Stop & Go

"Nat— I really shouldn't be on the phone. It's dark as hell out here—," Oliver leaned forward as he drove down the empty road.

"I'm not running away from anything— huh? — that's not fair!"

"I just need time to clear my head— I'll be back and we can talk about it."

The headlights illuminated a road sign ahead:

Stop & Go

Gas Food Gifts Showers

¼ Mile

His stomach growled a little at the thought of a greasy roadside burger. He pressed down on the gas a little and the treeline quickly gave way to a large parking lot. A dark brown stone faceted building with large lobby windows sat alone in the center. He could see gas pumps on the other side. A lone semi sat lifeless.

He pulled right in front. Stepping out and inhaling the pine flavored mountain air. He didn't bother to lock his door.

The smell of bleach stung his nose as he entered the vestibule area, opening the next door to the main lobby. The floors were pink and gray tiles. It looked more like a mall than a rest stop.

On all sides were different amenities. To his left was a gift shop and a bath/shower room. To his right a convenience store and a hallway leading to the restaurant.

In the center was a huge rack stand with maps and brochures. He approached it and picked up a pamphlet for a three-day kayaking trip.

"Hmm— I'd need to get gear," he said aloud.

"We have a wide selection of camping equipment in the gift shop." A voice behind him said.

Oliver jumped and knocked over the stand. Maps and pamphlets scattered all over the floor. He turned to see an old man. Bald with a white beard. He stood a little shorter than Oliver, but most of that was his hunched-over stance. Nevertheless, he zipped across the room to the stand and began lifting it back up.

"I'm so sorry— let me. You shouldn't have to do that," Oliver tried to assist the man but it was already in place.

"Oh no bother, young man. It's my fault for startling you. Sometimes I forget how quiet it is around here," the old man smiled, “slow season.”

"No harm done," he chuckled, "I'm still sorry."

"You can make it up to me by letting me know how I can help you today. Welcome to the Stop & Go. Where the rest never stops until you go! I'm the Proprietor." Oliver waited patiently for the rest of his name but it didn't come.

The man wore black pants with a white shirt. A red vest completed the combo and made him look much like a theater usher. On his chest was a plastic rectangular name tag that read, The Proprietor.

"Uh— yeah, hi. I'm Oliver," it felt strange to exchange names with the attendant, but the man seemed so welcoming, "I saw the sign for food."

"Ah! A connoisseur, no doubt, come to dine at Chez P's."

He stifled a snicker at the name. "Do you have burgers?"

"Son, I make the best hamburger in three dimensions. Follow me," he gestured to the restaurant.

~~

It was a pretty damn good burger, Oliver thought as he licked the grease from his fingers. He didn't see any messages from Natalie. 

"How was everything?" The Proprietor said from behind him.

He turned and jumped again. Knocking over a soda in the process.

"Oh dear! I've done it again," the old man had a towel in his hand. Oliver didn't recall it being there when he first saw him.

The Proprietor had the mess cleaned up in moments.

"Wow! That's incredible. Are you a magician or something?" Oliver was flabbergasted.

"I am a professional, Master Oliver. When you've been doing a job as long as I have."

"How long have you? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind you asking at all," he shook his head but gave nothing else. 

"Do you have any kids?" Why did I just ask that? he thought as he cringed.

"No children for me. Just a baby brother. He runs a bell shop," he grinned warmly, "I'm a very busy man— not the right environment for a child."

"Exactly! I think knowing your limitations is a virtue!" Oliver talked animatedly with his hands. "I said, some people just aren't meant to be parents. I mean, look at mine!" He caught his breath and his jaw dropped.

The words just slipped out like the man had a vacuum for personal information pointed at him. Like the final boss of bartenders. He didn't even have to get him drunk. The Proprietor stood there still smiling like a kind grandfather.

"Are you expecting or expecting to expect?" the man asked.

"Expecting— but she's not sure either! I don't know. I just need to think. I need air. To clear my head, you know?" Astonished, he picked up his soda glass to smell it. Didn't smell like alcohol, but truth serum might not leave a scent either.

"Sure, sure. Always better to have an empty head when making monumental decisions."

Oliver couldn't decide if that was an insult or octogenarian honesty. All he knew was he desperately wanted to stop giving this man his life story. Because he also really wanted to keep giving this man his life story.

"Ah— bathroom!" He shouted, instantly embarrassed, "sorry, may I use the bathroom please?"

"Of course, the restaurant has its own. Make a right at the exit before the hallway."

Oliver walked off awkwardly. The strangest thing was that he wasn't at all scared of him. Not in the way you'd be scared of a monster. More like a magical therapist. Nothing was scarier than introspection.

