Robert “Bobby” Laffis leaned his head against the cool glass counter. The gas station was empty. No one ever came down this way, and he doubted tonight would be any different. He often wondered why the hell he was here if only one customer showed up every third week. He did not wonder tonight. It was too damn hot.
“I should’ve called out sick,” he muttered.
Rotating his head, making sure his skin never left the cold safety of the glass, the room spun around him. It was a dramatic and frankly goofy way of moving, but Bobby prided himself in finding little things to keep himself entertained. The thought of exposing himself to anything other than the cold counter was not entertaining. The security camera tv flashed by in one corner, the rows of cigarettes on the wall behind him, until finally the back wall of refrigerator doors. Even its cramped icey corridor would offer little respite to the hot thick air.
Bobby slid off the counter and scanned the room. The shelves all sat with their product’s neatly organized. The coffee maker across the room blinked plainly, ready to brew for any would-be customer. There probably wouldn’t be any. He stood and stretched, then leaned over the counter to scan the parking lot.
The gas station sat in the middle of acres of unseeded fields, with a single winding road separating the fields from a thick forest of pine. Bobby thought the fields were dead and had never been told otherwise. He hadn’t seen any farmers plowing in all the years he had worked here. It didn’t bother him any. Most of the people who stopped in the gas station were locals who just happened to be at this end of town. Rarely did they ever come here by choice.
Bobby sighed and checked his watch. He needed to pass the time, and the only thing that would help was to work. He wandered to the tiny storage closet to the left of the fridge doors and fished out the mop and bucket. Cleaning the bathroom was rarely something he would volunteer for, but it would pass the time and more importantly: it was cold in there.
Bobby hooked his fingers around the “Out on Break” sign under the front counter and sauntered over to the front doors with it. A loud ringing echoed through the empty store when he pressed his foot to the doormat. The same bell would ring if someone stepped on the rug on the other side of the door too. Bobby rarely heard that bell.
“Should’ve called out today,” he sighed to himself.
Bobby hung up the sign and stared out into the quiet night. He wondered if there were any animals out there looking back at him from the woods. He pressed his forehead to the door and thought about all the things he would rather be doing. It did nothing to help his current situation, but it was refreshing to think about all the things he could be doing when he eventually did have off. He rose, wiping the sweat from his forehead and peered at the door glass. A wet, blurry smudge marked where he had leaned. Another job to do to make the time pass by. Bobby nodded to himself, grabbed the mop and began wheeling the bucket towards the bathroom.
As he sauntered towards the bathroom door, he missed a lone car speeding past into the dark distance like a bat out of hell.
As Bobby propped the door open he could not see the car wildly swerving across the center lane. Over the trees, lights had suddenly begun to dot the night sky. Bigger than stars; no, closer than stars. They descended ever so gently, large groups of them converging towards the retreating vehicle. They were like paper lanterns; Lanterns dotting the night sky. Lights began appearing in the forest in clumps. More Lanterns. The car banked hard into the open field to avoid a cluster of Lanterns that had exited the dense tree line. The car kicked up dirt and rocks, then struck something incredibly hard. The front end bucked, bounced into the air, and dipped violently, sending the car flipping end over end. Its tail lights swirled and danced through the night. It came to a complete stop, tilted forward in the dirt as if it had been shot from a cannon some miles away.
Because Bobby was wiping down the bathroom mirror, he did not see a man crawl from the wreckage screaming, waving frantically at the gas station. The Lanterns begin to congregate above him, slowly descending from every direction. The man noticed them and began sprinting, screaming louder. Bobby could not hear him over the mop slopping back and forth across the cool bathroom tile. The Lanterns froze in place. They surrounded the man now. Then, one by one they broke the huddle in a mad dive. One struck the man in the back, sending him rolling through the dirt. He flailed, the Lanterns converged. One dove for his head, attaching itself, the light inside it pulsing. The pulse slowed, dimmed, then gently warmed to its original brightness. Gently it rose in the air, and the man with it. His weight seemed to make it difficult for the Lantern, but his feet were no longer touching the ground. His body jerked and spasmed. His arms rose, then fell weakly. His feet kicked, then dnagled. Hanging from it fully now, the man and the Lantern began floating towards the gas station.
As Bobby wiped off the sink and discarded the crumpled paper towel. The floor was still wet, and would need an hour or so to dry. He pumped the paper towel dispenser for a final wipe down. It was empty.
“More work,” he muttered.
He found the key ring dangling from his belt and fished out the one for the supply cabinet in the bathroom. He fished out a roll of paper towels and put them into the dispenser. He pumped out one piece for himself, and left another dangling for the next time someone used the bathroom. It would probably be himself.
