The Gas Station at Midnight

The Gas Station at Midnight.

The car stalled three times under the flickering streetlight. Jasper Padget swore, the sound muffled due to the cigarette between his teeth. He needed a smoke, but his damn lighter wouldn’t light. Finally, a small flame kissed the end of his cigarette, and his shoulders began to relax. Exhaling slowly, he watched the smoke dissipate in front of him. That’s better. 

The gas station loomed to his left. Out of the driver’s side window, Jasper could see the dirty white brick building, the doors and windows covered with rusted bars, the faded signs advertising a firefighter cookout and a lost dog. Jasper couldn’t read the name of the dog until he had one hand on the door handle. A bell rang through the store when Jasper entered. The combination of unwashed linoleum and bright fluorescents make Jasper squint in defense, his eyes blinking to adjust. 

The store appeared to be a desolate wasteland. Half the shelves were empty, the rest had products packed on top of each other, with fallen items littering the cracked floors. Bugs the size of his pinky crawled across the floor to scurry into corners. 

Jasper’s cry of “Hello?” rang out in echo. When no one answered, he repeated it. A crash behind an ‘employees only’ door made Jasper jump backward, knocking down some sort of packaged pastry. He’d dropped to pick them all up, and didn’t hear the man come through the door. 

“You robbing me?” Jasper jumped again at the gruff voice so close behind him, and dropped some of the pastries he’d collected. 

“Oh, gosh no,” defended Jasper, looking at the moldy food in front of him. “No, I mean, this was an accident. I didn’t mean to knock them over, I just came in and I didn’t see anyone and–”

“From outside?” The man’s glossy eyes flickered over to the door Jasper had come in. 

Jasper paused after the interruption. He eyed the old fellow, taking in his open mouth expression, unfocused eyes, his hands that hung at his side were rough and wrinkled. A long gash looked as if it had just begun to heal on his forearm. 

“Yes, I just got some gas, but my car won’t start,” Jasper said slowly, standing up. The man didn’t even look at him.

“That car out there yours?” 

Jasper’s beater Chevy was the only car outside. The streetlight spotlight illuminated the vehicle, contrasted by the consuming darkness around it. The shadows weaved and waned in the flickering light. 

“Yes, that one’s mine.” 

“You came in from out there?” 

“Ye-es,” drew Jasper, “I just came in from outside. I’m sorry sir, the light was on, I know it’s late. I just thought I might be able to get some help. I’m sorry.”

“Help, huh.” The old man exhaled sharply. “The door was unlocked?” 

“Yes, that’s how I got in.” The old man nodded once. “Look, is there some sort of problem? I’m sorry it’s so late–” Jasper checked his watch, just four after midnight. 

The old man wasn’t listening, he walked to the door, and turned the lock sharply. Jasper felt a hard lump in his throat. 

“Why did you come here…at this hour?” The old man didn’t look at Jasper, but his question made Jasper’s neck crawl all the same. 

“I needed gas, it’s a long drive to Portland.”

“It’s a long ways from the main highway. How did you get here?”

“I’m terribly lost. I understand this is an inconvenience.” Jasper looked uneasily around the store, then at the man’s back. “Tell you what, just tell me where the nearest motel is, and I’ll get out of your hair. I didn’t mean to cause you such a disturbance.” He quickly set the pastries back into their box, and shoved his hand into his pocket for his keys, his phone. His stomach dropped as he felt nothing but fabric. Both were on the driver’s seat. Just behind the man now, he cleared his throat. 

“If you’ll excuse me…” Jasper tried to get around him. 

“You came in, from out there?” the old man’s finger left a spot on the glass where he’d poked the door. “You came in from the shadows, in the middle of the night? All alone?” 

“...What?” 

The old man turned his face to Jasper. His eyes were no longer glazed and unfocused, but sharp, and afraid. His eyes searched Jasper’s face between glances outside. 

“How did you get inside?” 

Jasper didn’t understand the question. “The door was unlock–”

“No, I mean how did you get inside? How did you get past them? It’s after midnight, how did you get inside?” 

The old man’s mouth quivered as he gazed out into the darkness. He backed away slowly from Jasper, until he was behind the register. Then, he upturned drawers, throwing contents to the floor, then a moment later, threw open the cabinets behind him. He pulled a sawed–off shotgun out of the cabinet, and pointed it at Jasper. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” howled Jasper. He threw his hands up in response, and backed into another end of an isle. “Why’ve you got that pointed at me?!” 

