Storm

"Two orders, steak and fries, well done, eggs over easy." Marla slapped the order onto the spike and turned back to the counter. Phil, the short order cook began to clang various kitchen implements behind her as she lifted yet another pot of coffee. A flash of lightening briefly lit up the mud caked car park to the front of the diner, illuminating two rigs, a sedan and a police cruiser. Trucks and cars. Truck drivers and interstate business men. That's about all the patronage amounted to, aside from the odd local, at the Dew Drop Inn. A cute name for a somewhat less than cute greasy spoon on a long stretch of American highway.

"You want another one Sam?" Marla gestured to the empty coffee cup in front of an enormous mountain of a man at the counter.

"Thanks doll, and Phil, better add some onion rings to one of them steaks! Still got a big stretch to get through, but I guess I'm going nowhere in this ridiculous downpour!"

As if to emphasise his point, yet another hurling grumble of thunder sounded, and the rain pounded even harder at the windows. Marla shuddered. The television in the corner, tuned to CNN, began to show images of the storm, state-wide, as well as blustery images of the hurricane currently battering Florida's coast. All the while the images flashed on screen, the banner at the bottom spoke of the stock market's sudden crash due to something or rather, Marla never quite caught it. As well as that, Wall Street had temporarily shutdown while a heavy snowstorm lashed New York. Mother Nature appeared to have it in for North America.

"Yeah, it's a doozie alright. Hey, Calvin, how many cars you have to rescue tonight?"

The boyish looking State Trooper at the other end of the counter glanced up from the newspaper.

"7 and counting. All tourists. Reckon they're bigger than the weather. It's suicide out there in that rain." On cue to prove him wrong, muted headlights swung into the car park, and a small blue Honda hatchback disgorged four passengers, all doing their best mad dash to make it to the door. Speed or not, they were all soaked.

"Looks like we've got more company boys," Marla announced to Sam, Calvin, Phil and the five other occupants of the diner. Hank and Brenda, the owners of the sedan, sat finishing off an all day breakfast, staring past one another's faces, lost in their own thoughts. After 30 years of marriage, they appeared to have run out of conversation.
To the rear of the diner sat a long haul truck driver none of them had seen on this route before. His name, according to his vest, was Al. He looked more like a Trevor to Marla. Thin, tall, and bespectacled like a Chess Club Captain. And leaning listlessly against the counter next to Marla was Shannon, a good twenty years younger than Marla, but efficient at her job, and well liked by the customers. Perhaps mainly, Marla thought, because of her long curly black hair and endless legs.
The door jangled as it opened onto the bell and the four wet travellers poured inside.

"Phew, that's some wet rain!" A tall, broad, handsome young man with a shock of black hair and a pointy goatee stomped his feet and shook his hair to try to dry it off a little. The three other travellers began to remove jackets and hats as they made their way to the counter.

"Brave of you all to be driving in this," Marla said as she lined up four coffee cups in front of them. "Where have you come from?"

They all looked to the black haired man to answer for them.

"Up the highway a ways, the ski lodge at the base of the ridge."

"Sanderson's?" Calvin's ears pricked up.

"Yeah, that's the one. Came all the way here from the south expecting snow, all we got was mud!" The man laughed at their misfortune while the other three smirked and looked carefully down at their menus.

"Bit early for snow." Calvin's blue eyes took in their highly expensive clothes and accessories.

"Yeah, it was a good excuse to get away from home for a bit, you know, see a bit of the country. Plus it's hot as hell down there", he paused to laugh. "When you live in the desert tho, it's hard to calculate exactly when it will snow!" The man sat on his stool while the others began to chat amongst themselves about the food on offer. Marla began to pour coffee.

"So, y’all are heading for home then?"

The man smiled warmly at her, locked his eyes on hers. Marla shuddered involuntarily.

"We were hoping to. Doesn't look like we're getting far at the moment tho huh. I'm Griffin by the way. This is Zak, Brad and Bree."

They all nodded to Marla and looked down again, once more smirking into their menus.

"Right, well, what can I get you all?" Marla smiled brightly and brought out her pad and pencil.

"Oh, I'll get this Marla; you have yourself a break and a sit down, huh?" Shannon guided her slowly, but firmly, to a stool behind the counter and turned to flash a grin at the four customers.

"What'll it be?" She directed her question to Griffin, who smiled cheekily back.

