Grimoire Aisle 4

TW: violence, death

You know how people say you should try to be friendly with the resident weirdo at school or work ‘cause if they shoot up the place they’re more likely to spare you? Yeah, those people never met Irma Oz. And God I wish I hadn’t either.

I liked my life. Well, more like I was content with it. I’d dropped out of high school, so I made a deal with Gramps that if I moved up to Chicago to live with him, I wouldn’t have to pay rent and I’d get unlimited access to his car. He lived in a beat-up old house that moaned and groaned under the slightest of breezes, and it took me at least a month before I got used to the musty smell. By then I caught on to why Gramps really wanted me around. He didn’t need a nanny or nothing. He could feed and wipe himself just fine, or at least I assumed so. The old man was just lonely. Lonely and slowing down. The only thing of real worth in the house was the giant flatscreen TV he watched basketball games on. Even with the high definition, Gramps couldn’t keep track of the players. Everything was moving too fast.

“Eh, who just scored, Prez,” he grunted, squinting at the television.

“Magics, Gramps.”

“Oh…Oh, okay…”

Thirty seconds later, “Who just scored, Prez?”

And so the cycle went, day in and day out. The old man gave me a weekly allowance to burn (a few hundred bucks for food and gas) but I decided to get a job. More for the change in scenery. The gas station a few blocks down was hiring for a graveyard position. They wanted somebody tough looking who wouldn’t back down when (not if) the nighttime weirdos acted up. I’m a big guy. Haven’t been in a lot of fights but I’d won every one of them. Got hired and, honestly, the gig wasn’t bad.

I was there nearly a year until the manager, Leland, hired Irma. By then I’d gone through four shift partners. You needed at least two people running the store at a time. One person to man the register and the other to clean or stock the store itself. Who did what was mostly up to the employees themselves, but I usually ended up doing the heavy lifting and cleaning. Not that I minded. Made the night go by quicker and it burned some of the extra calories I gained from having an employee discount on food. Nachos, hotdogs, chips, the works. I didn’t get fat, but my jean size definitely went up a few sizes.

Anyway, I was stocking the liquor aisle when evil arrived.

“Prez!” Leland called over. The bell above the door went off as he walked in “Where you at?”

“Yo,” I called back. I hurried to put away the last few bottles before starting down the aisle, heading towards the front of the store. Thanks to my size he spotted me at once, nodded, and started talking to someone. I couldn’t see who it was thanks to the freezer full of energy drinks being in the way. I eventually turned the corner. “What’s up?”

Leland was an older guy, mid-thirties. He’d been covering the graveyard shift with me for the past few weeks ever since my last partner had quit on him. As far as bosses went, he wasn’t the worst. The only way to really piss him off was if he caught you sleeping on the job. I had yet to, so we were on good terms. “Meet your new partner,” he told me, nodding to the girl next to him, “Irma.”

Two weeks, tops, I immediately thought.

She was a skinny thing, some flavor of Asian. Her black hair reached down to her waist. It being the middle of winter, she wore a thick jacket over a wool sweater and faded jeans tucked into snow boots. All the layers made her look skinnier and smaller than she probably was. And young. Leland didn’t like hiring high schoolers if he could help it. The only reason he’d given me the job was because I’d convinced them that Hell would freeze over before I ever went back to school.

Drop out? I pondered. Out loud I said, “Nice to meet you. Name’s Prez,” and offered a hand.

“Irma,” she said in a surprisingly husky voice. She shook my hand. Despite her gloves, the coldness of her hands sent a chill up my forearm.

“Gonna give her the tour,” Leland told me. “I’ll have her training with Tyler during the next few days. She’ll start with you this Monday. Cool?”

“Cool,” I said, clenching and unclenching my hand inside my jacket pocket to try to warm it back up. Without another word to me, Irma shadowed Leland for the rest of the shift. I didn’t pay them much mind unless Leland needed something or wanted me to take over the counter. I went home that morning to Gramps passed out in front of the tv. Not for the first time, I carried him to bed. He was getting lighter, losing weight. That worried me.