As he walked out of the bathroom a loud thud echoed on the ceiling above him. He jumped. Something was on the roof. A group of “somethings” by the sound of it. They were moving over to the freezer section at the back of the store. Raccoons. It happened last year too, a group of the raccoons had come out from the forest and tried climbing in through the vents to get away from the heat. One had succeeded, and needed to be fished out with a net by the local PD. Bobby leaned the mop against the wall between the closet and the refrigerator doors. Inside the closet he retrieved a broom and walked over to where he had heard the thud. He scraped the handle across the ceiling and banged the vent a few times. He had done this ever since the raccoon had gotten stuck whenever he heard rustling above the freezers. It must’ve worked too, because no raccoon had ever gotten stuck again. After a few bangs he stopped and listened. The rustling continued.
“I really should’ve called out today,” Bobby sighed.
A raccoon had probably made it into the vent, and he would have to go up onto the roof to confirm. He didn’t so much mind the roof, oftentimes he could go up there when he knew for sure no one would be coming in to gaze at the stars, which was always. The ladder was in the outdoor storage closet near the ice machine.
He turned, and let out a startled yelp.
In front of him was the magazine stand, the gaudy, colorful covers all plastered with faces looking in different directions. It sat against the front windows, and there, behind them, was a man staring off somewhere into the sky. The man stood there, slack jawed, wearing the most ridiculous hat Bobby had ever seen. His sudden materialization had surprised him.
There was something clearly wrong with the man, other than the fact that he was staring off into space outside a gas station people rarely visited. Bobby had a run in with a junkie two years prior. The guy had wandered up to the gas station, probably after hitchhiking, and just stood around the pumps. Bobby had asked him if he needed anything and the junkie had just laughed hysterically before falling into a fugue state beneath the lights. Pete, the local PD officer working whenever Bobby did, was usually asleep in the station or watching a tv turned up too loud. Bobby had to call four times to get a hold of him.
Bobby took two steps forward and froze. There was definitely something wrong with the man. Now that he was closer, Bobby could see that his jaw was twitching up and down, as if it was trying to make words. He was twitching, and his eyes were almost rolled into the back of his head. Not to mention, he had blood running from his nose, the ear facing the window, and a small trickle from the corner of his mouth. Before darting for the phone, something in the distance caught Bobby’s eye.
The smoldering wreck of a car accident.
‘Wonderful’ Bobby thought, and dashed for the phone behind the counter. As he rounded it he scowled. The scratching had gotten louder above the refrigerators. The raccoon would have to wait. He ducked under the front counter to retrieve his phone from its charger and dialed the station.
“This is Pete” Bobby’s phone.
“Hey Pete it’s Bobby down at the gas station.”
“Hey Bobby, what can I do for ya,” Pete mused. Bobby could hear a TV on in the background.
“Pete, I’m gonna need some help over here. Looks like a real bad accident off Englund Way in front of the station. Driver is here wandering around, looks pretty beat up. He might be on something too.”
“Ah shit,” Pete muttered. Bobby could hear the seat he was in creak as he sat up.
“Yeah you may want to get on the horn with the Meyer’s in case anything in the field catches, and definitely Zach for the tow. Plus I think there’s a raccoon in the vent again so bring the net.”
“And the kitchen sink?” Pete asked, and hung up without another word.
Bobby plugged his phone back into the charger. He grabbed the first aid kit nestled in a corner near his charger’s outlet and shuffled over to the front door.
The man was where Bobby had left him, still staring absently at the sky. He was facing the opposite direction, and Bobby couldn’t help but stare at his hat. It was more like a plastic bag really, but it had the most fantastic light display coming from inside, like a warm glow. Come to think of it, it looked an awful lot like a lantern you released over a lake with a candle inside. Bobby had done that once as a class project in grade school.
Bobby wanted to help the man, but didn’t want to get any closer if he was just drugged up, so rapped his knuckles on the door’s glass pane.
“Hey” he shouted. “Hey, do you need help?”
The man turned towards him, but Bobby shuddered. There was something off about the way he turned, not like a person turning around but more of a rotation. Like a cake on display down at the bakery. It reminded him of his Aunt Carol’s “lazy susan” that let her turn the tv to face wherever she was in her living room.
“Do you need help?”
The man didn’t move. He had clearly heard Bobby since he had turned so strangely, but he was making no real indication of responding to or even understanding what Bobby was asking.
“Come on man,” Bobby whispered.
Then it caught his eye.