"Well, what have you got...Shannon?" He peered at her name badge. Marla rolled her eyes as did the girl, Bree, while Zak appeared to have found something hysterically funny on the menu. Marla heard the bell in the kitchen ding and turned to serve Sam and Calvin their steaks.

"Young'uns," Sam said, raising his eyes to the heavens.
"We weren't all that obvious in our time were we?"

Marla giggled.

"Our time? Speak for yourself old man. Here, enjoy your food. I'm getting a cup of joe and a cigarette in me." Marla poured herself a cup and made her way to the rear door. Phil, the short order cook, followed her.

"Not planning on going out in that are you?" Phil shrugged on his coat and pulled out an umbrella. "I'll join ya."

The heavens had well and truly dumped their bounty in the car park. The dumpster appeared to be an island in the midst of a sea of murky, smelly water behind the diner. Beyond that, vision was impossible. Marla shuddered again.

"Pretty miserable night huh?" She inhaled deeply on her Marlboro while Phil lit his own.

"Tell me about it. At this rate, none of us will be leaving the diner 'til close to morning." Thunder reverberated around the invisible, soaking car park, while the rain gathered strength.

"Nah, we'll be fine. We'll just get Sam to take us in his truck. He'll...." Marla didn't manage to finish her sentence. Lightening forked through the sky and suddenly one of the great spruce pines, standing as sentry to the diner's car park, began to crash toward the earth, and the two smokers. Marla screamed and made for the door to the diner as Phil tried desperately to usher her inside. The tree's trunk flattened the dumpster with a resounding slam, just as Marla burst through the rear door, dragging Phil behind her. She heard and felt, rather than saw, the tree connect with the rickety, covered door stoop they had been standing on. Phil's hand jerked in her own, enough to wrench her backwards. She toppled backwards against him.

"Good Christ, you alright Phil?" Marla turned her head to face him. His eyes stared straight back into hers, blinking furiously as wind and rain blew through the door way, which as now blocked by the top of the pine tree. Phil didn't speak.

"Phil? You okay?" Marla picked herself up and turned around to him. Phil gurgled in response, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth and his hands flapped at his stomach. Marla's hands flew to her mouth as she took in the sight of him. A branch had snapped from the pine as it slammed to earth, and pierced him with such force it had been driven straight through his body. He was still moving and gesturing helplessly at his stomach as blood now began to stream from his mouth. Shock drove Marla's heart into overdrive as her brain tried to comprehend what she was seeing. She began to scream.

Sam moved his not inconsiderable bulk around the counter and out into the storeroom, only to see Marla swoon into a dead faint in front of a wildly gesticulating Phil. Blood poured form his mouth and his stomach, creating a large maroon shadow on the cheap linoleum.

"Fuck me! Calvin!" he shouted over his shoulder to summon the State Trooper. He turned back to the now twitching Phil. "Keep still Phil, just keep still and hang in there buddy, okay? We're going to get you some help. Hang in there." Sam squatted in front of Phil and tried desperately to think what to do.

"Jesus! What the hell?" Calvin skidded to a stop in front of Marla, staring at Phil.

"She's fine Calv, just a faint. Help me here with Phil." Shannon had by now arrived out back and let out a shriek of her own.

"Shannon, see to Marla, and get out of here. Don't look over this way again, y'hear me?" Calvin bellowed at the younger girl. She nodded mutely and went to Marla, raising the now conscious woman into a sitting position and helping her to her feet.

"Phil, don't move, try not to move," Calvin commanded as he unclipped the two way from his belt.

"ST 415 to Central, do you copy, over." Sam had found towels and was pressing them gently to Phil's mid section. The short order cook's head began to loll to the side as consciousness left him, never to return.

"Calv, he's passing out."

"Phil, Phil!" Calvin shouted into his face. The radio delivered nothing but static.

"Shit! Transmitter's out in this storm." He ran to phone in the nearby office and listened to it.

"Dead. Fuck! We need EMT's now! I'm going to go radio from the cruiser. Keep pressure on his stomach as much as you can, but don't try to move him at all." With that, Calvin ran out through the restaurant and out into the storm. Brenda and Hank watched him go through the window. After five paces, they lost sight of him through the driving rain, and now, a seemingly impossible fog.
Brenda gripped her husband’s hand, a shudder rippling through her.

