Rest Stop 99

Rest Stop 99.

The glowing neon lettering cut through the violet dusk light with a piercing shine. It was no match for the brightness of those florescent lights that illuminated the gas station interior. Those were blinding. The sign stood tall, dominating the bare skyline. Below the turquoise lettering was a hunk of metal that had been brutally screwed into the framing. An image of a cowboy was printed onto it, all dressed up in dark brown suede (with brown hat to match), grinning too much. Eerily too much. The red and white diner sat slumped next to the gas station, facing the road. Its neon letters were not piercing but rather dimly stuttering, trying to compete with its older brother in front of it. The gas pumps were barely operating but they could still muster the strength to just about shoot a load into any wagon that came for servicing.

The broken road lay parallel to the rest stop. Barely any cars drove on Route 99 anymore, and when they did, the people inside were almost always stopping to ask for directions to Hollow Rock, the county's greatest tourist attraction! Either that or they were dangerously lost. Once in a blue moon an innocent family of four would come to top up their gas and feast on the diner's banquet of sludge, but they wouldn't stop long as they were most likely heading to Hollow Rock (the county's greatest tourist attraction). Drivers got their gas at Hope View nowadays and Hope View was quite some distance from here. It lay closer to the interstate and wasn't situated in the back end of nowhere.

Andy Monroe had worked as the cashier at the Rest Stop 99 gas station for eleven months and twenty- five days. Since he started working there, he had come to hate his very existence. There was a tiredness. A grey cloud enveloped him every second of every day. He felt pointless. Useless. Exhausted. Sad. He didn't enjoy what he used to enjoy. His confidence had dropped. When he was awake, he wanted to be asleep.

Andy Monroe was depressed.

He sat on the collapsing chair behind the high counter in the gas station, his back curved at an abnormal angle. Don McLean's “Vincent” blared through the shitty portable radio that sat behind him, telling Andy to paint his palette blue and grey. Late night radio was there to keep him company. Andy stared through the window at Beverly Thompson, the waitress who worked in the diner next door. She was leaving the diner in a hurry which was unusual.

Every morning, Andy would arrive extra early just to catch a glimpse of Beverly reluctantly heading into the diner to start her glum day of waiting tables. Every evening, he would watch her take the short walk back to her car and observe her delicately sorting through her purse to find her keys. It always took her a matter of seconds to find them. Andy wished that she would lose them just so she could stay a little longer. But he'd never talk to her. God no. Andy didn't have the courage to do that.

On this night, Andy gazed open mouthed at Beverly as she traversed the forecourt in her agonisingly small high heeled shoes. She tripped a couple of times while fumbling for her car keys, but Andy liked that because he could briefly see up her skirt. Seeing her pretty face gave him at least a shiver of hope. All the things he wanted to do with her. But he never would do anything with her because, well, what would she see in him? They had only spoken to each other on one occasion in the year that they had worked there. She came in to greet him on Andy's first day working at Rest Stop 99. Something sparked between them. It was spiritual. It transcended time and space. It was divine. They both felt it but neither of them gathered up the strength to follow their hearts. They hadn't spoken since, but they still waved hello every morning through the dirty diner windows.

Andy did not believe that Beverly was feeling the same way as he was. He knew it, but he didn't believe it. She was absolutely pining for him. They were quite clearly in love with each other. Both of them wanted to be with one another. To feel each other's touch. To be in each other's company. Occasionally they both excused themselves to fantasize about one another. They wanted to spend every minute of their waking life togeth---

A dull moaning sound awoke Jack from his thoughts. He noticed Beverly was upset about something. She managed to get her car door open and she practically dove for the seat. She slammed the door, fumbled with her keys some more and eventually she got her run down car running. Jack slightly squinted his eyes in confusion. Beverly looked up at Andy and paused for a second, looking into his very soul. Then she wiped her wet eyes and drove off rather hurriedly. Andy sat there, concerned. Confused. Wanting to comfort her. He took this unusual event as his cue to stumble over to the confectionary shelf and eat one of the cheap chocolate bars. Andy glanced back out the window. The violet sky was turning dark blue. Don continued to serenade him through the crappy portable radio.

