The Whispers: A Supernatural Apocalypse Novel Page 3

  3

  Stephanie started hyperventilating on the way back to their car. Scratching at her throat and leaving red streaks down her fair skin, she wobbled, losing balance. I grabbed her before she could fall and trip over the curb. Her body was stiff and cold. It was almost like I was holding a corpse and not a woman. The idea brought a fresh burst of chills down my spine.

  “Oh shit,” Tommy was saying, rushing over to us with the dark-haired woman. Across the street, I saw Ruby moving around through the large plate glass window on the front of Last Call’s.

  “Wait, let’s get her over there,” I said.

  Struggling, the three of us managed to do it after a minute or two. Ruby must’ve seen us coming, because she was already at the door, worry written across her features.

  “Everything okay? What’s going on?” Ruby asked.

  I gave her a quick summary of what happened—just the bullet points—and she immediately embraced the two women.

  “Oh my God! Go sit down. Please, please!” The concern radiating off of her was almost motherly. “I’ll get this young lady a glass of water.”

  She guided us to the bar, which was pretty much spotless and shining, a far cry from what it looked like after the concert when it had been covered in empty glasses and peanut shells and soggy cocktail napkins.

  The pit floor nearest the stage sparkled like it had just been mopped, and the area where twenty or so tables and chairs were by the bar was on its way to looking the same. All the chairs were up on the tables, now off to the side, and Brock, seemingly the only other employee still around, was running a broom up and down the clearing, stopping every so often to shake the dust and dirt off it into various piles. When he saw us, he leaned the mop against the wall and came over, as equally concerned as Ruby.

  Ruby filled up a clean cup and passed it to Stephanie, who was slouched in one of the chairs. Her dark-haired friend held the straw up to Stephanie’s lips, and told her to take a sip. Stephanie did, and the color slowly began coming back to her face.

  Then Ruby grabbed a few other glasses and set them on the counter. “Should I call an ambulance?”

  “No, no, I’m f-fine. Getting better,” Stephanie answered.

  “Well, what about the police?” Ruby continued. “We have to call the police.”

  “We haven’t had the chance,” I said.

  To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of that. I don’t know why. Maybe because my head was still whirling from the things the man in the alley had said.

  My skin prickled with goosebumps.

  “We’re okay,” the dark-haired woman said. “Not hurt. Just a little…shocked. The guy probably ran off by now, so I don’t think calling them is going to do any good.”

  But Ruby was already at the phone by the register. She wrinkled her brow, lifted the cradle, and checked the wire coming out of the wall. “No dial tone. Weird.”

  “Did you pay the bill?” Brock joked.

  “Of course, dummy.” She hung up and tried again. The call went through this time. She gave the operator a description of what had happened, said “Uh-huh” a few times, and hung up. “They’re sending someone now. You two just wait here until we get this sorted.”

  “Really,” the dark-haired woman began, “we’re okay.”

  But Ruby wasn’t having it. She was adamant about talking to the police, saying it was bad for business to have crazy people roughing up customers. Good point there, I thought.

  As Ruby turned and grabbed a dusty bottle off the shelf, we all introduced ourselves to each other. The blonde, I knew, was Stephanie, and the dark-haired woman was Autumn. In the light of the bar, I saw how beautiful both of them were. Autumn had an olive-colored complexion, perfect teeth, and deep green eyes. Stephanie looked like a movie star. They were completely out of Tommy's and my league, that was for sure.

  Sitting and waiting for the cops to show, Autumn and Stephanie gave a more detailed account of what had happened, and then Tommy followed up with our part, playing us up like some action heroes. Really, we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

  Brock said, “You want me to go looking for the guy? I can give him a good reminder about keeping his hands to himself.” He crossed to the front door now, peering through the large window at the street. “You know I don’t mind roughin’ a dude up.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a dummy, dummy. The man could have a weapon or something, and then next thing you know you’re in the hospital and I’m out my best employee.” She looked at Stephanie and Autumn with a smirk and whispered, “Boys—always trying to solve their problems with violence.”

