Chadpocalypse 2:5 - Welcome Home

Link to previous chapter. 

Link to the whole collection.

2:5 Welcome Home

When they pulled into the parking lot of a greasy diner after eight hours on the road, Chad had hope that he was finally going to get his cheeseburgers. He had spent most of the trip looking through the back windshield, expecting to see the horseman riding up behind them on the freeway, but other than a few renegade potholes, the drive had been uneventful. Despite their good fortune, the drive was mostly passed in silence, with Joe ignoring Chad’s pleas for food and even bathroom breaks.

     Chad looked at the yellow bottle on the floor and groaned. “I can’t believe I came back for this shit.”

     “Couldn’t have let the poor kid out to piss?” asked James, yawning.

     “Can’t take any risks.” Joe looked at the diner. “You said it yourself, Death is on our tail.”

     “Now he cares.” Chad looked out at the chrome-plated diner. It stuck out of the dirt parking lot like a shining beacon, reflecting the sun across the flat plains for miles around. Someone had attempted to grow a few squat shrubs out front, but the dirt sucked the life from them, leaving nothing but brown husks. “Charming place, do they do cheeseburgers?”

Joe continued to ignore him. “I never thought I’d come here again.”

     “Why? Did you get food poisoning or something?” Aside from the location, the diner seemed nice enough.

     Joe scoffed.

     “That’s The Order, genius,” answered James, stifling a yawn. For most of their drive he had simply dozed against the window, uncaring.

“Well, does The Order do cheeseburgers?”

     “How can you be thinking about food at a time like this?”

     “I guess we’re just supposed to fight the apocalypse on an empty stomach then?” Chad flung open the car door.

     “Careful with that!”

     “Fuck off, Joe,” said Chad, making his way toward the diner. “Eight months without a meal and you won’t even do a drive through,” he muttered. The smell of fried potatoes and cured meats wafted through the parking lot. The last meal he remembered eating was at B’s Diner the morning everything had gone to shit. It was almost poetic that his next should be in a similar location.   

     “I’d wait for us to go in,” suggested James.

     Chad gave him a sideways glance, ignored the advice, and walked up the steps to the entrance. Air conditioning blew out in a frigid wave as he pushed the swinging door open. The interior of the diner had been done in a shining, bright blue paint, with more chrome fixtures to match the exterior. In the corner, a jukebox played a plucky Johnny Cash tune about the end of the world. Appropriate, he thought.

As far as diners in the middle of nowhere went, the place was decently full. They were well past the suburbs of Midway and into the no man’s land that surrounded it. A placard above the counter read: “Established 1905”. Chad started to actually believe it could be the headquarters of some secret organization. The patrons looked normal enough, but no business would have thrived in the desert for that long without some outside help.

     Chad found an empty stool at the counter and sat down. At the other end, a bearded man in a long trench coat was halfway through a ten-stack of pancakes. He looked up from his meal to give Chad a once-over, but not for long. The pancakes, dripping with syrup, demanding most of his attention if he wasn’t going to spill.

     A large woman in a grease-stained apron brought Chad a menu and waited expectantly with a pad. When he looked at her, she smiled and said: “You looked like a man who’s going to want food as fast as humanly possible, so I figured I’d better be ready.” Her bright makeup and long eyelashes made her look like a friendly beetle. In a way, she reminded Chad of Mrs. B., the owner of his favorite diner back in Midway. The thought of her suffering in hell at the hands of horned demons was almost too much to bear, so he focused on the gurgling in his stomach instead.

     He looked down at the menu for a few seconds and settled on a simple dish, sure to fill him up. “I think a breakfast combo with coffee will do the trick. Sausage for the meat, sourdough for the toast.” He slid the menu back to her.

     “No problem, honey. Name’s Darlene if you need anything else.” As she was turning around to fix the coffee, Joe and James walked into the diner. The low-level chatter stopped, leaving nothing but the jukebox. Darlene continued pouring, but there was a stiffness to her motion. The diner’s back wall was paneled with mirrors, giving her a good angle on the front door. “Hello Joe,” she said without turning around.

     “Darlene.” Joe dusted off his black coat and stepped inside.

     Chad spun around on the stool. “You don’t make many friends, do you?”

     Darlene set the cup of coffee down next to him. “No, he doesn’t. You with him?”

     “Unfortunately, yes.”

     “Well, you seem decent enough, so I’ll still put the order in.” She winked at him.

     James sidled up and took a seat next to Chad.

     “Wonderful to see you again, James.” Darlene beamed at him. “Welcome home.”

     “Thanks, Darlene. We’re short on time, I’m afraid.”

     Darlene made a pouting face. “Do you have fifteen minutes so I can fix you some breakfast?” She looked him up and down. “You do still eat, right?”

     James ran a hand through his hair. “I do, and I think he’s going to murder me if we don’t have a bite.” He motioned to Chad.

     Darlene let out a long belly laugh. “He doesn’t look capable of hurting a fly, no offense.”

     “Hey, I killed a h—”

     James kicked him. “What have I told you about spinning lies? You want food or not?”

     Chad shut up.

     When Darlene addressed Joe, it was with the tone of a weary mother. “Well, Joe, you just going to stand there like you’re in constant penitence, or are you going to have a seat with your friends?”

     Joe was halfway between a huff and a sigh, but relaxed and sat. As he did so, the diner chatter went back to normal.

     “That’s better.” Darlene put three paper tickets on a wheel to the kitchen. “As I recall, you’ve got a sweet tooth, Joe, and James, you might be the only person to survive Carl’s corned beef hash.”

     James grinned. “You get used to it after a while.”

