HELL TAKERS

BRIAN KNIGHT

Chapter One

Bob Sommers jumped, and gasped for air when he awoke.

He was afraid and holding a twenty-two caliber handgun.

Bob Sommers found himself sitting inside the cab of a Kenworth semi-truck. The only light was that which came from the dashboard lights.

Bob Sommers found something else disturbing. He could not remember anything. Not even his own name.

He quickly found the dome light and turned it on then dug his wallet from his right front pants pocket.

His Commercial Drivers License listed him as thirty-seven years old, six foot two, weight two hundred and thirty-one pounds, blue eyes, and brown hair.

He adjusted the side-view mirror, and took a look at himself.

Bob put the handgun on the passenger seat. I look like the picture.

He looked around the cab of the truck hoping to find a thermos and hoping to remember anything at all, but all he drew was a blank.

He found the thermos under the driver's seat, and poured a cup of the steamy black fluid.

What the hell? This is like it was just filled. I couldn't have been out long.

A strange craving over came him. He reached into his top left shirt pocket and pulled out a partially crumpled pack of Winston cigarettes, pulled one out, and lit it.

As he sat there drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette, he wondered who the picture of the woman was in his wallet. Was she his wife, girlfriend, or sister?

If she was a girlfriend, he hoped that she was living with him. That way there would be someone at his house that could give him all the information he needed.

When he crushed out his cigarette, he decided to turn the truck around and go back to the nearest stop. He was going to ask the waitress if he was there and if anyone was with him. It could be possible that he picked up a hitchhiker, was robbed, and knocked unconscious, but that did not make sense since he still had money and credit cards in his wallet.

Once he descended the mountain and entered the valley floor, he read a sign that read Pray in big red letters on a white board.

Soon he came to a small town that consisted of a BP Gas station, a bar called the Stumble Inn, which was closed, and an all night restaurant called Sammy's. The S and the Y were burned out.

He pulled the truck into the empty parking lot, and hopped out.

Once he was out of the truck, he read the sign on the cab door. Sommers Trucking. At least I own my own company.

The moment Bob stepped into the restaurant, he lit a cigarette, and sat at the counter.

The flowered wallpaper was stained yellow from years of smoking customers. The orange booths had been torn and repaired with Duck Tape which had the edges picked at by restless children as they waited for their food.

Bob looked at the clock on the wall. It was two thirty-seven.

“Boy, you’re back soon. Got a flat?” An elderly woman asked.

Bob guessed the woman to be in her early sixties. Her nametag read Sam.

“No. No flat. I wish it was that.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Please.”
Shortly Sam returned with two cups of coffee and asked, “Mind if I join you? It gets kinda lonely around here this time of night.”

“I don't mind.”

“So what brings you back so soon?”

“Well.... I was hoping you could help me out."

“I'll try.”

“I woke up a little while ago, and I can't remember anything. Where am I?”

“You're in Oregon.”

“That's good. My CDL says I live in Shale.”

“You're in the right state. That's about a four hour ride from here.”

“I take it I'm in Pray?”

“I see that you read crazy Fillman's sign. People around here have wanted him to take down that sign for years. One guy even offered him a thousand dollars, but Fillman refuses. Ain't a thing that we can do about it. It's on his property.... This is Mill Creek.”

“Why does he have it up?”

“It's a warning to people that they should pray and ask for forgiveness to keep the Hell Takers away.”

“What's a Hell Taker?”

Sam took a sip of her now luke-warm coffee then said, “Hell Takers are a bigger legend around here than Big Foot. Don't know if I believe in them, but there are quite a few people around here that do.

“A Hell Taker is a demon sent from Hell to come and get people that are hung up on guilt. Like I said...I don't know if I believe in them, but...when enough people disappear or die with a terrified look on their face, I guess that people have to come up with an explanation even if it means that the explanation deals with the supernatural.”

“I would think that a town this size wouldn't want that kinda publicity.”

“This isn't exactly a tourist town, Bob. This town use to do quit well until the lumber mill was closed due to the Spotted Owl. Almost everyone moved to Salem, Portland, or Eugene looking for work. Most of the people that stayed here are retired and getting a monthly check.”