(There were swirling clouds that were in a violet haze)

It was then that Andy noticed something rather peculiar. It disrupted his mundane daily routine. It was the most exciting and yet the single most scary thing that had ever happened to Andy. As he peered at the Rest Stop 99 sign through the shiny glass, his eyes squinted even more. The turquoise letters were still glowing. No problems there. It was the situation that had occurred beneath the letters that bothered him. The cowboy. The cowboy that so eagerly grinned all day and all night long in his dirty brown uniform. The cowboy that silently taunted Andy by showing him how happy and jovial his life was just sitting there, screwed in and hovering 15 feet in the air. Andy never liked that thing. It gave him the willies as his mother would have put it (god rest her soul). Not only because of its startling grin but because of its eyes. He could have sworn that every so often its eyes were jet black. Andy breathed a very shallow breath. Right now, on this night, at this moment, there was no cowboy visible on the metal plating.

He was missing.

(Andy suffered for his sanity)

A wave of god knows what ran through Andy's body. He didn't know what to think or what to feel. That confusion had heightened. Whatever this, yeah, that's right, whatever THIS was was certainly unusual. Andy was the only person on the property now. There were no diner staff present, no janitor around. The love of his life had left in an emotional wreck. He was left with his own company and Don of course, fingering his guitar strings so beautifully.

Andy perched back behind the counter and continued chewing all that chocolatey goodness. He glanced back at the sign again. Yep. Definitely gone. Whatever did this chocolate bar contain? Something illegal perhaps? Some substance that would go undetected in the back end of nowhere? No. Couldn't be the chocolate bar. He'd consumed them many many times before. No side effects.

Andy's breathing picked up a bit now. The sugar didn't help. He glanced to his left out the window and observed the empty forecourt. The night was incredibly still. Stiller than expected. He lightly sighed and scratched his head before turning round and continuing to graze on the chocolate bar. Then he heard a slight tapping against the window.

Andy's heartbeat seemed to stop. He froze, staring at the sunglasses rack next to the cash register. He wanted to turn around so desperately but he felt that if he did, he might turn to stone. He had no idea what was going on. His eyes fixed on a pair of blue aviators that balanced loosely on the rack. He leaned in ever so closely. In the reflection of the lenses appeared a figure dressed in a cowboy uniform. He was standing outside the window with his hands shielding his eyes, peering in at Andy. He knew exactly who, or what was outside and yet he couldn't fathom how this was happening whatsoever.

That grey cloud became instantly heavier.

“Who are you?” Andy asked hesitantly, staring at the lenses in fear but wonder.

“The Cowboy.” The Cowboy croakily muffled through the glass. His voice sounded gravelly and deep.

“What do you want?” Andy asked, gulping.

“To talk.” The Cowboy said. “You ain't going nowhere.”

Andy's body flooded with something.

“I'm sorry but --”

“Look at you.” The Cowboy said insultingly, raising his voice. “You're sat here all day cooped up in your little box staring into an abyss.”

Andy considered this.

“I don't know what you are but I –“

Suddenly the Cowboy's voice became incredibly clear, almost like he was talking to Jack telepathically.

“You are filled with an empty heaviness. A grey cloud has puffed you up from the inside and swallowed you whole. You're stuck like this. You ain't going nowhere.”

The sound of nails scratching down the sheet of glass pierced Andy's ears and shook him to the core. He watched as the small reflection in the aviator's lenses moved his hands slowly down the window.

“Can you please st--”

“Don't you just wanna escape it all, Andy? Don't you wanna stop this shitty thing you call a life? I mean, look at it Andy. This cloud has consumed you. Devoured you. There ain't no escape. You might as well end it all. Your family are disappointed in you. You'll never get another job because, well, where can you go? You've thought it many times, Andy. This is the back end of nowhere. There's no escape.”

