Speed Demons by Jeff Beesler
CHAPTER 5
EAT ‘N’ GREASE
For almost two hours, Chase remained on the floor. He refused to budge in case that old guy demon came crashing through the window to tear out his throat. Achy muscles made him shift his body around, though he stayed between the two beds, well out of sight. During this bodily transition, his phone slipped free from his pocket. As he picked it up, the thought to call the cops entered his mind.
But what exactly would he tell them? Hello, Police? Some old dude turned into a monster and gutted your officer? No, they wouldn’t believe him for an instant. If anything, they would question him about what he’d seen and maybe detain him on suspicion of murder and/or drug use.
And then what? He’d go away for a long time, possibly for life. After all, they had the damage to the wall right outside his motel room, not far from where the cop had died. Between his “crazy” story and a thorough background check, a glimpse into his past would ensure he’d never see daylight again.
Then again, I don’t have to report the cop’s death, he thought as he thumbed his phone. I could just call them to report that Dylan is missing. If they come over to the motel to ask me questions, they’ll see the body out by the station wagon on their own.
The only problem he saw in this logic was that the police might implicate Dylan in the cop’s death. He decided not to worry about this until it actually happened however.
Three numbers later, Chase pressed “talk” and got a busy signal almost instantly. After two redials, he still couldn’t get through. Not surprising considering that one of those crashes earlier may have taken out a telephone poll. Besides, if the world really was going to hell, every available emergency service would probably be too busy to respond, assuming the network wasn’t overloaded by the strain of people trying desperately to call someone.
Having reached no one, he got up off the floor, every muscle aching from his poor posturing. With the crap he’d seen, he just wanted to hightail it out of there, sleep deprivation be damned. Until Dylan came back, he couldn’t go anywhere.
He crept over to the window, holding down a plastic blind with his thumb. The only illumination out there now came from the street lamp. Both vehicles were gone. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the fallen officer, either. Only the twisted metal of the street sign provided any evidence of the horror he’d seen. Rubbing his eyes, he couldn’t help feeling that maybe what he saw had been a stress-related hallucination. He was, after all, in the middle of a big move with a truck AC that provided only half its potential output and a brother who didn’t know the meaning of the word responsibility.
The doubts suggested a need for rest. Emotional exhaustion weighed down heavily on his shoulders and lungs. What he wouldn’t give for a good night’s snooze. But with the insanity out there in the world keeping him wide awake, a shower might have to suffice instead. Cold water splattering down upon his face sounded so good right now, especially since he’d been sweating all day long in the truck.
A shower and several hours later, Dylan still hadn’t returned. The pit of Chase’s stomach remained knotted with hunger, worry, and even some guilt. The latter affected him worse than the other two. He couldn’t forget the way he and Dylan got into it hours ago. Now all he wanted was to see Dylan’s face again and apologize for his part in their squabble.
Unfortunately, the next time he saw his brother’s goofy grin, it might be marred with Dylan’s blood, his outfit torn to shreds, his abdomen sliced and diced by the old man demon, or some other crazed Helensviewan. The thought that maybe that woman in the minivan might have grown horns and a tail also occurred to Chase, even if it sounded far-fetched.
He took a breath, refusing to let his imagination run wild with gory images of his brother’s potential death. Until proven otherwise, Dylan was still alive. No Weaverson would bend over in utter defeat for any threat, demon or otherwise. The family, both as a whole and as individuals, was far stronger than that.
An unsettling calm spread across the town beyond his motel room. He hadn’t heard a peep from anyone or anything since a little after eleven o’clock. Maybe the threat, if there ever was one, had ended. He glanced over to the TV and turned it on, just in case there was a news report recapping the evening’s events. Nothing but infomercials. He’d have to wait until the morning news shows ran their top stories.
A thin beam of sunlight seeped in past slits in the blinds, announcing the crack of dawn. Through the glass he could barely hear a couple of caws, an early morning crow rhapsody. His eyelids began to droop, his head bobbing forward slightly. Damn it. He’d need sleep soon, regardless.
No, scratch that. He’d need a triple shot mocha to perk him up for the last stretch of the drive. Once at the family farm, he could sleep all he wanted, especially if Dylan “volunteered” to pick up the slack for once. He’d have to be careful, however. If the mocha wound up being the first thing to fill his belly since early yesterday, it might make him sick.
