Calvin closed his eyes and tilted his head back. It was better to have this one cabby transformed into a corpse than an entire movie theater of people. He could go the rest of his life without a repeat experience of that.
“Is there an address you want to be dropped off at?” the cabby asked.
“No. The old Ralphs building is fine.”
“I do not know old Ralph building.”
“I thought you knew the town. Just drop me off at the Weinershnitzel. You know where that is, right? On Wintergardens.”
“I… I’m not so familiar with Lakeside.”
“You can’t miss it. On the left hand side of the road just after O’Reilly’s.”
The smell of decay subsided. Now the cab smelled faintly of body odor and cheap cologne and that unmistakable smell, however faint, of the many asses that have graced this very seat. Better to smell ass than decay.
The cabby kept stealing glances in the mirror, but Calvin pretended that he didn’t notice. He just hoped the guy wouldn’t try to talk to him. He had too much on his mind to entertain a lonely taxicab driver.
The Weinerschnitzel was a bright yellow and red affair with nary a car in the drive-thru at this time of night. Lakeside in and of itself was one of those towns that pretty much went to sleep around eight in the evening save for a spattering of beer bars and a few fast food joints. The hotdog chain was on the street side of the lot. It appeared to be the only business that was open, surrounded by so many that had failed and were never resurrected into something new. None of the stores were occupied at the rear of the huge lot where the old Ralphs building was located.
Calvin decided to have the taxi drop him off closer to the street, that way the driver didn’t know where he was going. He paid an exorbitant fare for what proved to be but a ten-minute ride and tipped the guy a buck. He thought of pulling the ol’ rip a five- or ten-spot in half and promise the cabby the other half for the assurance that he would be there to pick Calvin up later in the night, but there were plenty of cab services to choose from. No use wasting good money on a ten-minute ride.
According to the flyer, the Hall of Hell was somewhere near the old Ralphs building. There certainly was no indication that anything was going on back there. The tall lights that once lit up the parking lot when Ralphs was in full swing were either turned off or had burned out and never been replaced, which created an even more eerie depth to the vacant strip mall.
As Calvin walked out of the illumination from the vibrant yellow-and-red hotdog palace, he became aware of the shadows. The parking lot was an open expanse of lights sprouting from blacktop like the husks of dead trees and broken, crumbling parking blocks. Not a lot of places for shadows, yet he caught glimpses of black all around him, as if someone or something was following him.
Bathed in unease, Calvin increased his pace. He still wasn’t sure where he was going. Dead ahead was the Ralphs building. To his left was a fence with a large drainage ditch that he assumed went under Wintergardens Boulevard and into the sewer or wherever drainage ditches led to. Perhaps to a more central ditch that weaved through the cities and eventually led to the ocean. To his right was the massive expanse of parking lot that was completely vacant, but how could that be? If others were invited to the Hall of Hell there should be cars. There was no way everyone else took cabs or public transportation.
Shadows taunted him from the corners of his eyes. If he shifted his gaze they disappeared like elusive hallucinations that never quite formed. As he neared the Ralphs building, Calvin began to wonder whether or not he was stepping into a trap. Maybe he was being set up. Before the night was over he could end up one of the corpses on a new video. Or could he? The images on Death’s Door were from police files, not snuff films, but he couldn’t stop his mind from going there.
Calvin stopped on the concrete walkway at the corner of Ralphs, maybe a hundred yards from the door. The shadows were more intense here, but the shadow beings seemed to have retreated, for now at least, whether in the flesh or just within the walls of his mind.
There were a few options to consider. The Hall of Hell could be inside the abandoned building; parking could be in the rear to avoid unwanted street-side attention, which would make sense. Who sets up a secretive meeting and then draws attention with a full parking lot in an abandoned strip mall? Back in the day Calvin’s friend Russ used to go to those spur of the moment raves that would take place in abandoned supermarkets or warehouses. They were planned in advance, but no one was given the location until less than twenty-four hours to show time, that way it was harder for the police to be tipped off. On the other hand, this could all be some sick prank. Maybe a deadly prank.
Maybe a prank that ends in a body bag.
Calvin took a tentative step toward a strip of one-lane blacktop that wrapped around the abandoned grocery store to where the dumpsters and loading docks were located. On the other side of the asphalt was a fenced-off drainage ditch. The building cast an immense shadow that stretched across the weathered drive and almost reached the fence. There was nothing in the shadows, yet Calvin’s mind filled the void with so many vile images roiling like some formidable beast formed of human death, a vile thing of decayed torsos and ripe heads dripping with viscous gore and rancid flesh. It was so real he could smell it, could hear thick, slimy gore drip and splat on the ground like globs of melted cheese.
He walked steadily, telling himself that when he turned the corner he was going to see cars back there behind the supermarket. He was going to see cars and maybe even some people. Like-minded people. His people. All of these petty fears would be abolished and he would flash a knowing grin and maybe even the flyer, just to make it clear that he was there for the same reason. Yes, folks, I’m just as fucked up in the head as you are.
Picking up his pace, Calvin felt a sudden confidence about this whole ordeal. Starting something new had always made him nervous going back to when he was a little boy. He remembered his first day in grammar school. He’d been worried sick about finding his classroom and making friends and whether or not his teacher was going to be mean or nice. He hadn’t even eaten his lunch that day. He felt the same way whenever he started a new job, and he felt that very nervousness, that tightening in his guts as he turned the corner at the rear of the building, now cloaked in darkness.
No one was there.
No cars. No people. Nothing.
Calvin lifted the flyer to have a look at it. Had to hold it close to see in the dark. He thought that maybe he had the wrong time, or even the wrong day, but no, he was there on time.
A tap on the shoulder almost caused him to piss his pants. He shuddered and stifled the girlish scream that threatened to rock his vocal chords. When Calvin turned around no one was there. No one at all. He couldn’t imagine that someone would be able to dash into hiding without him getting even a glimpse of them.
“Down here,” said a voice so close it could only have come straight out of Calvin’s mind. “Come to the fence.”
It was Mr. Ghastly.
Calvin pocketed the flyer as he walked toward the fence. On the other side was a large drainage ditch overgrown with weeds and teeming with moss and slimy greenish muck where a trickle of water ran down the middle. He looked to his right where the ditch was consumed in darkness and trees, past which was a neighborhood butted up against the rear of the huge strip mall lot. Calvin then looked left, toward the street, and saw the huge concrete culvert that the trickle of water from the ditch drained into. At the entrance to the massive pipe was a tall skinny man in a black suit. His face was pale, waxen, his hair thin and white. He gestured to Calvin with his bony index finger and then turned, hunched down, and began walking into the pipe.