Chapter 4

                                                                                                                   Chapter 5

John sat in the car, waiting for his mother to finish up in the bathroom. He could never remember blushing before in his life, but he was sure that he was blushing now. His cheeks felt hot and he felt pretty idiotic to boot. Was all this in his mind? Was he imagining it? He wondered if the Psych major who was earning her Masters degree would still want to go on a date with him if she learned that he was a certifiable nut. Maybe that would even make him more appealing, she could psychoanalyze him. He laughed, thinking of the forward girl that had the guts to call and ask him out, sight unseen. The laugh caught in his throat as he saw a black BMW sitting in the spot next to the door of the art store. The inside of the car was in shadow from the steering wheel back. What had caused him to freeze and the choking gasp that now came was the hands on the wheel, or claws, more specifically. He slid into the driver's seat as the BMW's engine revved. He saw his mother, several bags in her hand, getting ready to open the door that lead to the parking lot. He had never been happier that he had insisted she give him a copy of her truck key for lockout emergencies, than he was as he turned the key in the ignition. He stomped the gas and the trucks tires squealed sending the smell of burning rubber into his nostrils. Buster barked like mad as the truck sped toward the door of the Arterium. His mother stepped from the door and the BMW drove calmly past her, without so much as swerving in her direction. As the BMW passed in front of the truck, the shadow that seemed to cover the inside of the car was lifted just enough for him to see the two black hole eyes that seemed to suck the light from the inside of the car.
When John finally pulled his eyes away from the car he realized that he was still barreling down the row of cars at a great speed, straight toward his mother.
He stomped the breaks, which thanks to his constant reminders, had just been serviced. The truck screeched to a halt and the smell of burning rubber came back to his nostrils. His mother stood in front of the truck, white as the canvas that she so lovingly transformed into beautiful pictures.
That thing tried to make me run over my own mother, he thought. Either he was truly going crazy or he was in real trouble. Maybe he was in real trouble either way. "Mom, get in."
He said to the woman who was now staring at him as though he were a stranger. Like a robot she moved to the passenger seat and climbed in. He had to get her somewhere safe because wether this thing was real or he was just crazy, his mother was in danger, maybe Buster too.
He pulled to an ATM machine and jumped out, leaving the truck running and pulled five hundred dollars from his account, this was the maximum that his bank would allow, and he didn't want to continue to endanger his mother while he looked for a branch of his bank. He climbed into the cab of the truck and tried to hand his mother the wad of bills.
"Maybe I should drive, dear, you seem a little overwrought." The calm and understated sentence was starkly contrasted by the fear that shone bright in her eyes. She may be thinking at that very moment that he was insane, but she also may be very right, he shouldn't drive. He slid out of the drivers seat and jumped into the passengers seat. Buster leapt into his lap, which was not normally allowed, but Buster must have sensed trouble, because he refused to move.
He shoved the bills inside her purse and turned to look at her worry drawn face.
"That is five hundred dollars, and I'll give you five hundred more when we get back to your house. I want you to take it and Buster and go away for a while."
Buster whined and snuggled deeper into his lap as though he understood his words and didn't wish to be left behind.
"Don't tell me where you're going, I can't know, but you're in danger if you're with me."
He waited patiently for her barrage of questions and protests to begin as he ran a hand over Buster's soft fur.
"What are you talking about? I am not going anywhere, you need rest and I am going to take care of you."
Her eyes had taken on the determined look that she would get when, as a child, he had faked illness in an attempt to stay home from school or church, only this time she would be telling him to stay instead of telling him to go.
He finally told her the truth, all of it. He explained about the calls and the trash can lids and the clowns face and hands.
"Don't you understand mom?" he asked. "Even if it is all in my head, you are still in danger if I know where you are. I may see the creature when I look at you and do something drastic. I don't want to hurt you or Buster. As for what could happen if it isn't in my head, I don't want to think of that."

After a long argument that had lasted the length of the drive to her home, John had convinced Delia to take a small trip and call to see how things were in a few days. She would take Buster and visit ‘a place that she had wanted to visit for ages'. He was glad to hear it, he had begun to worry that if by some miracle he was able to get her to leave that she would simply follow him in a rented car. This was probably true until he had told her that he was going to go see a psychiatrist tomorrow. He hadn't mentioned that it was the date that he had set up earlier in the evening, and he didn't plan to.
"You just make sure that you get some rest in between and stop working so much. Too much work, without a break can cause a mental breakdown."
She said this as if she was quite certain that it was exactly this that had happened and that a little rest and a good psychiatrist would cure him in no time. He was just happy to see that most of the concern and terror had gone from her expression. The lingering amount would fade when she called him, and was informed that she could return. He only hoped that she wouldn't worry too much before then.

He helped her pack and pulled five hundred dollars more from the loose fender where he hid his spare cash when he was on long trips. He would have to stop by the bank and pick up some extra cash as he made the decision of what to do next. He kissed his mother goodbye and patted Buster, telling him to be good for Delia. As his mother drove off into the afternoon sun, he heard a screech of brakes and saw Buster running full speed for him. When Buster ran into him, and knocked him over, he felt oddly like a character in a cartoon. Buster sat on his chest, licking his face apologetically, but not making any move to correct the situation, as if it couldn't be helped. He shoved Buster to the side and stood, looking at the rear of his mother's truck as she backed up the hill next to them.
"I'm sorry, he pushed the control for the windows and jumped out before I got going very fast. Why don't you hang on to him, I have a feeling that he is going to keep running to you, any chance he gets."
"It's ok mom. I'll keep him with me, don't worry."
Buster was a smart dog, but sometimes he could be too smart. Buster would keep running, John knew, and he didn't want to ruin his mother's vacation, if he could call it that. With a few more words of parting, his mother drove off, waving to a neighbor who was working in her vegetable garden as she went. It was just him now, and his monsters of course, be they physical or mental.
John turned and surveyed his mother's home with a sigh. He was so tired and the sun would set in a few hours, he wanted to get some rest and then he would leave just before dark.