“How'd you know my name?”

“You told me the last time you were in here. About two hours ago.”

“Do you have a pay phone?”

“Sure do, honey. It's right down the hallway between the men's and women's bathroom.”

“Thanks.” Bob replied as he stood.

“Would you like another cup of coffee?” Sam asked.

“Sounds good.”

At the pay phone, Bob pulled out the calling card from his wallet. He guessed that the first ten numbers were his home phone number.

As he dialed the number, a tall slender figure with long black hair slid with ease through the wall of Bob's sleeper.

He hoped that the woman in the picture lived with him that way she would be home, and able to answer all of his questions. He wanted answers.

On the seventh ring, a groggy female voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Bob. It's three-thirty in the morning. Is everything all right?”

“No. I woke up in the cab with amnesia. I figured out who I am and where I live from my CDL, but I don't know who you are.”

“Jill, your wife, Bob, please come home. We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“I love you.”

“...I love you too.” Bob was not sure if he did or if he didn't, and Jill could tell that by the hesitation in his answer.

Bob went back to finish his coffee.

He knew Jill was right. He had to see a doctor. He began to think that he might have had a mild stroke or an aneurysm, but soon ruled out those possibilities because he would have wreaked his truck.

No, someone was after him, and it bugged him that he could not remember who it was.

As Bob Sommers took the last swallow of coffee, Violet Knight was pulling back the flowered comforter down on her bed then she put on her flannel nightgown.

Violet was a night person. Had been all her life, and was still one at the age of eighty-one.

Suddenly she heard the front door open.

“Who's there?” She asked.

The only response she got was from the footfalls as the Y neared her bedroom.

“You better leave, or I'm calling the police.”

“Go ahead, Violet. It'll be over by then.”

He stepped into the doorway, wearing a suit and gray hair.

“Why me?” Violet asked as she began crawling to the head of her bed.

The man in the doorway began getting smaller and thinner.

Violet was frozen with fear as she watched the man turn into a ten-foot long albino Burmese Python.

Within seconds the snake sprung at her with the speed only snakes have during a strike at their prey, and soon the snake buried it's head in Violet's chest and pulled out her soul.

Violet's grandson, Johnny, found Violet the next morning with her mouth and eyes wide open.

He was told that his grandmother died from freight by the coroner.

Chapter Two

Jill Sommers got out of bed, and began pacing the living room floor of their modern three bedroom upstairs apartment in her Garfield nightgown.

Their apartment was located in the modest neighborhood across from Hills Park, which rested against the shores of Bass Lake.

She stood five feet three inches as she ran her hand through her shoulder length sandy colored hair.

Jill's thoughts were solely on Bob.

She lit a cigarette and began pacing. I hope it's just that he forgot to take his medicine. After a few minutes of pacing, her thoughts drifted to the time when she met Bob.

She was working as a night nurse on the Mental Health Unit at All Saints Hospital, and had just come back from two nights off.

Jill was on med rounds when she went into Bob's room at eleven thirty that night. She had looked at the Medix and put his Zyprexa and Xanax into a small paper cup then carried in a small cup of water in the other hand, so he would have something to wash the pills down with.

Her heart went out to him when she learned that he was suffering from severe depression to the point that it brought on mild psychotic episodes.

Jill also learned in report that it was a year ago that his five-year-old son died, and three months after that he and his wife filed for divorce.

Bob and his wife had no choice but to pull the plug on their son.

His son was riding his tricycle in their front yard when a teenager, who was trying to impress his girlfriend that he could drink and drive, took the corner to fast.

He took the corner too fast and slammed into Bob's son. Bob's son was flown to the University Hospital in Portland where he lay brain dead on a respirator.

Bob, being a night person, would go to the nurse's station and talk with the nurses, which he preferred over watching infomercials.

Soon Jill asked Bob if he would like to go on smoke breaks with her. She explained that not too many nurses smoked these days, and she would really enjoy the company.

Then on the next night she asked him if he would go on lunch breaks with her.

Jill found herself quickly falling in love with who she mentally called a six four, 270-pound gentle giant.