But isn't that why I came out here in the first place? he thought.

Oliver turned left at the restaurant doors and walked a few feet to a single door. He turned the knob and stepped in. A mop room greeted him. Quickly backing out, he turned and headed to the bathroom.

He returned shortly after to find everything cleaned up and the old man gone. Oddly, the tables looked a shade darker. He wondered if the lights had lowered.

"Mr.— uh, Proprietor?" He waited for an answer. After a few moments, he decided to head to the lobby. Just in case, he left enough to cover the bill and a nice tip.

He came out of the hallway into a crimson and white tiled room. The rack stood in the center filled with pamphlets. The windows showed a dark void of an exterior. As if a black curtain was dropped over the building. The air smelled like walnuts and felt thick.

"Sir!" He heard himself echo across the marble. "Just wanted to say I'm leaving! I left more than enough to cover the bill on the table!"

Oliver took his phone out. No service. Just then a faint tapping came from a direction he couldn't pinpoint yet. It sounded like a dog running.

"Uh! Thank you so much for your hospitality! You stay safe now!"

On the last word, the tapping thing exited from the shower. What could only be described as a monster. Part bear and part bull. It had huge teeth and strong muscular legs. A ring hung through its snarling nose and terrifying horns mounted its head.

And it was heading straight for him.

Oliver ran for the convenience store. The monster couldn't handle the change in direction and skidded on the floor. It slid into the restaurant hallway and made a loud crashing sound.

As the door closed behind him. He surveyed the store and ran down the main aisle to look for a possible back exit. There wasn't one, so he flattened his back against the air freshener end cap between the aisles. The glass from the beverage cooler in front of him provided a murky view of the front door. 

Glancing among the items in the case, he noticed an old favorite. A sugary red juice drink with a cartoon-character-shaped bottle. His mother would get him one whenever they went to the corner store for beer. He could pick out any one he wanted.

The door opened. He heard tapping and a snorting huff. Loud sniffing like it was trying to inhale the room. Oliver's hand felt a can of air freshener behind him. He picked it up, hand shaking. He couldn't understand any of the writing, but it was clearly a very distinct brand. He could see the animal's reflection in the glass. It was looking between the two closest aisles to him.

Oliver glanced at the opposite aisle farthest from the door. If he could get the beast to go in that direction. Slowly, he crept to the far corner of the store and sprayed as much as he could in a few seconds before retreating back to his hiding spot.

From the cooler he watched the monster skid and change directions for the smell. Oliver waited until it sounded like it turned the corner, and then he bolted down the main aisle for the door.

He didn't look back as he hit the door hard and exited. He ran to the main exit, panting. Calves burning. He entered the vestibule and opened the final door.

There was nothing. Nothing at all.

The light from the building didn't stretch farther than a few feet. It cut off into a sort of static. Oliver took a quarter out of his pocket and tossed it into the void. It didn't make a sound. He stuck his hand in, a wave of nausea came over him that didn’t go away until he pulled it out. 

He turned and saw the beast run back into the bath/showers. He crept through the door, listening for menacing taps. Then he shot off for the gift shop. The old man said there was camping gear. Maybe there were rifles or something he could use as a weapon.

Oliver slowed down at the entrance and quietly opened the door. He leaned on the wall next to the door and slid down to the floor. He let out fast, weighted breaths. Sweating and heart pounding, he placed his face in his hands. I should have just stayed and talked, he thought. He breathed in the peppery air, coughing into his elbow.

Finally, he stood and looked around. The gift shop was dark and cluttered. Oliver could see shelves with knickknacks. Racks with shirts and bags, but he couldn't make it all out clearly. Camping backpacks hung in the corner.

He followed the glass counter toward the outdoor supplies. The counter and display below held several different items, but no guns or knives. He turned to the rack behind him. It was filled with baby clothes. Clearly Stop & Go merchandise, though, like the convenience store, the letters were all Greek to him.

He turned back to face the wall and finally spotted something sitting on a shelf. A row of eight-inch hunting knives nestled next to what looked like large fishing nets hanging up. The sweat dripped into his eyes. It was so hard to breathe.

Climbing up on the counter, he reached across for a knife. He looked across at the rack of onesies and baby items.

The door opened.

The monster carried the aroma of burnt cookies. It wafted through the thick air, announcing its presence. It wasn't an ambush predator. Oliver felt his lungs start to pump even faster. He swore his heart might break the glass beneath him. 

He could see the predator's outline in the soft glow from the atrium. Its head circled around, looking for the right direction. Looking for him.

Oliver gripped down on the knife. He wanted to grab another, but it seemed more foolish to have both hands full. He looked again at the onesie. Natalie's face came to his mind. He reached over and grabbed one. Stuffing it in his pocket. At the same time another fell, its plastic hanger hitting the floor with a loud plop.