"Hey, what's up, buddy?"
Paul sounded like his usual cheerful self and John hoped that after seeing the boogeyman and almost running his mother down in her own truck, that he could sound the same.
"Hey Paul, I made a date with Julie and I wanted to ask, would you watch Buster for a while?"
"So, Martha finally wore you down, eh?"
John tried to laugh naturally, but the sound squeaked out.
"Actually, she convinced Julie, she called me earlier and asked me out. It was interesting. She seems pretty funny too."
"Yeah, she's great, you'll like her."
After a few minutes of conversation that John barely even remembered having, they said their goodbyes and John set the phone on the receiver with a thud. He stood there for a while lost in thoughts about the interesting woman, the frightening stranger, and the state of his mental health.
Buster sat by the door looking at him with intense eyes and when at last he caught John's eye, he whined loudly.
"All right boy, I'll take you for a walk."
Buster lumbered up the hill sniffing here and there, and John followed, baggy in hand.
"Come on boy, get to it, we have a lot to do and the sun is setting,"
John glanced nervously at a sunset which would normally have made him stare in amazement at the numerous colors lighting the sky. Amazement was the last thing in the world he was feeling now. A twinge of fear lingered in the back of his mind, forcing him to look around at the shadows wearily. Buster had found a patch of grass that he liked and sniffed at it curiously.
"Buster!" He said, goose flesh crawled along his body making him shiver.
Buster didn't even look up at him, he just kept on sniffing his way along the grass up the side of the hill. John gritted his teeth in angry frustration at the dog's slothfulness. He was about to yell for Buster to hurry when he noticed the hackles were raised on his back. The sight was neatly hidden by the shadow, until a low growl brought his attention sharply to the dog. He noticed the dogs fur standing on end, and the rigid stance that he hadn't noticed in his urgency to return to the safety of his car. Buster barked at a spot somewhere up the hill, a loud deep report that made him sound like a pit bull on a bad day. At the very same instant headlights turned on at the top of the steep hill.
Cold terror filled him as the same unnatural lighting situation filled the cab of the vehicle that had filled the one in the parking lot that afternoon. Darkness flooded the cab up to the point where the gnarled claws grasped the wheel, the way the shadow of the closet door covered the boogeyman in a children's book. He couldn't move as he heard the car engine roar, and was only vaguely aware that Buster was pulling at his pant leg. When he saw those eyes, the red rimmed twin black holes, his paralysis left him in a whoosh of breath. Buster felt John's leg give way and turned to run, releasing the material only seconds before it would have pulled him off of his feet. John looked at the car which seemed miles away now and began running, looking from Buster, who was almost to his car, to the car which sat at the hilltop, roaring like a bull about to charge. The car began to move behind him with a squeal of tires, and he looked over his shoulder. The bright lights and illuminated grill made him think of a hyena, smiling at the chance to taste the flesh of his victim, smiling and laughing. The car was closing in. John looked around for a spot to veer of the road, but the large wall that held the earth above him in place was too high to climb. He pumped his legs, hoping to get to the next driveway before it hit, and killed him. The driveway could have been miles away for all the good it did him. The car hit his legs they seemed to go through it. He fell to the floor, expecting to be crushed under the tires, his body convulsing with pain, but no crushing tires sped over him, no bone splintering pain wracked him as his body was mashed to the road like a frog in the rain. His heart raced as he lay there, not fully comprehending what had happened. He should be crushed and the thing in the car should have been laughing merrily as it drove down the road, leaving the carcass for the dogs.
"Are you all right?"
His mother's young neighbor asked as she ran toward him. She ran up the hill as easily as Buster did, and dropped to a knee by his side. Buster, who had run up with her, licked his face with abandon.
"What happened? I thought that I heard tires squealing, and I came out to see what was going on. I didn't expect to find you lying on the ground, looking as though the devil himself were chasing you."
This didn't seem altogether true, gooseflesh covered her arms just as it did his, and regardless of the snow, he didn't think that she was cold.
"I just thought that a car was losing control on its way down the hill. I was being silly I guess." He tried to sound nonchalant, but he only managed to sound dead. His stomach flipped and he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. She had heard the engine, so it had to be real, but if it was real, how could it have disappeared?
"Thank you for your concern," He waited for her to supply her name.
"Andrea Borne. "
"Well thank you Andrea, I appreciate it, but I have to be heading back home."
He tried to walk smooth and straight down the hill, but his heart felt hollow after the terror, as if it had literally jumped from his body, leaving a hole in his insides. The odd feeling of it and the rubber feeling in his legs made him sway a bit, but he held himself up until he reached his car. He gripped the handle and tried to pull himself together as he unlocked and opened the door. Buster jumped into his seat, looking as unnerved and tired as he did. John started the car and backed out of the driveway, looking at the young brunette that had been kind enough to check on him. He waved and smiled, watching her as she waved back before opening the door to her house and disappearing inside.



Chapter 6