The Diner

The Diner -

The Jeep Cherokee pulled to the right. Cursing under his breath, he jammed on the brakes and slowed the vehicle down. Once stopped, he climbed out and walked around to the passenger side. The tire had definitely blown. Slamming his fist into the hood of the mechanical beast, he cursed some more under his breath. Kicking up dust and dirt with his feet in a raging temper tantrum while walking to the back of the car, he couldn't believe his dumb luck. Opening the back door, he rummaged through the rear and cursed some more. He couldn't find the jack he thought he had placed in the vehicle before this trip. What enraged him even more was the fact that when he pulled up the thin cardboard to find the spare tire, that was missing as well. His temper tantrum blossomed into a full rage of cursing and foot stomping in the graveled dust. It wasn't the vehicles fault. It was his fault. He realized he had left the jack and the spare tire in his wife's Cherokee when they had taken hers out to the ocean.

After several long minutes, he collected his thoughts and controlled his anger. He patted down his pockets and found a pack of cigarettes. Rarely did he smoke, but the craving licked at him with vile affliction. Lighting up the coffin nail, he leaned against the hood of his car, staring up into the starlit sky. Realization crept over him that he was in the middle of nowhere.

A few paces ahead. Gleaming against the headlamps was the milepost sign. Mile post 95. He remembered the stories his grandfather and father would tell him. Strange things happened at night between Mile Post 85 and 95. He looked over the surroundings, taking in everything.

Several miles to the east were some rolling hills. He remembered the many trips his family would take over the pass. The rolling hills reminded him of slumbering giants. They still do. To the West was an expanse of farm lands; an earthen ocean that seemed to meet the velvet canvas of sky. When he looked to the south, the road he was traveling on seemed to stretch into eternities past, mirroring eternities future when he turned to the north.

Finishing the cigarette, he dropped the butt to the ground and with the toe of his boot; he grounded it into the graveled ground of the road. He went to the driver's side and retrieved his cell phone. Checking the display screen, he cursed. The mobile device showed no service. Tossing the useless equipment onto the passenger seat, he slammed the driver's door. He was stranded. The only options were to hang out with his vehicle and hope someone would pass by and stop; or, he could begin to stretch his legs northward and see if he could find a place that had a phone he could use. He opted for the latter, reasoning that it would be better to walk until either someone passes by to offer him a ride, or he reaches an unknown destination to call for help. As he found his pace, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and held his head up high. He wasn't going to let this setback defeat him.

The evening air was cooling as he lit another cigarette, having walked a couple of miles. Turning to look back, he could see nothing behind him. The stories his grandfather and father use to tell him were about a vehicle that would drive up. An old vehicle from the 1930's or early 40's would stop. The driver, a lady, would offer to give a person a ride to a diner a few miles up the road. Sucking on the butt of his cigarette, he chuckled and pushed the thought aside. His feet carried his bulk further up the road, his eyes adjusting to the darkness that surrounded him.

He stopped when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. Looking southwardly, he could see the growing plume of headlights as the car slowed, then stopped. He let out a low whistle. The vehicle was definitely something out of the mid 30's of the twentieth century. He remembered the pictures his grandfather had showed him. The elongated nose of the car was burgundy with chrome trimming. The spare tire was attached to the passenger side of the hood. The driver's side door opened up awkward than what he had seen most car doors open.

"You need a ride somewhere?" She asked. He couldn't see her very well. Stepping around the vehicle to escape the blinding of the headlamps of the vehicle, he could see the lady much more than before. She was petite. Long curly brunette hair fell around a round face. Her lips were thin, pinched in cupid bow smile.

"My car broke down a few miles back." He said, pointing down the road she had come.

"I can give you a ride to a diner up ahead if you wouldn't mind." She smiled, her eyes seemed to sparkle. They reminded him of the crystal blue lagoon off the white sandy beaches of Mexico. "They have a payphone, and some good food." Her voice was an angelic sing-song melody as he couldn't help but smile.

"I would appreciate that." He said. He walked around to the passenger side and climbed in. He had never ridden in a Duisenberg before, and was intoxicated by the beauty of (not only the vehicle, but the lady driving) the vehicle.

The silence between him and the mysterious lady seemed to loom with a suffocating thickness when he noticed a diner up ahead. The woman pulled the vehicle to a stop, parking the vehicle and turned to face him. He could make out more of her beauty in the neon light of the diner. She had soft features.

"There's a phone inside, I will get us a table." She flashed him a smile and a wink before exiting the vehicle. He sat there alone for a moment. The diner was an old Railroad coach car. He had never seen it before in this area. As he stepped out of the vehicle, he looked around. Something about the area seemed familiar to him. When he lit a third cigarette, he caught the mile post sign of 95, but his Cherokee was no longer there. The same rolling hills loomed in the distance of the twilight. Turning, he saw the woman standing at the entrance of the diner, beckoning him inside.

Filled with trepidation, he ventured in through the door. The clanging of dishes, muddled conversations, and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hang in the air. She took his hand into hers and escorted him to a booth in the back of the café. Sitting down across from her, a waitress had appeared from almost nowhere.

