Jackamo

JACKAMO

All my life, everyone has called me Jackamo. Although I was born Jackson Charles Twillard IV, named after my grandfather, Jackamo stuck for as long as anyone can remember. That was until I left for college, then it was Jackson. Although I tried to be big city when I went to college, it just wasn’t for me. The basketball scholarship was an amazing opportunity, but being so far from home, with all new experiences became overwhelming. I was put on academic probation after my first semester, and subsequently failed out of college the following semester. That is how I found myself the gas station attendant at the remote mom and pop place in the literal middle of nowhere.

Maxine “Max” and her husband Tony Plume owned the Midpoint Mercantile. Tony inherited it from his spinster great aunt Lola. The mercantile sat just inside the reservation boundaries, and a good 50 miles from the nearest proper town. It carried a bit of everything, and due to its location stayed profitable in spite of not ever being exceptionally busy. Max was practically my aunt. She had been my mom’s best friend in school and that is how I landed the overnight shift at the “Merc” as it was known.

I had been off for the last couple of days. My uncle was on his two off from the oilfield and after a good family celebration, had managed to get me an interview with his company, White and White Oilfield Services. It had gone well and I was just waiting for the HR department to finalize paperwork. I felt bad for coming back just to put in a quitting notice but it was good pay, a real to future. Max was beyond thrilled.

“Your young enough to not get stuck here.” She told me as she left for the night. Tony was silent but approving. He was always all business. “Be sure to latch the trash bins outside. Junior said he saw some coyote tracks around the building the last couple of days. Probably just hungry.” He stated following Max out the door.

The early evening passed quite uneventfully. A couple stopped in for diapers and formula, a group of teens tried to get me to sell them some smokes and a couple of long-haul truckers stopped in for a quick bite, a rest, huge cups of coffee before topping off their tanks. I spent the majority of my time messing around on my phone.

Around 930 I decided to take a lap around the building while reheating my dinner. Roasted venison, rice and squash. The building was a plain concrete place about the same color of the desert surrounding it. There were four pumps and a trash can in front, along with an ash tray at the door. There were two small windows, one behind the cashier’s counter that looked out on the pumps and the other at the end of the building looking out to the highway. Around back was a dimly lit area that was the back service door and the latch able trash bins. As I walked around the building, things just felt off. I kept thinking about what Tom had said about coyotes being around. They usually didn’t come this close to the highway. Especially since there were a few larger farms several miles either direction of the Merc. Much better and easier places for a predator to acquire a meal.

As I rounded the back, I thought I caught a glimpse of movement on the other side of the trash bins. I cursed under my breath. I should have brought a bat or a stick or something. If it was a half-starved coyote, how was I going to shoo it off? Slowly I approached the bins. Looking around for tracks, There were some canine and human mixed but the way they mingled with each other seemed weird. I just couldn’t put my finger on what was off.

I stepped closer to the bins. The hair on the back of my neck started to tingle, and I couldn’t shake the heebie jeebies. “Get a grip!” I scolded myself as I stepped just a bit closer. At that very moment the bin door exploded open as a huge, fat, black feral cat sprang out of the trash making all sorts of unnerving noises of complaint about being disturbed.

Swallowing my heart back down. I cursed at the cat, latched the trash bin and headed back indoors. I don’t know why I was on such edge tonight. I’d been working the overnight shift here for close to 3 years and never once been so jumpy. Not even when the tlTroopers were canvasing the area looking for that escaped alleged murder last summer. With a final shake I went back in.

As I opened the door a bear of a man was standing at the counter. His long braids were peppered with gray strands and he seemed uncomfortable in the building and in his clothes. “Can I help you?” I asked using my most courteous voice. “Just some gas little brother.” He said dryly. I looked out the cashier window and saw an ancient, beater of a truck. I couldn’t even tell the original color. “How much?” I asked “dunno, maybe 20” he answered handing me a crumpled bill. I punched in the amount put the bill in the register and told him to he was all set. The pump would stop when he hit his limit and if there was any money owed to come back in. The man nodded and went out to his truck.

I puttered around the store waiting for him to leave. I felt weird eating my dinner with him out there. Honestly, I didn’t want to have a mouth full of food and have him walk back in needing something. I was relining the trash cans when he came back in.

“Can I help you?” I asked. The man went to the coffee station fixed a large cup, took a long pull and, after a satisfying exhale said “I’d be careful going out there, been strange attacks happening on the Rez little brother.” “Been hearing whispers of ancient things awakening because we don’t honor the old ways. We have become too soft.” “Wow this guy!” I thought but knew I’d best be polite. I didn’t need some upset uncle complaining to Max and Tony. “Thank you, Uncle, for the warning!” I said politely.” This seemed to satisfy him momentarily. He put some change on the counter and paused before leave a final warning, “stay inside tonight, the wild ones are out.” Then he cryptically just left. It took a moment or two for my brain to register what had just happened, but the weirdest thing was that as I put the change for the coffee away there was no sign of the truck, no headlights nothing. I shook myself and went about enjoying my dinner and watching some show on my phone

It was just after midnight when I pulled myself away from my phone and decided to take the trash out, I was smart this time and grabbed a steel pipe we used to operate the box crusher, with me to defend against the unknown terrors, aka fat feral cats, of the night. Opening the back door, the trash seemed to smell even worse than I previously remembered. Someone must have dumped a dead animal in the bin and the heat had compounded the issue. Gagging I held my breath, quickly unlatched the bin, and chucked the bag of store trash in, letting it slam as I hurried back in. I locked the back door and went to settle myself back into comfortable spot for the night. It would be alone next few hours.