Monday arrived and brought snow. That was good and bad. Meant less traffic, but more bums wandering in just to get out of the cold. One of them, a scraggly geezer, brought his dog in with him. When Irma refused to give him a pack of smokes with an ID, the geezer went off, setting off the dog. I immediately rushed over, prepared to slash at the dog with the box cutter in my hands if it tried to bite me.

Not looking away from the geezer, Irma pulled out a tiny book from inside her jacket. She flipped through it, and told him, “Away, Mr. Rosalez.”

The geezer stumbled back, as if she’d hit him. “How’d ya know ma-?”

“Away, Mr. Rosalez,” she said again.

The dog suddenly bolted for the door, started whining while clawing at it.

Clearly the stupider of the pair, the geezer lunged at Irma. “Ya answer me-GET OFF!”

I dropped the knife and grabbed him, pinning his arms to his sides. I dragged him over to the door, took my hand off him just long enough to yank it open, and tossed him out. The snow cushioned his fall, and the dog was all too happy to follow after him. I slammed the door shut and stood vigil. Eventually he got up, flipped me off, and limped away.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

I turned. Irma had put her book away and was staring at me, frowning. Without the dog yipping its head off, the store was quiet except for the hum from the florescent lights over our heads. “But,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “it’s appreciated.”

“…Yeah,” was all I could think to say.

The rest of the night was downright boring in comparison. I kept to myself, stocking and cleaning, but I could always feel her eyes on me when my back was turned. I remember thinking that sunrise couldn’t come fast enough.

Gramps was up and about when I got home, even made breakfast. Said I needed to eat real food, not all that processed crap at the gas station. Feeling relieved, when I was sure he was busy, I called and cancelled the doctor’s appointment I’d set for him.

I’d been dreading working with Irma again, but she was actually pretty normal the next night. And nearly had a nervous breakdown. The snow had melted, meaning constant customers. More than once she panicked while manning the register, needing me to step in and coach her through it. It was actually kind of adorable. Afterwards, coming back from an early break so that she could regain her bearings, she sighed, “Thanks for saving me. Again.”

“No problem,” I chuckled. “You get used to it.”

“Not sure if I want to get used to it.” She shrugged. “This is just an in-between.”

I returned the shrug. “No problem with that.” And I meant it. Just because I was happy with this life, didn’t mean other people had to be. “You taking a semester off?” I asked, wondering if she was actually older than she looked, maybe a college kid.

“Never went to college,” she answered. “Got kicked out of high school actually. Bergen Academy. Ever hear about it?”

“Academy for underprivileged geniuses or kids with rich mommies and daddies,” I replied. I considered asking her why she was expelled, but chickened out. Wasn’t my business. I gestured towards a stack of boxes over by the fridges. “You wanna stock for a bit? I got this.”

“Sure.” She hesitated before then asking, “Prez, why…’Prez?’”   

I got that question a lot.

“First name’s Kennedy,” I said. “Middle name’s Lincoln.”

“Oh,” she said, but I wasn’t done.

“Last name’s Washington.”

“…Your parents suck.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well, I got my revenge. They probably can’t go two seconds without being disappointed in me. When my grandpa asked if I could come live with him, they couldn’t say ‘yes’ fast enough.” I shrugged and spotted people outside heading towards the door. “Anyway, I got this, Irma.”

Over the course of the next few shifts, we’d make more and more small talk when it wasn’t busy or one of us wasn’t busy cleaning. Irma had been one of those rich kids. Her parents had paid her way into Bergen, but the schoolwork had been to much for her to handle. She’d run away, gone hitchhiking across America for a bit. It could have been dangerous if she hadn’t met a few ladies willing to give her a place to stay. But eventually Irma’s parents hired a private investigator to track her down and drag her back to Chicago. Since she wasn’t going to school, they’d mandated she get a job and…Well, clerk at a gas station is a job.

I never asked about the book. She never pulled it out again, and I honestly forgot about it. By spring I thought of her as a friend.

“Prez, do you believe in life after death?” she asked one night out of the blue. She was using the box cutter to help flatten cardboard boxes. In the morning, I’d take them outside to the dumpster in the back before heading home.

“The hell kind of question is that?” I asked through a slice of microwavable pizza.

“The hell and heaven kind, I guess,” she retorted evenly. “If you believe in that kind of thing.”

I chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then told her, “I guess I do. Better than there being just a big, fat nothing.”

