The Diner and That Same Old Feeling Again

by Jeff Brown

Table of Contents
Part 10 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

The Real Truth in This Whole Mess and the Betrayal of One

Calvin walked to the edge of the pit and sat down. He placed his feet over the edge, found a footing and turned around. Slowly, he started his descent down into the pit. Before his head disappeared over the edge he looked back to Tony. “Are you coming?” he asked. Then he was gone.

“Asshole,” Tony said as he walked to the pit and then sat down just as Calvin had done. He also found his footing. Then he turned and began downward. He was only a few yards into the pit when Calvin stopped him. Calvin had looked up to Tony above him and spotted the gun in the waistband of his pants.

“Well, I think I see Dale,” Calvin said as he dropped onto a thick branch of wood that jutted out of the earthen wall of the pit.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony called down to him and hurried down and onto the branch. “Where?”

“Over there,” Calvin said as he pointed across the pit to where Dale was lying. He had landed on a branch in just the right place. His face had been shredded by briars and branches.

“Dale,” Tony yelled. He started across the path-sized branch.

“Well, what do we have here?” Calvin asked as Tony passed him. He reached into Tony’s waistband and yanked out the .38 magnum.

Tony turned back to Calvin reaching for the gun as he did so. Calvin pulled the gun back and edged the safety off.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, big boy,” Calvin said. “Not so fast. What do you have this for?” “Come on, Cal, that’s not a toy,” Tony said. He was holding his hand out. “Give it up, man.”

“Oh, no,” Calvin said and pointed the gun at Tony. “You still haven’t told me what this is for.” He held the gun up, taunting Tony with it.

“It’s for protection, Calvin. Just in case we ran into a wild animal or a crazed lunatic.”

“Wild animal, huh?” Calvin asked his voice sounding as if he didn’t believe Tony’s answer.

“Or crazed lunatic.” Tony made sure to finish the sentence for Calvin.

“Help me,” Dale said from behind them both. He had made it to a standing position but he was crouched over holding his ribs. He staggered a couple of feet forward before falling to one knee.

“Dale?” Tony asked and started for him.

A gunshot ended Tony’s advance to help Dale. Dale fell backward as the bullet hit him in the forehead, snapping his head back as it took half of it off. When Dale hit the wide branch he rolled slightly. It was enough for him to fall off the branch and further down into the pit.

Tony stopped, frozen, his feet not moving. He looked at the spatter of blood on the branch. Mixed with the blood were pieces of Dale’s skull, hair and brain matter. Slowly he turned around. He raised his hands in the air as he turned. Tony was vaguely aware that Pete and Dolan were yelling down to them wanting to know what was happening.

“Calvin what the hell are you doing?” Tony asked. He was in complete shock at what he had just seen. Calvin had shot and killed Dale. He had shot and killed Dale with Tony’s gun.

“I didn’t do anything, Tony,” Calvin said. A smile was stretching across his face. “It’s your gun.”

“What?” Tony asked in stunned disbelief. “You took my gun. You shot Dale with it.”

“Hey, if you say so, Tony,” Calvin said. He walked past Tony and to where Dale had rolled off of the branch. He looked over the edge and raised an eyebrow. Dale was lying in a crumpled heap on the wing of a Corsair fighter plane.

“Well, look what Dale found,” Calvin said. He turned to Tony and motioned to him with the gun. “Come look at the old plane Dale found.” Reluctantly Tony walked to where Calvin stood. He looked down further into the pit while trying to keep an eye on Calvin and the gun he was holding. There lay Dale on the wing of the plane. Tony said nothing.

“It looks like Dale fell into the cockpit of an old fighter plane,” Calvin said as he scratched his head with the blued barrel of the magnum.

“Dale’s not in the cockpit,” Tony said as he continued to look down at his body.

“Yes, he it,” Calvin said. “Take another look.”

Tony looked again.

“Don’t you see? He’s in the cockpit. And it looks like a bullet ripped the side of his head off. Apparently there’s somebody else down there with him. Somebody with a gun.”

Tony looked at Calvin. His jaw was slack as he began to understand what Calvin was doing. He was covering his own ass while bending Tony over a barrel to get his reamed.

