Mojave 733-9969 by John Gibson
everything that Stephanie wasn’t: she was tall, slim, attractive and was great in the sack. She also had tits like nuclear war-heads and nipples like fighter-pilots thumbs.
Lost as he was in warm reminiscences of Liz’ fun-bags it took him a few moments to realize that the phone was ringing. When he did he dropped his half-smoked Winston on the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of one tan cowboy boot, then he went into the booth for one last time.
He pulled the concertina door shut behind him and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello, Mojave desert phone booth.’ he said cheerfully into the handset.
‘Hello George,’said the voice on the line.
He felt a shiver go down his spine. There something about that voice that he didn’t like. It was deep and resonating, and yet at the same time it wavered and gargled, it sounded as though it were coming from underwater. And it knew his name, how? Only Tommy knew he was here and it sure didn’t sound like Tommy
‘What... who is this-’ he began, but the voice cut him off.
‘You’re going on a little trip George.’
At that moment the light went out. George let out a little scream, he hadn’t realized how dark it had got until that moment. Suddenly he didn’t like it in here, he had to get out. He dropped the handset and grabbed blindly at the door, he tried to yank it open but it seemed to be stuck. He pulled again, harder this time, and it did give a little, but then, suddenly it sprang back closed again as if pushed by some invisible hand.
That was when the light came back on. Only now it wasn’t the familiar soft white glow of the fluorescent tubes, it was a harsh blue arc-light that stuttered and pulsed. It was blinding, he covered his eyes with his arm and pounded on the door with his free hand.
‘Let me out,’ he yelled. ‘Let me the fuck out of here!’
There was a noise now as well, a steadily rising hum that pulsated in time with the stuttering light, and a sizzling frazzling sound, like the sound flies make when they hit a bug-zapper. The hum was gradually rising, both in pitch and in volume, it seemed to resonate in his brain and shake his bones, he felt as though his head might explode.
The phone booth had gone, its walls replaced with a shimmering rainbow curtain of shifting colours which seemed to slide past him on every side. He looked up to where the ceiling had been, now there were only swirling colours rushing towards him from some unimaginably distant point only to disappear again in the infinite void that had opened up beneath his feet. There was no-more up and down, gravity had ceased to exist for him. He was falling through a psychedelic rabbit-hole.
Stephanie didn’t hear the phone when it began to ring. She was sitting in the car listening to her iPod and was engrossed in her novel. The book was good, it was about a Buick that had languished in a police hanger in Pennsylvania for the past forty years. Except it wasn’t really a Buick, it was really an alien spaceship or a portal or matter transporter or something, it ate people!
It was only when the interior of the car was suddenly flooded with a harsh blue stuttering light that she looked up. The whole phone booth was engulfed in that hard blue light, it flooded out from all the windows casting shifting shadows on the road and the desert beyond. Dimly she thought she could perceive something moving inside it, stumbling around, trying to get out. She thought it was her husband.
As quickly as it had begun it stopped. The pulsating blue light snapped off as if someone had hit a light-switch. The entire scene was plunged once more into darkness. Inside the Land Cruiser Stephanie could see only her own reflected image in the windscreen, she held her breath. Then, with an almost audible ping, the light in the phone booth flickered back into life. She, gasped, startled, but it was only the harsh white light of the fluorescent tubes. George was nowhere to be seen.
Stephanie stared at the booth through the wind-shield of the car, she stared at it for a long time. Her pulse was racing and she couldn’t stop shaking. ‘What the hell just happened?’ she asked herself. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened the door and stepped out onto the dusty road. She approached the booth cautiously, ready to turn and flee at the slightest provocation.
The booth just sat there, a picture of innocence, impeccant white light spilling from its windows. She was close enough to touch it now, her heart was in her mouth, she hardly dared breath. There was still no sign of George, there was nothing in the phone booth except... There was something in there, something lying in the centre of the square concrete floor, she thought she recognised it but she wasn’t quite sure. She edged a little closer. Yes it was a hat, a blue baseball cap in fact, stencilled across the front were the letters UCLA.
Stephanie turned and ran back to the car. She jumped in and locked the doors. ‘Jesus Christ!’ she thought, ‘The fucking phone booth ate my husband.’