“Nothing,” she repeated, sounding a little sad. She flattened the last box and picked up half of the stack. “Help me take this to the back, yeah?”

“You’re a big girl,” I retorted.

“Please,” she pleaded, blinking her eyes at me. “I’ll show you my boooooooobs.”

“Oh, the horror,” I said, rolling my eyes. Nonetheless, I grabbed the remaining boxes and headed down aisle 4, towards the back exit. “So I was thinking, my gramps has the hook up at the local college. Free basketball tickets. Might not be your thing, but-Irma?”

I stopped and frowned at the ground. Irma had dropped the boxes across the floor in front of the exit.

“Irma-Ack!”

A searing cold piece of metal sliced open my throat.

The boxes tumbled out of my arms as I slammed into the floor.

For a moment, all I saw was red. Crimson red gushing out of my throat and across…across a tiny black book. There was movement. Irma stepped out from behind me and hunkered down by my face. She picked up the book. “My hero,” she said. “But I did tell you this was an in-between.” She sighed. “I was really falling in love with you, Prez. And that’s why it had to be you. The greater the sacrifice, the bigger the door.” As she spoke, the fluorescent lights sputtered and went out. Leaving us in near pitch-black darkness. I say ‘near’ because her book’s pages were glowing bright red, illuminating her face.

“I will remember you, Prez, even if nobody else will. Now away.”

My vision was fading fast.

“Away.”

”You…bitch,” I hissed with my dying breath.

“Away.”

Her word wrapped around me like chains, sending me sinking into the dark…

Only for the light to suddenly pull me back up and ask, “Prez, who just scored?”

“G-Gramps?!” His voice jolted me into consciousness. I sat up and immediately touched my throat. It was dry and unhurt. I looked down and saw that I was still in uniform. But the gas station was gone. Replaced by a blank, white void. My grandpa stood a few feet in front of me. He looked bigger than I remembered him. Fuller in the face, less wrinkly. Behind were two floating doors. One was plain and white with a wooden knob. The other was black and covered in circular symbols. They were red, just like-!

“Gramps!” I stumbled to my feet. “Where am I?! Why are you-?’

He laughed. It was strong, hearty laugh. He hadn’t laughed that way since I was a kid. “Prez, son,” he said, sounding proud. He came over and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I tried to wait ‘till you got home but…but I guess it worked out after all.”

“Grandpa,” I heard myself whisper, “we’re dead, huh?”

“Me? Yes,” he answered. “You? Optional.”

“Huh?”

He shifted to the side so that we were standing shoulder to shoulder and pointed to the white door. “That there’s death. A good death.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “You were a good boy. Sure. Lazy, not the brightest, unmotivated-?”

“Did Mom and Dad die too?” I asked dryly.

Gramps ignored me. “But that’s not enough to damn you, son. Now we can go through that door together. Nothing but smooth sailing from then on out.”

“Or?” I said darkly, turning my attention to the other door.

Gramps made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Sacrifice,” he sneered. “If she really knew what that word meant, she never would have touched you. She would have stayed in school. But she wanted an easy escape.” When I just stared at him, confused, he rolled his eyes. “That there’s a door leading into another world. If she’s a minor talent here, she’ll be a monster over on that side. A devil. But to go over, she needed ‘Love’s Blood’, or whatever that cult of cunts call it-”

“How do you know all this?” I asked incredulously.

In answer, he simply pointed up.

“Ah.” I frowned at the door. “So Irma’s a monster now?”

“Worse. A stupid girl who thinks the world owes her.” Gramps’ gaze became unyielding. “Kennedy, you need to remember something if you’re gonna go after her: no world, none of them, owe you a damn thing.”

The strength of his words reverberated through my very being. I was confused and scared. The little kid in me wanted to stay by Gramps’ side, move on and watch basketball games with him in Heaven or whatever.

But before I knew it, I was gripping the black door’s handle. The wood smelled like dead flesh, making me cringe. Yet I held my ground, started to push. As I did so, the sound of a familiar bell filled the void.

“Prez,” Gramps called out to me, his voice fading, “who’s gonna kick her ass?”

“I am.”

I stepped over into Irma Oz’s world.

And the hunt began.