The night before he was discharged, she asked him if he would like to go for dinner.

He readily agreed.

Chapter Three

As Bob Sommers walked out to his truck, the tall slender figure slid out of the far sleeper wall.

Bob climbed into his truck, and began to pull out of the parking lot.

Sam, the waitress, had told Bob that it was normally a four-hour ride to Shale, but if the weather kept up she wouldn't be surprised if it took six hours.

As Bob shifted the Kenworth into second gear, a tall slender figure stepped onto the street and looked at the ground for a minute then crossed the street.

An eerie deja vu feeling swept over Bob.

Bob looked to make sure the .22 was still on the passenger seat. If he came across whatever he had come across before, he would have no problem putting a few rounds into it.

Five miles up the curvy mountain road; the headlights of the truck caught a glimpse of a tall slender figure wearing black.

What the hell? Bob lit a cigarette. Does everyone around here dress the same?

Suddenly the rain pounded his truck and the ground. Bob could not see past the hood of his truck.

He brought the truck to a stop and poured a cup of coffee from the thermos as he listened to the rain beat against the truck.

He took a sip of coffee. This is going to be a long ride home if this keeps up.

Bob crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back.

Suddenly there was a loud crash on the hood of his truck. Bob thought immediately a branch had fallen on the hood of the truck.

Bob looked out his windshield and was surprised that there was a tall slender person on the hood.

“Get the fuck off my truck!”

The person didn't move.

“Maybe you'll understand this!” Bob said as he reached for the handgun.

When Bob looked out the windshield, the creature’s eyes glowed neon green, which easily pierced the night's blackness.

“Kill any kids?” The creature spat. Venom dripped from the creature's mouth.

The creature then leapt from the hood, to the cab's roof, and then to the top of the trailer.

The rain stopped as quickly as it started.

“I'm getting the fuck outta here.” Bob mumbled as he shifted the truck into the first gear.

As Bob slowly climbed the mountain, all of his memory came back to him.

That same creature had slid through the passenger door, and said that it was going to torment a child killer.

Bob reached under the driver's seat and grabbed the .22 caliber handgun, but the creature had grabbed the top of Bob's head and whispered what sounded to be the word, “forget.”

Twenty-five miles from the Coastal Mountains Bob Sommers drove into the small coastal town of Maple Nut.

It was six in the morning when he parked his truck on the street next to Johnny’s Bakery.

He walked up to the counter and ordered a large black coffee and two twists then sat in the far corner booth.

He felt good that all of his memory came back to him.

He made a mental note to call Jill to let her know that he was fine, but he was scared also. He had no idea what that creature was that he encountered on that mountain road. Bob took a bite of a twist and hoped that all it boiled down to was that he needed a medication boost.

An elderly man came into the bakery and ordered a small cup of coffee then sat two booths from Bob, and sat so that he was facing Bob.

After taking a sip of the fresh brewed coffee, the elderly man asked Bob, “Is that your rig out there?”

“Yup.” Bob guessed the man to be in his seventies.

“Where ya comin' from?”

“Vermont.”

“Where ya headed?”

“I'm going to Shale.”

“You only got about an hour if you're headed to Shale, but are you sure you're headed to Shale?”

“Very sure.”

“What if I told you that you were headed somewhere else?”

“Where else would I be headed?”

The man took a sip of coffee then looked Bob dead straight in the eyes.

The look the old man was giving Bob made the hairs on the back of Bob's neck stand up.

The man's eyes turned neon green as he said, “Hell, Bobby. That's where I'm takin' you, but first I'm going to play with you. I'm going to torment you, Bobby.” The man laughed as he vanished.

The only thing remaining at the table was half a cup of coffee.

Shit. Bob nervously lit a cigarette. This can’t be real, but the coffee cup is sitting on the table. Maybe it was sitting there before I came in, and I just didn’t notice it sitting there.

Bob picked up the twist then set it back on the table. He had lost his appetite.

What if I’m slipping further? I’ve had minor problems in the past, but I’ve been able to keep it under control. Bob decided to call his doctor to let him know what was going on. Maybe all that had to be done was an increase or change in meds.