Suddenly it all stopped, the shifting colours, the thrumming noise. George opened his eyes and looked around, somehow he didn’t think he was in California anymore. He was standing on a small square concrete plinth apparently identical to the one the phone booth had stood on. The platform was surrounded on all sides by lush green grass. He was standing on side of a small hill, ahead of him the ground sloped gently away to a meandering stream about half a mile away. Here and there the hillside was dotted with trees. It all looked so familiar, he could have believed he was still on Earth had it not been for the sky.
The sky was a beautiful azure blue with not a cloud in sight but it’s most striking feature was the planet. The planet was half visible above the distant tree-lined horizon and it seemed to take up most of the sky. It looked like pictures he’d seen of Saturn but the colours were all wrong, instead of yellow and brown it was striped with vivid shades of violet and red. It’s enormous ring system an oblique stroke across the heavens. Above and to the right of the planet were the suns, both of them, one was large and red the other smaller and pale-blue.
Some movement caught his eye down by the river. There was a large black stain on the grass down there, it looked like a pool of oil, but as he watched he saw that it was flowing, changing shape, evolving. And it seemed to be coming his way. Fast!
Suddenly he was afraid, terrified, he could feel his heart pumping hard in his chest. But at the same time he seemed paralysed, rooted to the spot, unable or unwilling to move. He strained his eyes trying to resolve some detail in the shapeless seething black mass that was flowing up the hill towards him. The distance was down to about a quarter of a mile now and yes, now he could pick out individual organisms. They were spider-like, he could make out a multitude of thick hairy black legs. Their bodies were black and hairy and appeared to be similar in size and shape to a football, though somewhat flattened at the front. Two red spheres that he took to be eyes rose up from the front of the body on stalks.
They were moving at an incredible rate, only about four hundred yards separated them from him now. He was appalled by their hideous form and yet he was still transfixed. He was trying to decide whether they had eight or ten legs each when he saw one open it’s mouth, the entire front end of the body split wide open to reveal two double rows of viscous-looking needle-like teeth. That was enough to finally snap him out of his trance, he turned and ran screaming up the hill.
There was a line of tall trees about four-hundred-yards away, if he could just make it that far maybe he could climb one, maybe he’d be safe there. He could hear the scurrying feet of the abhorrent nightmare hoard behind him, he thought they were closing on him but he didn’t dare turn his head to look. Instead he just ran, ran like he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, his lungs were on fire, so were his calf muscles but he kept on running. He was only a hundred yards from the tree-line now, he was going to make it. He felt a sudden adrenaline rush and his legs pumped faster. He was going to make it!
A searing bolt of pain shot up his right leg as the first of the creatures sank its long pointy teeth into his ankle. He pitched forward and went sprawling in the grass less than fifty yards from the tree-li
ne. Immediately they were on him, he felt them scurrying over his legs, his arms, his back. Agonising blooms of pain began to explode all over his body. He turned his head sideways and found himself looking directly into the evil red eyes of one of the repugnant creatures. He watched in horror as the creature opened it’s repulsive mouth, he saw the abhorrent razor sharp teeth glinting in the light of the distant twin suns. Then it bit into his face and he saw no more. The pain kept coming though.
Stephanie was staring down at the book in her lap. She felt better now, she was no longer scared. her distress at the sudden disappearance of her husband had proved to be comparatively short-lived. Her mood had improved considerably once she’d remembered that there were a spare set of keys in the glove box.
she didn’t think she was going to have to ask George for a divorce now. In fact she didn’t really think she was going to see him again. She thought her decree nisi had been granted by a far higher power than the Supreme Court of California.
She slid over to the drivers side and started the engine. ‘Hey-ho’ she thought as she turned the Land Cruiser around and headed back along the bumpy road It was only about eighty miles to Vegas.
THE END
Authors Note
The Stephen King novel mentioned in this story is called From a Buick 8 and I thoroughly recommend it, It’s one of my favourite King novels and in part it served as inspiration for this story, though of course none of the characters, dialogue or scenes are taken from it.
