this is an early one. i drew a lot of my scary stories from vivid nightmares i'd had. here's one that still gets under my skin...
It was just another business trip. At least that’s what we told our wives. In reality it was a four-hour sales pitch in New Orleans and then a two-day party at the Mardi Gras. I felt a tad bit guilty telling my wife how I was dreading taking this trip with all the ass-kissing I had to do with Murray, my partner, but…a guys got to party, right?
We drove the trip as usual. We didn’t mind the traveling expenses because the company picked up the tab anyways. We worked for Fyberspace Network Systems, a growing fiber-optic company that was looking to expand its southern market. We were the spearhead of the project. I had them eating out of my hand on the phone the week before, so it wouldn’t take much to reel them in.
It was a long and tedious drive from Minnesota, but with us taking turns with the driving, it wasn’t so bad. We were like college kids on a road trip to spring break. I only hoped my liver could stand the abuse of the four day binge. Oh, the sacrifices I give for my company.
We checked in at our hotel and had a bite to eat at the outdoor café just a block over.
“What time is our meeting tomorrow?” I asked sipping a Long Island Tea.
“Uh,” Murray fumbled through his leather calendar. “It’s at 10am at the Hick’s center.”
“We better not hit it too hard tonight then.”
“It’s in the bag. We could do this deal blindfolded.”
“I’d almost like to see that. What do you want to do tonight?”
“Hell, man, I don’t know…let’s ask the guy at the front desk. I’ve never been to one of these things before.”
“Me neither.”
The waiter came by to take our order. We asked him what were the best places to go to during the Mardi Gras. He stared at us for a moment. I didn’t like his stare. I was thinking maybe he was gay or something but he told us about this one bar on the far side of town, and he was kind enough to draw us a map. He claimed it was a good place to get the feel of the south.
We got to “Dante’s Blues Saloon” at about a quarter to eight. It was some of the best blues I’ve heard, true blues. The singer up front sang it from his guts, an old black man with dirty clothes and a frayed fedora. His words lulled out from his cracked lips holding a cigarette in them. At any rate, I ordered my first pitcher of beer with the company credit card and the night started to rock.
Murray had danced a few songs with a couple of girls. I’m no Mr. Morals, but it seems almost like cheating on your wife. Especially the way he was dancing with the ladies. It looked like screwing with clothes on.
Well, it was about ten to midnight when I seen her. I feel guilty just staring at her, but her eyes. I tried to act like I was staring at something else, but it was damn near next to impossible. She had shoulder length brown hair, full lips, this cat suit thing (God bless the man who came up with spandex), and those eyes. My God, they trapped you, made you stare at them. That’s when I realized she was coming over to our table.
“Ya’ll don’t look local.” Her southern drawl, perfect.
“Uh, nope.” I wanted to shut up. I was going to sound stupid. I’ve been married too long to be smooth.
“We’re from Minnesota, honey.” Murray spoke up, “Have a seat.”
She sat down without taking her eyes off me.
“So ya down for the Mardi Gras then?”
“Uh, no.” I said trying to clear my throat, “We’ve got business down here.”
“Well, ain’t that nice. Ya’ll wanna dance?”
“No. No thanks, I’m married.”
“Sugah, I didn’t ask ya to sleep with me, I only asked ya to dance.”
“I don’t think my wife would appreciate…”
“Well, aren’t you a good ‘lil ‘ol Catholic boy.” She turned to Murray, “How ‘bout you, sugah? You married too?”
“Yep,” he grinned at me. “But I’m a Protestant.”
That bastard was out there bumping and grinding with her on the dance floor. She knew how to move too. I was feeling the guilt again so I went back to where the phones were and called my wife.
When I came back to our table she was gone but Murray was sitting there pouring a fresh pitcher. I glanced around to see if I could spot her, but there was no sign of her.
“Jeez La-weez, you are a dumb-ass!” He said as I sat down.
“What are you talking about?” I poured myself a glass.
“That chick really dug you, man. You let her get away with that ‘good little Christian boy’ act. I think that turned her on the most.”
“Murray, c’mon, I’m friggin’ married. Happily I might add.”
