The Last Stop on the Left

It might be the battery, but I've never heard of a battery crapping out in the middle of driving! Bert sighed dejectly. Maybe I'm just cursed.

Walking was out. He had no idea how close he was to another interchange, let alone an exit that might have a gas station of any kind. He thought it over and decided that his best hope was to sit by the road and wait for someone to come by. But since he'd only seen one other car since he got on this byway, his hopes of a timely rescue were non-existent. God only knows how long he would be trapped out here. And given that this truck stop looked long abandoned, it was clear that this was not a well traveled road.

Bert slammed the hood of his car and groaned, knowing that it was going to be a long night. He looked back to the lounge, leaning against his car and pondered his fate. Hang on, this place still has its lights on. That means the power must still be working. And this place looks really old, probably built in the seventies or eighties or something, anyways that means that there might be a payphone in this bitch!

Bert grimaced, trying not to get his hopes up in spite of himself. The old building looked on its last legs from years of neglect and anything of any real value or use was most likely stripped out of it years ago. Can't hurt to look though. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take, right?

Bert shuffled his feet in the direction of the door. It was a rusted out piece of metal with a big empty square hole in the center where a window used to be. Bert braced the door and pulled, fully expecting the only remaining hinge to snap like a twig. But, to his surprise, the hinge held and the door swung open with a loud rusty squeak.

The interior of the building was dark. the only light source coming from outside, filtered through the broken window that looked out into the lot itself. The interior looked like an old 1950's diner. The floor was covered in black and white checked linoleum. Booths and tables lined the walls. Facing directly across from him was a long L-shaped countertop, with half a dozen bolted down stools in front of it. The walls were covered with old ads for different brands of cigarettes and beer.

The place was filthy. A thick coat of dust covered everything, making the whole room look gray. Glass from the shattered window littered the floor. The posters were warped and watered marked from rain pouring in. Bert felt what little hope he had dropped even more. It was clear that nobody had been in this place for a long, long time.

What else were you expecting? Ma and Pa Kent standing behind the counter ready to take your order and fix all your problems? Bert scanned the room and saw a hand written sign on a jagged wooden plank towards the back that gave him a spark of hope: Phone out back by the bathroom. Bert stepped back and let the rusty door close, the single hinge screaming loudly in protest after years of inactivity.

As Bert started walking around the side, he began noticing some more things, like the signs above the dilapidated building he just entered. Neon tubing had been twisted into words and set against a huge faded black metal frame. The tubes were not active anymore, many shattered after being left exposed to the elements for too long. The frames spelled out ERNIE'S STOP AND GO. He noticed a smaller neon sign telling him he had indeed been in the dinner and that the lounge next door. Wonder what happened to this place that it was abandoned like this? Did something happen here? Maybe a drug bust or human trafficking ring? Yeah right. Dream on buddy.

Bert strolled around the side and saw a sight that he only ever had seen in old movies, an honest to god phone booth. It stood a little over 6 feet tall, a construction of steel ribbing and glass panels. The glass seemed to be intact but incredibly dusty. He broke into a light jog and as he drew closer, he saw it was not glass panels but some kind of plastic deliberately frosted to obscure whoever would be inside.

The door flummoxed him for a few seconds, there was no handle and no push/pull sign, but he eventually remembered from those same old movies that you just pushed on the door on one end and it folded open. It did not open smoothly. Like the door leading to the dinner, this thing hadn't been used in decades. It squeaked loudly in protest and stuck in several places. His impatience with the door eventually got the better of him and he just slammed the thing open with all his might, the rollers in the track giving up with a loud crunch.

He was greeted with disappointment at the sight of bare wires jutting out of a bare metal plate. Long gone my man. The phone company probably took it out when this place went belly up. Despair really started filling up Bert. He was quickly overcome by feelings of helplessness. He alone and cut off from everything and everybody.

It was full dark now, the stars were out but the moon was full and had a strange orangey color. He started off into the distance of the desert but couldn't see anything beyond the illumination of the yellow lights of the truck stop. Bert suddenly felt as if all the energy in his body had just sucked out of him in an instant. Still he tried to marshal himself to fully check out the stop on the vague hope of maybe possibly finding... something.