As more light filtered past the cracks in the blinds, he swiped another glance at the world outside. A murder of crows occupied the streets, perching upon buildings and street signs, surveying the area for scraps of food. One found a scrap of food and the others at once came at him, trying to snatch his morsel of burger wrapper for their own selves. Chase became so entranced by this feathery chaos that a sudden movement of shadow made him gasp. As his heartbeat slowed back to normal an instant later, he saw the crow that had swooped down from above his window, joining the others fighting over the garbage.
At least there aren’t any demons out there, he thought.
Needing a distraction, he reached for the remote, turning the TV on a second later. Static danced across the screen as he flipped through the channels, unable to access even the low-budget porn from last night or the infomercials from an hour ago. Damn motel cable must’ve gone out. Dylan needed to get back now so they could just leave this godforsaken place already.
Then again, maybe Dylan wasn’t coming back to the motel for his things, or to even say goodbye. If he had found a lady friend at the bar, informing Chase of what was going on or getting his stuff had probably slipped his mind.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that, Chase thought, gnashing his teeth.
At that exact moment, a familiar ringtone broke him from his worries. He yanked his phone out again and swung it open, glancing at the caller I.D. The call came from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Bro! How are you doing?” Dylan asked with a burp, a slurred, childlike glee in his voice.
Chase shook his head. Thankfully for him, his phone hadn’t come with any built-in, smell-capable apps.
“Where are you, Dylan?” No sense trying to engage in small talk with him. The need to hightail it out of town remained top priority.
Dylan chuckled. “I found some good people last night, Chase. You should’ve hung out with us.”
Chase ignored that. “We need to leave town now.”
In the background Chase could hear someone else moaning, along with something sifting, possibly blankets being tossed about. Dylan playfully cooed, “Shush, baby. It’s my brother.”
A groan carried through the connection, followed by a cough and some faint whispering.
“I’m thinking of staying in Helensview actually, Chase,” Dylan admitted, and then chuckled. “Hey, don’t do that! That’s my toe.”
“Oh god, Dylan! You’re not getting it on right now, are you?”
Dylan’s chortle just about drowned out Chase’s question.
“I’m fine, Chase. Go see Ma and Pa. I’ll find my way back to Hedon City somehow.”
Chase punched open air in response to this. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“What?” The hilarity trickled out of Dylan’s voice. “How come you’re riding my ass again, Chase? Don’t you ever get sick of living up to Pa’s standards? It’s not like you’ve always been his number one son.”
“This has nothing to do with th
at, Dylan. Something happened here, something bad.”
A moment’s pause met Chase’s ear, followed by more garbled noise in the backdrop of Dylan’s present location.
“Oh, please,” Dylan droned with disbelief. “I find a reasonable Helensview lady to spend the night with, and you’re making stuff up just to rattle my bones.”
“I’m not.”
Another guffaw shot through the phone. “Do you really expect me to buy that one?”
The muscles in Chase’s face constricted. He couldn’t blame his brother for being skeptical. Even he had a hard time believing what he’d seen. But with everything that had happened so far, it made no sense to stick around in an unfamiliar town.
“Will you shut up and listen to me, Dylan? Last night I was almost mauled to death by some…thing.”
“I’m still not buying it,” Dylan said, his voice rasping with annoyance. “Just how dumb do you think I am?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Chase muttered. He thought of the mangled street sign and possible blood stains on the side of the road. Unfortunately, those things alone wouldn’t convince Dylan that they should get a move on.
“Whatever!” Dylan grumbled. “You know what? I’m sticking with Brittany here. We’re going to have the time of our lives.”
Chase smacked his forehead. “Dude, you’ve got to listen. There’s something seriously wrong with the people of this town. Best thing you can do is just get away from that girl before she changes.”
Dylan laughed again, the sound tainted with scorn. “Knock it off, bro. We’re fine.” The sound of a playful slap crackled through the phone, followed by a woman’s giggle. “Ain’t that right, babe?”
Was there no getting through to Dyl whatsoever?
“Fine. If you want to live it up in this insane place, then I guess I can’t stop you,” Chase said through gritted teeth, shutting off his phone an instant later.
As the glow faded from his phone, he considered redialing the number, forgetting for a second that Dylan had called from an unknown number. Realizing his mistake a moment too late, he bit his lip. If convincing Dylan to leave town had been hard before, it now became an impossible task. The only way for both Weaverson brothers to get out of town alive was for Dylan to fully understand what was happening to the world around him.
But that didn’t seem likely to happen. With all the road rage and crazy people, Chase might have just signed his brother’s death warrant.