“Oh come off it! We’re far away from home. I love my Lynn, too, but hey…when in Rome.”
“Just drink your damn beer.”
The sale went through just as we had imagined. The suits on the executive floor of Fyberspace will be very pleased with our success. This was a multi-million dollar account and the commission was going to be heavenly.
We celebrated at this ritzy little Cajun joint off Bourbon Street. Our management told us to celebrate on the company. We went through three carafes of wine and I was feeling a good buzz when we left. Oh, the food was pretty good too.
“Well, where to now?” Murray asked.
“Let’s go back to that bar we were at.” I answered. I wanted to see her again.
“That place was kinda lame, I want to hit the strip. Lookit all those people.”
“Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get started at Dante’s, then I’ll meet you back here at 8:30?”
“Suit yourself, just don’t get yourself in any trouble.”
“I’m not going to see that woman, if that’s what your thinking.”
“What ever. See ya.”
I rolled the rum in my mouth like I did the lie I told Murray in my brain. The music at Dante’s was thumping. It seemed all a guy could hear was the bass drum. I pushed out a Kool from its pack, it seemed all they sold down here was soft packs, and held it tightly in my lip.
“Need a light, sugah?” her voice was behind me.
She put her hands over my eyes. “Guess who?”
I reluctantly pulled them off.
“Hey.” I said with my dumb-ass smile.
“Hey yourself.” She sat down. “Where’s your friend?”
“Uh…Murray went into town for the festival.”
“That boy was quite the dancer.”
“Yeah, so I noticed.”
She put her hand on mine and I looked into those damn eyes. Were they always this green? I could have sworn they were blu….
“Ya wanna show me what ya got?”
Her tongue ran across her upper row of teeth.
“Uh…no. I told you I’m married. I don’t…”
She gripped my hand tightly. “I don’t think you came out here by your lonesome just to sip on rum all night.”
I felt like a fly caught in a web. I dropped my gaze from her and concentrated on putting my cigarette out.
She got up and pulled on my arm.
“C’mon, sugah, I don’t bite.”
I knew that she did bite, and that those eyes had teeth.
I danced like an idiot out there. I think most men dance like idiots except for slow dancing. I tried to keep a distance from her. She grabbed my hips and thrust hers to mine. I stared up at the disco lights, thinking my wife could see me somewhere behind the colored filters. She slithered her arm around my neck and brought my head down so I’d be facing her. We moved in one writhing motion. For a moment I had forgotten my wife and was lost in her eyes.
The next morning I opened my eyes and tried to shake some of the cobwebs from my still half-drunken mind. My head yelled at me to knock it the hell off. I did notice that I was in a strange room. At first I thought maybe it was just because I wasn’t used to the hotel room, leave alone the fact that I didn’t remember how I got back.
Then I realized, I wasn’t in a hotel at all. I was in someone’s house. I was lying on a hide-a-way bed in someone else’s living room. I sat up quickly, my head still bitching the whole time. I winced in pain, so I turned my head slowly to gather my surroundings.
It was a tidy home. It was all pretty old but well kept up. It smelled a little dusty, but everything down here smelled a little dusty or damp. That’s right when a man walked in.
He was holding a TV tray filled with a bowl of Grape Nuts, half a grapefruit, toast with some orange marmalade, and a bloody Mary with a celery stick poking out the top of the glass.
“Good mornin’, Daniel.” He was a cheery cuss. He had salt and pepper curly hair with a mustache to match. He was medium build wearing a white terry cloth bathrobe with tufts of charcoal gray chest hair sticking out.
He placed the tray on the end table next to the couch.
“Uh…” I tried not to look at him and tried to remember last night. “Who the hell are you and where am I?”
“Had too much to drink, Danny?” He smiled at me.
She came down the stairs into the living room. Her hair was wet and she was drying it with a towel. She wasn’t wearing anything but a long sweatshirt.
“I see you’ve met my daddy.” She smiled at me like her father.
“Actually, Rachel,” Her dad looked at her. “I don’t think Dan had time to grasp the morning. How did ya sleep, hon?”
“Just fine, daddy.” She kissed his cheek and then sat down on the bed next to me.