Chapter Four

Harold Zelecowski, a street person living in Portland, was sitting in an alley with his best friend Al Tobe, also a street person. Like Harold he fought for food with their number one competitor, rats, and slept wherever the rain could not get them.

Tonight was a special night.

They were celebrating Harold's sixty-fifth birthday.

“Do you know why I'm a bum? I never told you did I?”

“Everyone on the streets gots their reason. What's yours?”

“I refused to be any part of this society. They sent kids to Vietnam to kill. I didn't mind killing those Zipperheads. Hell... they were killin' us.

“But, man... what was wrong was that even innocent people died. Even kids.

“We were ordered to go into this village and destroy everything. Someone got word that it was a storage area for ammo.

“My turn, man. After all it is my birthday.”

Al handed the whiskey bottle to Harold.

After taking two burning swallows, Harold handed the bottle back to Al then he continued with his story.

“After we went through the village destroying everything in sight, we discovered that it wasn't an ammo site.

“Good fuckin' job soldiers.

“Man, the adrenaline was going through my veins like a freight train.

“I didn't know it was a kid. Son-of-a-bitch. Kids weren't meant to die, or be killed.

“I heard a noise coming from underneath a roof to one of the hutches that we destroyed.

“I unloaded my M-Sixteen. When I was done, I kicked what was left of the roof off the person I killed.

“... It was a kid, man. About ten years old.... That's when I made a promise to myself never to be a member of this society.”

Harold reached for the bottle from Al, took three swallows, gave it back to

Al, then leaned his head against the brick wall, and closed his eyes.

“Hey, man, I've got a surprise for you.” Al said.

“What's that?” Harold asked not bothering to open his eyes or move his head.

“It's one of those surprises that you have to look at.”

Harold stared in shock as he watched his friend metamorphosis into a leopard.

Before his friend finished turning into a Leopard, Harold began running towards the street.

Soon Al was a full-grown Leopard chasing his prey a full speed.

As Harold looked back, he did not notice that he ran into the busy street.

He didn’t hear the blaring horn or the screeching tires from the Metro Taxi.

Harold was hit dead center from the cab causing him to hit the hood then bounce onto the blacktop - Dead.

A crowd gathered to look at the dead man who was lying on the street.

No one called for help.

And no one saw the Hell Taker grab Harold's soul then slip through the blacktop.

Sally Westphal, a retired teacher, and widow, spent many sleepless nights in her suburban home just outside Chicago.

Her husband, Fred, passed away ten years ago. What kept Sally awake was that she never had the courage to tell her husband that she had had an affair with Jim Brewer, the math teacher where she taught English.

It had taken place ten years before her husband died.

Fred was on the road as he often was due to being a truck driver.

Sally loved her husband dearly, but she was lonely and starved for conversation.

Jim gave her both.

Sally felt guilty as soon as the affair had taken place, and wished that she had told her husband and begged for his forgiveness. She never got up the courage, and now her husband was gone, and there was no way of knowing if he would have forgiven her.

Sally wiped herself, flushed the toilet then sat in the tub of luke-warm water filled almost to the top.

God, I wish I would have told Fred. How could I ever have thought about cheating on him?

She took a sip of Three Lakes Red Cranberry Wine, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back.

Suddenly she heard a clicking noise on her wood floor in the hallway.

It sounded like a big dog.

She did not own a dog.

She lifted her head and listened to the clicking as it came closer.

The sound stopped just before it got to the bathroom door.

Sally started to get out of the tub. There was a deep growl, and the dog stepped into the doorway.

Fear swept through Sally as she stared at the Doberman Pincer as it stood there growling - drool dripped from its yellow fangs.

Suddenly it's eyes turned neon green then in one leap the dog was on her ripping chunks of bloody flesh from Sally's neck.

The water in the tub turned from a light pink to a dark red.

Within seconds the Doberman Pincer had what he had come for. Sally's soul.

With Sally's soul in its mouth, it leaped through the wall.

Within seconds after the dog left, Sally's body healed, and the water returned to its natural color.

The autopsy would later reveal that Sally had suffered a heart attack.