"Something ain't right Hank. Something's not right here." Hank shushed his wife and she turned back to her meal. Hank felt a shudder pass through him as well, and stared back out into the murky storm.

----

"Here Marla, drink this." Shannon pressed a glass of Wild Turkey into her hand which she threw back almost instantly. Marla drew a deep breath and stood.

"Gotta help Phil." Shannon stood too and put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Marla, no, just sit still a minute. You still look real pale."

The foursome at the counter were staring over at the two women. Griffin ambled over, looking concerned.

"Ma'am, is there anything I can do? Is everything alright out there? We heard the crash and the scream." Marla turned to look at him, catching sight yet again of something lurking behind his concerned smile. She shook here head.

"Just an accident, nothing to worry about, I'm going out back to help clean up. Shannon, mind these people get some coffee." Marla brushed off the younger girls arm and made a wide berth around Griffin to reach the counter and the storeroom beyond. She stifled a sob as she came upon the gruesome sight of Phil.

"Can I, is there anything...Jesus Sam, is he...?"

Sam turned slowly to her and shook his head.

"He's gone." The big man raised himself up and took Marla by the elbow.

"Come on now, go sit down. Calv'll be back soon, we'll get the police in here, his family. There's nothing we can do now." The two, arm in arm, walked back out into the restaurant. Shannon had filled in the diners and they all looked expectantly at Sam, somewhat shocked to see blood down the front of his overalls.

"We've had an accident out back. The police will be here shortly, and they're gonna want to talk to y'all, so if you could just have a seat a moment, drink your coffee and wait, that'd be much appreciated."

Sam sat Marla down gently and went to the door. Where the hell was Calvin? He stared out into the murky weather, seeing nothing but the front steps of the diner. Brenda and Hank gravitated toward him from their table, desperate to put as much space, it seemed, between themselves and whatever had occurred in the kitchen.
Behind them, the three 20 something’s at the counter were whispering among themselves, craning their necks to see if they could spy whatever chaos lay beyond the grill. Griffin ushered a now sobbing Shannon toward the front of the diner. She went willingly, never seeing him signal behind her back to the other three at the counter. They sniggered quietly and then made their way across the restaurant to the front booth. Al, the trucker, sat still at his table, his mouth moving as he stared into his menu. Everyone congregated around the big man at the front of the diner. Brenda and Hank whispered to one another, eyes trained on the car park, looking for the young State Trooper. Shannon's sobs became sniffles and Marla did her best to comfort the young girl, a numbness settling over her. Griffin stood, arms crossed, to the rear of the group. Behind him, Brad had slung an arm around Bree, while Zak seemed to have developed a cough in the passing minutes, which he tried to quiet behind his hand. Marla thought it sounded like muffled laughter, but her shocked brain didn't take the time to question why the young man would laugh at a time like this.
In the background of all of this, the television kept up its constant hum, the CNN tickertape now proclaiming a rail disaster in West Virginia, a department store fire in Utah, and the beginnings of what looked like a series of twisters in Kansas. The occupants of the diner never noticed these disasters, nor processed their meaning. For at that very moment, while they all stared out into the car park, lost in his or her own thought, Calvin Middleton's State Trooper Cruiser flew through the air from the far side of the car park, straight toward the windows of the diner. Its siren bleated meekly as it hit the concrete front steps of the restaurant, sending shards of glass and metal toward the window where everyone stared on in horror. Sam lunged toward Shannon and Marla, covering them with his bulk. Brenda and Hank threw themselves to the floor, hands over their heads, as twisted chucks of the police car shattered the window to the left of the door and imbedded themselves in the worn linoleum floor. Al the trucker stood slowly, his under-breath mutterings never ceasing for a moment. He was the only patron to notice the four 20 something’s. They neither ducked for cover nor in fact seemed surprised or scared at the drama and chaos unfolding in front of them. Glass flew around them, seeming to turn in midair so as not to collide with their bodies. Al seated himself quickly and scooted his head and chest closer to the table top, his mutterings never ceasing. As he did so, he was aware now of the roaring. A howling, whining noise that seemed to grow in pitch. As everyone began to stand, brush glass off themselves and account for all of their limbs and faculties, the noise grew louder. One by one heads turned toward the noise, as it coursed through the shattered hole that once was the window. The noise was coming from the car park. A figure slowly staggered through the murky wet fog, legs stiff and gait stilted as it neared the diner. As it moved closer, the sound grew louder. Its mouth was stretched wide, beyond the limitations of a normal human face. It's arms hung loosely by it's side, it's head thrown back and the noise emanating from deep within it. As it neared the diner, Shannon began to scream and point.