The old man’s eyes were merciless. “I know what you are! You’re one o’ them aren’t you?! Aren’t you?! You got inside but I’m not letting you get away!” 

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?” 

“DON’T MOVE, DON’T YOU DARE!” 

“I’M NOT JUST PUT THAT DOWN!”

“DON’T YOU DARE MOVE OR I’LL SEND YOU BACK TO HELL WHERE YOU CAME FROM!” 

“PLEASE PUT THAT DOWN!” Tears stung Jasper’s eyes, and he squeezed them shut in fear of death. The old man was quiet. Jasper opened his eyes again to look at him. The old man’s face was turned to look out at the street. A shadow hovered unnaturally near the back of Jasper’s car. Jasper tried to focus on it, and nearly thought it took the shape of a person, or something person–like. 

“You…you brought them here…didn’t you?” As if in answer to that question, the streetlight flickered twice, and went out. Nothing but darkness. “You did that…didn’t you?” 

“No,” whispered Jasper, but the old man wasn’t listening; He stared unseeing at the gun in his hands. Then turned to look at the employee door. His gun lowered a bit in his grasp. Jasper dove behind the aisle, throwing himself to the ground to get away from the maniac. He heard the shot. Boxes fell on top of him. He frantically pushed them off of him, trying to crawl away. The old man screamed at him to stay still, or he’ll shoot. Once Jasper felt the metal on the back of his head, he stayed still as a corpse. 

“Don’t shoot me, I’m not one of them, I promise, I don’t even know what they are–”

“Liar!” With this accusation, the old man swiftly kicked Jasper’s ribs, unmoved by his wail of pain. The old man stomped his boot into a kneecap. It didn’t break, but the agony was enough to convince Jasper it might’ve. He heard the old man’s boots stomp away. 

Jasper began to claw his way across the linoleum, wincing with every movement, making no progress at all. The sound of boots came back. Another kick to the ribs made Jasper curl in on himself, until he felt the hand of the old man grab the back of his collar and drag him toward the employee door. 

It smelled of chemicals. A mop and dirty water sat in the corner of the employee bathroom. An overturned case of hydrofluoric acid spilled onto the floor; that must have been what crashed earlier. Unopened gallons sat next to four plastic looking containers. Jasper gagged when he realized what was inside of them. 

A body was decomposing. Disintegrating. It was not human, it was not animal, but rather, some mix of something from children’s imaginative nightmares. It reeked like it had been dead for days. On the sink were tools. Scalpels and bone cutters were what Jasper could see, and he soon found what they’d been cutting. A hand - if you could call it that - that was bone, and claw. Fangs as long as his fingers.  Jasper struggled to swallow the bile from seeing bloodstains on the floor. The old man put the shotgun back to Jasper’s head. 

“Are there any more of you inside?” 

Jasper did not reply, but he didn’t have to. The bathroom lights flickered. The old man hesitated. The lights stayed on. The lights in the store flickered, the bathroom lights flickered. The old man ran into the store, his shotgun in hand. Jasper heard the pounding on the windows from the bathroom, he heard the old man screaming they would never get in. His arms shook when he pushed himself into a sit. He grabbed the side of the sink. Once he was standing, he surveyed his choice of weapons; He did not look at the creature. He took a long knife from the tools, and hid behind the door as he heard the old man returning. The man stepped in, and Jasper slammed the door into him with his bodyweight, knocking the old man to the ground. 

The old man shot, but he missed, the gun pointed above Jasper’s head. Jasper dove, wrestling the man for the gun, while also brandishing the knife. He was inflicting small cuts at best. He managed to dig the knife into the stomach, and the old man lost his grip on the gun as he cried out. Blood pooled around the wound, and the old man gasped with wide eyes as Jasper ripped the gun out of his hands. The banging on the windows’ bars got louder, nearly deafening. Jasper dropped the gun and threw his hands over his ears. Tears spilled out of the old man’s eyes. Jasper moved the body so he could close the door, and lock it. Surely, those bars wouldn’t hold. He picked the gun back up and avoided the open eyed stare of the dead man. Pointing the gun at the door, he leaned against the toilet and prepared himself. 

Silence erupted on the other side of the door. Seconds passed, and the only sound was Jasper’s struggling breath. He tightened his grip. Very faintly, he heard a bell ring.