I fell back onto my pillows.
“How the hell did I get here?” I asked looking up at the ceiling.
“I drove you, silly.” She giggled. “Boy, you must’ve had way too many.”
“Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?”
“Why sure.” She looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room, “It’s a quarter past nine in the morning.”
I let out a deep sigh. I should’ve called my wife. I told her I would call her every night I was down here. I was in deep but maybe Cheryl would understand. I began to wonder how Murray made out last night.
“Why don’t you eat your breakfast and Rachel and I will take you on a ‘lil tour of New Orleans.” Her father said, pronouncing New Orleans like ‘N-Awlins’.
“Really,” I forced my head off the pillow again. “I really should get back to my hotel.”
“Nonsense,” he insisted. “I’ve got some errands to run, and I can drop you off afterwards.”
Something about the way those two looked at each other really gave me the chills, but my foggy brain wouldn’t let me think straight.
“Oh, all right. What can it hurt?” I hesitantly asked. I knew full well I was heading for trouble with my wife later. But I couldn’t stop myself.
It turned out her old man is a real estate agent and a damn good one at that. He’s sold a lot of homes costing over $4 million along the gulf coast. He knew the city well and pointed out a lot of points of interest that most tourists don’t get to see.
We had pulled into this old neighborhood. The “Blue Bloods” he called them. On either side of the cobblestone street were tall gothic mansions. Weeping willows guarded each on like a giant spider. I was beginning to remember some of the Anne Rice novels I’d read as a teenager, and I could feel the presence of her characters all around me.
We pulled up to a curb in front of a huge church. It matched its haunting neighbors with its ancient tall looks and willow trees on all four corners of its lot.
“What’s this?” I asked.
Rachel’s father looked at me from the front seat then towards Rachel. She smiled at him, and then at me.
“I thought bein’ a Christian and all,” she drawled. “Ya might want to go to church.”
I digested what she said. I looked at her dad and then at her. They both stared back in anticipation. I looked out my window at the church again.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’d be just fine.”
They looked victorious at each other. I thought Cheryl would flip out if she heard that I went to church while on a business trip. Me, the guy she has to drag out of bed every Sunday morning at 8am, sometimes unsuccessfully. The guy who wouldn’t go to ‘Promise Keepers’ because it was opening fishing season, and it was more of a sin to skip that in Minnesota then a Christian men’s conference. Yes, she’d be proud.
“I hope nobody minds I’m not wearing a tie.” I said.
“Oh, don’t worry, sugah.” Rachel reassured. “We’re pretty casual on our dress code with visitors.”
We stepped out of the car, and I stared at the size of the church. It was as long as it was tall. There was something about the steeple that was missing. It gave me an uneasy feeling. I tried to brush it off, but became more uncomfortable as we got closer. It didn’t have a cross on top.
“Where is everybody, are we late?” I asked sheepishly.
“Just a ‘lil, but that’s okay.” She pulled on my arm.
I hesitated just enough to read the marble marker in front of the steps:
Church of Light
Luciferian Synod of Illumination
I tried to dismiss what I had just read, but there was an engraved etching of satan staring boldly towards heaven as if proud of his blasphemous ways.
“I…I can’t go in there.” I croaked.
Rachel’s father grabbed my arm.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said in a tone no longer friendly. “You’ve gone too far to back out now.”
“I will not go in there!” I tried to pull against his grip, but it was incredibly vice-like.
“You don’t have that choice anymore.”
He was dragging me up the steps towards tinted glass doors. I was trying to struggle, but my strength was starting to leave me.
“I’m a Christian!” I tried to shout but my voice was leaving me too.
Rachel grabbed my face. She dug her nails into my cheeks. Her eyes were on fire now. No longer green or blue. I looked fearfully into the endless depths of her pupils.
“Do Christians commit adultery?” she snarled at me. “C’mon fess up! Ya’ll a bunch of hypocrites?”
“Adultery?” I became confused. I only danced with her.
“Yes, adultery! Or don’t you remember last night?”
My mind began racing. It ached to remember a shred of anything from last night. I started feeling guilty. I wasn’t sure if I had slept with her or not.