I lost track of time when I head the front door bell ring. Looking up trying to hide my startled expression, I didn’t immediately see anyone. I headed up to the front, looking at the mirrors in the corners. “Hello?!” I called, nothing. I looked at my phone 2:55AM. “Man you are spooking easy these days Jackamo!” I said I to myself as I started down the isles looking for my customer. I went up and down every one and not a soul. I was in the far back corner when suddenly the radio up front snapped on full blast.

“My grandma and your grandma sitting by the fire!” I rolled my eyes and inwardly groaned. Despite being unnerved by the sudden radio going off, that song annoyed me. It was an old building, and the radio was the alarm kind. Probably just got set somehow.

Making my way up to the front I managed to get the radio switched off and figured I had just imagined the front bell. Getting myself the one per shift allotted refill on my drink headed back to my cozy spot.

I had just sat down when I heard a banging and clattering out back. I cursed. I forgot to lock the bins! Sighing, and berating myself, I begrudgingly headed for the service door. It was dark, darker than I remembered or thought it should be. I guess a few of the lights had burnt out back here. I’d change them after I locked the bins. Using the flashlight on my phone I found the pipe again. If there was clattering there for sure was something trying to get into the bins. Probably that dang cat from early.

I opened the service door, dang this light had burnt out too? I’d just use my phone and then fix it once the sun came up. It felt too eerie out here in the dark. The bins smelled even worse than before, if that was possible. Choking down a gag I inched reluctantly towards them. It must have been a trick of the phones weak light but it almost seemed as if there was some darker mass near the bins. A large black shapeless thing. Suddenly, I saw a faint red glow then two almost like the cherry of a cigarette but impossibly close. They seemed menacing, ill indented. Every fiber of my being was telling me to run, but head senses this was a predator, and running would be the worst thing I could do in this circumstance. We stood there in eerie silence, neither one of us moving as if spellbound. Then I heard it. “Jaaackaaamo.” A strange yet familiar singsong call of my name. It was Max’s voice but not quite. She had NEVER called me anything but Jackson. I tensed, gripping the pipe tighter, and managed a shaky “who’s there?!” “You can’t be here!” I added, trying to sound authoritative. For a final show of gusto, I added “you just move along now, and there won’t be any trouble!”

The mass moved straightening up to its full height of nearly 7’ 4”. Again, there was a trick of my light because I swear it had elk antlers with a bear type head and fiery molten red eyes.

“Jaaaackaaaamo, troooouble!” Max’s voice called again this time even more off and, in my ear, behind me. And that smell! I took a step back and the mass lunged towards me, claws suddenly slashing out at me. I stumbled back swinging the pipe wildly, dropping the phone with a telltale crack that killed the light. Fumbling for the door handle, still backing up as the eyes grew with an inner hatred and Max’s voice repeating “Jackamo trouble” in the most insane angry sing song voice I hope to never hear again.

Just as the blackness was upon me, I fell through the back door landing solidly on my backside, kicked the door shut. Springing to my feet I locked it with a satisfying click. Panting hard, I dropped the pipe and covered my ears as. an angry growling bellow like I had never heard before. Animalistic and human together.

BANG! something was desperate to get in. The claws on metal scratching and another bellow. It was at this moment I was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that the front door was unlocked. How long was I out there? I peeked out of the backroom into the store and toward the front door. It all looked normal and that somehow was more unnerving.

I stood in the light for what seemed an eternity trying to understand just what had happened when I saw two glowing red orbs in the cashier window. I dropped to the ground and started crawling as fast as I could to the front. That thing was still out there. Or more than likely there was more than one. I was just about to the cash register when I heard it. Tapping, scratching, sniffing then “Jaaaackaaaamo.” I swallowed a cry and trembling reached the burglar alarm. If I pulled it the door would auto lock, causing the security door to slam down from the oof and the police would be alerted I grabbed the ring and yanked hard towards me.

Nothing, it slid with no engagement. I was now completely screwed.

That smell filled the area. Death, and rot. I was going to die I knew that with every fiber of my being. I was going to die and there was nothing and no one to save me.

“My grandma and your grandma” the radio blasted to life; I woke up screaming. As the song blasted, I in full panic mode tried desperately to figure out my surroundings. Everything was normal, my phone was on the table next to where I had been. Nothing smelled foul just the radio blasting that accused song. Slowly, cautiously breath coming in short quick pants, I made my way to the front and switched off the radio, eyeing it suspiciously. Swallowing the fear and hard lump in my throat. The clock read 3:33AM. I must have dozed off. I pulled the cord of the radio from the wall. This was all too much. I was really losing it. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and get a grip on reality. The hot water felt good on my clammy skin. But then there was a stinging searing pain. I pulled my hand from my face, three long. Jagged. Rather deep slashes ran from just above my left eye across to the lower part of my right jaw. Surely, I was still dreaming. “Wake up!” I screamed as my nostrils filled with that putrid smell of decay, two glowing anger eyes stared at me in the mirror “

Jaaackaaaamo, trouble!”