The car was still tilted forward like a weird fence post in the distance, but there were lights dancing around it. Not like the ones you saw if you rubbed your eyes too hard, but more like those lanterns. He squinted. There were at least a dozen around the car floating aimlessly. He spotted one at the corner of the parking lot, then two more at the pumps. He tilted his head and could make another floating past the corner of the building.
He turned to see if there were any on the other side and screamed, dropping the first aid box and scattering its contents all over the welcome mat making the bell chime in the store. The man was nose to nose with Bobby on the other side of the door. Something was definitely wrong with him. Even though they were nose to nose the man’s eyes were still looking upwards, his mouth hanging slack.
“God damn man are you high!?” Bobby shouted through the glass.
The man gave no reply. Bobby knelt down to collect the first aid kit.
It was one thing to deal with a car accident, another to deal with a bunch of trash floating around the station. But a junkie too? Maybe he had been driving a car filled with Chinese lanterns.
“I am definitely calling out tomorrow,” Bobby muttered.
He put the last band aid into the box and closed it with a snap.
“Look man the local pd will be here any minute so if you could just wait by your car that would be-”
He stopped himself mid sentence. The blood in his veins ran cold. Bobby was still kneeling, but had raised his head and saw that the man wore only one shoe, the other maybe having flown off in the wreck. He wondered, in that instant, how the man had been able to sneak up on him in front of the door. The welcome mat bell had never rang.
The man was floating.
Floating was the wrong word. His feet had barely left the ground and were dangling, twitching every so often. Bobby forced himself to look up. He could see now that the man was hanging mid air, his arms turning slightly red from the rush of blood to their tips. He wasn’t floating, he was being lifted. The “hat”. It looked exactly like the lanterns he had seen floating around the property. But this one was on this guy’s head. And it was pulsing. Not too much, but this close Bobby could see it ripple and waver every so often. What he originally had thought streamers hanging from a goofy hat seemed to grip the man’s skin and pull it upwards, some reaching nonchalantly in random directions. The man was being lifted by the Lantern. Bobby noticed the man’s neck muscles stretched taut from the weight of the rest of his body.
Bobby took a careful step backwards, away from the door.
The man’s hand shot upwards, slamming into the glass. It stayed in place for a moment, then streaked downwards, creating a long vertical smudge. The man began whimpering.
His face muscles began to twitch. His nose danced like he had a sneeze coming, and his eyelids danced up and down. The corners of his mouth lifted and sagged, his jaw flapping open and closed like a fish.
“O….pen” he croaked.
Bobby took another step backwards.
The man’s hand slapped against the glass again, dragging down to his side. His face twitched again, softer this time. The words came easier.
“O..pen.”
Bobby wondered when Pete would get here. Pete had a gun, but so did Bobby in case of emergencies. It was in a holster bolted under the front counter. He had never needed it, had been explicitly told he would never use it on anything. He questioned whether he would need it now. A crash behind him snapped his attention away from the hanging man. The racoon had come through the vent into the freezer.
But Bobby’s arms broke out in gooseflesh and his heart jumped into his throat.
There were no raccoons in the vents. It was a Lantern.
It drifted aimlessly behind the rows of drinks. Bobby followed the floating light. The vent crash had knocked over one of the freezer shelves, scattering milk and butter across the floor. The door was still shut, but there was nothing between the Lantern and him other than glass now. He walked away from the hanging man.
“O…pen.”
There was a plastic hard case above a sunglass display to his right filled with several knives of different color and size. It had never needed a lock, and Bobby was thankful for that now. Still staring at the lantern, Bobby fished a knife out of the display box and held it between him and the empty glass freezer door. It was a comical hot pink with sequins. Bobby didn’t care. Whatever these lanterns had done to that man seemed painful, and Bobby wasn’t going to let that happen to himself.
Bobby stepped closer to the glass and watched. The lantern graced the floor, its tendrils (if that’s what they were) gently swept around in every direction. Some of their tips would rise in the air and then gently come to rest, some touched some spilled milk and recoiled. The lantern bobbed and glided over to the door between Bobby and it. It was filled with light, like a shopping bag they’d give you at the local five and dime covering a lone lightbulb. Bobby’s hands began to shake but he held the knife in front of himself, bending at the elbow when he got close enough to the glass.
It happened very fast. So fast that Bobby fell backwards after the fact. Without warning the Lantern reared backwards and lunged at the glass. Its feelers splayed out in every direction. It had lunged at Bobby. But the glass held.
He could see the underside of the lantern now, and began shivering. It was filled with teeth. Teeth and tendrils. The tendrils pulled at the glass. The teeth were all facing in nondescript directions. There were mouths in there. They had no lips and were lined with more of those horrible jagged teeth. They bobbed open and closed independently of each other.
Bobby needed that gun now.