The Mojave Desert Phone Booth really did exist and really did become something of an internet phenomena back in the late nineties. I should know, I was one of the saddo’s who called it. My friends and I talked to a nice couple who’d driven all the way out there from Connecticut (I think). Sad to say I can no longer remember their names, but I sure hope they both got home OK.
The Ghost in the Machine
The Repair Guy Cometh
The Pyramids of Elysium
Thanks again for reading.
John Gibson
17th June 2015
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Lost as he was in warm reminiscences of Liz’ fun-bags it took him a few moments to realize that the phone was ringing. When he did he dropped his half-smoked Winston on the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of one tan cowboy boot, then he went into the booth for one last time.
He pulled the concertina door shut behind him and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello, Mojave desert phone booth.’ he said cheerfully into the handset.
‘Hello George,’said the voice on the line.
He felt a shiver go down his spine. There something about that voice that he didn’t like. It was deep and resonating, and yet at the same time it wavered and gargled, it sounded as though it were coming from underwater. And it knew his name, how? Only Tommy knew he was here and it sure didn’t sound like Tommy
‘What... who is this-’ he began, but the voice cut him off.
‘You’re going on a little trip George.’
At that moment the light went out. George let out a little scream, he hadn’t realized how dark it had got until that moment. Suddenly he didn’t like it in here, he had to get out. He dropped the handset and grabbed blindly at the door, he tried to yank it open but it seemed to be stuck. He pulled again, harder this time, and it did give a little, but then, suddenly it sprang back closed again as if pushed by some invisible hand.
That was when the light came back on. Only now it wasn’t the familiar soft white glow of the fluorescent tubes, it was a harsh blue arc-light that stuttered and pulsed. It was blinding, he covered his eyes with his arm and pounded on the door with his free hand.
‘Let me out,’ he yelled. ‘Let me the fuck out of here!’
There was a noise now as well, a steadily rising hum that pulsated in time with the stuttering light, and a sizzling frazzling sound, like the sound flies make when they hit a bug-zapper. The hum was gradually rising, both in pitch and in volume, it seemed to resonate in his brain and shake his bones, he felt as though his head might explode.
The phone booth had gone, its walls replaced with a shimmering rainbow curtain of shifting colours which seemed to slide past him on every side. He looked up to where the ceiling had been, now there were only swirling colours rushing towards him from some unimaginably distant point only to disappear again in the infinite void that had opened up beneath his feet. There was no-more up and down, gravity had ceased to exist for him. He was falling through a psychedelic rabbit-hole.
Stephanie didn’t hear the phone when it began to ring. She was sitting in the car listening to her iPod and was engrossed in her novel. The book was good, it was about a Buick that had languished in a police hanger in Pennsylvania for the past forty years. Except it wasn’t really a Buick, it was really an alien spaceship or a portal or matter transporter or something, it ate people!
It was only when the interior of the car was suddenly flooded with a harsh blue stuttering light that she looked up. The whole phone booth was engulfed in that hard blue light, it flooded out from all the windows casting shifting shadows on the road and the desert beyond. Dimly she thought she could perceive something moving inside it, stumbling around, trying to get out. She thought it was her husband.
As quickly as it had begun it stopped. The pulsating blue light snapped off as if someone had hit a light-switch. The entire scene was plunged once more into darkness. Inside the Land Cruiser Stephanie could see only her own reflected image in the windscreen, she held her breath. Then, with an almost audible ping, the light in the phone booth flickered back into life. She, gasped, startled, but it was only the harsh white light of the fluorescent tubes. George was nowhere to be seen.
Stephanie stared at the booth through the wind-shield of the car, she stared at it for a long time. Her pulse was racing and she couldn’t stop shaking. ‘What the hell just happened?’ she asked herself. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened the door and stepped out onto the dusty road. She approached the booth cautiously, ready to turn and flee at the slightest provocation.
The booth just sat there, a picture of innocence, impeccant white light spilling from its windows. She was close enough to touch it now, her heart was in her mouth, she hardly dared breath. There was still no sign of George, there was nothing in the phone booth except... There was something in there, something lying in the centre of the square concrete floor, she thought she recognised it but she wasn’t quite sure. She edged a little closer. Yes it was a hat, a blue baseball cap in fact, stencilled across the front were the letters UCLA.