Five years ago Mark Bryant was a happily married film student in his first year of graduate studies.

His future looked bright.

But that was five years ago.

Now most of Mark's thoughts were consumed by the single thought, I should have taken him fishing.

Five years earlier, Andy Brown, was a twelve-year-old sixth grader. He had asked Mark to take him fishing, but Mark told Andy that he was too busy to go fishing.

So with fishing pole and tackle box in hand, he hopped on his bike and headed for the lake.

On his way home he was crossing a busy intersection and was hit by a red Chrysler LeBaron and was killed instantly.

Mark reeled in his line, put on a new minnow, cast it our as far as he could, and took a swallow of Miller Genuine Draft.

He liked his fishing spot. It was secluded in the woods, and there never was anyone else around.

A deep growl broke the serenity of the area.

He turned and saw a black bear standing at least ten feet tall.

Panic swelled.

This ain't right. There ain't supposed to be any bears in this part of the state.

The bear fell onto his four legs and stared a Mark who sat there in fear. He hoped the bear would just turn around and go back into the forest.

The bear growled and took a step towards Mark, and as it sat there staring at Mark, the bear's eyes turned neon green.

Mark scrambled to his feet and started running towards his car. This ain't right.

Soon Mark saw his mint condition seventy-eight white Impala sitting on the side of the gravel road.

The bear, close on Mark's heels, reached out with his right front paw and knocked Mark, with ease, to the ground.

Nobody heard Mark's screams for help as the bear ate at Mark's legs.

Mark died shortly later from loss of blood

But the bear kept ripping Mark's body apart until it found Mark's soul located deep inside Mark's chest.

Soon after the bear left, and entered the woods, the birds began to sing, and the flies quickly found Mark's body. By the next day maggots would be eating at Mark's rotting carcass.

Chapter Five

Bob Sommers awoke at three-thirty in the afternoon.

The timer on the coffeepot was set for three-fifteen, and by three-thirty the apartment was filled with the aroma of fresh brewed Maxwell House.

Bob climbed out of bed and slipped on his red bathrobe.

Jill should be home in half an hour. Bob went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

After pouring a cup of coffee, he sat at the table, lit a cigarette, and read the note on the table that Jill left for him.

The note stated that she was going to make a Doctors appointment when she was on one of her breaks.

Bob was happy that he married Jill.

She was always caring and understanding.

He had a hard time understanding that he found someone who would want to live with someone who had psychotic episodes even if the episodes were mild.

After reading the note he checked his trucking schedule and was glad to see that he had scheduled the next four days off.

As he drank his coffee, and smoked a Winston cigarette, nagging images of the creature kept eating at him. Is this damn creature real?

If so than he wanted to know why. He had enough guilt over the death of his son. Bob decided that he did not need to be tormented by some creature.

Maybe it was nothing more than a hallucination.

Bob hoped so. He did not want to deal with a real demon.

The front door opened.

“Hi, Honey.” Bob said.

“Hi.” Jill responded as she walked over to him to give him a kiss then added, “I'm glad you're home. That was a long two weeks... How are you doing?”

“Good. How was you're day?”

“All right.”

“Would you like some beer, or a cup of coffee?”

“Beer, please. I would like to take you out for supper. I know how much you like home cooked dinners but-”

“One more restaurant meal won't kill me.”

After taking a sip of beer, Jill said, “I'm worried about you.”

“I'm fine. Honestly.”

“I talked to Doctor Hemsly today. He wants to see you at eight-thirty in the morning.”

“I'm fine, Jill.”

“He wanted to know if you were smelling things that weren't there.”

“Only that creatures breath. It smells like sulfur. It almost makes my eyes water.”

“Doctor Hemsly wants to do an MRI in case you have a tumor.”

“I'm fine. Besides that we can't afford for me to lose my CDL.”

“We can easily live off of what I bring home. If it's not a tumor then it's your psychosis, and I'd rather have you here, staying at home, and getting better.

I would like you to see Doctor Hemsly. He's coming in early as a favor to me.”

Bob Sommers awoke at two-thirty in the morning.