The lantern pulled away from the freezer door. Bobby shakily drew himself up to a crouch.
The lantern slammed forward and Bobby nearly fell backwards again, jutting the knife forward in front of him.
The lantern repeated the motion.
The freezer door popped open, then closed.
The mop still leaned against the wall two refrigerator doors away. As the Lantern reared back Bobby lunged towards it. He grabbed it with one hand and rammed it towards the refrigerator door handle. The Lantern was faster, smashing forward and opening the door again. Bobby swung his hand out hard and caught it. The Lantern was strong, strong enough to open the door from the inside at least, but it had used momentum. There was no strength keeping it open now, and Bobby was able to close it quickly with relative ease. He fumbled for a moment and then jabbed the broom handle between three of the door handles, barring the lantern inside. Bobby was lucky, three more had just come through the broken ceiling.
“Fuck” Bobby gasped weakly.
He spun on his heels as he heard more banging behind him. It had joined the hanging man’s slapping hand in a horrible chorus. The hanging man had now started punching the window. The Lantern didn’t seem to have full control over his bodily functions yet, as he couldn’t truly form a fist. It had mastered the slapping motion however, and now the man’s half formed fist smashed repeatedly into the glass. It left small patches of blood which splattered more and more with each hit. Bobby could see that the man’s hand had become crumbled and bent, his fingers splayed in the wrong ways. The hanging man kept punching.
There was, however, a bigger problem.
Multiple Lanterns had now latched themselves onto the front windows of the store and were attempting to open them in the same way the Lantern in the refrigerator had opened the door. Their teeth filled maws bared at the store, opening and closing in a maddening rhythm. Bobby wanted to look away. They drew themselves backwards and thrusted forwards, each at different times, thudding into the windows. The glass would not hold for long.
Bobby dashed for the front counter, just as the hanging man’s fist broke through the front door’s glass in a spray of shards and blood. He attempted to move through the opening, bumping into the rest of the door several times. Bobby fumbled trying to unholster the gun, afraid to take his eyes off the hanging man. He had started to wildly swing both arms at the glass in an attempt to wipe away the obstruction, spraying blood across the welcome mat and floor. He was making progress. So were the other lanterns. The front window panes now bulged horribly inwards in numerous places.
Bobby risked it. He bent his head down under the counter, found the pistol, and retrieved it from its holster. He heard what sounded like an explosion of glass. One of the windows had finally been broken in. He ducked instinctively, ran around the side of the front corner, aimed his gun and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
“FUCK” screamed Bobby.
His hands were shaking terribly now. He eyed the pistol, frantically searching for the safety. He remembered all the cop shows that always had the stupid criminals forget to take the saftey off.
Right now he wished it was the latter.
The Lanterns which had shattered the window were thankfully still stuck to it, but three more were slowly floating through the wide gap. The hanging man had successfully cleared away the glass of the front door too, and was now gliding through.
Bobby found the safety, flipped it, re-aimed, and pulled the trigger.
The first shot went wide, and through a bag of chips near the front door. It exploded, sending snacks into the air. The pistol kicked harder than Bobby imagined it would. He replanted his feet, took aim again and fired off three more shots.
The first hit the hanging man. His body stopped, rocking back and forth softly from the blow, then began its slow advance forward again, his feet grazing the scattered glass shards on the floor with a sound like twinkling stars. The second bullet had also missed its mark, sending magazine’s tumbling off the shelf. The third struck one of the lanterns still stuck to the glass center mass. It popped like a bubble, sending neon blue blood across the overturned window.
Bobby’s hair stood on end. Killing the Lantern had caused a strange electricity to fill the room, like a soft buzzing. More Lanterns had grouped outside and were moving towards the store. The three Lanterns nearest the window had now begun wafting inside. Bobby started moving towards the bathroom.
He could use the back door, but there was no telling how many were out there. A quick glance towards the refrigerator showed a total of six Lanterns that had come through the roof. They were having trouble reaching the glass that still had product in them, but their tendrils were reaching between the bottles, attempting to find purchase.
Bobby moved faster. He turned back towards the front windows and ducked just in time to see a lantern whiz over his head. He aimed quickly and fired several more blind shots towards the Lanterns while reaching for the bathroom door. He heard two of the Lanterns explode in a sickening pop. The buzzing filled the air again. Bobby thrust his hand out, gripping the bathroom door handle and threw it open. In one motion he spun into the bathroom, aimed and fired one more shot. The hanging man was making his way down a row of bathroom supplies directly towards him. The shot missed, striking a small travel pillow sending feathers through the air. The hanging man floated through them, a few sticking to his shirt and some to the Lantern on his head.
