time to do some more chores.

I started by pushing a broom around the store until it got stuck in the tar pit, which is exactly where I left it. Next, I made the rounds and took note of everything that was low or out of stock. Then I made a list of everything that needed to be done before the store would be back in order. How did Calvin Ambrose refer to these things? A “honey-do list” to make sure we were in “tippy-top shape.”

Oh God… Am I really trying to figure out what Calvin Ambrose would do in my situation? I felt nauseous. How much money do we actually make here, anyway? I walked up to the register, opened her up, and took a quick count. My nausea doubled.

How long can I keep this up? How much longer until I’ve run this place straight into the ground? And then what happens? Doctor Douchebag wins and gets this place for next to nothing? I needed some fresh air. 

I gathered up the remaining trash and made my way through the back door, to the dumpster behind the building. Here, I could be completely alone with my thoughts. My stupid, annoying thoughts.

The moon was bright out tonight. Bright enough to light the way. Bright enough to show me everything. I took my precious time crutch-walking up to the dumpster with the sack of garbage draped over my shoulder. Past the permanently burnt earth where too many handplants had been turned to ash. Past the area where I used to park my car (when I could still drive). Past the patch of loose soil that I had dug up over and over, once as a compulsion, then at gunpoint. Past the spot where Tony fell when they shot him in cold blood. There were so many bad memories here. Why was I worried about saving this place, anyway? The owners were insane. People died here. People die here. The property is probably built on a Hell mouth. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let this become someone else’s problem...

I stopped in front of the dumpster and realized that something about my current situation wasn’t quite right. The moon was bright. Bright enough to spotlight every single reminder of why I shouldn’t feel so safe back here. Alone. With my thoughts.

The moon was bright… Was the moon always this bright? I’m standing in the middle of a forest. The moon shouldn’t ever be this bright… Or this green.

I lowered the bag to the ground by my foot and slowly turned to look at the path I’d just walked. All of those things I noticed with such perfect, nostalgic clarity. And yet somehow I missed the fact that the ground, the grass, the trees and rocks and even the walls of the gas station were glowing, radiating this viridescent green.

My first thought was: Great! Some asshole has been using our dumpster for toxic waste disposal!

Clocking in at a distant second thought was: I should probably go back inside before whatever splattered the perimeter with glow-in-the-dark goo comes back.

Before I fled the scene, though, I still had a job to do. I needed to drop this trash bag inside the dumpster. (Let it never be said that I’m not a good worker.) I lifted the bag, turned around, and reached for the lid. But my hand only touched warm, wet liquid. I pulled it back and saw that it was coated in the sticky green—something with the consistency of mucus and the color of Mountain Dew. The lid was off. Actually, it was gone. The hinges were there, but something had torn the top off the bin. As owner of the gas station, I was miffed by the fact that I’d be the one to have to shell out for a new one.

Ah well, at least this makes one small task a little easier. I tossed the bag over the top of the dumpster. As soon as it landed inside, something grunted. Loudly. Something big. It banged against the metal wall hard enough to move the entire thing a couple of inches in my direction. Then it started to growl like looming thunder, deep and dreadful. The motive was clear, the anger palpable, the language universal. What idiot just woke me from my slumber by throwing garbage on my head!?

I backed away slowly.

The green light coming from inside the dumpster intensified. It looked like an entire aurora borealis was going down in there. Maybe if I was quiet enough, I could sneak away.

A furry, green head emerged—the size of a black bear’s—searching for the garbage-tosser who disturbed its peaceful rest. As soon as its eyes landed on me, it froze. So did I.

It had the face of an enormous raccoon. The black bandit-mask. The white whiskers. The round ears. 

The otherworldly glowing aura surrounding it, however, was something else entirely.

Maybe it’s like a T-Rex. Maybe it can’t see me if I don’t move. Its eyes widened. Its pupils shrank into pinpricks. No, it definitely sees me.

“Oh, hey there,” I said, trying to feign confidence as I inched ever further backwards. “Did you see that guy throwing trash around here? Don’t worry, I think I scared him off for you.”

The creature’s lips quivered.

“Okay, well, I’ll be on my way now. No need to thank me.”

It placed two webbed paws against the edge of the dumpster. Long, black talons dug into the rusty metal as it lifted itself up, revealing its true size. Stretched up on hind legs, the monster was nearly eight feet tall, and all kinds of wrong. With large, leathery wing-like appendages (which I now realize were, in fact, wings) folded over its back and dark fur all over its body illuminated by the green glowing skin beneath, the thing was a Cronenberg-nightmare amalgamation of mammal, insect, and something else.

Its nostrils flared. I inched back a little more. If my life were going to depend on a race to the door, I’d never make it before this thing had the chance to eat my face off. That idea became moot anyway the moment the ground unexpectedly came up to meet me. (Backing up with crutches is one of those rare life skills that only a few people possess, and despite all my practice, I will never be one of them.) I was sitting on my ass now, staring up at the fierce face of the beastly creature. For a second, I wondered if it would ever make its move, or if we were frozen in this staring contest forever. If I didn’t blink, maybe it would stay right where it was.

Nope. It moved faster than my eyes could follow, scurrying over and down the dumpster, leaving massive green paw prints against the side as it escaped its nest and darted towards me. Before I even had the chance to go into super defense mode, the glowing raccoon-dragon was standing next to me, its two front feet on top of my only possible weapon—the crutch. It opened its mouth wide enough to swallow a whole baby. The last thing I saw before shutting my eyes were the dense rows of enormous dagger teeth. I prepared myself for the sensation of having my skin chewed like a corndog off its stick.

What I was not prepared for, however, was the hot, nasty tongue smacking me right across the face.

After allowing myself a silent moment to celebrate not being dead yet, I wiped the slime out of my eyes, looked up at the beast, and said, “What the f—”

It spun in a circle and smacked me in the face with its tongue again, licking me hard enough to leave a bruise against my cheek. My hair was slicked back with the thick, warm monster saliva that steadily ran down behind my ears and down my nose.

I used the sleeve of my jacket to get the thicker deposits away from my mouth as the thing panted loudly in my face. Its breath reeked of garbage and bad meat.

“Well that was… uhm, thanks? I guess?”

It plopped onto the ground next to me with a thud that shook the earth. Then, it turned its head back towards its hind area and whimpered nearly loud enough to burst my eardrums. I followed its eyes to the only spot on its body that wasn’t glowing. A long, wooden arrow protruded from the monster’s hip. With each movement, dark blood leaked out from the cross-shaped entry wound like a faucet. Someone was hunting this poor creature, and I had a pretty good idea who.

It looked back at me and continued the whimper.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I’m not a doctor.”

It whimpered even louder.

“Alright! Fine!” It went quiet. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I scooted myself through the dirt, far enough that I could reach the monster’s hip. Then, I rubbed my hands together to warm them up for the procedure, reached out, and grabbed the arrow.

The creature sprung back to life with a loud squeal and launched itself away from me into the forest, galloping faster than any creature I’d ever seen, quickly vanishing into the thick cover of trees.

Once my heartbeat had returned to normal, I tossed the bloody arrow up and into the dumpster, grabbed my crutch, and went back inside to clean myself off.