As I stood there in utter disbelief, I was dragged into that hideous church. It was dark. The only light shined through the stained-glass windows portraying Satan as a god. They dragged me up a flight of stairs. I heard chanting all around me. It seemed to be getting closer.
“I don’t belong here!!” I shouted with what I had left.
I swung my arm and knocked Rachel’s father off balance, and he tumbled down a few stairs. Rachel jumped on my back locking her feet in front of me. I rolled down the stairs and broke her leg lock on me as we spilled out on the landing.
Two cloaked figures rushed me. They never said a word as they wrestled me into a corner. I was able to gouge one of them in the eye with my thumb, and he let go. The other held onto my calf as I crawled towards the tinted glass doors. I tried to kick at him, but he wouldn’t let go. I looked up and saw that Rachel and her father were coming after me. To my left more hooded figures were coming from behind a black curtain.
Fortunately the onrush was simultaneous and forced me through the glass doors. I had glass in my mouth, hair and some down my shirt.
“Danny!” Rachel screeched at me.
I took off immediately and tried to run down the front steps. It felt like running through a tar pit. I felt a hand claw at my back. I hit the cobblestone street and returned to normal speed again.
“We’ll get you, Danny!” Rachel hollered. “You can’t hide from us, we’re everywhere! You have my mark!”
I ran about six blocks. I haven’t done that since I was 13. I was in the market square hoping to get lost in the crowd. There were vendors selling everything from tie-dye clothing to hand-made jewelry. I noticed there were ouija boards hand-made from the very cypress trees grown in the swamps of Louisiana. At least the signs claimed so.
“Help you wit somethin’?” The clerk asked giving me the up and down.
“What?” I was a bit startled, “Uh, no. I’m just kinda looking around.”
“Just seen you lookin’ at dose crystal charms so intently for the last ten minutes. You wanna try it on?”
“Uh. No. Thank you, but I don’t think this is my kind of place.”
“You sure?” He pulled a string of costume pearls. “I’ve got some love beads?”
“No really, I…”
“C’mon, gumbo, it’s de Mardi Gras. You gotta at least own some love beads to give to the ladies.”
“All right.”
I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my dress shirt and took the beads from him. I was only trying to humor him until I saw he wanted $25 for them. I put them on despite the fact.
“How much?” I asked even though I knew.
He looked at me strangely. He was staring at my chest. His eyes got wide with a sort of fury. His face trembled, then his hands creaked into fists.
“You!” He shouted. “It’s you!”
I took the beads off me and looked down at my chest. There were five deep holes over the spot where my heart was. As if someone had punctured the area with their finger nails. I backed away from the merchant.
“It’s him, everyone! The chosen! He’s here!”
I took off out the door and ran. I didn’t want his friggin’ beads anyways. I knew were I was. Three blocks from my hotel so I sprinted. There were at least seven guys and a few women tailing me.
I ran into the lobby and up two flights of stairs. I began to remember why I was going to quit smoking every New Years Eve. They weren’t following me anymore, but I ran all the way to my room praying to God Murray was there.
I fidgeted with the room key. It was one of those damn magnetic card keys. I kept putting it into the slot upside down. I almost broke it in half on a few tries.
“Dan, what the hell?” Murray opened the door.
I was thankful he was there but pushed past him. I pulled my clothes from the closet and threw them on the bed.
“Bad night, man?” He asked looking a bit confused.
I went into the bathroom and started grabbing all my toiletries. I threw them into my small leather pack that my wife had given me for Christmas.
“Dan, what the hell are you doing?” Murray asked almost perturbed.
“We’re going, pack now!” I looked out the window nervously.
“Say what? I’m not going any…”
“Stay if you want. I’m going. Now! I’ll take a cab!”
“To Minnesota? Don’t talk stupid! Now calm down and tell me what’s going on!”
“No time! I’ll explain later!”
“All right.” He sighed and started packing.
We drove into the night without saying a word to each other. I don’t think I ever blinked, my eyes felt dry. I just stared straight at the windshield. I focused on the bugs hitting the window.