Bert didn't even know what he was looking for at this point, but felt sure if he gave up now he was well and truly screwed. There must be something here, a land line, an old walky talky,a ham radio, SOMETHING!

He began going over every method of long distance communication he could think of in his head and was struck with some vague memory about a radio. He headed back to his car to grab a flash light out of the trunk, still turning over the thought of radio communication in his mind. Something about it was floating around on the edge of his memory but he couldn't remember what. It had something to do with his car, of that he was certain. But what? He remembered when he fixed the old radio, swapping out the old AM inbuilt model with a more modern digital radio, but that wasn't it. It was something related to that though. Something close...

And then in a flash that caused him to freeze up he remembered, the memory hitting him like a ton of bricks. A CB! The charger has a CB built in! He raced off across the parking lot at top speed, almost tripping over a fallen trash can in his haste. He ripped the passenger side door open and leaped in. Frantically, he searched the interior for it and found it jutting out under the console, a small silver rectangle covered in dials. He opened the glove box and rummaged around for the mic, praying to god he didn't throw it out.

A quick search yielded the desired result. He plugged in the mic and then paused, his joy turning to confusion as he realized he didn't actually know how to use the CB. It was a left over from the previous owner, and it didn't exactly come with a manual. Fuck it, I'll just play with it until I get it to work. Not like I got a lot else going on tonight. That caused him to crack a bitter smile.

Bert switched the VOL knob to the on position and began to talk into his mic, "Hey anybody out there? Anyone hearing me? I'm stranded at a truck stop and need help, does anyone hear me?" Bert kept that up a few minutes before realizing that he hadn't been pressing the mic button. Red crept to his face as he now knew he had been talking to nobody for something like ten minutes. Still undeterred, he pressed in the mic button and began his plea for help again, remembering to let go of the button after he was done so he could hear any responses. Nothing.He twisted the CHANNEL knob next and tried again.

Over an hour later he had run through all the channels once with his cry for assistance but only static had answered him back. Depressed but not yet defeated, he switched back to CH1 and started again. "Hey can anyone hear me? Please, I need help. Anyone at all." The crackle of static played through uninterrupted and he was about to switch over to the next channel when a ghost of a voice drifted in through the static.

"... hear..." was all that came through but it was enough to cause Bert to jerk upright in his seat so hard he hit his head on the roof of his car. Rather than paying attention to the new lump on his head, he gripped the mic in both hands as he practically began shouting, "Hey! I hear you! I hear you! Can you hear me?"

Static sounded louder in his ears as he began to strain for the voice again when it came through, "...hear... I... what... you... Over." The voice was fading in and out but getting a little bit stronger. He could hear that the voice a little more clearly and could make out that the voice had a bit of a southern drawl to it now.

"Hey you're breaking up can you say that again?"

"...said I hear... what is... problem? Over."

"My car crapped out man and I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere."

"Couldn't quite... out. Come again, over."

"I said my car's dead!"

"Say again? Still not... in clean. And say over... your done son. Over."

Bert felt his frustration growing. Goddamn piece of shit garbage radio! "My... Car... is... Busted," and as almost an afterthought he added, "Over."

"Busted in what... son? Over."

"If I knew that I wouldn't be stuck! Over!"

"Hey no need to get nasty... you need my help. Remember that now."

Bert suddenly felt ashamed of himself. Here he was, stranded in a ghost stop in the middle of goddamn nowhere and he was pissing off the only person he could talk to. Oh great way to ask for help, moron. Get a hold of yourself!

The voice on the radio continued, "Now tell me exactly what... problem son. You're just on the edge of my radio... so you must still be... a ways off. Over."

Bert took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to rid himself of some of his anxiety and fear in the process. When he picked up his mic again, he spoke in a calmer tone. "My car stalled out driving down the byway and now it won't start up. I got no cell reception out here and I'm stranded alone at some abandoned truck stop. I don't got a lot of food or water and I don't have a map of any kind. Over." I hope you know where this place is buddy or I'm screwed big time.

