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Chapter 32: Nightshift

This chapter may be sensitive to people who are afraid of horror.
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Hack sighed and sat down on the floor. I continued to watch him. He let out a low murmur as he leaned against the wall. Hack didn't speak, nor did he move. I moved my hand to touch him, but his hand shot up lightning quick to stop mine.

"I think I drank a little too much..."he said, almost growling.

"How many did you have?"I asked, worried.

"Only two... But... God, this really freaking hurts..."

"That stuff is poison for you. Let it flow out of your system for a few days before having another."

He looked up at me, slightly murmuring to me."May 30th."

I blinked before sitting next to him and hugging him in silent harmony. My heart was telling me something was about to go horribly wrong.

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The friend tried to recuperate by landing a job at an old gas station. Unfortunately, the only openings were the nightshift, but the friend gladly agreed to get away from his home and any other signs of humanity.

But his first night did not go well for him.

The friend gladly took the keys from the person working before him, sending them a goodnight and a safe drive home. The person working before him sent him a good luck message. The friend didn't know why; people rarely came to gas station at night. But the friend nodded and stepped behind the counter.

The first hour was a breeze. The moon was sky high. One or two people filled up on gasoline, or petrol as he remembered it in Canada. The second hour went by fast; he played games on his phone and listened to his favorite tunes. But then the third hour came.

No one stopped by. It was the middle of his shift. The friend wasn't scared of being completely alone in the well-lit store. Then a red pick up truck parked in the fill up area, and a man stepped out. The friend compared him to Walter White from Breaking Bad. The man just stood there, staring through the glass door at him. The friend pretended not to see him and went back to playing his game.

When he looked up again, the man was a few paces from where he had been, still staring at the friend. He looked around for a moment, a bit confused and afraid. This never happened in the semi-rural part of Boston. He looked away for a moment, and when he looked back, the man was a few yards from the door. By now, the friend was freaking out. He rushed to the door, locking it. His hand instinctively flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed'. The friend rushed behind the counter, hiding behind it. He dialed up a co-workers number.

"Yeah? Seriously. It's like three,"the answerer said groggily.

"There's some really creepy person outside. I locked up."

"Call the cops or something... Only on Friday's will I be up now."

"S-Sorry..."

"Just dial 911. Someone will come."

The friend sighed."Sorry,"he said and hung up.

The friend peered over the counter. The man was still there. The friend was reluctant to call anyone after his co-worker's outburst. He decided it would be easier on the butterflies running wild in his stomach if he didn't have to ask the law for help.

I was in the army... If he does manage to break in... I can fight him off...

The friend looked over the counter after what felt like an eternity in purgatory. The first few rays of sunlight were peaking over the horizon. There was already a morning traffic jam forming along the narrow highway. A few people popped in for gas at the early hour. The man was gone, but his truck was not. When he saw his co-worker, he let out a loud sigh, rushing out.

"Tell him I quit!"the friend said happily.

"What?"

"I quit! I quit."

"Dude, it's your first day."

"I quit! I really do."

"Wha..." But by the time the co-worker had started his question, the friend had already climbed into his blue truck and sped away.

And the friend was.

Completely.

F***ing.

Insane.