Order to Go

“Burger World, can I help you?” Jackson said mechanically into the microphone.

Instead of an audible response, he felt rather than heard, a cold, frost-covered breath come through the speaker and embrace him like a hug from some rarely visited aunt, remotely familiar yet repulsive at the same time.

“I’m s-so c-cold,” it said.

This was not the standard crackpot fare, typical of the night shift drive-thru.

Jackson backed away from the microphone slowly, like a hiker might back away from a dangerous snake he had stumbled upon. Looking over at Jimmy, he started to signal his distress, to warn his coworker that something evil had arrived at their drive-thru.

Jimmy was as inattentive as usual and the moment passed. Jackson was not sure that it had even happened. Strange thoughts were just part of the sleep deprived world of fast food servers flipping burgers at 3:00 a.m. With a shrug, he went into the back of the kitchen to start preparing the “special sauce” for tomorrow’s crew.

A deep rumbling came from the direction of the drive-thru window. Jimmy was closest, so he went to see what the deal was. Probably some hot rod wanna-be trying to impress his date, as if horsepower equaled a blend of success, testosterone and road warrior.

Shortly, a worried Jackson went out front to see what had become of Jimmy. What he found was a surreal dining room, windows frosted over, water dripping from huge icicles that hung from the ceiling, illumination that seemingly originated from the inside of giant ice blocks sitting around the room.

Jimmy was gone.

The front was opened to the parking lot where a jet black muscle car purred … beckoning, its back door ajar.

Death had come to Jackson.

He felt the cold deeply.

Word count 297