"...truck stop? I don't know of any deserted truck stops around here unless..." There was a long pause where only static played over the speakers. Just as Bert was getting nervous that he lost whoever this was the voice came back on.

"You on route 151 son? Over '' The stranger's voice sounded tight and strained, like he was trying to conceal something. Oh man just how screwed am I?

"I honestly don't know man. I was trying to avoid the main highways and take my time getting to San Francisco. Over."

"Where... you at? What's the name?" The stranger's voice sounded worried now and it was freaking Bert out.

"Um... it's called 'Ernie's Stop and Go.' Over'' Bert let go of the mic button and silently willed whoever he was talking to to tell him not to worry, that everything was going to be fine. That nothing was wrong and he'd soon be saved. But instead he only got more silence and static.

This time the pause was so long that Bert had time to wonder why he never realized that silence was so damn loud before. It was maddening. And then the voice was back, only this time the fear in it was not being so well controlled as before. In fact this guys sounded more scared than Bert himself felt.

"Listen to me son, you need to get out of there, right now. Just go. Start walking." Panic welled up in Berts throat. His heart started racing at a mile a minute. And yet, he thought, he couldn't just leave. He only had half a bottle of water, it was pitch black outside and to top it all off, away from the car he had no way of contacting anyone. The CB was wired to the car. Without it, his only hope would be to have someone drive by and pick him up, which was highly unlikely anyways because he had seen exactly one other person in the last two hours on this road before his breakdown.

Bert tried to keep his voice even as he spoke into his mike, "Um... Hey man, I just can't leave here. Remember my car? It's still busted. Look, you know where this place is right? Can't you swing by and pick me up? I can pay you man. Over"

"Can't do it. Not anytime soon. It's seventy five miles till the next break in the road where I could turn around. And I'm hauling some very perishable cargo I need to drop off." He sounded sad and scared. "Walk son, just go. This is for your own good, you stay there and..." the voice drifted off for a second before coming back, "bad things will happen. Really bad. Please just go."

Bert's fear and frustration were climbing rapidly at this point but he still managed to keep himself calm, if only by the skin of his teeth. "Gee pal, thanks for the advice but I won't just pick up and leave. There. Is. Nowhere. For. Me. To. Go." Bert felt his anger rising. "I'm not walking out into the desert to die. You must be crazy! What's so bad about this place pal? What aren't you telling me?"

The voice on the radio sounded well and truly scared now which only added to Berts rage. "Son, you'd never believe me, but this is for your own good. Get out of there before he..." But the voice started to become overtaken by static again.

Berts rage transformed back into raw fear so fast his brain started to hurt from the emotional whiplash he was experiencing. "Hey! Hey mister! Dude you're breaking up!"

The voice was fading in and out now, getting more badly garbled by the second. "Son get... there! You must before... you! I'll swing... way and pick you... tomorrow, but you gotta get... before it's..." The voice was fading into the crackling static fast now. Damn! He's getting out of my range! Shit, I don't even know how far this fucking thing can reach!

The voice faded back in suddenly, but Bert was only able to make out a few of the fading words, "You don't... listen to... He'll... trick... change... give in! You..." And that was it. The voice faded out completely, and Bert was back to listening to the static of empty air waves. He kept the radio on and sat and listened for a few more minutes but nothing more came through on any of the channels.

A cold shiver went down his spine. Jesus. That dude was really freaked out! And what was he on about? Was it why this place is abandoned?

Fear began to taint his thoughts now. He began to imagine wild scenarios about why this place was abandoned and why this guy would tell him to leave, everything from roaming gangs of cannibal bikers to mutant freaks who live in the desert. Then he remembered that they used to test nuclear weapons in the desert. Holy shit, what if that's it! Radiation! I could be getting cancer sitting here! Bert actually jumped in his seat and tried to start his car before he remembered that it was dead, the whole reason he was trapped here in the first place.