  “Speaking of violence,” Tommy said, “you really should’ve seen what Carter did. He charged at the homeless guy like a pissed-off rhino.”

  “I shoulder-checked him, that’s all.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you, Carter,” Ruby said.

  “I did play a little football in middle school, before my love of Star Trek singled me out amongst the jocks,” I replied. “But I picked up a few things back then I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Nerd,” Tommy said under his breath.

  I ignored him. What I had said about football was mostly true. Check the eighth-grade yearbook and you’ll see me in the team picture, but I rode the bench more than I played, and I definitely never shoulder-checked an opponent. It was usually the other way around…me getting my ass laid out on the field.

  “Whatever you did,” Tommy continued, “it got him off Stephanie.”

  “Really, thank you,” Stephanie said. “Thank you both. I don’t wanna think about what would’ve happened if you hadn't heard us.” She was radiant again, but I still noticed a bit of fear in her eyes.

  “Autumn would’ve kicked his ass,” I said, expecting a smile, but she just chuckled flatly before asking Ruby if she could use the restroom.

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re spic and span right now, too. Just down the hall there and to the left.”

  “Thank you.” Autumn climbed off her stool and headed that way, navigating around Brock’s piles of dirt and empty plastic cups. A few steps on the way, Stephanie followed after her.

  “Wait! I need to go too!”

  Then they were gone, leaving just Ruby, Tommy, and me at the bar, while Brock got back to work cleaning the main floor behind us.

  “Okay, now that we’re alone, we can have a drink,” Ruby said. She grabbed a bottle from the shelf, opened it, and poured a splash in each of our cups. “Wanted to do this earlier, but we were all so busy.”

  “What for?” I asked.

  “To celebrate, silly! Your concert was a complete success!”

  “Hey, I won’t say no to a free drink,” Tommy said before raising his cup to his nose and sniffing. “But, uh...what the hell is this stuff? Jet fuel?”

  The booze was light green. It looked more like something a bunch of witches might cook up in a bubbling cauldron than a beverage someone could actually enjoy.

  “Close enough,” Ruby said. “It’s absinthe, good stuff.”

  I lifted my own cup, swirled it around. The scent alone was enough to get you buzzed, and I needed a buzz right about then. Actually, I needed to get absolutely hammered, but I couldn’t do that because I had a big day tomorrow.

  Julia had already tried her best to keep me out of Clem’s life. I thought her actually letting me come to her birthday party was maybe a sign of her easing up. If I showed up hungover, still reeking of booze…well, that wouldn’t look too good, would it?

  Ruby took a sip. When she swallowed, her cheeks burned with color and she grimaced like her insides were on fire. “Whew! That’s good! Go on, try it.”

  We did, and our reactions were much like hers. This stuff was straight-up liquid fire.

  Raising her glass, Ruby said, “To the Dinks!”

  We lifted ours with her, and then we all sipped.

  If you saw us, you would’ve thought we were drinking poison by the way we doubled
over and coughed and gasped for breath. It was funny. Plus it helped get our minds off of the drama that went down in the alley.

  “I really owe you boys,” Ruby said once we all got ourselves under control. “All that visibility the concert gave this place is gonna help so much!”

  “You don’t owe us anything, Rube,” I said.

  She waved her hands and shook her head, giggling. Looked like the absinthe was already doing its job.

  “I owe you, I do, I really do. Thought I was gonna have to close the place down. Might be the booze making me admit this—I mean, I’m hardly able to admit it to myself—but we were hurting. I was giving it the summer, and if things didn’t pick up, I was gonna call it quits. Last Call was on its last call.”

  That brought on a sinking feeling in my gut. This bar was one of my favorite spots. We didn’t visit as much as we did, but coming back was like coming home after a long vacation. And you know what they say: There’s no place like home.

  Before Tommy and I could argue with her, she went on. “But we made more tonight than we did all of last summer! The crowd really loved you guys. You’re gonna go far. Maybe I’ll even name a drink after you two!”

  “Yeah, I even caught Rube tapping her foot behind the bar a couple times!” Brock hollered from the other end of the room.

