I seemed to have picked up a new hobby as I no longer have an interest in videogames or browsing the depressing depths of the internet.
For days I was staring at the wall, focusing on nothing in particular. Through the windows of this barrier you could see the outside shrouded in total darkness, with unusual silence to match.
It was 2:30 in the morning when the telephone rang, breaking the mindless trance.
I answered with a basic greeting,
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Meet me at the store as soon as possible.", the caller replied in a cold voice.
"Why should I?"
His response and without specifics, yet it seemed to be backed with great meaning. "Because you face great regret if you don't."
There was a pause before I heard the signal that the line was dead.
I attempted to start my car, but it was unresponsive like the lifeless wilderness around. I left the key in the ignition again, the battery was drained.
There was a feeling of confusion in my hazy mind. I felt there was no reason to see this guy, but no reason not to. I grabbed my .50 cal muzzleloader, sheathed my bayonet to my side, holstered a Taurus The Jusdge with a decent supply of ammunition and headed into the darkness.
As I walked down the roads, I could here nothing but my rocky footsteps breaking the scilence and it seemed as if any light I seen was straining to penetrate the darkness. It felt as if the world was lifeless during the hour of travelling before I arrived at the store.
A man around my age was sitting on a splintery old bench against the store's wall.
Using his hand, he made a guesture singaling me to come near."come on over.", he said.
As I got within five feet of him he said, "You must be Eric, or as they er, write?, geterkikzkid."
"Possibly.", I replied.
"Well, whatever. Here have one." He offered me a cigarette, I felt no need to decline it, like it or not.
I walked up to the nearby vending machine and asked, "You want somethin'?". He said "already got somethin'." rasing a bottle of liquor.
The machine's dying light source flickered a few times as I inserted a few quarters to buy a Coca-Cola. "I'll get that." the guy said as he leaned forward, popping the cap off the drink with a rusty bottle opener. Which he obviously used to open his hard drink.
I took a swig, "Thanks, but I know we're not here to socialize. What are we doing?
"You're experiences have left you clueless. The next step's soon to come."
"Speak." I said.
"We have a place to be! I canot tell you as I do not know exactly. But we will get there."
He had difficulty rising from his seat, I could tell it was more than a sleeping leg, He was already starting to experience drunkness from the booze.
"Uh, you seem a bit tipsy. Maybe you should let me drive us there.", I suggested.
He was quick to agree, "Maybe you're right, here's the keys!" he stumbled as he sloppily tossed them to me.
His vehicle was a rickity old pickup. It was an abused beige Ford Ranger from the '80s. As we boarded, he opened another bottle of whatever the baverage of high alcohol.
We drove a long way. The vehicle seemed to drive suprisingly smooth for it's state, though it did wobble and there was occasional backfire.
It was a quite ride except for the vehicle noises and the voice of the exshuasted guy saying crap like "keep going this way".
I have driven a couple hours before the needle on the gas guage was running fairly close to "E". I pulled into a nearby gas station. When I arrived at the pump, the pumpguy said "You shouldn't have done that.".
I clutched the steering wheel, was it possible this guy was in on this, too? No. The guy told me "You shold've stopped at that interection there. A dumbass driver plowed through the stopsign last week 'n' it hasn't been replaced yet. Gotta stop through there 'cause the boys haull ass 'round here. Now what'll it be?"
"Just fill it up." I answered.
"Ya sure? It's three thiry-seven a gallon 'n' we don't take checks."
"Yeah I'm sure. Just do it, man."
He said, "Fine, whatever." and mumbled something else as he opened the gas door. But what's he gonna do? Spit in the gas?
As I watched the numbers rise on the pump's guage, I could see the pumpguy through the corner of my eye.
He was a trashy looking man who seemed to be in his later thirities. He was wearing raggish coveralls that were marked with the gas station's logo. This guy looked like he was going through some trouble and probably didn't like his job too much.
The flow of gasoline stopped and the pump guy pulled the nozzle a few times to top off the gas. He closed the gas door and approched the window.
"That'll be sixty-seven bucks 'n' forty cents.", he said with a tired look on his face.
I handed him a 50, a 20, and eight one dollar bills through the window. "Here's sixty eight."
He paused for a momemt.
"Here's sixty cents." the pumpguy said as he handed two quarters and a dime. Just as worn and unpleasant looking as the money I paid him.
We drove several down the highway. The sun started to show on the horizon.
My 'partner' killed the silence with a yawn. "I'm gettin' tired. Let's stop off at a hotel 'n' get some sleep."
"Yeah, there is a town coming up in a few more miles. I don't feel too tired, but I do feel crappy. Sure, but your payin' half."
By the time we reached a Motel, it was already fairly light out. The was no-one at the service desk, so I rang the service bell.
The hotel guy seemed just as zombie-like as the pump guy, but this one was wearing a collared shirt, glasses and had black greasy hair.
still half asleep, Motel guy rubbed his eye and took a sip of steaming black coffee from a cracked mug.
"Give us a room for a night."
I gave him some money and he gave me a rusty old key.
"Yer room is number, uh... four. Checkout is at four, don't steal shit."
This motel was a grimey old place, I'm sure a fair number of fools have pleasantly swapped diseases in the beds.
It only had eight rooms, an office and a lobby.
As I walked into room four, I began coughing violently.
My partner, who's name remains unknown, said "I'll help ya out." as he slapped my back in a forceful manner.
When he did this, I spewed up a dark red ink-like substance that reeked of a rancid stench, and a hint of lavender.
"See? Your body purged the darkness. You are the one for the tasks that lie ahead. Well, I'm goin to bed." He then went to sleep and hasn't said anything since.
I am now lying on the bed, writing the events on my Android smartphone to keep you guys on Deviantart updated and as a log for future reference.
Luckily this motel has wifi as cellular service is shitty out here. Whatever town this is.
It has been major relief since I puked up that shit. I actually feel more than relief, it feels as if I was losing connection with my spiritual force.
I'm going to sleep with a gun in one hand 'cause I still can't trust this guy or this place.
I'm going to sleep after I fix up the wound some more. I'll try to keep you informed.