What would Ma and Pa say about that?
EAT ‘N’ GREASE
For almost two hours, Chase remained on the floor. He refused to budge in case that old guy demon came crashing through the window to tear out his throat. Achy muscles made him shift his body around, though he stayed between the two beds, well out of sight. During this bodily transition, his phone slipped free from his pocket. As he picked it up, the thought to call the cops entered his mind.
But what exactly would he tell them? Hello, Police? Some old dude turned into a monster and gutted your officer? No, they wouldn’t believe him for an instant. If anything, they would question him about what he’d seen and maybe detain him on suspicion of murder and/or drug use.
And then what? He’d go away for a long time, possibly for life. After all, they had the damage to the wall right outside his motel room, not far from where the cop had died. Between his “crazy” story and a thorough background check, a glimpse into his past would ensure he’d never see daylight again.
Then again, I don’t have to report the cop’s death, he thought as he thumbed his phone. I could just call them to report that Dylan is missing. If they come over to the motel to ask me questions, they’ll see the body out by the station wagon on their own.
The only problem he saw in this logic was that the police might implicate Dylan in the cop’s death. He decided not to worry about this until it actually happened however.
Three numbers later, Chase pressed “talk” and got a busy signal almost instantly. After two redials, he still couldn’t get through. Not surprising considering that one of those crashes earlier may have taken out a telephone poll. Besides, if the world really was going to hell, every available emergency service would probably be too busy to respond, assuming the network wasn’t overloaded by the strain of people trying desperately to call someone.
Having reached no one, he got up off the floor, every muscle aching from his poor posturing. With the crap he’d seen, he just wanted to hightail it out of there, sleep deprivation be damned. Until Dylan came back, he couldn’t go anywhere.
He crept over to the window, holding down a plastic blind with his thumb. The only illumination out there now came from the street lamp. Both vehicles were gone. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the fallen officer, either. Only the twisted metal of the street sign provided any evidence of the horror he’d seen. Rubbing his eyes, he couldn’t help feeling that maybe what he saw had been a stress-related hallucination. He was, after all, in the middle of a big move with a truck AC that provided only half its potential output and a brother who didn’t know the meaning of the word responsibility.
The doubts suggested a need for rest. Emotional exhaustion weighed down heavily on his shoulders and lungs. What he wouldn’t give for a good night’s snooze. But with the insanity out there in the world keeping him wide awake, a shower might have to suffice instead. Cold water splattering down upon his face sounded so good right now, especially since he’d been sweating all day long in the truck.
A shower and several hours later, Dylan still hadn’t returned. The pit of Chase’s stomach remained knotted with hunger, worry, and even some guilt. The latter affected him worse than the other two. He couldn’t forget the way he and Dylan got into it hours ago. Now all he wanted was to see Dylan’s face again and apologize for his part in their squabble.
Unfortunately, the next time he saw his brother’s goofy grin, it might be marred with Dylan’s blood, his outfit torn to shreds, his abdomen sliced and diced by the old man demon, or some other crazed Helensviewan. The thought that maybe that woman in the minivan might have grown horns and a tail also occurred to Chase, even if it sounded far-fetched.
He took a breath, refusing to let his imagination run wild with gory images of his brother’s potential death. Until proven otherwise, Dylan was still alive. No Weaverson would bend over in utter defeat for any threat, demon or otherwise. The family, both as a whole and as individuals, was far stronger than that.
An unsettling calm spread across the town beyond his motel room. He hadn’t heard a peep from anyone or anything since a little after eleven o’clock. Maybe the threat, if there ever was one, had ended. He glanced over to the TV and turned it on, just in case there was a news report recapping the evening’s events. Nothing but infomercials. He’d have to wait until the morning news shows ran their top stories.
A thin beam of sunlight seeped in past slits in the blinds, announcing the crack of dawn. Through the glass he could barely hear a couple of caws, an early morning crow rhapsody. His eyelids began to droop, his head bobbing forward slightly. Damn it. He’d need sleep soon, regardless.
No, scratch that. He’d need a triple shot mocha to perk him up for the last stretch of the drive. Once at the family farm, he could sleep all he wanted, especially if Dylan “volunteered” to pick up the slack for once. He’d have to be careful, however. If the mocha wound up being the first thing to fill his belly since early yesterday, it might make him sick.