Andy contemplated this in his fear. He was depressed. There was no doubt about that. He felt useless. He felt tired. He felt pointless. He felt incredibly sad. He felt worthless. What was all this worth? His felt like his life was nothing. He himself felt like nothing. Empty and yet filled to the brim. He felt like there was no chance of sunshine. This place had sucked the life out of him. If only he could run away with Beverly. Maybe they could leave this county. Head for somewhere that made him feel alive again. He was sure that Beverly would go wi--

“And don't think that that whore of a waitress will make things any better.” The Cowboy announced.

Andy tensed up. He felt angry, scared and upset but could not express it. He was being drawn in by the Cowboy's words.

“How do you—did you talk to her?” Andy managed to spit out.

“She is riddled with her own woes. Her own misfortune. You think she loves you, Andy? Oh but she does fantasize over you my boy. And I know you do the same over her. Do you think that her rubbing herself in a dirty bathroom is a sign of love, Andy? All she wants is your sex. She desires nothing more. She is nothing but a whore. One of the stray dogs that frequent this joint. She doesn't care about you and you shouldn't care about her. She sees nothing in you.”

(For she couldn't love him, right?)

“You don't know her.” Andy said. “You're not even real. You're just...well...I don't know what you are.”

(Andy's love was true)

“I know you both better than you know yourselves.” The Cowboy spat. “I'm with you every single day. I know what you're thinking. I know what you're feeling. There ain't no hope.” The Cowboy banged on the glass. Andy jumped. “End it all, Andy. Go on. You can do it.”

Andy closed his eyes tightly for a second and they shot back open. The Cowboy's words were engraining themselves into him. He thought he knew that there was no hope. He thought his life could not get any better. He thought that there was no other escape from the grey cloud. The Cowboy smacked the glass again. Andy didn't jump this time.

“End it all, Andy. End it all. You know you want to. You can do it. I know you've thought about my boy. It's the only answer.”

He was completely accepting of the Cowboy's words. As Andy focused on the reflection of the figure, he noticed that the figure was now sort of whisping away, like steam rapidly rising from a cup of atomic coffee. He drifted into a tiny spec across the forecourt and rose suddenly out of vision, but Andy couldn't make out much detail. Those lenses could only show so much.

Andy turned towards the window. There was nobody there. He looked back at the lenses. No-one reflected back at him. He remained in a trance but also in complete awareness of what he was feeling. He looked around the shop. No-one there. Wandering out of the door and into the forecourt, he headed straight toward the glowing sign. Only the word “REST” was illuminated in turquoise. The other letters were not shining and they blended in with the now black starry sky. Andy was dumbfounded.

The Cowboy was back in his place, nailed into the rusty metal poles, smiling joyfully down at Andy as he always had done. The only thing missing was his lasso. Andy noticed that the lasso was on the floor at his feet. He bent down and picked it up, analysing it like a detective searching for clues. He turned and looked out at the broken road and stared for a moment. This was it. Everything had came to this. Andy walked limply back into the gas station with a feeling of certainty. He felt persuaded. Influenced. Pushed over the edge.

He went behind the counter and grabbed the collapsing chair. He carried it over his head and hobbled back outside. He re-approached the sign and he positioned the chair on its right side. The sign was the best place to do it. It's high enough. It'll get attention too, he thought. Andy stood on the chair without much hesitation and he proceeded to tie the lasso around one of the metal poles. The knot kept coming undone. Andy thought that he was never any good at tying knots. Andy thought he was never any good at anything. Eventually he tied the lasso tight and it was secured high enough around the pole. He fashioned a smaller loop at the end of it and he placed it around his neck, tightening it as much as he could. Andy sighed once again, staring down the broken road. He hesitated but only briefly. He shook the chair with his feet until it toppled to the ground.

(There was no hope left in sight)

His body dropped suddenly. His windpipe was slammed shut. His tongue protruded forward and his teeth clamped down and pierced straight through it. He moaned a gurgling moan. That was all his vocal chords were capable of doing. Blood leaked from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. He squirmed quite a bit. His feet would occasionally clang against the rusty metal pole, vibrating it and creating a low humming sound. Something had popped in his neck. The lasso did its job within a minute or two.

