The Town

My GPS got me lost…well, that and my desire to take the scenic route and avoid the freeways. The dense woods surrounding the route it had recommended blocked out everything. It was only when the road narrowed and became a potholed mess that I realized that I wasn’t anywhere near where the GPS said I was.

I should have been able to see the freeway from here, but there was no infrastructure beyond this ill-maintained forest road. Checking my phone, I saw that I had no signal. The choice was to follow this road that climbed ahead of me in hopes of a signal or attempt to turn around on the road that was, by now, a single lane of crumbling asphalt.

Deciding on a compromise, I continued up the road, looking for a spot where the trees were far enough back to allow me to turn around. As I crested a small rise, the road turned to gravel and continued upwards after a blind corner.

Two more blind corners, which had me white-knuckling with the fear that a logging truck might come barreling around toward me, and I reached the peak. Still no signal, but I could see that the road widened back out and led into a small town.

From the distance, it looked idyllic; as I drove through it looked frozen in time. A string of 1940’s and ’50’s cars were parked in front of Sal’s, a mom-and-pop diner. Across the street was an Esso gas station with a sign proclaiming, “Finest Gasoline: $0.27 / gal”. The gas pumps were even the old style, and I had no doubt they didn’t work but were for show. Every one of the ancient cars were in amazing condition. It seemed I had stumbled on a town full of classic car buffs.

A Woolworth’s sat down the street; I had no idea there were any of those left. Next to it was the post office and a barber shop. The barber sat in a chair on the sidewalk reading a newspaper with a headline that declared “Coup in Egypt: King Farouk Ousted.” An appliance and furniture store had old console-type black and white televisions in the front window.

After parking next to one of my dream vehicles, a 1948 Dodge Power Wagon truck with a small dent on the right rear fender, I headed into the diner. Seeing how everyone was dressed, I got the feeling that perhaps I had stumbled into a movie set. Not seeing any cameras or film crew, though, I sat at the bar and asked for a cup of coffee. One thing that struck me was the total lack of diversity. I hadn’t seen a single non-white face.

The waitress, a plump, middle-aged woman of peachy-pink complexion with blonde hair in a medium-length curly wave, dressed in a pink uniform with a matching pink name tag labeling her as Iris, poured a cup and asked, “Anything to eat, hon?”

“No, thanks,” I said, “can you tell me where I am, where to get gas, and how to get to I-80?”

“Eye eighty?” she asked. “Never heard of it. Gas is across the street.” She stared at me over her half-frame glasses. “You’re lost, ain’t ya? Well, you’ll find your way around soon enough.”

“I’m trying to drive coast to coast but not on the freeways. If you could tell me how to get to Toledo, I’d be able to get myself back on track.” I looked up and saw a sign I hadn’t noticed when I entered. It read, “Whites Only.” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“You can’t get there from here,” she said.

I didn’t know if she was making a joke or not, her face didn’t give anything away. The coffee was weak and bitter, not a good cup at all. I pulled out a credit card to pay, and Iris looked at it like it was something foreign.

“I guess you don’t take plastic,” I said. “How much?”

“Five cents.”

I pulled out a dollar and laid it on the bar. “Thanks, Iris. I guess I’ll gas up and get back on the road.”

“Sure. You do that, hon.”

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my car. I was still parked in the same place, but everything had changed. The old cars were replaced with new; the Power Wagon was now a Dodge Ram truck with a dent in the same location. The old Chevys, Fords and Chryslers had been replaced with newer models, and even a few imports. The Esso had been updated to an ExxonMobil station with modern pumps and a convenience store.

I looked at the diner, which was now called “Whirled Peas Grill.” The Woolworth’s had been replaced with a strip mall, the barbershop with a nail salon and a Starbuck’s, and the furniture and appliance store was now a Kroger grocery store.

Had I dreamt the whole thing? The town was small, but certainly modern, and more diverse than most small towns.

I walked into the diner again, or was it for the first time? The layout was the same, but the decor was completely different. I sat in the same stool at the bar, and a stout, middle-aged woman with a deep-brown complexion, bright brown eyes behind square-framed glasses, and graying hair in small, neat dreadlocks approached. Her clothes were modern, but the pink name tag was identical to the one I remembered, the name “Iris” plain as day.

“Back so soon?” she asked. Her smirk made me think that someone might be playing an elaborate prank on me.

“What’s…going on?”

“You’re about to ask me again how to get somewhere, and I’m going to tell you again, you can’t get there from here.” She sighed. “It always takes the new ones so long to figure out they ain’t lost.”

I decided I’d had enough of the nonsense and returned to my car. Less than a quarter of a tank remained. I pulled into the gas station and refilled. It wasn’t difficult to remember the way I’d come, as the main road ran straight through town.

I drove out of the town, ready to tackle the gravel logging road again to get back to where I’d come from. It didn’t take long for the road to turn into the narrow, winding track.

As I reached the peak, I sped up, taking the road at an unsafe speed. I just wanted to get back to someplace sane. Before I knew it, the road opened back up and I found myself heading back into the town…from the other side.

