Down The Highway

Marc groaned when his car tire suddenly went flat in the pouring rain. He slapped his steering wheel from frustration. Pulling off the highway, his little blue car struggled to steer through the gravel. After such a busy day at work, this was the last thing he needed. All he wanted was to rest after working fourteen hours, but the universe didn’t want that. The window thumped as he pressed his head against it, staring out at the rain in misery.

From inside, he wasn’t getting a signal. He debated getting out of the car as he stared at the heavy rain. Although he didn’t want to leave the safety of the car, there was no choice but to verify whether he could get a signal outside.

               He strapped his jacket tighter and pulled his hood over. The loud rain shattered as he quickly climbed out of his car. Slapping the door close, he held his hood tight, keeping the wind from snatching it. As he sprinted, his shoes slapped the wet pavement.

From waving his phone around, through the trees, he saw a hazy neon light in the distance. His eyes squinted, trying hard to see what it could be. The trees were narrow as he squeezed through the woods, hoping to find the source of the light. Through a crack of the trees, he saw a 2-story building. The small parking lot was void of cars.

               Above hung a sign, ‘Summer Lounge’. Below it, near the door was a bright neon sign flashed ‘OPEN’. The windows were boarded up with wooden planks. Thoughts raced into his mind. Why was there a restaurant in the middle of nowhere without a sign on the highway? Why were they boarded up if the sign said ‘OPEN’?

He hesitated before he opened the door but when he did, he saw a full bar, with lively music and customers chanting for more shots. It was what he expected a normal bar would sound like at nine at night.

               Almost all the tables were filled with loud, rowdy customers. The bar was empty though, with only a bartender mixing drinks. He took a seat on one of the squeaky bar stools as he watched a group take shots, then scream for more shots. He laughed, thinking it was ridiculous.

               “Welcome Marc,” a blond bartender said. She smiled wide, grabbing some tequila and grenadine.

               “H-how do you…?” Marc stuttered.

               She laughed as she flicked his nametag with her thumb and forefinger, “Did you forget you were wearing this?”

               He sighed, “It’s been a long day.” He paused then said, “I’ll admit, it did freak me out that the windows are boarded. I thought this place was abandoned.”

               “Oh, that’s just because we throw a lot of weekend events during the daytime. It’s to keep the sunlight away.” She smiled as she started shaking up a drink.

               “That makes sense,” Marc said as she poured orange juice mixed with tequila into an ice filled, chilly cup. She topped it off with the grenadine.

               “Do you want a drink?” She asked, handing off the drink to someone behind him.

               “No, I shouldn’t,” He said in a stern voice as he remembered what brought him in, “I have a flat tire and I was wondering if you had a phone? I need to call someone.”

               “What’s this I hear about car trouble?” said an older man whose face was wrinkled but his hair was as black as darkness. He stood next to the blond bartender as he eyed Marc.

               “M-my tire went flat I just need to call someone,” Marc mumbled. The older man’s smile was odd. His eyes were empty as he stared with a wide grin and teeth showing.

               “That’s too bad. I’m the manager here and I’d be happy to call you a tow truck.” His grin widening by the second.

               “That’s okay. I don’t mind calling myself,” Marc insisted as he stood up from the barstool.

               “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get that tow truck here as soon as possible. Why don’t you have a drink? Shelley it’s on the house.” The manager said as he powerwalked his way to the back room.

               Shelley poured rye whiskey, vermouth, and a splash of bitters into the shaker. A grin spread across Shelley’s face as her dead eyes stared into his soul. She shook the shaker until she was satisfied, poured it into an ice-filled cup and topped it with a maraschino cherry. The cup made a light thunk as she placed it in front of him as worry spread across his face.

               “It’s a Manhattan,” Marc stared at it. This was Marc’s favorite drink wherever, whenever. His skin prickled him with goosebumps as he said, “This is my favorite drink.” He said it as if it was unbelievable.

               “Is that no good?” Shelley frowned playfully. She tilted her head and said, “You looked like a Manhattan kind of guy. Was I wrong?”

               “No.” Marc wondered if he was being too sensitive because he was tired. Not to mention his flat tire. Maybe she was being a good bartender and nothing more. He continued, “It’s actually my favorite drink.”

               “I knew I got that right!” Shelley shouted excitedly as she waved her hands in glee.

Marc smiled as another the waitress approached the front. She crossed her hands over her chest and said, “They keep ordering shots. It’s ridiculous.”