  The glare Ruby sent Brock’s way was killer. I felt like I had to duck to get away from it. “Brock, you like this job, don’t you?”

  “Love it!”

  “Well, then”—Ruby made a motion like she was zipping her lips shut—“watch it, pal.” Brock chortled and went on sweeping. Ruby was kidding, we all knew that.

  The EMPLOYEE ONLY door behind her opened and distracted us from the conversation. Out walked Debbie, another bartender I’d known from my college days, her bleach-blonde curls bouncing with each step she took. She held a tangled phone charger, and stopped and arched an eyebrow at us. “Oh, hi there. Here again? I’d serve you, but I’m just back because I forgot my charger.”

  “Yo, could you make an exception for me? I’m parched as hell, Deb!” Brock called from the other side of the room. He was working on putting the tables in line now when I looked back at him.

  “You’ve got two arms and two legs. Help yourself,” Debbie replied with a sneer. She turned to Ruby. “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow, Rube.”

  “Hold on, Deb. I don’t like you walking out there alone. There was some trouble outside. A junkie attacked a couple of pretty girls around the block.”

  “And how is that different than any other night?” Debbie asked sarcastically. “I’ll be all right. Dave’s waiting for me.”

  “Better safe than sorry. At least wait for Brock to finish up here so he can walk with you.”

  Debbie sighed. “Dave’s already pissed I worked later than I told him I would.”

  The way she said it…I don’t know, I sensed fear in her voice, and I didn’t like that at all.

  Ruby mirrored the sigh. “When are you gonna smarten up and dump that sorry excuse of a man?”

  Debbie offered no answer, but she seemed to have shrunk, like a child getting a stern talking to from an adult.

  Later, Ruby would tell us that Debbie’s boyfriend got more than pissed when things didn’t go his way. Sometimes, he threw his fists around and didn’t care who he hit. Debbie, unfortunately, was the one who fielded most of the blows.

  I knew all about that. I mentioned it earlier, but my mother dated a lot of guys who liked to do the same thing. They’d get all liquored up and then they’d get angry, usually over small stuff, like a blown foul call or a fumble during whatever game they were watching, and they’d take it out on my poor mom.

  A lot of this happened when I was too little to do much of anything. As I got older, I tried, but I was more like an annoying gnat buzzing around their heads than someone to fear—and because of this I caught a few of those punches and sported many black eyes in my youth. But then I hit a growth spurt. In my freshman year of high school, I was over six feet. Skinny as hell, but taller than most of my mother’s boyfriends, and I never saw a man hit my mother again.

  I moved out when I was eighteen. I love my mother. I love her very much, but we don’t talk a lot these days. She is happy now—or so I think—having married a nice guy who doesn’t hit her. I know she blames herself for my tough childhood the same way she blames herself for getting smacked around. She’s apologized many times, and I tried to tell her I didn’t blame her at all, that she tried her best…but I don’t think we’ll ever recover from the strain those years put on our relationship.

  Brock slid over to the bar. “I’m all finished now, Rube. Spic and span, just how you like it. I can walk you out, Deb.”

  That sneer again from Debbie. “I really don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Well, since I’m leaving we might as well walk out together, yeah?” Brock said.

  There was something awkward going on, and I found myself trying to look anywhere else besides the two of them.

  “Thank you,” Ruby said. “Now you be careful, and I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay? I’m hoping for a big Saturday!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Brock replied.

  Debbie rolled her eyes—she was good at that—and sauntered to the front door, her bright pink purse hanging from the crook of her arm, her cell, housed in a bright pink case, in the other hand.

  I wasn’t worried about either of them, although maybe I should’ve been. Brock looked like he could toss a full-grown man halfway across the state of Ohio. A pudgy and potentially crazy guy would be no problem for him. Besides, I had a feeling our friend had left the alley. Whether to score some more drugs or booze or to actually visit his sick mother, I couldn’t tell you. He was spooked, though, and he wanted to be anywhere other than around here, that was for sure.

  As Brock held the door open for Debbie, he waved at us and said, “It was really nice to meet y’all! I loved the show!”