Tony had no real choice in the matter. His life-long goal was to become a police officer. With Dale being shot and killed with Tony’s gun, not only did his dreams look to be in danger, so did his freedom. And Tony didn’t exactly desire to go to prison for a murder someone else had committed. Even if he were to tell the truth about what had happened, nobody would believe Calvin had committed the murder; after all it was Tony’s gun. Tony realized them that Calvin had been setting him up for a long time, biding his time until he got a chance to strike.

“Isn’t that what you see, Tony?” Calvin asked.

“Yeah, that’s what I see,” Tony said reluctantly.

“I thought so.” Calvin was smiling. He knew he had Tony behind the eight ball. “It sure looks like Dale was snooping around in the old plane down there, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And, look, isn’t that a couple of creeps down there with him?”

Tony sighed. “That’s what it looks like.”

“It looks like they have guns, too.”

“Yeah, they have guns.”

“Damn,” Calvin said loudly. “One of ‘em just shot Dale. Oh my. Isn’t that what you just saw?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said as he glared at Calvin. “Whatever you say, man.”

“It’s good to know you see the same things I see, Tony.” Calvin said as he turned to him. He patted Tony’s face lightly. It was almost like a slap in the face as far as Tony was concerned.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony said sarcastically. “We’re seeing things eye to eye right now, Calvin.”

“Now, this is what we’re going to do,” Calvin said and then pointed the gun toward the top of the pit. “We’re going to rush back up there and run like we’ve got our tails between our legs. When we get to the boat you and me, we’re going to have an argument. You’ll pull me into the boat and hold me down while I act all hysterical. When we’re far away from here we’ll tell Dolan and Pete that Dale was shot and killed by some thugs.”

“They’re not going to buy that,” Tony said.

“They’ll buy it,” Calvin contradicted. “We’ll tell them we were getting shot at. That’s why we ran.”

“There was only one shot fired, Calvin. That one was from that gun.”

“Don’t worry about that part,” Calvin said. “I’ve got that part figured out also.”

Tony shook his head. He was beyond disbelief now.

“So, is that what we tell the cops, Calvin?”

“Dale drowned, Tony,” Calvin said and smiled. “That’s what we will tell the cops. And we make for damn sure Pete and Dolan go along with the story.”

“They’re not going to believe you, Calvin,” Tony argued.

“No, they won’t,” Calvin agreed to Tony’s surprise. “But they will believe you.”

Oh, crap, Tony thought. Not only was he at risk of taking the blame for Dale’s death, he was now being made into the person who was behind the cover up. He knew this was going to change everything in the eyes of his two oldest friends. But what could he do? Nothing, he thought to himself.

“Let’s go,” Calvin prodded as he waved the gun toward the top of the pit.

Tony began to walk away in the direction they had come. Calvin called to him with one more statement. “Oh, Tony,” he said, “make it look good.”

“Whatever,” Tony said and continued on.

Calvin turned and looked down. He pointed the gun down toward Dale. He pulled the trigger several times until the gun was empty. The bullets pelted Dale’s body, which was already growing cold. He turned and began to run. As he did so he dropped the gun over the large branch he was running on.

Ghost Dale stood in silence. He was too stunned to speak at all. He could only feel the pain of betrayal go through him as he watched the memories play themselves out. They had again sped up as the four ran through the woods to the shore where the boat was waiting. Pete and Dolan were in the boat. Tony and Calvin were arguing. A motion from Tony and Pete had grabbed Calvin and thrown him to the floor of the boat. They were off, speeding from the island.

Dale closed his eyes. If he thought it were possible he probably would have cried. But he didn’t. His legs gave out on him and he dropped to the ground of the illusion that was before him. Only this time the memories he had just seen had been real and he knew it.

“It’s okay, Dale,” Tony said as if he knew what Dale was thinking. “You didn’t know.”

“I can’t believe it,” Dale said, his voice cracking. “You guys are dead because of me.”

“No, we’re not,” Dolan intervened. “We’re dead because of Calvin. All of us are.”

They all turned to where Calvin was standing. He said nothing as he stood there looking as if he were the one betrayed and set up. “I had nothing to do with this,” he finally said. “You guys died because you deserved to.”