(He took his life like lovers often did)

Don McLean had long been absent from the radio's speakers, but late night radio still continued to fill the dingy box of a structure where Andy used to work.

The next morning, Beverly went to work a lot earlier than usual. Around the time when Andy would usually arrive. She headed for Rest Stop 99 with butterflies in her stomach and a feeling of dread surfaced. She had to warn him. She suspected that the Cowboy would be coming for him too. She turned into the broken road and her car lurched over the broken tarmac. It bumped for some time as she thought over everything. The Cowboy had tried to manipulate Beverly too. He had said nasty things. But Beverly wasn't influenced by him. She knew that this place had sucked the life out of her and she now knew what the Cowboy's intentions and desires were.

He had visited her many times that week and bothered her while she worked. Harassed her. At first she believed it to be a dream. A hallucination. Her brain maybe trying to combat the grey cloud that had surrounded her by inventing such a character. But he said such nasty things. He knew how she was feeling. He knew what she was thinking. Last night was the final straw for Beverly. She left hurriedly crying her eyes out, feeling too many emotions to even think about talking to Andy. Heck, she never spoke to him anyway. Why would she suddenly speak to him now, right?

Last night, things started to pop and click into place. Her synapses were firing like crazy. It occurred to Beverly that she had only been depressed since she started working at Rest Stop 99 exactly a year ago. The very hour that she served her first customer, the cloud began to slowly clamp its jaws around her. The more she thought about it, the more pieces she put together and the more information she was given by whoever was listening. She woke up in the night in a cold sweat. That's when everything clicked into place.

The Cowboy wanted to drain the very life out of her. He ebbed and flowed in the walls and in the soil. His presence made her feel isolated and miserable and depressed, and he thrived in and on that isolation and misery and depression. When he finally presented himself to her, she was too emotionally drained to feel scared. She was feeling at her lowest and most vulnerable and that's when the Cowboy tried to tempt her to do the unthinkable, which at that point was the most thought of thing in her life. He wanted to feast on that glorious low frequency that his victims emitted in their last unpleasant moments. Beverly was stronger than he realised. He took her for a fool but he was dangerously wrong. The Cowboy had thrived for far too long, and she would deny him his food.

She started to feel something inside her now. A growing feeling of dread in her heart. She felt guilty. Very guilty. Worried. What if Andy had been suffocating from the cloud? What if the Cowboy had got to him? What if he was trying to tempt Andy? Did Andy know about the Cowboy? What if, in the midst of his rage and his hunger, the Cowboy had decided it was time to push Andy over the precipice? To finish him off? That would be the ultimate revenge, wouldn't it? Andy dead. Cowboy fed. What next? A poor, lonesome Beverly without her precious Andy. What would happen to her? The possibilities were endless, but unsurprisingly one stuck out in her mind more vividly than the others.

Beverly shot a quick look behind her at the pistol and bullets laying on the back seat. Whatever shooting it would do she never knew, or maybe she did. She could see the tall sign come into view. She pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. She quickly looked out the smeared car window, eyeing up the petite Rest Stop parking lot as she turned into it. Andy's car was there alright, in its usual spot. She gawped at the gas station. She gulped and started to sweat a little. Andy wasn't sitting by the window. Alarm bells began to ring. She swung her car around and skidded to a halt, parking over two spaces. What was that hanging from the sign?

Something was dangling from the Rest Stop 99 sign not 20 yards away.

She felt for the door handle and shoved it open, not taking her eyes off of the long object that lightly shimmied left and right in the breeze. Shutting the door gently, she began to make her way towards the sign, already suspecting what was there to greet her but still clinging onto hope that she was wrong. She navigated the rusty pumps. Her high heels echoed under the mossy canopy above her. Her palms were sweating now. The canopy was slowly disappearing behind her as her mind and heart were racing at an ungodly speed. She could almost hear the Cowboy laughing in that gravelly voice of his. Then she saw them. The legs.