The waitress didn’t seem as smiley as Shelley and the manager. The difference in attitude helped calm him down. If the waitress had been happy-go-lucky too, Marc would’ve gone right back out into the pouring rain. As he took a sip of his drink, his eyes widened unexpectedly, “Wow. This is the best drink I’ve ever had!”

“Thank you,” Shelley grinned.

The manager came out of the room and hollered, “How are the drinks?”

“Did you call the tow truck? Are they coming?” Marc questioned.

“What?” the manager said in a completely serious tone. The manager stared at Marc with unblinking wide eyes. He cleared his throat and said in a happy cheerful tone, “Yes! They should be coming within the hour.” He smiled wide with teeth.

“Do you want another drink?” Shelley asked in the same cheerful tone as the manager.

Marc couldn’t say a word. His skin grew goosebumps as his hair stood on end.

Suddenly, the waitress screamed in a loud voice, “YOU ARE SCARYING HIM!”

Everything around him stopped. It was like everyone else around him was frozen in time. They stared aimlessly, frozen with drinks in their hands. Some were frozen in the middle of playing foosball. Marc shifted, snapping out of his frightened trance, falling backwards from his stool. The front door thudded as he panickily rammed into it. No matter how many times he turned the knob, it wasn’t budging.

He whimpered to himself as he tried to control his unease. Goosebumps arose all over his arms. The feeling ran down his spine. Slowly, he turned his head to look behind at the whole bar.

A tear ran down his face as he noticed that every single person was staring at him with an unnaturally wide smile filled with teeth. They stood motionless as if their Marc was about to take their photo. His eyes wandered to the bathroom all the way to the back and wondered if there was a window in there. Without a second thought, his legs lunged him towards the bathroom. A slimy feeling ran through him as if they were going to move at any second to reach for him.

The door banged against the wall as he burst into the bathroom, closing the door behind him shut. His hands felt for the light switch in the dark. When he flipped it on, he noticed there was no window. An AC unit was blowing in air from above. This time his tears ran like faucets as he began to hyperventilate.

Unwavering fear washed over him as he realized he was trapped. He looked towards the thin vent but there was no way he was squeezing through. His only option was to go back out. His tears calmed as he took deep breaths.

After he pulled open the door, many smiling faces staring at him. They stood only a few inches away from his face. He tried to scream but the fear was too much. He yelled and that was the last thing he ever knew.

The sun shined brightly the next day as the rainy clouds had disappeared overnight. A police officer, Henry, sped down the highway as he patrolled his area near a highly wooded area. If the trees were taller, they would have blocked the high noon sun. In the silence he hoped his shift would end. In 30 minutes, he’d be able to go home and sleep. His eyes resisted the tiredness, forcing his lids to stay open.

With dread, he jolted awake, noticing a vehicle coming up ahead on his right. He groaned, “Not another one.” This was the 12^th time this happened along this road during his shift. Under the shade, he parked his car behind the blue car. The door squeaked open as he kicked it open, swinging wide. As tired as he was, he took his time sauntering over to the driver window. Not to his surprise, there was no one inside. Just like all the other ones.

“Hey there’s another 11-24 along my route.” He said on his radio. There was a chirp then a response.

“What’s your route?” said a voice quickly. It chirped again.

“North 202,” He responded. What he didn’t tell her was that he was going to look around. He didn’t want to look too long, but he was curious. Twelve cars have been abandoned along this highway since he was assigned here. It was strange. Suspicion grew after 6 cars. For whatever reason nobody except him cared. Just another missing person case with no leads to toss aside.

The area was nothing too impressive. Just a regular forest with tall trees. After walking only a few feet, the sign caught his eye. It was a sign that was brightly lit, even in the bright sunny day. It read, Summer Lounge. His eyebrows furrowed as confusion grew in his stomach. Growing up, he’d pass down this road many times, never ever seeing any sign of this bar.

 Although it was in the middle of the forest. Maybe it was just an old, abandoned bar. The windows were all boarded up with long thick planks. Were they put there to keep squatters out?

He approached the front door and tried the knob. As he opened the door, a rupture of voices erupted from inside. It was far lively than any bar Henry had ever seen before at noon. There was a large group of people shouting for shots. An angry waitress walked over with a tray filled with shots attempting to replenish the cravings of the drunks. At the bar was a man sitting while he talked to a blond bartender. She smiled as she noticed Henry.

“Want a drink?” She asked with a big smile. The man drinking the Manhattan, turned around to face Henry. On the man’s chest was a name tag that read Marc.

Marc lifted his glass as if to cheer and said, “You should come join us. Have a drink.”