A strange blue light was coming from the hallway.

It lasted for only a moment then it disappeared,

Bob sat up and went to investigate where the blue light had come from. It was a light that he had never seen before.

Jill's hand grabbed his left arm and she pleaded, “Please don't go.”

Bob turned to face Jill.

The tall slender figure looked up at Bob and said, “I'm coming.”

The creature vanished as his laughter echoed in the apartment.

Bob's heart pounded as he jumped out of bed and shouted, “Sonofabitch.”

Jill woke to find Bob standing by the door screaming, “Come on you, son-of-a-bitch! You want me? Come and get me!”

“Bob! Wake up! You're having a nightmare.”

“That was no nightmare. I'm wide awake.”

“It was a bad dream.”

“For the last time that was no dream.... I woke up to some strange blue light that I've never seen before, and that damn thing pretending to be you. I have to kill it before it kills me, but how do you kill a Hell Taker?”

“A what?” Jill asked as she sat up to light a cigarette.

“Let's go in the kitchen and talk.”

Once they were in the kitchen, they sat at the table facing each other.

Bob ran his hand through his slightly damp hair.

“What's a Hell Taker?”

“I'm not sure. The waitress in the restaurant in Mill Creek said that I might have picked one up. They blame mysterious deaths and disappearances on them.”

“Are they real or supernatural?”

“They pop up and disappear. I guess that would be supernatural.”

“Does it talk to you?”

“Yeah. It calls me kid killer, and it's going to torment me until it comes for me.”

“To be honest, I don't think you have a tumor. I think its hallucinations manifested from the severe guilt you feel from what happened to your son. Just remember it can't hurt you.”

“I want to fight it. I want to kick its ass.”

“You could hurt yourself. Do me a favor. If you see this thing again, wake me up and let me know. If I see it also, then it must be real.”

“I don't think it'll let you see it.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.... I think if you could see it then others would be able to, and I don't think that it thinks that way.”

“Try to get some sleep. We'll see Doctor Hemsly in the morning.”

“All right, but if I see this thing, I'm going to wake you up.”

“Good. I hope you do.”

Doctor Hemsly leaned back in his chair and patiently listened to Bob Sommers talk about his experiences with the Hell Taker.

When Bob finished, Doctor Hemsly said, “From what you described, I think that we can rule out a tumor.”

Jill sighed.

“However, I do believe that you are suffering from more serious bouts of psychosis from which you are not accustomed. I want to increase your Zyprexa from ten milligrams to twenty.”

“Also, I hope you weren't planning on going back on the road for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Until I'm sure that your psychosis is under control.”

“Doc, I have a lot of business to do. I just can't stop trucking.”

“I'm sure Tom Gerdes will take up your business. He's always saying he has two trucks just sitting in his yard,” said Jill.

“You have to understand. I can't let you drive, and if I find out that you have been then I'll have no choice but to send a letter to DMV.”

“I understand, Doc, I won't drive.”

Chapter Six

As Bob Sommers was talking to Doctor Hemsly, thirteen-year-old Allison Kuzy was riding her two-year-old horse Sugar Cane, which she got on her twelfth birthday.

She was riding Sugar Cane on the rolling plains of her parent’s eastern Montana ranch.

As she rode Sugar Cane through the tall grass, her thoughts were solely on Billy Hopper, captain of the basketball team.

She was trying to figure a way to ask him if he wanted to go see a movie, but every time she had a chance, she would get butterflies in her stomach and lose all her nerve.

Allison enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing through her shoulder length brown hair.

Suddenly, Sugar Cane's right front leg stepped into a Prairie Dog hole sending Allison and Sugar Cane falling forward.

Allison heard a loud crack from her neck, and after she caught her breath, she discovered that she could not move.

She knew that she broke her neck when she hit the ground, and she also knew that it would be several hours before her parents would get home, and that it would be a couple hours after that before they began to worry.

A tear fell from her right eye as she began to realize that she was probably going to die out in the prairie.

She noticed that Sugar Cane was trying to walk, but it looked like she had broken her right front leg by the way she was limping.

“Hi, Allison.”