He didn't have to worry about his heart beating anymore because it stopped right there. The beast roared, and he heard it skittering in his direction. He held the knife out. One of the shelves shook and collapsed as the beast appeared twenty feet away. He steadied himself— then he eyed the net.

Quickly, he snatched it just as the horns reached him. He threw the net over the monster and dived out of the way.

It collided with the counter, sending glass everywhere. He felt tiny shards lodging in his arms and face as he took off running. He heard the sounds of the animal flopping around, trying to get free. Straight out the door, he headed right across to the bathroom and showers. He ran down the hallway, tired and making way too much noise.

The end of the hallway split. Left for bathrooms, right for showers. He heard the gift shop door explode behind him. Claws hitting the tile. He ran into the showers. A strange faint crying sound emanated from the back. 

The room was divided into multiple shower areas. He didn't want to pick the closest one, so he passed a few and was just about to dive in. 

Then he heard the growl.

He turned to see the great monstrous animal eye to eye. It lurched forward slowly. Puffing and huffing as it stalked him menacingly. It had two forked tails, each flapping in the opposite direction.

He held the knife out. "Don't come any closer! I— I don't wanna hurt you!"

Oliver started to step back. His feet didn't coordinate, and he fell flat on his behind.

The beast kept coming.

"Why did I come out here? What was I thinking?" he yelled at the beast. His last resort.

A long forked tongue extended from its mouth and licked its lips. Double tails wagging along.

"I mean, if she wants to do it of course I'd want to be there! She knows this!"

He raised his hands up at the looming threat as if they'd shield him from anything. The monster's jaws were inches away. Its hot, wet breath spraying his face.

"I'm sorry, Natalie! I should be with you! I should be with—"

The beast opened its mouth wide and— licked him.

A thick sandpapery tongue engulfed his face. It was so strong it was hard not to slide backward on the smooth floor.

"Muffin!" The Proprietor's voice bellowed.

The beast turned and galloped at the old man, knocking him over and licking him just the same. Oliver sat there glistening in monster saliva. Eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Wha–! Wha–!"

"Sorry about Muffin, son. She gets a little excited with new visitors." A wrapper appeared in his hand. He opened it as he stood up and fed a burger to Muffin. "Best burger in three dimensions, I told ya!"

Oliver stood up, shaking. He stammered out, "Another dimension?"

"I guess so. Probably— I don't know. There's not really anyone around to explain things to much satisfaction." He stroked Muffin's nose as he talked. "Anyway. You should head back to the mop room. Just step right in and that'll fix you right up."

"But I didn't step through any portal or anything. I just walked in and back out," Oliver's face was begging for answers.

The Proprietor shrugged. In the momentary silence, the soft whimpering still traveled from the back of the shower room.

"Oh! I wondered where that trucker had gotten to!" He chuckled like this was all a very average scenario. "Well, I hope you at least enjoyed your meal. I need to clean up here, so if you'll kindly head back to the mop room."

Oliver mopped his brow with his sleeve. "I can just— go? Aren't you afraid I'll tell someone about—" He waved his arms around the room. The beast looked up and its tails wagged.

The old man gave a sly grin. "Who'd believe you?"

"But! What is all this?"

"It's just something you haven't seen before. Lots of new things can be a little perplexing at first," he said, tickling Muffin's chin as the great beast snorted. "Then you find out it's not so bad." The sobbing trucker still echoed in the background. "Even if some folks don't take as kindly to it."

"Huhh," was all he could manage. He had so many questions, but strangely he felt as if the man had given all he would. He walked for the door. Muffin gave a quick lick as he passed. He paused, reached back, and gave it a pat on its head. The monster actually purred. He continued walking.

"Oh, and son?" he said. Oliver looked back at him. "New things are easier when you don't do them alone."

Oliver nodded and hurried out.

There was no immediate change when he went to the mop room again. Only a few moments later did he realize how much easier it was to breathe. He ran out of the restaurant hallway and was greeted by pink and white tiles. A mess of pamphlets still on the floor. Oliver darted to pick one up. It was for a large underground cave attraction. He clutched it to his chest after he read the words clearly.

He ran outside to find his car had returned. Hands still shaking, he opened his door and flopped into the driver's seat. He felt a bulge in his back pocket. Reaching in he produced the wadded-up onesie, holding it up in front of him. The words on the front now clearly read: Stop & Go, Where the Rest Doesn't Stop Until You Go!

He laid the onesie across the steering wheel and took his phone out. The phone rang three times before she picked up.

"Hey— Nat. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. I'm coming home."