Nobody wanted to work at the Fuel ’N Snacks on Christmas Eve. Nobody. So naturally Erik Bronk got stuck doing it. They saddled him with every bad shift, every crap job. He learned to live with it. But he never learned to like it.
Luckily he didn’t have any family. Or even a girlfriend to get mad at him.
That didn’t mean he was any less of a person though.
He would’ve enjoyed kicking back and watching a few holiday movies. Maybe playing games on the Xbox while he cooked up a Tombstone pizza and chilled with his pet ferret. Take it easy for a change. Engage in serious lounging.
It wasn’t meant to be.
As soon as the manager taped the schedule up on the door Erik knew it.
Toss in a snowstorm to top it off.
“Jingle Bells, this job smells, Erik’s getting lit...”
He stopped singing and sucked on the joint. Toed the bucket he was using to keep the storeroom door cracked. Let the smoke trail out. The wind was fierce, greedy. Sleet and snow blowing every which way, making American Rapids look like a ghost town. Waste of time being open for business on a day like this. Everybody should’ve stayed home. When he heard the bell go off, he peeked back into the store. Shit.
Some dude. Strolling around leisurely. Shopping.
No rush.
Erik took another toke. He wet his fingertips and pinched the roach. Dropped it into the stupid green and red vest his manager made them wear. It was Christmas-y.
The man stopped in the candy aisle. Not facing any of the candy, but looking toward the coolers like he’d forgotten something. Or like he was waiting for assistance.
Erik hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and put on a smile that felt too big.
“Help you find something?”
“This is a thing I have to do.”
The man was tall. His gray skin hung slack. He wore a raincoat, its thin belt trailing loose behind him like a tail.
“Last-minute shopping? I hear you. We have a few gift items, stuffed animals and such, on the back wall. Underneath the musical Mr. and Mrs. Snowman set?”
Erik noticed the ax resting against the man’s leg. It looked new. They didn’t sell axes at the Fuel ’N Snacks. The man must have brought it in with him. He hadn’t moved an inch. He seemed lost. Maybe he’d gotten into the eggnog early.
“This is a thing I have to do,” he said.
Do what? Chop down a Christmas tree?
“Looking for firewood? We sell it already cut up. In bundles ?” Erik pointed to the pile of logs stacked beside the entrance. “They’re on sale. Two for ten bucks.”
The man wasn’t even paying attention.
“This is a thing I have to do.”
Erik’s sense of time had gone jagged. It felt like he’d spent hours, days, standing in the candy aisle waiting for the man to tell him what he wanted. He was interested. But he was growing paranoid. What if telling him changed everything? He hoped it was nothing that big, only a side effect of the buzz he’d been working on. Damn. Here he wanted to mellow out and this guy comes in and nixes those plans, interrupts him, then starts talking
weird, repeating the same words—it was annoying. If he said it again ...
“This is a thing I have to—”
“Alright then, why don’t you do it.”
The ax went up.
Erik thought he saw the blade coming at him—fast, silvery, sideways.
But he wasn’t sure.
The Fuel ’N Snacks spun around, and then turned on its side.
Erik couldn’t move. He spied the world from floor level. His cheek, the one touching the floor, went numb. He was numb all over.
A hand gripped his hair. It didn’t hurt. It lifted him.
He had no weight.
The ax guy was looking at him. Doing that head-cocking motion puppies do. Erik’s vision fuzzed over. He blinked. Things got a little clearer. He felt dizzy. Floaty. He stared quietly at the ax guy.
He couldn’t think of anything to say to him. Anything . . .
Henry put the head on the counter where the next customer would see it.
Then he went out into the storm.