"What can I get ya!" She had a rough feminine voice. Her mouth was constantly chewing gum as she held the pen in her right hand and the ticket book in her left. Her hair was dishwater blond, pinned up to one side.

"Coffee please," I said.

"I'll take a cup to." The lady said. She then peeled out of the thick jacket she was wearing, revealing a black dress that seemed to cling to her curves. He couldn't remove his eyes from the beauty of the woman. The waitress pushed the pen into her thick jungle of hair and disappeared.

"You from these parts?" She asked him.

"No, not really, my car broke down." He stopped himself before speaking further. Looking around the diner, he noticed he seemed out of dress. Everyone was wearing clothing that seemed less than a century old. Men wore fedoras, while the women were dressed in plain dresses and skirts. The waitresses were wearing white doily caps, pink stripped shirts and skirts. Yet, no one seemed to take to his strange outfit of an Armani suit, shined black dress shoes, and silk tie. The woman across from him took his hand into hers.

"You got any smokes?" She asked. Her voice held a teasing sensual tone as she looked at him. Her blue eyes seemed intoxicating as he removed a pack from the inside pocket of his jacket. He lit one for her, then himself. "Thank you darling." She then glided her palm along his jaw line.

The waitress placed two cups of coffee before the couple.

He stirred in sugar and cream into his cup and kept a watchful eye upon this mysterious lady across from him. The nagging sense that ate at the back of his mind seemed to trouble him as he kept pushing it further back.

"You married?" She asked, pointing to his wedding band.

"Yeah, somewhat," he set aside the spoon and took a drink. "We've been separated for several months now."

"Where is a tall drink of water like yourself headed this time of night?" She asked. She bit her lower lip after taking a drink from the cup. The waitress intruded upon their conversation.

"You love birds want something from the grill?" She winked at him.

"I could use something to eat." He offered the lady a menu and after a few moments of looking over the choices, the two placed their order with the dishwater blond. She thanked them and disappeared to leave the two alone.

"Where are you from?" he finally asked her.

"I'm from around here." She smiled. "Much like these folks here. Everyone seems to come here and stay for quite a bit of time. No one seems to go home." She took a drag from the coffin nail. "You not from around here, I can tell." She tugged at his tie. "Your clothing is strange, but looks good on you." She leaned forward, pulling on his tie as her lips met his in a kiss. When he sat back in his chair, he noticed the din of the place had quieted. No one seemed to speak. Dishes were no longer clanging around angrily with each other. He turned to look around and noticed that a man stood in the door way. He was clothed in all black. Held in his hand was a colt .45.

"Mae, what the hell you think you doin!" He called out. He moved swiftly from the door of the diner to where they were sitting. All eyes were on the trio in the back of the place. "Get up fella!" He reached out and grabbed the man by the collar, ripping him out of the chair. "You got some explainin to do!"

"She offered me a ride, cause my car broke down outside." He said, pulling from the stocky gentleman. He kept his eye on the one eyed monster in the man's hand. "I'd put that away if I were you." He hated weapons pulled on him.

"I bet she offered you a ride. She always offerin some guy a ride." He wiped the drool from his thick lips. "Mae, how much you getting from this fruitcake?" He asked.

"Oh shove it Charley." Mae said. The brunette screamed, pushing her way between the two men. "You always coming in here and destroying all my fun."

"Destroying all your fun Mae?" The man asked. He then pulled back and backhanded Mae. She fell to the floor, her body smacking with a dull thud.

"Hey, I don't like it when a man hits a lady." He said, clenching his fists. When the other gent turned to face him, he landed a right hook across the strong jaw of the man in black.

"Charley, don't!" Mae screamed as she scrambled to her feet. It was too late. Charley had leveled his iron and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed in the diner as the other man fell back against the table he shared with Mae.

"What the fu..." He fought against the pain that swam in his body. Light seemed to dim as he could hear the sound of sirens screaming off in the distance. Voices mingled and faded as he fought to keep from falling into the pit of darkness. He felt the blood trickle from the wound. Everything suddenly went black.

When he awoke, he found himself standing outside of the diner. His Cherokee was being hosted up by the tow truck. Two State Patrol vehicles were parked to the side while one patrolman was finishing up his report. He didn't remember his vehicle being damaged, outside of the blown tire. Up ahead of the tow truck was an ambulance that had turned around and headed south. As he watched the ambulance disappear in the distance, he turned to see Mae standing at the door to the diner. Behind him, the radio squawked from the radio. He then heard the Patrolman respond.

"This is Officer Bennett. The victim's name is Michael Chaften. Need to find out his next of kin, to inform them of the fatality by on State Route 16, mile post 95." The officer then turned and approached the other officer.

Michael just stared in disbelief when he felt Mae by his side. The lady who had picked him up as he was walking to call for help took his hand into hers.

"Come." She smiled as he looked into her eyes. Where there used to be soft blue eyes, they now were black, hauntingly black. He felt a chill as he looked to see all the patrons of the diner stare at him. "You're here with us now. No more pain, no more sorrow. Come inside and grab a bite to eat."