Bobby’s eyes went wild. The store was filled with Lanterns now, and more were filling in the front windows, front door, and refrigerator. He was surrounded. Out of the corner of his eye he could see several Lanterns rearing back for a charge. He dropped the gun, sending it sliding across the still wet bathroom tile, and slammed the door shut. He reached out to hammer in the sliding lock when the door pushed him backwards. His feet slid. The Lanterns had charged, hitting the door before it could close, slamming it inward and nearly off its hinges.
Bobby leaned back and rammed his shoulder forwards, slamming into the door. He was thankful the Lanterns didn’t seem to have strength outside of their initial lunge. The Lanterns on the other side of the heavy door reached their tentacles around its sides trying to find purchase. Bobby was too quick. He jabbed the door into its frame. The tentacles flailed wildly, then came to rest. It looked as though streamers had gotten caught in the door. Bobby turned both the deadbolt and sliding lock, and took a step backwards.
He took in a ragged, slow breath.
Three more lanterns slammed into the door. Bobby stumbled backwards, slipping on the still wet tile, and hit his head on the sink with a wet ‘thunk’. He crumpled to the floor, landing on his butt. The door had shuddered, but the locks held.
The door slammed two more times.
For how long?
Bobby’s head hurt.
He reached his hand back, running it through his hair. His hand was hard to focus on when he put it in front of his face. It was red and sticky.
Three more Lanterns hit the door. A screw from the top lock flew out, bouncing next to Bobby.
Bobby looked down at the gun in his hand. It took some time, but he found the eject button for the magazine and checked it.
Only two bullets left.
The door shuddered again.
Another screw popped loose.
Bobby rested his head against the cool sink. It throbbed terribly. Something was wrong, but he wasn’t quite sure what.
He heard sirens. They were getting closer.
Bobby tried to stand but, still slick, he was unable to find the footing.
A steady pounding had joined the chorus of rammings against the bathroom door. The hanging man was out there.
Bobby slid further under the sink. The door was starting to bend inwards. First one, then two tendrils began snaking into the crack between the door and the frame.
Three more slams.
The steady pounding was getting louder, both on the door and in Bobby’s head. Was his neck wet?
The sirens were blaring. Were they outside? Bobby thought he could hear voices.
He heard gunfire.
A scream.
He could hear Officer Pete yelling out someone else’s name. Was it Zach’s? There was gunfire now. Steady and controlled.
Another scream.
The gunfire continued, but somehow it seemed less now.
Bobby kept his eyes locked on the bathroom door. It was still hard for him to focus. He could see the hanging man. The door had started to bend inwards in the top right corner. The hanging man seemed to be staring towards him. His arm shot forward through the gap, slapping wildly at the door. Was he looking for the lock?
“Open!” he rasped.
Bobby raised the gun. His arm was heavy, the gun seemed like a lead weight. He closed one eye and tried to aim at the Lantern on the hanging man’s head. Bobby smiled weakly. It really did look like a ridiculous hat.
He pulled the trigger. For a moment Bobby thought nothing happened. The bullet had missed its mark, but not entirely. The hanging man’s hand had exploded in a shower of gore and bone like a viscous water balloon, but to Bobby it made no sound.
The arm hung there now, limply dangling over the bent opening. Had he stopped? The door continued to shudder as other lanterns pounded against it.
Bobby heard Pete enter the store. The door had chimed. He heard him scream something? Was it at something, or because of something? Bobby couldn’t tell. Was that his name? He heard more gunfire, one of the bullets dented the bathroom door. Bobby could see the protrusion, like a small pimple. Three more shots, then a muffled scream. A gurgle. Silence.
Bobby looked down at his gun and back towards the door. The hanging man’s arm had begun to move again. The jagged, ruined bone of his forearms wiped helplessly at the door’s locks. It left streaks of crimson. Bobby squinted. Something was moving behind the hanging man. Another hanging man. Did it look like Zach? Bobby could not tell.
He looked down at the gun again.
The door continued shaking in its frame. The steady pounding had doubled now, the thunderous slams of individual lanterns peppered the air in a chaotic chorus of noise. The top lock shot out with the last screw. The deadbolt was holding, but the door had begun to grotesquely bend inwards at a faster rate, both above and below the deadbolt now.
He had no way out. The lanterns outside had doubled before he had gotten into the bathroom. How many were there now? His help had come. It had gone.
Bobby did not want to be a Lantern’s puppet like the hanging men. Probably like Zach now. Also Pete. He could see the additional hanging men behind the one missing his hand. It was like they were in line waiting for the bathroom.
They were in line waiting for him.
“I should have called out of work,” Bobby chuckled.
He stuffed the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.