happened to June? I've heard Julie talk about her, but I don't think I've ever seen her. Is she still around here somewhere?"
Brad pulled up on the door handle, pushing it upward toward the roof of the truck. "Married some redneck, I think. Some construction worker up in Prescott or something." He looked at Gordon, and the expression on his face said that the topic was closed. "They always take at least a case of regular Pepsi here. You bring that on in, and I'll see what else these jokers need."
Gordon watched Brad's back as he walked into the gas station office. So Brad still had a soft spot for Julie Campbell's sister. He'd have to tell Marina about that one. She'd get a big kick out of it.
He grabbed a case of Pepsi and, grunting, carried it into the gas station office.
After delivering cases of Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, and Pepsi Light to the other gas stations on the south end of town and to Marty's Liquor, they drove back to the warehouse, loaded up again and then headed back onto the highway to finish the job. Brad pulled to a stop in front of Char Clifton's station. He looked at Gordon. "Is your insurance going to cover the cost of the doctors?"
"I'll probably have to fight like hell for it, but I was looking over our policy last night and it should cover most of it. Of course there is a two hundred dollar deductible. I'll have to scrape that together somehow."
Brad pulled on his beard and nodded. "Tell you what," he said. "I'm going to give you a hundred dollar bonus this month. To help out."
Gordon stared at him in surprise. "Really?"
Brad opened the door and got out, not looking at him. "Yeah. What the hell. This is our busy season. We've made quite a bit this summer from all the tourists coming up to the lakes and all. And you've done a damn good job. Done the work of two men this summer."
"I don't know what to say."
"Don't say nothing," Brad growled. "Just grab a goddamn case and bring it in." He stomped hard on the rubber cable that rang the gas station's bell and started walking toward the office, taking out his order pad. "Shit. Maybe I can get some kind of raise for you too. To help out with the expenses. Kids cost a lot these days."
Gordon just stared at him.
He heard about Mrs. Perry's baby in Pete's Diner.
It was a fifth-or sixth-hand retelling of the story by one customer to another, but at the sound of the words "baby" and "born dead" Gordon had put down his load and stopped to listen. The two customers were seated at the counter, drinking coffee and eatingfrench fries soaked in ketchup. The man who was telling the story looked like a regular, one of those retired men who hang out at diners and coffee shops to talk to others like themselves. He was nearly bald and wearing jeans and a faded work shirt. A straw cowboy hat occupied the vinyl seat next to him. The other man was around Gordon's age and was wearing a greasy mechanic's uniform.
Brad, too, stopped work for a few moments to hear the story, following Gordon's lead.
"She was damn near ninety or ninety-five," the old man said. "They're not even sure how she got pregnant. But there she was. Woke up the whole damn place with her screaming, and by the time anyone got there she'd already had the baby. Guy who told me about it said the thing crawled out on its own."
"But I thought it was born dead," the other man said.
"Oh it was. And it was all deformed, too. Didn't hardly look human at all. They put it in another room while they checked over the old lady, and when they came back it was gone. Disappeared."
"Do they know who stole it?"
The storyteller nodded. "They found some footprints." His voice dropped.
"But they weren't human."
"Really?"
"The cloven hoof of the Beast." The old man took a sip of his coffee.
"Brian--he's the one that told me about it--he said he's thinking of writing to the National Enquirer or something and telling them about it. They'd probably be interested in something like this."
The
Brad pulled up on the door handle, pushing it upward toward the roof of the truck. "Married some redneck, I think. Some construction worker up in Prescott or something." He looked at Gordon, and the expression on his face said that the topic was closed. "They always take at least a case of regular Pepsi here. You bring that on in, and I'll see what else these jokers need."
Gordon watched Brad's back as he walked into the gas station office. So Brad still had a soft spot for Julie Campbell's sister. He'd have to tell Marina about that one. She'd get a big kick out of it.
He grabbed a case of Pepsi and, grunting, carried it into the gas station office.
After delivering cases of Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, and Pepsi Light to the other gas stations on the south end of town and to Marty's Liquor, they drove back to the warehouse, loaded up again and then headed back onto the highway to finish the job. Brad pulled to a stop in front of Char Clifton's station. He looked at Gordon. "Is your insurance going to cover the cost of the doctors?"
"I'll probably have to fight like hell for it, but I was looking over our policy last night and it should cover most of it. Of course there is a two hundred dollar deductible. I'll have to scrape that together somehow."
Brad pulled on his beard and nodded. "Tell you what," he said. "I'm going to give you a hundred dollar bonus this month. To help out."
Gordon stared at him in surprise. "Really?"
Brad opened the door and got out, not looking at him. "Yeah. What the hell. This is our busy season. We've made quite a bit this summer from all the tourists coming up to the lakes and all. And you've done a damn good job. Done the work of two men this summer."
"I don't know what to say."
"Don't say nothing," Brad growled. "Just grab a goddamn case and bring it in." He stomped hard on the rubber cable that rang the gas station's bell and started walking toward the office, taking out his order pad. "Shit. Maybe I can get some kind of raise for you too. To help out with the expenses. Kids cost a lot these days."
Gordon just stared at him.
He heard about Mrs. Perry's baby in Pete's Diner.
It was a fifth-or sixth-hand retelling of the story by one customer to another, but at the sound of the words "baby" and "born dead" Gordon had put down his load and stopped to listen. The two customers were seated at the counter, drinking coffee and eatingfrench fries soaked in ketchup. The man who was telling the story looked like a regular, one of those retired men who hang out at diners and coffee shops to talk to others like themselves. He was nearly bald and wearing jeans and a faded work shirt. A straw cowboy hat occupied the vinyl seat next to him. The other man was around Gordon's age and was wearing a greasy mechanic's uniform.
Brad, too, stopped work for a few moments to hear the story, following Gordon's lead.
"She was damn near ninety or ninety-five," the old man said. "They're not even sure how she got pregnant. But there she was. Woke up the whole damn place with her screaming, and by the time anyone got there she'd already had the baby. Guy who told me about it said the thing crawled out on its own."
"But I thought it was born dead," the other man said.
"Oh it was. And it was all deformed, too. Didn't hardly look human at all. They put it in another room while they checked over the old lady, and when they came back it was gone. Disappeared."
"Do they know who stole it?"
The storyteller nodded. "They found some footprints." His voice dropped.
"But they weren't human."
"Really?"
"The cloven hoof of the Beast." The old man took a sip of his coffee.
"Brian--he's the one that told me about it--he said he's thinking of writing to the National Enquirer or something and telling them about it. They'd probably be interested in something like this."
The
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