Allison tried to turn her head to see who had found her so quickly, but her head would not move.

“It's been a long time, sweet heart.” The man had said. It sounded like the man was moving around her head.

Soon she saw a pair of brown leather boots.

The man knelt.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes, Honey. It's me, and it's time for you to come with me. Don't be afraid.”

Allison smiled and closed her eyes.

Soon her spirit hand reached out and held her Grandfather's hand then they both disappeared.

All that remained on the prairie was Allison's crumpled body and Sugar Cane as she tried to walk back to the barn.

Jim Hobes, Jimmer as his friends called him, lay in his run down hotel room that could be rented by the hour, day, week, or month.

Jimmer lay on his twin bed wondering when a piece of the ceiling would fall on top of him.

Sirens filled the Portland night air.

Jimmer got out of bed and walked over to the cooler to get a warm generic beer. He did not have money to buy ice for it.

After getting a beer, he walked bare footed across the cold chipped tile floor, and sat at the beat up brown table. He sat there looking out the window to the brick wall across the alley.

Jimmer did not care if people referred to him as a bum, or the room he slept in was a dump. In which he shared with an occasional cockroach, which would scurry across the floor when he turned on the single bare light bulb that hung from the center of the ceiling.

Charlie, the hotel and bar owner knew Jimmer from grade school, and they had been best friends since. He gave Jimmer the room rent free along with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s once a week, and a hamburger every night from the greasy spoon, a block down from the hotel, every night.

All Jimmer had to do was to clean the bar starting at one o'clock in the morning. Just before the bar closed. He did not even have to be sober. If he did show up too drunk to work, Charlie would take Jimmer back to his room and let him sleep it off.

It was three in the morning when Jimmer sat at the brown table to drink his warm beer, and as always he thought back to the Friday night when he had come home from teaching History a Madison High School.

He had put a TV dinner in the microwave, and when it was done cooking, he went into the living room to watch the news.

He began to eat his Turkey dinner. He had an hour to go before he left for the airport to pick up his wife and two daughters.

They were on their way back from visiting their grandparents in Florida.

He had taken a bite of stuffing when the newscaster announced that flight Two-Forty-Two exploded shortly after take off from O'Hare in Chicago, and it was caught on amateur video.

The plane exploded over and over in his mind's eye.

He should have been with them or at least talked his wife into waiting until summer when they all could go together.

Jimmer slammed his beer down, said, "Fuck!" Then went to bed.

He knew it was useless to try to fall asleep without passing out, but he figured he would try anyway.

There had to be a night when he could just lay down and fall asleep.

Soon tears streamed down his face as images of the exploding plane flashed over and over, relentlessly, in his minds eye.

A hand with long decaying bone fingers came out of the wall and brushed Jimmer's left ear.

The hand slid back into the wall as Jimmer brushed at his left ear, thinking that it was a cockroach.

Shortly there was a deep growl coming from inside wall.

“What the hell is that?” Jim asked as he sat up.

Another growl soon followed.

Jim put his ear to the wall.

Two massive hands with long fingers and talons grabbed Jimmer's head and banged it against the wall.

Everything went black for Jim as he slid along the wall.

The creature slid out of the wall.

It stood eight feet tall, had talons on its feet, hands, and had long white hair that reached its waist.

Its eyes glowed neon green.

The creature grabbed Jim by the shirt and demanded in a deep throaty voice, “Wake up, asshole.”

Jim's eyes opened on command. He blinked his eyes twice trying to focus them. Please be a bad dream and disappear.

“You're going to take a trip with me, asshole.”

The creature then picked Jim up and carried him over to the window. He then said, “See you in a minute.”

The creature then threw Jimmer through the window with such force it sent Jimmer crashing into the brick wall across the alley, and then he fell four stories to his death.

The creature stepped onto the table and leapt through the wall and landed with ease next to Jimmer's body.

With an evil grin, the creature then reached into Jim's chest, and grabbed Jim's soul and then they both slipped through the blacktop.

Chapter Seven

Bob Sommers stayed awake to see if the strange blue light would appear at two-thirty in t

About the Author

Chapter Three

Chapter Five