I hadn’t turned off the road at any point. There hadn’t been anywhere to turn off. Yet here I was again. There was a Hispanic man sitting outside the Starbuck’s with an open laptop. He reminded me of…no, he was…the barber that had been reading the paper. He watched me slow to a stop in the middle of the street and laughed.

After parking in the same space I’d been in before, the tank still reading full, I walked the town. I could feel all eyes on me. As I walked past the site of the former Woolworth’s, a small woman stepped out of the real estate office there and waved me in.

She had amber eyes with sun-touched, golden skin, long, straight, inky black hair and a wide smile. “Come in,” she said.

The interior of the office was what one would expect in a strip mall; cheap, industrial-grade brown carpet, beige walls, blue plastic chairs with chrome legs, and on the wall an Ohio state realtor’s license for one Victoria Yun.

She motioned to a chair in front of the single desk in the office. “Please, have a seat. I’m Victoria, and I have the perfect condo for you. It’s in a converted, turn-of-the-century three-story, just a couple of blocks from here.”

There was a small pile of paperwork on her desk, on top of which rested a house key on a Yun Realty keychain. I looked at the paperwork and the key and shook my head.

“What makes you think I want to rent or buy a condo here?” I asked.

“What makes you think you don’t?” she asked.

“I already have a home, and I just want to get back there.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Her eyes turned solid black as a scowl crossed her face. “You are here, and there is no more there for you.” Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was replaced with a warm smile and her bright, amber eyes.

“This is ridiculous! This whole town is nuts.” I stood to leave, and she grabbed my arm.

“You don’t want to leave now,” she said, “no one will let you in after dark.”

“If I can’t leave town to work, how can I pay rent or mortgage?” I checked my phone again, still no signal.

“That’s not something you need to worry about anymore.” She picked up the paperwork and key. “Let me at least show it to you before you make up your mind.”

“Fine.” I don’t know why I agreed, except that her surprisingly tight grip on my arm made me feel I had no choice.

We walked the two blocks to the old house, and she opened a side door with the key. Inside, the one-bedroom unit boasted top-of-the-line appliances, hardwood floors, and a spacious spa bath. The unit was fully furnished, including clothes…my clothes from home filled the closet.

I ran to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was my bottle of imported porter, waiting for my return home. I took it out, found my hand-forged bottle opener in the drawer where I would expect to have put it in this kitchen, and popped the top.

Without taking my eyes off her, I drank the entire bottle and put the empty on the counter. I returned to the fridge and opened it up to grab a snack. The bottle I’d taken was back there, full. I spun around, and the bottle that I’d set on the counter was gone.

“What the hell is this place?”

“It’s not hell,” Victoria said. She slid the paperwork toward me.

It was a deed of title in my name, with no mention of money anywhere. Her signature was already on her portion. She handed me a pen and pointed at the line on the last page. “Just sign here and we’re all set,” she said.

“What is this place?”

“We mostly just call it ‘The Town’, but I guess you could call it limbo? Maybe purgatory?” She shrugged. “Does it matter? This is where you live now, like it or not.”

“H—how long have you lived here?”

“I got here in 1925,” she said with a smile, “in the truck you parked next to…a former version of it, anyway. It’s nice when we get a new resident and things update.”

“Update how?”

“Everything you experienced helps shape the town. Or hadn’t you noticed? Luis got here in ’52, and you’re the first since then,” she said.

“If you say so. What happens if I don’t sign?”

“You’ll sleep in your car,” she said, “if you dare. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”

“What does that mean?”

She looked at her watch. “Oh, it’s already dark; I should’ve realized when the beer reset. We’ll have to stay the night here. You get the couch.” Without waiting for a reply, she went into the bedroom and locked the door behind her.

I opened the front door to the darkness that had fallen too fast for a normal sunset. The night was wrong. Fog rolled across the ground in a dense wave, smothering the town; it smelled of damp soil and decay. Some instinctual part of my mind cowered.

Dread gripped my heart, which thudded and skipped and threatened to jump out of my throat. Screams of something primal…something primeval…echoed in the distance. The sound of great, leathery wings flapping overhead, followed by a crash at the eaves three floors up, drove me back indoors.

I bolted the door behind me and retreated to the bathroom, where I curled up in the fetal position, hidden in the spa tub. Victoria woke me in the morning with a smile. “Ready to sign?” she asked.

Nodding meekly, I followed her into the kitchen and signed the paperwork. She handed me my copy and the key.

“You should move your car before tonight,” she said. “Iris lets me slide, but she might get mad if you leave yours there much longer.” She leaned in close and whispered, “And you really don’t want to see Iris mad. She’s been here eons, and she’s…seen things. She’s the only one brave enough to go out at night.”

I followed her back to the main street and got into my car and started it up; less than a quarter of a tank. I parked near my condo and looked up at the house. Large claw marks marred the eaves where something had perched the night before. The sound of the scream in the night echoed in my memory. This was my life…afterlife?…now, like it or not, and I resolved to never open the door after dark again.