The Phone Call

“What the fuck?” Larry asked the darkness of his cab. The radio repeated the song it had just played, Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. He reached for the dial to change the channel but got nothing but static; he shrugged and went back to the station. He had one last delivery to make before he could head back home for a few weeks. Larry drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking about home and the fight he had the morning he left. Kathleen had gone on again about going on vacation, saying that they deserved to have some rest. Larry had told her that they didn’t need relaxation, but maybe taking a weekend trip to the lake would be nice. Didn’t she understand? He just wanted some fucking peace in his life; he wanted to stay home, sit in the Laz-e Boy the kids had gotten him last year for Christmas, and just close his eyes. 

He would call Kathleen as soon as he got to the next gas station. 

“Do you want to know what I think?” the female on the radio asked, startling Larry out of his thoughts. “On this empty road, doesn’t it seem like you and I are the only two souls that exist?” 

Larry shifted in his seat, looking out the rearview mirror. He could have sworn it felt like someone was watching him; it was impossible, of course, but still. “Did you like the song I picked for you tonight? Did it make you feel less alone?” The radio host chuckled, and Larry could feel the hair on his arms stand up. The pause on the radio felt like it was somehow closing in on him, as he slowly reached his hand out to just turn the damn radio off; the voice came back. 

“The Moon is in Scorpio tonight. Be on the lookout for something or someone unwanted coming back into your life,” the host said, laughing softly. “You’ll know who. Well, that’s enough of tonight’s horoscopes.” 

Larry clicked the radio off; he didn’t need the distraction anyways. As the truck rounded the bend in the highway, he could see the lights of a gas station. Now, he thought, now would be a good time to pull over, fill up, and call home. There was something comforting about having a plan when you were alone with your thoughts as much as he was. 

The hazy, yellow glow of the outside lights of the gas station had Larry double-thinking his plan of stopping, a small forgotten voice telling him to just drive and not stop. As he slowed his truck down, the voice got louder and louder, until it was screaming at him. Larry pulled over and covered his ears, the voice echoing in the cab of his truck. 

“Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it!” Larry shouted to the darkness. He shoved that voice back into its box at the back of his memory, making sure that the door was locked this time. He didn’t know how long he sat there in the darkness and in the silence. 

“Hi there,” said the melodic voice of the radio host. Larry slowly looked up, his eyes trying to focus on the radio. Had he turned it back on? “How are you, friend?” For a moment, he wanted to tell her what just happened, that he didn’t mean for it to happen. “You know time is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“You could say that again,” Larry answered honestly.

“Time is a funny thing,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “It operates in its own way. Just when we get comfortable with it.” His brows furrowed, not realizing that he was leaning closer to the dashboard speaker, not wanting to miss a single word. “It changes.” 

The radio clicked off, and once again Larry was left with nothing but silence and darkness. Gripping the steering wheel, he felt it again. Someone was watching him. The voice was trying to get out of its box; he could feel the door rattle and shake as he slowly turned his head towards the darkness that was the highway. Out of the reach of the gas station's lights, something was coming. Turning off the truck, Larry shoved the keys into his pocket as he began to run towards the door of the gas station, towards the yellow light that felt safe. As safe as a moth drawn to the bug zapper he had back home on the back porch. 

Kathleen had hated that thing. She had always been a soft soul towards all creatures. 

As he reached out his hand to pull open the door, he felt it then. Like a low vibration that thrummed through the darkness like a wave, washing through Larry before moving on. Back into the darkness. A fake sense of calm flooded his veins,s and Larry walked into the gas station. 

He couldn’t help but compare the outside to the inside, minimal lighting that cast the same sickly yellow onto the old, worn linoleum floor. Larry could hear the buzzing of the coolers, the turning of the hot dogs roller. He observed all this, taking in the space before he finally found the only other soul inside. 

The kid couldn’t have been more than seventeen, eighteen at best. Tall, kinda lanky, like he hadn’t grown into his body yet. The kid was at an odd angle in the yellow light, casting a skeleton-like shadow on the boy's face. He blinked, and the shadow was gone. Larry nodded his greeting before looking back around the station for a phone. 

“Phone’s down the hallway.” Larry looked over; how had he forgotten that the kid was there? He nodded his thanks and headed towards the darkened hallway. There was a lone light above the pay phone; it illuminated what looked like a back door. Curiosity had always been a fault of his. Passing the pay phone, Larry reached his hand out, intending to open the door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He snatched his hand back and looked behind him. There was a tall, lanky kid, no more than twenty or so. Larry squinted. He had seen him before. But where. The kid, not the gas station attendant, shrugged. “Doesn’t lead to anywhere good.” He turned and walked away. 

Larry looked at his hand. What was he doing again? Oh yeah, he was going to call home. 

“As we go into our second hour,” the calm voice of the radio host said, as Larry put his quarter into the phone slot. “Let’s hear from you, the listeners. What do you want to talk about?” 

What did he want to talk about? What more was there to say? 

He punched in the phone number he called every night. 

The phone rang once. 

Twice.

“I’m sorry the number you dialed is no longer in service, please hang up,” a familiar voice said into his ear. Larry hung up, put in another quarter,r and tried again;n, maybe he forgot to put in the area code. “I’m sorry,” the female voice said slower this time. “The number you dialed is no longer in service.” There was a faint clicking sound, like someone getting on the other line.

“Hello? Hello?” Another familiar voice said, but it was quiet, distant. “Larry?”

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service,” the radio host said. “Please. Hang up.” 

“Larry?” he knew that voice, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember who it belonged to. 

Larry tightened his hand out of the phone. 

“Should we talk about those unwanted people coming back into your life?” the radio host said, her words wrapping around him like a snake. His hand was no longer his; he could hear the other voice yelling his name, her voice growing even more distant as he put the phone back on the receiver. 

“Now,” the voice of the radio host said, reality snapping back to him. “Should we play another song for you night shifters?” Larry looked at the phone for another minute before turning and heading back into the light of the gas station. 

He looked around for a minute before spotting the hot dog roller and started walking towards it, the gas station attendant turning the volume up on the radio as the beginning of Blue Öyster Cult’s (Don’t Fear) The Reaper started playing.