     Darlene laughed. “I suppose you would.” After setting two more cups of coffee down on the counter, she propped herself up and looked them over. “Now, I’m inclined to feed you, but you know I need to know your business before I can send you downstairs.”

     Chad looked at the floor. It was blue and white, checkered tile, and he saw no indication of any stairs.

     “I have to keep this one close to the chest.” James looked apologetic.

     Darlene regarded him with a skeptical eye. “Keeping things close to the chest his more his style.” She jabbed a thumb toward Joe. “Be careful working with him too long. He might rub off on you.”

     “And what exactly would be so bad about that?” asked Joe. “I am a man of the cloth.”

     “And a terrible bore ever since you became one. You know our stance, Joe. We have no issue with the church, only the closed minded.”

     “I keep trying to remind him,” added James. “He’s stubborn, but we need him along for this one.”

     Darlene chewed the inside of her lip, thinking it over. “What about the kid?”

     “I’m Chad,” Chad said, excited to be part of the conversation.

     “Of course you are, honey.” Darlene returned her attention to James. “He’s not part of The Order, you know how they feel about new faces.”

     “Somehow, he’s at the center of something big. I really can’t explain it, but trust me, they’ll understand.”

     “Well, you’ll need an escort.” Darlene nodded to the bearded man at the end of the counter. “You up for it, Marcus?”

     “Hrm? Me?” The man looked over to the group with watery eyes, syrup dripping from his beard.

     “No, the other Marcus.”

     The man looked to his left.

     “Christ, yes you, idiot. I don’t keep you in free pancakes for nothing.”

     “O-oh,” Marcus stammered. “A-alright then.”

     “Well, that’s settled. I’ll get you some food and then you and Marcus will be on your way.”

     “Thanks, Darlene,” said James.

     “Don’t thank me yet. Who knows what they’ll do to you when you get down there. They aren’t exactly fond of Joe these days.”

     Chad was about to reply, when his stomach turned suddenly and the diner fell out from beneath him. In the blink of an eye, he was floating in the ether again, suspended in space. He squinted trying to make out his surroundings but found only darkness. Somehow, he could see his own limbs clear as day, but everything else was void.

     A voice called out. “I thought I told you I wanted to talk.”

     Chad didn’t have to guess who it belonged to. “Something tells me I’m not going to like what your selling,” he replied, trying his best to hide the tremble in his voice.

     A white glow emerged and solidified into the form of Death, walking on the darkness as though it were solid. The same pale fire burned in his eyes. His robes were adorned with hanging chains of various, torturous designs. They swung with each step he took but made no sound above a disquieting whisper.

     “What if I’m offering you a way out?” asked Death.

     Chad sank down from the ether and found his footing on the black plain with the horseman. He looked behind him, trying to find a way out, but the darkness extended in all directions. It seemed the only escape was to have the conversation. “Would that way out happen to be an untimely death for myself and my companions?”

     The sound of Death’s laughter echoed with a ghostly chorus.  “You have to understand that at this point, that’s inevitable.” There was no malice in his voice, only truth. “The apocalypse will come, and everyone on Earth will face Hell’s wrath. It can’t be stopped.”

     The chill that had taken hold in Chad’s bones would not fade, no matter how long he looked at the skeletal figure. He knew that no matter what he did, how successful they were, Death would be there at the end. “Why tell me then?” he asked, finding the last ounce of courage hiding in his spine. “What’s the point of fair play, if it’s not really fair play at all?”

     Death’s jaw clicked as he mulled the question over. “Yes, fair play isn’t really fair at all, is it? Would you like to know a secret?”

     “Not really,” admitted Chad. He was sure that whatever Death was about to share was bound to do nothing but discourage him and inspire woe.

     “The Devil isn’t really interested in fair play.” Death clacked his bony fingers together. “He just wanted to get God off his back for a few thousand years.”

     “Shocking.” Chad’s stomach rumbled again. “Can I ask you a question?”

     Death leaned in, intrigued. “Sure, kid.”

     “Is time passing at the same rate here? Because I’ve got a breakfast combo coming, and I don’t want it to get cold.” Even as he said it, his spine tingled with the anticipation of being disemboweled by an otherworldly scythe.

     Death made an annoyed tsking sound but no move to attack. “So, you are the imbecile they say you are. Well, let me make this simple, and you can get back to your breakfast combo.”

     Chad had never heard the words ‘breakfast combo’ uttered with such vehemence, but it really put a different spin on the dish.

     “By this time tomorrow, I will have found you and your pathetic band of friends. When that time comes, throw your hands up in surrender and I will give you a quick death. It’s the only mercy I can afford, I’m afraid, and if you refuse, rest assured that I am an expert in prolonging the affair. You will suffer for days, all the while knowing you have failed.”

     Chad tried once more to hide his fear, but sensed he was doing a poor job of it. Not knowing what else to do, he feigned a yawn in a show of confidence. “Great, another horseman threatening me. Ask Pestilence how that went.”

     Death grimaced. “Be seeing you, Chad.” He turned to walk away and in the same instant, the diner came crashing back into view.

     Chad landed with an audible thump on his stool. In front of him was a piping hot breakfast combo and surrounding him were more than a few awkward stares. Smoke rose from his burlap sack as if he had been on fire.  

     “What just happened?” asked James.

     The smell of the food was intoxicating, and Chad wanted nothing to come between him and it. Without hesitation, he picked up a fork and started shoveling it down as quickly as possible. “Would you believe I had a long-distance call with Death?” he asked through a mouthful of fried potatoes and egg.

     “Shit,” breathed James.

     “Yeah,” replied Chad, finding a mouthful of pancakes and savoring the sweet, salty, blend of calm it brought. “We should probably make breakfast quick; he says he’s only about a day away…”