"It's Calvin! He's hurt!"

Marla squinted and looked at the face. It was Calvin. Or at least it had been. His face was bizarrely distorted as he shrieked into the wind and rain. Sam stood and made to climb through the window to go to him. From below the bench table, Brenda's hand shot out.

"No! It's not Calvin. Don't let it in. Don't let it in Sam, I'm begging you! We can't let it in! Block the window!" She scrambled to her feet and yanked on Sam's arm.

"Quick, cover the window with something! Cover up the hole, don't let it in!" Sam looked at the near manic woman, then back toward Calvin/Thing as it came closer and closer to the diner.

"Listen to her Sam, for Gods sake, don't let it in!" Hank stood beside his wife, imploring the big man to listen. Marla pulled Shannon to her feet. The girl was still pointing and gibbering at the figure in the car park.

'Hush now Shannon," the older woman chided. She turned to Sam.

"I'm with Marla, Sam," she shouted over the now near deafening shriek. Sam looked uncertainly about the group. The twenty-something’s were staring out at the man in the car park, faces void of expression, bodies almost frozen. All of their eyes were trained on one fixed point. They appeared almost hypnotised. Sam mistook their state for fear.

"Alright!" he yelled. "Marla, help me with this!" Sam grabbed at a table that lay on its side. Hank was beside him in an instant, helping to lift the wooden table toward the hole in the window. The figure had stopped still ten feet from the front doors, its head still thrown back, the deafening shriek emanating from the giant hole that was its mouth. The smoking wreck of the Cruiser lay beyond the window, making a type of barrier between him and the hole in the window. Sam, Hank and Marla heaved the table on its side and laid it length ways, resting its highest point against the moulding between the ceiling and the window. With their line of sight disturbed, the twenty-something’s shook themselves lightly. Griffin stared at Sam and Marla as they pushed chairs and other tables up against the table. Sam saw him.

"Son, little help!" Griffin stared at him a moment longer before moving toward another large table to the rear of the diner. He signalled Brad and Zak, who helped him lift it toward the window. Upended, they leant it against the pile of furniture already blocking the whole window. Bree stood to one side, arms folded, chewing her lip. The screaming became louder form outside, as if the Calvin/Thing was angry it could no longer see in. Everyone raised their hands to their ears, trying to block the noise, and stop the pain in their heads and ears. All, that is, except for the 20 something’s. Then, it went quiet. Sam dropped his hands from his ears and turned toward the furniture pile. Marla stared at the pile too. Soon, they were all staring at the furniture/window. It was a long time before anyone spoke. Sam broke the silence.

"I think maybe you should all move back towards the counter, I’m going to see what this is all about.’ He made towards the door. Through the frosted grass he could see the pool of light shed by the cruiser’s headlights, and a dark figure standing to the rear. Marla leapt forward and grabbed at his arm.
“Sam, I...” Sam cut her short with a wave of his arm, pulled her gently towards the door and spoke quietly.

“Marla, come on. Something very fucking strange just happened out there in the car park. You and I both know Calvin didn’t pick his car up and throw it, and there was something God awful wrong with his face. There’s got to be a group of people out there in the car park beyond the rain, maybe a big truck. Whoever they are, to them, we’re sitting ducks. I want to check on Calvin, bring him in, and get the shotgun out of the boot of that cruiser.” He stared into her eyes forcing her to quiet her protests.

“Now, get these people away from the windows. And cover Phil up with a table cloth. We don’t want any more hysterics.” Marla stepped back and nodded her head faintly. Sam turned to the door and opened it slowly, peering out into the rain. He couldn’t see Calvin standing behind the cruiser. Behind him the diners occupants shuffled toward the counter, tense.

“Calvin!” he called as he walked out onto the front steps.
“Calv, you out there? You okay? It’s Sam.”

All was silent except for the pounding rain. Sam pulled the door behind him and stepped out into the weather, making his way slowly down the steps to the wreckage of the car. The blue and reds still rotated slowly and the flashing light lit the rain light up like a Christmas tree.

