Destroya

I had managed to find an empty parking lot. It wasn’t in the best of shape, in fact, it looked as if the construction crew was setting to work on it in a few days, if the sign was any show of accuracy. It was relatively cold weather for California; it even gave my southern bones the chills. I turned on the practically fried heating system, making a point to note the mom and pop repair shop that I had seen on my way to work. Now back to the task at hand: driving. I liked driving and I liked driving fast. I had never felt the need to indulge in this until now, when my head spun from stress and the endless carrying of pylons over broken wooden bridges to make my way in the firm.

As I closed my window to the chilling night air, I wrung out the terrible cricks in my spinal cord quickly before placing the stick shift into drive. The feel of her bones grinding to get into a decent speed made me feel powerful, I liked it, oddly enough. I was never one for much other than shyness and a few numerals here and there, but this certainly felt good. It felt very good. It was akin to some sort of inner demon emerging from the girth of my chest and spilling out into the car, forcing it to do its bidding. Of course, that was only my daytime television fan-brain talking; nothing like that was possible. Unless that little spat of a white guy from a few days ago on the road was some sort of demon.

No, don’t think like that, bad Tori, bad! I continued driving, shunning myself into being a non-believer, because it wasn’t bad enough that I lived in a city filled with prostitutes and scum, I lived in a head full of it too. Why hadn’t I just gone off to war and been killed? It would have been so much easier, and even if I didn’t die I would have felt honorable, instead of feeling like a failed experiment.

Okay, really bad thoughts, drive, don’t think. I continued the heated action of driving, grinding my car’s innocent gears slightly as I fumed. I didn’t have any reason for letting that horrid neighbor of mine guilt trip me out of enjoying life. I supposed that my blood pressure was through the roof due to that selfish pig. It wasn’t enough that he made me think about the past and depression and war, he had to make me doubt myself, lose my motivation.

The gas flowing through mine and the car’s veins ran cold as the engine shuddered to an untimely halt. I hit the horn in anger, abusing the steering wheel unkindly. After silently apologizing to my car, I pulled out my flashlight and began to wind my way to the hood. I didn’t feel any sort of… creepy sensation as I looked under the hood. Usually my spine would have pricked up at even the snap of a twig. I felt oddly compliant, even complacent in my behavior; I completely believed that I would fix my car in a timely fashion and I would get home before… Okay, paranoid now, I believed I just saw the bushes move quite obviously.

Nothing is happening, I am going to get this car fixed, and it’s going to be done and I’m going to get home and realize I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. It was surprising how terribly strict accountants’ hours were now, after an entire system had been ripped apart in the tumultuous fall of BL/ind. Weekends had become mandatory things, and nine to five was a thing of the past. I worked far too many hours a week, only to go home to my lonely apartment, find no messages from my mother, and want to tear the wall down and give that man a piece of my mind.

Gerard hadn’t spoken two kind words to me since our encounter in the hallway. It was beginning to wear thin on my nerves, as was the task at hand. I didn’t grow up with a teacher for a father, the most I had of knowledge in automobiles was an ex who taught me how to put fuel into his motorcycle, and that was in high school… Oh dear, I needed to get out more often. I didn’t believe I had anything other than a plate full of number and alphabet soup past that point, most certainly not boyfriends.

Maybe that’s why I had an issue with my veteran neighbor, because he was a man and I hadn’t spoken to a man in years. Maybe he just unnerved me because I didn’t speak to people my own age outside of work, or because he was a selfish bastard, that could still be it.

I checked in back for anything that might’ve helped me, but nothing was present in the trunk. I was stuck. Walking home would be the most idiotic thing in the history of ever, so that left me with very few options. I knew that I could call work and ask the lovely secretary for the number of a local repair shop. I couldn’t call triple A because they got taken down in 2018, due to lawsuits and such when everyone in the state of Arizona’s cars blew up, after repair from said company. Since Better Living, phone numbers had been consistent with address, so I could call the apartment next to mine, as I knew my own and his apartment number. It was nearly midnight, and he would probably kill me in my sleep, but the bushes were getting rather frightening, as a violent shaking was coming from their depths.

I retreated to my car, holding portable telephone device in hand, dialing simultaneous with another attempt to start the car. No luck magically appeared in the furious jerking of the aggravatingly rattling keys. I held the phone to my ear, pressing the green call button.

“Hello?” The tired voice of Gerard came through the line, if I talked now he would be pissed, but I had never been so glad to hear his stupid voice.

“Hey, it’s Tori, before you hang up; I have to let you know that I’m having car trouble. All I need is the number of a repair shop that would be open right now; I’m not asking you to do anything but give me that. Please, before this whole creepy moving bushes thing freaks me out even more.” God, did I sound like wimp or what? Oh well, he would never talk to me again, so it didn’t matter.

“Where are you?” I heard a reluctant groan come across the line, along with the rustle of cloth.

“There’s a dirt road on O’Malley Drive, I took that to get to this old parking lot. I just need the number, and quickly would really be the best.” My eyes frantically moved to a figure rising out of the bushes.