“You’re right,” Pete said as he walked toward Calvin. “But, don’t worry, Calvin, you’re going to get what you deserve.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Calvin asked. There was a touch of fear in his voice. He tried to hide it but didn’t think he did a very good job of it.

“You’ll see,” Dolan responded with a smile.

Before Calvin could respond he began to hear the noise coming from behind him. It was the sound of rustling leaves. Calvin turned. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. Running was the only thing he could think to do and he couldn’t do that fast enough.

Calvin ran. He ran as fast as he could. He tried to change the scenery where the memory had taken them. He couldn’t. They were preventing him from getting off of the island. So, he ran. Through the trees and bushes with branches of briars and thorns snagging at his ghostly body as if it was alive. He felt every snag and rip of the thorns in his skin. The nicks and scrapes burned his skin like cuts did when he was alive.

At first he couldn’t see what he was running from. He could only hear it. The sounds of thousands of leaves rustling consumed the air and drowned out all noises that were around him. He didn’t need to turn around to know that whatever it was it was right behind him and closing in fast. But he turned anyway, even while he continued to run. When he saw what was following him he turned back to see where he was going and ran faster.

Behind Calvin, running on tiny black legs were leaves — black ones with red veins running through them. The leaves were not attached to a branch of a vine or any other leaves. They were free-moving, each with their own set of legs. There were long black, shadow-like arms with fingers shaped like scissor blades snapping away. Large openings in each leaf formed their mouths with bright yellow teeth that were sharp and jagged. Inside those mouths were deep black voids that looked as if they could have gone on forever like a bottomless chasm. None of the leaves had eyes, but they continued to make their way toward Calvin, not slowing, not stopping.

As the leaves ran they ate through the foliage and greenery in their paths. They were devouring everything on the island, leaving nothing behind them, not even the memory of it.

“No,” Calvin yelled loudly. “Get away!”

The leaves’ rustling and chewing had reached his heels now, nipping off pieces of ghostly flesh and drawing blood that was a bright red. The demons flew at him, through him, ripping cuts and gashes into his body.

“No,” Calvin yelled as the ground in front of him broke open and flames exploded out of it. He stopped, barely, just before falling in. He teetered on the edge, his hands waving wildly out at his sides. It didn’t matter that he tried to keep from falling in. The leaves were biting his legs and back and the shadowy demons were tearing him apart. He lost his balance, slipping, falling into the burning abyss.

Calvin’s screams echoed loudly in the nothingness the island had become. It would continue to echo as the remaining four friends began to fade away.

Epilogue

He had to move to a bigger table. That was okay for Dale. He had spent the better part of fifteen years sitting at the small table by himself. About the only conversation he had during that time was with the ancient waitress, Mrs. Martha. Most of those conversations started and ended the same, with Mrs. Martha grunting.

Recently, however, things had changed. The table he sat at was more than twice the size of the one before it. It was still an old table, marked with time and teen-aged vandalism. Dale looked at the table and worn seats as a testimony. It was a testimony to truth and friendship.

He sat, drinking an iced tea and listening to the stories his three friends had to tell. He had fifteen years of life to catch up on and he was all ears for the occasion. Laughter — plenty of it — erupted from the quartet as they joked of the happenings in each of their lives.

“I was dead,” Dale would say every once in a while when he was asked his opinion or what he had done over the previous decade and a half. He said it comically, like the punch line to a really good joke. They would all laugh at this.

Mrs. Martha hobbled he way across the diner’s old linoleum floor. She carried the order pad in her hand. When she reached the table she pulled an old blue bid ball point pen from behind her ear.

“Do ya’ll want anything else?” she barked out in her old woman’s voice.

“Refills,” Dale said. “Thank you. Ma’am.”

Mrs. Martha flipped her pad shut and dropped it in the pocked of her apron. She put the old ball point pen back behind her ear. A smile crossed her face for the first time, at least that Dale could recall. Tony, Pete, Dolan and Dale all started to smile back. Then Mrs. Martha grunted, making their smiles short-lived. She turned and walked away, slowly hobbling. Reaching back she scratched her back just above her rear and a loud sound escaped her. From the table came a roar of laughter from the four friends.