“I think, if I at least get to forget about you, then it’s been worth it,” I hissed back.
“A strange sentiment, I suppose,” Frank said.
Electricity filled the air between us, both unwilling to move, both unwilling to break our stare, as if severing it meant losing what we both fought for.
“So…” I spoke up first. “You’re just going to let me walk right out that door?” I was intrigued, but wary. Frank was so mystifying, always having an agenda. This seemed like a deceit, yet what would he gain? Besides, he could have ended it already.
“’Course,” he whispered. “Like I said. I want to be there.” “Why wait?” I asked. Now this caught him by surprise.
“Come again?” he stuttered.
Instead of saying another word I got up, and led him outside. He kept a few paces behind me, not entirely understanding what I was doing, and I doubted what I did next would answer any of his questions about me. It sure as hell would complicate his notion of what I was far more than it already was.
I dug the sphere out of my sweatshirt’s pocket and gripped it in my left hand. I turned around and showed it to him, waving it like something magical.
“What is that?” he asked. He had stopped in his tracks, eyeing the device but failing to make sense of it.
“Isn’t that a good question?” I answered back. Slowly, I crossed the brink into the unknown, passing through the barrier. Just as it had done before, the sphere grew to life, pulsating with its never-ending cycle of blue light.
“Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?” Frank questioned.
For some reason the dream of falling came racing back. I could feel the darkness build up behind me. The thunder cracked in my arrival, and it cooled down immensely.
“Sorry you don’t get your wish,” I said with a smile. Being no longer within Frank’s grasp I realized just how much his petty threats and displaced anger couldn’t affect me now. He would sooner or later burn for it, and I prayed that I was there to watch it happen.
I turned back around, facing deep into the heart of this broken city. Frank no longer mattered. The voyage ahead was the only thing that counted as I pushed further inland, as Frank’s voice drew further and further away.
Chapter 20: The Diner
Crossing the brink into this foreign land was the easy part. Navigating the wasteland would be the challenge. The sphere did its job though, keeping the pain away and lighting up the area the best it could. I turned on the flashlight that I’d taken from the guy in the woods. The beam cut a clear path through the darkness. Even fifty feet in it was far darker than I would have thought it would be. The sun refused to shine here, or it couldn’t break through the clouds above.
The blue glow of the sphere at least felt welcoming. It brought a strange light to the dark world. But it showed me things that were oddly out of place, even wicked. Shining both lights forward, I focused ahead, my destination somewhere in this shade.
No one had ever been this far into the ink, unless they had turned of course. So where I was going had never been charted. It took a while for my vision to adjust, and it was a slow process of navigating the unknown.
Wherever I was, it was populated by a scrawling line of buildings and their silhouettes as they climbed high and out of sight. The structures were in decay, just like the rest of the city, but somehow different. It was as though the darkness of this center displaced their meaning. In a way, strangely, they were inviting.
It would be so much easier to run inside, find some dark corner to hide in. Though that still wouldn’t stop the timer. I was sure it still ticked backwards in its need to tell me I was going to turn.
I came to a halt on the sidewalk that ran parallel to the road and caught what looked like an old-style diner. I recalled there was one that resembled this building exactly back in the lighted part of town. Maybe there was something inside that could help with this trip.
A bell above the door chimed with my arrival. I cringed at the sound, set against a world enveloped only by the constant crack of thunder overhead. In the center of the floor was a service station with a bar that wrapped around the entire floor. Barstools lined the outer edge, while tables and chairs filled the spots in between. A thick layer of dust and time covered everything. Even the windows were streaked enough to conceal the outer world.
I didn’t know what I was looking for. Maybe something useful. Maybe something that could answer a few questions. Or maybe it was just a need to see a world so removed from everything else.
Moving around the counter and towards the back, the beam of the flashlight hovered over everything. Plates and silverware still held bits of food that had decayed over the years. Chairs were flipped upside down, like someone was in a rush and forgot to realign the diner the way they’d found it. I picked up a chair and placed it where it should have been: the seat underneath a clean table.
The beam flashed over in a corner, directing my eyes to a jukebox. It remained lifeless with a disk held in midair, just waiting for the electricity to fire back up so it could continue playing the music. My memory was vivid enough to remember dancing to a few tunes when I was younger. I was sure some of those disk in the jukebox played those songs, though I wouldn’t get a chance to listen to them.
Pushing passed the music player, I moved to the back, the sphere playing that alien-like blue glow off the ceiling. Shadows flickered against the walls, darting back and forth. They danced off the paneling and all the old pictures. It was an effect I tried not to pay attention to.
The wall next to me was cool to the touch. I continued down the back hallway and soon stumbled upon a door that wasn’t labeled. It was locked. I tried to push against the frame, but didn’t want to kick it in. I wasn’t ready to make noise in this land, and instead retreated the way I’d come.
I exited the hallway and returned to the jukebox, like it was somehow calling out to me. Flashing the light inside, I saw the disc, the needle, and the contraption that would bring the music alive. I tapped the glass.
“Let’s go,” I said out loud. There was nothing for me here.
I heard the faintest click inside the machine. Bending down closer, I made sure that what I’d heard wasn’t my imagination. The arm dropped the disc into place, and a pitch escaped the speakers. The device lit up, colors alternating between orange and yellow down the side of the machine.
“Shit. No-no-no,” I whispered. I tried to hit the side of it. An old tune belted from the jukebox. Someone was singing about being in love but losing it all.
I grabbed the machine and shook it, pressing all the buttons. Nothing was working. It resisted turning off after being silent for so many years and it was too heavy to pull backwards and unplug the damn thing. I backed up as if everything was about to come crashing down.
I didn’t care about how the hell it was being powered, I just wanted it to stop. Sweat dripped down my forehead and stung my eyes. Wiping away my agitation, I shrugged and could feel my fears become a reality.
That was when the first scream drowned out the beat of the music. It was loud enough it had to be close, loud enough to be heard over the jukebox. As the foreign music attacked the deathly quiet environment, I stopped trying to turn it off and looked for somewhere to hide.
I jumped over the center counter space and squatted against the wall. A cash register was laying on its side nearby, with a few paper bills still in the drawer, and a few pieces of broken plates were scattered about. The counter space wrapped around me in a square, and hid my view of whatever was going to come looking. I flicked the flashlight off. All I could do was wait.