I smoked a pack all the way to St. Louis and was working halfway into my second by the time we hit the Iowa border.
“We’re stopping to eat.” Murray finally spoke up. “You’re going to tell me what happened back there.”
“No…I…”
“I’m buying you as many shots as you want until you talk.”
I swallowed and almost came to realizing I had been gripping the dashboard with both hands. I crushed out the cigarette I was choking down and blew out a long white cloud. My throat hurt.
“Okay, Murr.” I agreed quietly.
We stopped at this sports bar just off the I-35, I-80 interchange in Des Moines. It was called something like “Billy Ray’s” or “Billy Bob’s” or something like that. It smelled good in there. I was still a little out of it.
We ordered. I just ordered a salad to pick at and a beer, but Murray ordered me three fingers of Tequila. He said he thought I needed it, hah.
“So…what the hell happened?” He asked. He was genuinely concerned, I was thankful.
“That bitch tried to kill me.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I don’t think I could look anybody in the eyes ever again.
“Dude, I knew she was trouble, but kill you? Come on!”
“I’m not screwing around here, man! She was mixed up in this cult thing! Her and her dad were trying to sacrifice me, or something! Freaky-ass-shit!”
“Whoah, slow down. Devil worshipping? Sacrifice? Dad?”
“Look, I got away from them, went down to the market, and this guy points at my chest and says I’m him, him the chosen one!”
“The chosen one?”
“That bitch said I slept with her and committed adultery, and that she put some mark on me.”
“Some hot sex, eh, bud?”
“Would you be serious? I’ve got no recollection of sex with her! I’ve got this mark on my chest though.”
“Open up your shirt, Dan.”
I looked down as I pulled my shirt open halfway. There on my chest where her fingernails had dug into my flesh, was a red pentagram. Each of the holes connected with a scratch mark. There was a scab shaped like an upside down triangle.
Murray stood up. His eyes were wide. He began to tremble. I dropped the cigarette from my mouth. My eyes were also wide.
“You!” Murray shouted, “You believer in a false god!”
“No.” I whimpered. “Murray, what are you…”
“He’s here! The chosen one from the two-faced religion! The cross-hugging hypocrite! The betrayer!”
I slid out of the booth and tried to stand. Murray struck me and knocked me down.
“He is here among us! And I thought you were my best friend!”
I slid away from him and stood up. The customers were starting to gather around me and were chanting. They were cursing me. They were cursing God. I pushed my way into the lobby as they chanted, and Murray hurled cuss words and spat on me.
I slammed into the hostess who seated us, and we both fell. I got up and tried to help her up.
“Help me.” I pleaded. I felt like I was in an episode of ‘the Outer Limits’.
“There is no help for the chosen.” She scowled. “No help for the filth of His flock!”
I ran out of the truck stop and headed for the interstate on foot.
I ran to a rest area just outside of Williams, Iowa. I had run and walked a distance of 78 miles in the ditch. I didn’t want to be spotted. It had rained on and off for six hours. I was hoping to dry myself off and hopefully get a little rest before I started out again.
I used one of those hand dryers to dry myself. The warm air felt comforting on my cold wet face. I sneezed a few times. ‘Great’ I thought, ‘I’m catching frickin pneumonia’.
I looked into the mirror and examined the mark on my chest. I never saw this the morning I woke up in Rachel’s house. I washed my face to try to wake myself. The whole thing seemed so unreal. I didn’t want to believe everything that my brain was registering as reality. I couldn’t bring myself to it.
‘Maybe if I slept.’ I thought, ‘Maybe if I slept and woke up at daybreak and had a nice sink bath. Maybe then everything would make sense. Then I could just return to my normal little life and I promise, God that I’ll go to church every Sunday willingly. Next year, I’ll be the first in line to go to Promise Keepers.’
I went out into the lobby and saw the phones hanging on the wall. I searched my pockets for change. I came up with .45 cents and a wad of lint.
I’ll call Cheryl. She’ll come and get me. She’ll come and get me, and we can return home together and live happily ever after. Yeah, right! How the hell can I explain why I’m here in a rest area in Iowa? ‘Honey, I slept with some girl in a devil cult and now they all want to kill me. Can you come pick me up? Murray? Oh, he’s one of them too.’
