Chelsea stops at a rest stop, to freshen up before continuing on her long journey back home. Beknowest to her, a killer has other plans for her.
Murder on East 76
It was a cold December night, with a temperature of just below zero. The moon, half full, shone brightly through a wisp of cloud. Chelsea eased into the service plaza off of East 76; pulling into the first set of spaces she could find. She put the gearshift into park, shivering despite the fact that the heat was still on. The plaza looked deserted for a holiday weekend, except one lonely car sitting in the space next to her. It was completely covered with snow.
“Maybe they broke down, and got a ride home,” she told herself out loud, getting out of the car quickly. She didn’t bother to shut off the car, figuring she would be back on the road momentarily. Locking the door, and shutting it behind her, she hurried towards the building.
The building itself looked deserted as well, but she noticed a man standing by the cigarette can as she rounded the corner. He seemed to be the only one here, and she assumed that he was the owner of the car. As she got closer, one look at him told her to keep her distance. She got a good look at him, noticing a scar on his left hand. It looked fresh, with dried blood all around the outside. She looked back at the car, but it looked as though it was fine. This scared her even more. With her head down, she made her way to the door, but as she went to enter the building, the man’s head lifted slightly. Chelsea still couldn’t see his face. She caught a smell as the wind blew, coming from where he stood. She couldn’t place the odor, but it was enough to turn her stomach.
“Cold night,” he said. His voice had a chill to it, more biting than the cold winter air. She watched him a moment, considering what to answer, looking him over from head to toe. He wore a black cowboy hat, the brim shielding his face, and a black leather jacket; black jeans and boots completing the urban look. She felt scared, but answered him before entering the building.
“Yeah, very cold night,” she answered, and made her way into the building. Looking around a moment, she spotted the Ladies Room. She entered the bathroom, letting the door slam shut behind her. She stopped at the first stall, disgusted by the way it was kept. Little pieces of wet toilet paper littered the floor. The toilet was over flowing all over the floor. There were graffiti all over the walls; saying she wouldn’t even let her own daughter, Ashton, say. As she walked away, she noticed on the floor that there were used condoms all over the floor, nearest to the drain. She looked up, hoping to keep from throwing up. Pushing the door opened, it creaked. It was clearly the better of the two stalls. Sighing, she chose the second stall. Locking the door, she hung her coat on the hook, and quickly sat down on the seat. She began to think of what she had to do, once she made it home. Chelsea was sure that there were going to be clothes to wash, dishes most likely would need done, and her daughter’s room was mess she was sure. She was so caught up in her thoughts, that the outer door slamming made her skin jump, causing her heart to pound madly in her chest. She put her head down, trying to get a hold of herself.
It’s just somebody who needs to use the bathroom, she told herself, but still wasn’t totally convinced. She saw nobody nor heard anybody. She figured either she was hearing things or that they left as soon as they had opened the door. Either case, she went back to her thoughts about her family. As her eyes fell to the floor, she noticed a pair of cowboy boots standing directly in front of the stall door. Her heart had lurched up into her throat. She quickly got up off the seat, flushing, and grabbed her jacket; all the while watching the boots as they walked around to the other side of the stall. They stopped. They never moved. Quietly, she opened the door, aware that the person was still there. Making her way out of the stall, she couldn’t see them anywhere. It was as though they had just simply vanished. Taking a deep breath, she figured it was just someone using the bathroom yet again. Shaking her head, she walked over to the sink and turned on the water full blast, putting a little soap on her hands. As she finished rinsing her hands, she brought up her head, and screamed. There, behind her, stood the man in the black leather jacket. His face, she could now make out clearly, looked cracked and dead like aged leather; one side peeling away from his face. She could smell it again and finally placed it with something…Death. He smelled like death. She didn’t think that death had a smell, and figured she was probably wrong about its origin. She kept the thought hoping to keep herself calm. She looked him over further, trying to see if maybe there was anything that would tell her otherwise. He had black holes where the eyes should have been. His mouth was a hard line, something like granite. His hands came up in front of him, and she could see that what she thought was a scar, was actually bone. He had little skin left on his hands. Her stomach began to churn. He wrapped his dead fingers around her neck. She tried like hell to pry them from her throat. Her eyes widened when she felt his hands. They were so cold, so gritty; like sandpaper. His grip was forceful. As he squeezed the life out of her, she thought about her husband and two children back home. She imagined his smile, and how his cologne smelled. She thought about the way he held her in his arms, and the way he kissed her. She thought about how beautiful both their daughters were, and how she would never get to see them graduate, get married and have their own children. She knew, as her eyes began to become unfocused, that she would never see them again. Her life slowly began to slip away from her, allowing the demon to take her form. Once the transformation was complete, the demon looked at itself in the mirror. It smiled for the first time in almost thirty years. It walked back out of the bathroom, and back outside again.
***
Bethany pulled off the road and into the service plaza. It was cold and snowy out. As she rounded the bend and pulled into a space, she noticed two cars sitting beside her, both covered in snow. The plaza looked deserted for a holiday season. As she put the car in park, a strange feeling of disorientation came over her. She shook it off though, and got out. She wanted to be back on the road as soon as possible. Shutting the door, she broke into a jog. As she neared the door, she noticed a woman dressed in a cowboy hat, face shielded by the brim, with a black leather jacket, boots and jeans. She looked like something out of a western. Cautiously, she walked up to the door, peering at the lady from the corner of her eye.
“Cold night,” the woman said, half raising her head.
“Yeah,” Bethany said, and walked into the building…
The Butcher's Boy
- 2011 Readers Favorite Award Silver Medal Winner in Horror - Fiction
A Paranormal/Chiller by Michael Robb
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