As more light filtered past the cracks in the blinds, he swiped another glance at the world outside. A murder of crows occupied the streets, perching upon buildings and street signs, surveying the area for scraps of food. One found a scrap of food and the others at once came at him, trying to snatch his morsel of burger wrapper for their own selves. Chase became so entranced by this feathery chaos that a sudden movement of shadow made him gasp. As his heartbeat slowed back to normal an instant later, he saw the crow that had swooped down from above his window, joining the others fighting over the garbage.
At least there aren’t any demons out there, he thought.
Needing a distraction, he reached for the remote, turning the TV on a second later. Static danced across the screen as he flipped through the channels, unable to access even the low-budget porn from last night or the infomercials from an hour ago. Damn motel cable must’ve gone out. Dylan needed to get back now so they could just leave this godforsaken place already.
Then again, maybe Dylan wasn’t coming back to the motel for his things, or to even say goodbye. If he had found a lady friend at the bar, informing Chase of what was going on or getting his stuff had probably slipped his mind.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that, Chase thought, gnashing his teeth.
At that exact moment, a familiar ringtone broke him from his worries. He yanked his phone out again and swung it open, glancing at the caller I.D. The call came from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Bro! How are you doing?” Dylan asked with a burp, a slurred, childlike glee in his voice.
Chase shook his head. Thankfully for him, his phone hadn’t come with any built-in, smell-capable apps.
“Where are you, Dylan?” No sense trying to engage in small talk with him. The need to hightail it out of town remained top priority.
Dylan chuckled. “I found some good people last night, Chase. You should’ve hung out with us.”
Chase ignored that. “We need to leave town now.”
In the background Chase could hear someone else moaning, along with something sifting, possibly blankets being tossed about. Dylan playfully cooed, “Shush, baby. It’s my brother.”
A groan carried through the connection, followed by a cough and some faint whispering.
“I’m thinking of staying in Helensview actually, Chase,” Dylan admitted, and then chuckled. “Hey, don’t do that! That’s my toe.”
“Oh god, Dylan! You’re not getting it on right now, are you?”
Dylan’s chortle just about drowned out Chase’s question.
“I’m fine, Chase. Go see Ma and Pa. I’ll find my way back to Hedon City somehow.”
Chase punched open air in response to this. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“What?” The hilarity trickled out of Dylan’s voice. “How come you’re riding my ass again, Chase? Don’t you ever get sick of living up to Pa’s standards? It’s not like you’ve always been his number one son.”
“This has nothing to do with th
A moment’s pause met Chase’s ear, followed by more garbled noise in the backdrop of Dylan’s present location.
“Oh, please,” Dylan droned with disbelief. “I find a reasonable Helensview lady to spend the night with, and you’re making stuff up just to rattle my bones.”
“I’m not.”
Another guffaw shot through the phone. “Do you really expect me to buy that one?”
The muscles in Chase’s face constricted. He couldn’t blame his brother for being skeptical. Even he had a hard time believing what he’d seen. But with everything that had happened so far, it made no sense to stick around in an unfamiliar town.
“Will you shut up and listen to me, Dylan? Last night I was almost mauled to death by some…thing.”
“I’m still not buying it,” Dylan said, his voice rasping with annoyance. “Just how dumb do you think I am?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Chase muttered. He thought of the mangled street sign and possible blood stains on the side of the road. Unfortunately, those things alone wouldn’t convince Dylan that they should get a move on.
“Whatever!” Dylan grumbled. “You know what? I’m sticking with Brittany here. We’re going to have the time of our lives.”
Chase smacked his forehead. “Dude, you’ve got to listen. There’s something seriously wrong with the people of this town. Best thing you can do is just get away from that girl before she changes.”
Dylan laughed again, the sound tainted with scorn. “Knock it off, bro. We’re fine.” The sound of a playful slap crackled through the phone, followed by a woman’s giggle. “Ain’t that right, babe?”
Was there no getting through to Dyl whatsoever?
“Fine. If you want to live it up in this insane place, then I guess I can’t stop you,” Chase said through gritted teeth, shutting off his phone an instant later.
As the glow faded from his phone, he considered redialing the number, forgetting for a second that Dylan had called from an unknown number. Realizing his mistake a moment too late, he bit his lip. If convincing Dylan to leave town had been hard before, it now became an impossible task. The only way for both Weaverson brothers to get out of town alive was for Dylan to fully understand what was happening to the world around him.
But that didn’t seem likely to happen. With all the road rage and crazy people, Chase might have just signed his brother’s death warrant.
What would Ma and Pa say about that?