Probably just a very large raccoon.

“I’m not giving you a number, because I’d rather not have them find you murdered or raped by a creepy repairman, and I take my car to the dealer anyways. Why would you be there?” I sighed aggressively.

“I needed to drive, and LA isn’t the best place for that. Wait, you take your car to the dealer? They totally rip you off, you sh…” As I was about to give my inner accountant’s two cents, he hung up. The raccoon was getting far too large for my money, but we lived near enough by car, and no one was on this street at this time of night. He would at the very least give me a ride, should this raccoon thing turn out to be way creepier than my euphemism for it was.

I wasn’t going to be the girl that got out of the car and went to investigate, but at most I would probably face a deer that hadn’t yet been served as road kill. I liked deer, they were nice and Bambi was definitely ripped off. Okay, I could at least get out of the car and sit on the hood, it was warmer outside than it was in here, but it was still Los Angeles, not a good scenario.

I heard a gasp of air let out, like a gas leak. I opened the door to see if one of my tires had blown. The front tire on the driver’s side was indeed making the noise, but I didn’t see any sign of tampering. I looked closer, holding the dying flashlight close to get any sort of light. It wasn’t blown, the air was let out of it, as in someone had to reach and pull out the… my heart raced as I felt an odd hand shape on my back; before I could react I was pinned on the ground.

It was certainly not a calm feeling that washed over me as I stared into the eyes of my attacker, more of a blood pressure spiking, heart in need of defibrillation one. Its eyes were certainly not the color of human eyes, though the shape this creature embodied was quasi-human, the only off-putting detail was the small tail, almost embryotic in its size, and its serious need for skin care.

“I’m just messing with you.” It laughed, removing its clawed hands for my shoulders. I sat up sorely, my rump hurting, though not as much as my dignity did. Was this a costume thing? A television set that I wasn’t supposed to be on?

“I’m Earl. I didn’t mean to scare you like that, but with a face like this, I take my kicks where I can get them.” As my heart finally slowed its furious pacing around my chest, I heard the squeal of tires on the dirt road. Earl stooped to help me up; I did not deign to take his proffered hand. I continued sitting on the ground, taking in every detail of the creature that stood before my very eyes. The bright light of headlights hit my eyes with searing pain, and I moved my hand up to cover them. The car slammed to a stop, and Gerard got out, mouth wide open in shock at who he found me with.

“Gee?” That was Earl, why did Early know my stupid neighbor? Why did my stupid neighbor know a demon or a man in costume?

“Earlie!” He responded, walking over, they clasped hands and preformed the secret handshake that all men seemed to have ingrained in their minds. After he had finished the sacred rite, he offered his arm to help me up. I did not take that offer, I only stood up, grumbling, and dusted off my pencil skirt.

He shrugged, and turned to Earl, who was now talking: “I haven’t seen you since before the wars, kid! You still a DH?” What the hell did that mean?

“Since one ambushed me yesterday, I suppose so,” Gerard answered, though neither the answers nor the questions made any sort of sense to me, “I’ve got to go, though, got to get her home. We can get a tow truck tomorrow, it’s late and we both have work I bet.” The second part was directed to me. He grabbed my arm, practically dragging me to his car. I squirmed out of his grip with an exclamation:

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you. First, I demand to know why you know each other, who Earl is, and for that matter, who you are, Gerard.” I crossed my arms over my chest; Earl looked deflated, while Gerard only looked repulsed at the idea of having to tell me anything.

“We know each other because of television, Earl is still wearing his prosthetic because there is a shot they needed to get and the makeup truck is past this lot. I do makeup, not magic, Earl is not a demon.” Earl sniggered.

“What’s a DH, then? How were you ambushed?” He blew up at that point.

“I don’t need to tell you anything because I saved your ass, so I’m going to take you home and you’re not going to ask any more stupid questions!” I fumed at his response, clearly back to the same point of stress as I had been before I came on my little excursion.

“You have a girly job.” I spat as I sat in the interior of his car.

“I know,” Gerard said, driving off of the dirt road, making a harsh right. I stomped out of his car towards our apartments. He staggered after me, trying to keep up with my pace. When we made it outside of our nearby doors, I turned to him.

“I thought I was going to die and it was all a joke, and you encouraged it. Thanks for the ride.” I expectorated angrily, opening my door. His hand came down on my arm and I turned back, clenching my jaw.

“What have you been eating since you got to LA?”

“What?” I asked, bewildered at the randomness of his question.

“What have you been eating?” He asked, letting go of my arm and closing my door.

“Microwave pizza, once in a while I spring for the microwave Chinese.” My hand went to my door handle, but was caught again.

“I’m making you real food, get in.” I couldn’t say anything after he opened his door gesturing me in. How could I? I had been yelling at him and all he could think about was giving me a meal. That or he thought I was hypoglycemic. Either way, I followed him in, smiling slightly as he took off my coat for me.

“What am I supposed to say?” I asked, looking at the clock, which read as three o’clock in the morning.

“Don’t say anything. You’re welcome.”