  “Thank you! It was nice meeting you too,” I replied.

  “Yeah, thanks, man!” Tommy said, smiling.

  Ruby locked the door behind them. Then they were gone, and I had this strange feeling that they were gone forever.

  4

  The bad stuff, the really bad stuff, all started when the storm hit.

  I was listening to Tommy and Stephanie’s conversation—about how Tommy was a soon-to-be big rockstar, no doubt—when we heard the first distant boom of thunder. Their voices trailed off, and we all exchanged confused looks.

  “Was that thunder?” Ruby asked. She was behind the bar, cleaning and stacking the glasses we’d drank from. “I don’t remember anything but nice weather in the weekend forecast.”

  “Me either,” I said. I had checked the weather report religiously ever since Julia texted me, worried that Clem’s party would get rained out and I’d have to wait another two weeks—maybe more—until I could see her again. True, the party would probably move inside, but Hell would freeze over before Julia and Steve let me inside of their place. To them, I might as well have been some mangy, flea-ridden stray animal.

  I got up and looked through the window. To the north I saw flashes of lightning rippling in the darkness. This reminded me of the lightning from my dreams, red forks against a void-black sky. The bolts I saw now were a normal white-blue color, which helped ease my mind a bit. Not much, though, because I have never liked storms.

  When I was little, my mother told me the sound of thunder was just God bowling strikes in Heaven, but in my short stint at Sunday school, a nun named Sister Rojas told me it was actually the sound of God and the Devil fighting. The rain was God’s tears; the wind was His breath. If you saw a rainbow after the storm had passed, it meant God had won. No rainbow meant the Devil was one step closer to claiming our souls and bringing about eternal damnation to the ruins of Earth. When Sister Rojas told us this, she didn’t care much about how it might fuck with our young minds. It did, of course, because all these years later I still think about her
words. So far, depending on who you asked, we had avoided eternal damnation—but never say never, right?

  I pulled out my phone to check the weather and saw the battery icon in the top right corner was red. I had a little less than 20% of juice left in the thing, but that hadn’t worried me as much as the words written across the opposite corner of the screen. Where the 5G bars should’ve been, it read NO SERVICE.

  “Are you guys getting a cell signal?” I asked, trying to hide the concern in my voice.

  As the others checked their own phones, a barrage of thunder rattled the windows.

  Stephanie let out a nervous chuckle after it passed, her eyes showing mostly whites. I felt the hair raise on my arms. The others seemed more confused than frightened. There was no rain yet, but when it got here, I imagined it’d be a hell of a downpour.

  “Christ on a stick!” Ruby exclaimed. “Where is this coming from?”

  “The sky,” Tommy joked. He did that a lot when he was on edge. He had every right to be on edge, too, I thought, because there was something about that distant rumbling that seemed…off.

  Ruby frowned at him. “You know what I meant, smart-ass.”

  “Well, I don’t have any service,” Autumn said.

  “Same,” Stephanie said.

  “My phone’s dead,” Tommy added. “Forgot to charge it this morning.”

  Ruby squinted at her screen. “No reception for me either. Must be the weather messing with the towers.” She shook her head and sighed. “Why do I pay almost a hundred bucks a month to a company that can barely keep their service on?”

  The atmosphere in the bar had changed. I could sense everyone’s unease the same way I could sense the wrongness of the coming storm.

  Tommy flashed a smile. “Relax, guys, it’s just a summer st—”

  But the bursts of thunder cut him off.

  This explosion sounded the closest yet, like bombs were being dropped from just a few feet above the bar’s roof.

  The overhead lights flickered with each boom. Bottles fell from their shelves and shattered. Sprays of glass shot across the room, and the sharp smell of alcohol overtook the smell of Pine-Sol and bleach. The weird artwork decorating the bar’s walls rocked back and forth on their nails before cartwheeling off in every direction. Frames were dismantled, canvases were ripped, and more glass was strewn across the floor. One of the women screamed, I wasn’t sure who, but even that sharp noise was drowned out by the thunder and resulting chaos.