Bert felt his heart going a million miles an hour, and for one instance he felt an enormous urge to run off down the road and keep going until he either found someone or passed out. Enough! Ok calm down, Bert! Get a hold of yourself and think!

Bert forced himself to sit still for several minutes and took deep gulping breaths, his fingers gripping his steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Sweat was popping out of his pores and began to bead up on his face but eventually he managed to calm himself down enough to the point where he felt he wasn't about to take off screaming into the night.

Ok good job. You're not about to have a panic attack. That's great. Best news I've heard since getting here. He smiled at his own joke and allowed himself to relax in his seat, letting his hands drop by his side. Ok, so... hear we are. Now think. Focus on what he said. As he broke up he said something about swinging around, right? Yeah, he did. And tomorrow. I definitely heard that word too, so he'll swing by this way tomorrow. So we got us a ride! Yeah!

Bert felt much calmer knowing that he had a ride coming to get him tomorrow. But then his brow furrowed as he began to think about the rest of what the voice had said in the last few minutes. 'Get out of there before he...' He, who? Is there someone out here who's dangerous? But the voice also said something about tricking and changing as well. Right? Yeah, I for sure heard that. So what does all that mean?

Bert felt too confused by all of this. His head was pounding after all the emotional highs and lows he'd been going through, his body felt like he had run a hundred miles. He felt sick and exhausted. He stepped out of his car into the cool night air and stared around the lot again. It was as empty and quite as when he first arrived. He couldn't hear or see anything out of place and after a few minutes he stopped looking. I'll be jumping at shadows if I go looking for bogie men. Forget it.

Bert checked his watch and saw it was 9:32. Past your bedtime, Bert old boy. And so Bert climbed in the back seat of his charger. He hit the locks on all the doors and cracked his windows just a fraction.

I'll think better in the morning. Fuck this place. Fuck school too. I'm going home and never leaving again. Who needs a higher education? Fat lot of fucking good its doing me stuck in the middle of nowhere. And Mary, that bitch, fuck her too. Bert grinned wide. Oops I did fuck her already. That's what led to me being here. Ain't life grand?

Bert leaned back and stared out of his backseat window. The moon was full and now a deep red color. Well that's just fucking creepy.

Bert rolled over and found a comfortable position to lay in. And with that Bert slowly drifted off to dream land.

Outside his car, something nasty watched him with cold, hateful eyes.

Chapter 3- In the Dark of the Night

Bert was standing in the middle of his apartment. It was completely and utterly trashed. His pictures were smashed, shards of glass shaped like spears jutted out of broken frames on the floor. The cushions on his couch and lay-z-boy were slashed, the stuffing all pulled out and tossed around the room. His tv was broken in two, his laptop a shattered wreck with a meat cleaver sticking out of the top. His Playbox game system was in pieces. There were giant holes in the wall, like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it and the wallpaper itself was so slashed up it looked like a samurai had gone nuts in here. Even the carpet had been ripped up and left in piles around the place. And this was just the living room, Bert hadn't even gotten around to checking the other rooms yet.

He stood and observed all this with a hefty sigh. Guess this is about what I expected. Bert kicked a piece of his tv into one of the piles of ripped up carpet. Looks like she got some help from the football team after all. Crazy bitch.

Bert started to think about the calls he was going to have to make, to his landlord, to the police, to his insurance company, when he heard the scraping sound of a key entering a lock. He turned and looked dumbfounded as Mary walked in. She was wearing a skin tight caprice that really empathized her round hips and a tank top that made her round breasts look twice as big as he knew they really were. She looked well done with her makeup and hair, like she was dropping by to tell him they were going out for a night on town. She looked unimpressed to see Bert standing in the middle of her handy work with a shocked look plastered on his face.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." she spoke in a low sexy voice, the kind she reserved for their intimate encounters. Bert was not deterred in his feelings of wrath directed at Mary, even if she looked like pure sex in heels. And she was wearing heels he noted as she strolled leisurely up. I can't remember her ever wearing heels like that, she said they made her feet feel like death. Yet here she was in a pair of black 6 inch stilettos that made her ass look amazing.