Stephanie turned and ran back to the car. She jumped in and locked the doors. ‘Jesus Christ!’ she thought, ‘The fucking phone booth ate my husband.’
Suddenly it all stopped, the shifting colours, the thrumming noise. George opened his eyes and looked around, somehow he didn’t think he was in California anymore. He was standing on a small square concrete plinth apparently identical to the one the phone booth had stood on. The platform was surrounded on all sides by lush green grass. He was standing on side of a small hill, ahead of him the ground sloped gently away to a meandering stream about half a mile away. Here and there the hillside was dotted with trees. It all looked so familiar, he could have believed he was still on Earth had it not been for the sky.
The sky was a beautiful azure blue with not a cloud in sight but it’s most striking feature was the planet. The planet was half visible above the distant tree-lined horizon and it seemed to take up most of the sky. It looked like pictures he’d seen of Saturn but the colours were all wrong, instead of yellow and brown it was striped with vivid shades of violet and red. It’s enormous ring system an oblique stroke across the heavens. Above and to the right of the planet were the suns, both of them, one was large and red the other smaller and pale-blue.
Some movement caught his eye down by the river. There was a large black stain on the grass down there, it looked like a pool of oil, but as he watched he saw that it was flowing, changing shape, evolving. And it seemed to be coming his way. Fast!
Suddenly he was afraid, terrified, he could feel his heart pumping hard in his chest. But at the same time he seemed paralysed, rooted to the spot, unable or unwilling to move. He strained his eyes trying to resolve some detail in the shapeless seething black mass that was flowing up the hill towards him. The distance was down to about a quarter of a mile now and yes, now he could pick out individual organisms. They were spider-like, he could make out a multitude of thick hairy black legs. Their bodies were black and hairy and appeared to be similar in size and shape to a football, though somewhat flattened at the front. Two red spheres that he took to be eyes rose up from the front of the body on stalks.
They were moving at an incredible rate, only about four hundred yards separated them from him now. He was appalled by their hideous form and yet he was still transfixed. He was trying to decide whether they had eight or ten legs each when he saw one open it’s mouth, the entire front end of the body split wide open to reveal two double rows of viscous-looking needle-like teeth. That was enough to finally snap him out of his trance, he turned and ran screaming up the hill.
There was a line of tall trees about four-hundred-yards away, if he could just make it that far maybe he could climb one, maybe he’d be safe there. He could hear the scurrying feet of the abhorrent nightmare hoard behind him, he thought they were closing on him but he didn’t dare turn his head to look. Instead he just ran, ran like he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, his lungs were on fire, so were his calf muscles but he kept on running. He was only a hundred yards from the tree-line now, he was going to make it. He felt a sudden adrenaline rush and his legs pumped faster. He was going to make it!
A searing bolt of pain shot up his right leg as the first of the creatures sank its long pointy teeth into his ankle. He pitched forward and went sprawling in the grass less than fifty yards from the tree-li
Stephanie was staring down at the book in her lap. She felt better now, she was no longer scared. her distress at the sudden disappearance of her husband had proved to be comparatively short-lived. Her mood had improved considerably once she’d remembered that there were a spare set of keys in the glove box.
she didn’t think she was going to have to ask George for a divorce now. In fact she didn’t really think she was going to see him again. She thought her decree nisi had been granted by a far higher power than the Supreme Court of California.
She slid over to the drivers side and started the engine. ‘Hey-ho’ she thought as she turned the Land Cruiser around and headed back along the bumpy road It was only about eighty miles to Vegas.
THE END
Authors Note
The Stephen King novel mentioned in this story is called From a Buick 8 and I thoroughly recommend it, It’s one of my favourite King novels and in part it served as inspiration for this story, though of course none of the characters, dialogue or scenes are taken from it.
The Mojave Desert Phone Booth really did exist and really did become something of an internet phenomena back in the late nineties. I should know, I was one of the saddo’s who called it. My friends and I talked to a nice couple who’d driven all the way out there from Connecticut (I think). Sad to say I can no longer remember their names, but I sure hope they both got home OK.
The Ghost in the Machine
The Repair Guy Cometh
The Pyramids of Elysium
Thanks again for reading.
John Gibson
17th June 2015