I dropped the change into the slot and dialed collect. It was busy. I thought I might just take a little nap in the stall, and call later. I can tell her that Murray decided to stay, and I wanted to come home early because I missed her so much. So I hitched a ride. That would work, right?
I drifted into sleep.
“Hey. Hey, buddy?” a voice woke me out of the blackness.
“Huh?” I awoke with a jump, and my fist clenched. I was ready for them.
“Easy, buddy, you okay?” It was a trucker. He was a tad pudgy and on the later side of 50. He was dressed in a flannel shirt and Wrangler jeans. A Burrough’s Cartage, Inc. hat sat proper on his graying red hair.
“Yeah!” I tried to look mean. “Yeah, leave me be!”
“Just checking. I heard you crying out in your sleep. You need a ride somewhere?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay, I’m heading into Minneapolis if you’re looking for a ride.”
I gave in. I rode in his semi with one hand on the door handle and the other holding my shirt closed. He spoke once in awhile, but I just nodded my head not really listening to him. I just wanted to be home with Cheryl. I just wanted to be back with her in my safe little home. Everything will work itself out later.
He pulled off onto highway 62 in Richfield, MN. He went over to the shoulder and stopped his rig. It gasped as the air brakes engaged. He looked a little concerned at me, and I clutched the top of my shirt. He held out his hand.
“This is where I drop ya, bud.” He said with a smile, “The brass would fine me if I showed up with a rider and all, ya know.”
“Thanks.” I took his hand, and he gripped mine and shook it.
“This close enough for ya?”
“Yeah.” I opened my door.
“Well, good luck to ya. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks for the ride.”
I walked three miles to a convenience store just off the highway. I walked in to use the payphone. I almost started to cry. I began to feel relief, and I felt safe. I was only five miles from home. I never wanted to hear my wife’s voice more in my life. Once I heard it I knew everything would be okay.
I got to the phone back by the bathroom. It smelled awful. I didn’t care. I dropped my change into the slot. There was no dial tone. There was nothing. I looked at the receiver and clicked the lever several times. Nothing. The damn thing wouldn’t even give me my change back.
I slammed the phone down and went up to the cash register. I waited behind two customers impatiently. They were paying for their purchases with a damn credit card! I began to wonder if people in a hurry felt the same way when I was paying with a credit card, especially when the clerk can’t operate the machine.
I finally got up to the register.
“I need to use your phone.” I said desperately, “It’s a local call.”
“There’s a pay phone in the back by the bathrooms.” The pimple-faced kid grinned at me.
“It ain’t working. Can I just use your phone up here?”
“Sorry, it’s against company policy for us to use the business phone for anything except business.”
“Look, it’s an emergency. I’ll just take a minute! It’s a local call for chrissakes!”
“There’s a warehouse just on the other side of the parking lot. They may have a phone.”
“Thanks, you’ll make employee of the month!” I would’ve argued with the punk in any other circumstance, but I hadn’t the energy. I walked out across the parking lot to this warehouse.
The lady at the front desk was pleasant. She greeted me with a smile and said I could use the phone in back. She guided me back down the hallway. She opened the last door that opened into the warehouse. It was dark in there except for the desk lamp that shined down on a black phone with an old rotary dial on it about fifty feet ahead of me.
I thought it was odd that she wouldn’t let me use the one up front on her desk, but I wasn’t in the mood to discuss company policy with her.
I dialed the number wrong twice. My fingers fumbled with the rotary. What kind of business uses a rotary phone anyways? I dialed a third time and got the first ring.
“Hello?” it was her voice. Oh, Cheryl. Sweet Cheryl. Her voice was so soft and warm. So safe. Sweet Cheryl.
“Honey?” I was starting to break down.
The phone went dead. Someone cut the line. I closed my eyes, and the chanting started again around me. Coming from the darkness, from the mustiness. It was all around me. I dropped the receiver.
A tear fell down my cheek.
“You can’t run.” A voice spoke from the unseen group of people. “We told you, we are everywhere!”