She knew those anywhere. The weathered black leather shoes. Black pants with countless chocolate stains on them. Then she took another step. His yellow bowling shirt came into view. She always liked that shirt. Beverly creeped closer, the feeling of dread in her heart now throbbing with life. It was the hair that did it. That tangled brown mess that was never brushed. Beverly took everything in. His head was leaned at some abnormal angle. His face was ever so slightly blue. Blood dried in a red river that meandered down his chin and throat. The left eye was almost sealed shut but the right eye had almost popped out of its socket. Arms dangled at his sides. He was on public display. A trophy.

Beverly's eyes widened, completely aghast. She flicked her eyes briefly above him at the screwed in Cowboy. He was grinning ever so cheekily down at her as he always did, only his face no longer appeared human. The eyes were completely black. The teeth were rotten and as brown as his suede outfit. That was it for Beverly. Something had shattered within her.

Oh boy did she scream.

He had got him. The Cowboy had finished his next meal. And how happy he was. He was very much looking forward to the next course. And hopefully he would be able to feed on her very soon. It certainly looked that way. He looked at her, writhing on the floor in loss and grief. Sobbing herself to near death. Surely she would end herself soon.

The Cowboy was very, very wrong and he wasn't happy for very, very long.

Beverly stormed towards the petrol pumps, filled with rage and woe and adrenaline. She flitted between each pump, spraying gasoline around the forecourt screaming all the while. The smell was dire but glorious. She ran to the car and grabbed her pistol from the back seat, loaded it and strode back towards the sign, noticing that the demonic thing was now looking down upon her in anguish. She shot straight at the thing's head. The sound of splitting metal pierced her ears, but she didn't flinch at the noise. She span around and aimed at the puddles of gasoline that were strewn around the place.

One shot did it.

Flames engulfed Rest Stop 99 in a matter of seconds. The two gas pumps closest to Beverly exploded and she was knocked back into the sign. The heat was almost unbearable, but it felt wonderful all the same. The Cowboy was shrieking and hissing and cursing. 'Spitting feathers' as her mother would have said (god rest her soul).

Beverly smiled while hot tears leaked from her eyes. This was an explosion of suppressed and new emotion but not just her own. The emotion of every single person that had ever suffered at the hands of this fucking thing. She could feel its victims there with her, manifesting through the flames. She was unsure of how many there were.

She dodged back towards her car and span around to see the flames spiralling up the towering sign. The Cowboy was covered in orange heat. The screams became more menacing. A low humming echoed so loudly throughout the premises. The soil shook. The buildings screamed. The lettering at the top of the sign shattered and glass rained down in lethal shards. Within seconds the Cowboy had burned black.

The flames were extinguished quite quickly. Once the place looked utterly cremated, the fire had suddenly lost its ferocity. The flames had disappeared. It was as if the Cowboy's victims knew that he was disposed of and had helped to calm things down. The metal plating that the demonic Cowboy was painted onto fell to the ground, slamming face down. That loud clattering noise was satisfying. There was a chance of sunshine after all. Beverly sweated and panted while sitting on the hood of her car. She knew that Andy was there. She felt his touch. It was comforting. She knew that he was with her and that he always would be.

The grey cloud had finally lifted. Rest Stop 99 was left in its charred state. Who on earth would want to rebuild that cloud of unhappiness? No-one missed it. No-one needed it. Her co-workers turned up on time and were shocked but relieved to find that their place of work had been levelled to the ground. They had felt the grey cloud disappear.

Beverly too had felt the grey cloud disappear, but she was never truly happy or fulfilled ever again. A part of her was missing.

All that remained of the Cowboy was a lone spectral rider that had no true physical form. He would roam the county as a grainy, dark mist in search of another physical structure to latch onto and infest. Nothing would hold him. He didn't have the power anymore. Occasionally a brainless innocent family of four would cruise down Route 99 and pull over, pointing and staring at him. Their cameras would always blow up as soon as they snapped a picture of him. Dozens of puzzled families couldn't explain the experience, but when they approached Hollow Rock, the county's greatest tourist attraction, they're puzzlement was replaced with amazement.

The Cowboy was now a starving, lonely and exhausted entity who felt pointless, worthless and devoid of any life who just happened to be running out of energy to continue operating in this reality.

Serves the fucker right.