“Calvin! Are you okay?” water ran in torrents down his face as he inched his way around the rear bumper of the car, craning his neck to spot Calvin as he moved. Reaching the far side of the car, Calvin still wasn’t in sight. Casting a glance over his shoulder to the far side of the car park, all Sam could see what the rain. He leant through the smashed driver’s window to unlatch the door. The twisted metal protested loudly at being wrenched from the jam. Sam reached in and popped the trunk, turning as he did so toward a noise he thought he could detect under its muted opening click. Again, the rain greeted him with its determined hiss. Sam scanned and squinted into the night, listening, trying to determine the source of the noise.

“Calvin? Calvin, it’s me, Sam. I’m here to take you back inside buddy, we’ll get that RT working, call Highway Patrol down here to sort this out. Calvin? Buddy? Are you hurt?” Seconds of silence passed. Sam flattened his back against the cruiser and edged back around to the rear, conscious that if there was a group of people on the other side of the car park he was a sitting duck for bullets. His hand delved into the trunk, reaching for the latch that would pop the storage space and reveal a shotgun and ammo to him.  A faint scraping noise sounded to his left. Panic jumpstarted his heart.

“Calvin?” with his eyes trained on the direction of the noise Sam popped the storage space and felt for the gun. He grasped it with his right hand as the scraping noise grew louder and closer. A shadow began to move in front of the headlights. A person.

“Calvin, its Sam,” he called into the night. The scraping continued, and the figure move fully into the light. Sam gasped as Calvin came into view. Through the rain he could clearly see Calvin’s jaw hang loosely down against his neck, even as Calvin stared at his feet. It had been ripped nearly clean off his face, hanging only by a skin flap. Blood intermingled with rain and streamed down his face and chest.

“Jesus Christ, Calvin, come on inside.” Sam made a move toward Calvin, who then lifted his head to look directly at him. It was the eyes that made Sam stop still. The left eye seemed to roll around in its socket, half turned inside his head. The other was gone completely. All that remained was a gore filled hole in his head.  Calvin raised his arms, outstretched, pleading.

“Sam? Please Sam, it hurts.” Sam stared in horror. The voice had emanated from him, but Calvin’s mouth hadn’t moved. Instead it hung uselessly.  Calvin’s top lip remained stationary. Calvin’s tongue sat still in his head. Sam began to back away.

“Calvin?” he asked again, disbelievingly. In a flash of motion, Calvin moved around the front of the bonnet to the driver’s side door.

“Sam, please help me.” Sam reacted in shock, stumbling back over the rear bumper and into the bottom step. As he fell onto the step, Calvin advanced in a flash once more to the opposite corner of the bumper. Sam struggled backwards up the step, the gun clanging against the concrete.

‘Stay back!” he shouted. Reaching the top step he raised the gun. Calvin moved slowly toward him, not seeming to walk but glide. Sam scooted back against the door.

‘Stay back or I’ll shoot!” Calvin began to emit a noise. He stopped still, arms now relaxed at his sides. Then he tipped back his head and began to emit a high pitched siren song, the volume gradually increasing from a shout to a scream and then to a shriek. Sam sat mesmerised in terror until it became so piercing it hurt his ears. He raised the gun to his shoulder and fired from his seated position. His first shot went wide. He cocked the gun and aimed again raising himself to a standing position. The shriek filled his head, rattled his teeth, and seemed to disturb his heart. Letting out a shriek himself, he pulled the trigger again, this time hitting what he now thought of as the Calvin Thing square in the chest. The shrieking was cut off abruptly as it fell to the ground, smoke rising from a giant bloody hole in its chest. Letting out a stifled sob, Sam gfroze, his mind battling with the enormity of what he had just done. He looked down at the shotgun in his hand incredulously until a sound from the far side of the carpark brought him partly back to reality. He moved quickly, darting to the boot of the cruiserin a crouch, grabbing at the box of shotgun ammo inside before scuttling backward to the steps again. He stood quickly and ran up the steps, grappling for the door handle behind him and flung himself inside, slamming it behind him and locking it. He rested his head against the glass.

“Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Help me.” He sobbed against the glass, huge shoulders shuddering. Marla rushed forward, noting the shot gun aand ammunition, and laid an arm across the big man’s shoulders.

“Sam? Sammy? Come on now Sammy, come sit down.” He turned into her arms and she ushered him like a child to a seat.

‘Jesus Marla. Jesus. I just killed Calvin.”