The Terror #wattys2017 #TNTHorrorContest

Vogel Flats, scene of the crime

    August in the Angeles Crest can be like the devil's cauldron but this evening, it was balmy with a refreshingly light breeze blowing from the west. It was almost seven and in the distance, Danny could hear the sound of Jimmy's bike thundering through the canyon.  He had neither seen nor heard from Merrill and it was beginning to rumple his feathers; he knew better than being late God damn it.

This time of year at seven, the sun was already behind the mountains and the twilight hours were just beginning. Instead of arriving, most folks were making there way home on a Wednesday such as this. This weekend the place would be packed with campers, partiers, and people just out for a little relaxation walking in the Tujunga wash that rolled through the center of the Flats.   

Jimmy rolled up in the gravel next to Danny's car, in one graceful movement he switched off the ignition, put out the kickstand, leaned the big Harley over and stood up, raising his leg over the bike while holding the grip on the handlebars.  He turned to face Danny, pulling at the fingers on his buckskin gloves, his long shining white hair cascading over his shoulders.  There was a brown bowler hat on his head with a snakeskin band and blacker than black wraparound sunglasses below the brim. Danny could see his own reflection in those lenses,

"So where's our wonder boy Dan?"

"I'm sure he'll be along any minute, he's usually right on time if not early."

"Not so much this time Amigo, me thinks something may have fallen asunder, I have a bad feeling my friend."

Danny knew from past experience not to take these "feelings" lightly.

"What do you mean Jim, do you think something has happened to him?"

"Not him so much, but something is out of whack, I think the best thing you can do is go find him. He won't be coming here tonight, I just rode down here to tell you. Ain't no thang brudda, we can reschedule."

"Really?" Said a surprised Danny, " You mean you ain't pissed?"

"Not this time Pal, something ain't kosher, you better check it out. Call me at the same number as always tomorrow and let me know what's what."

"Will do holms, I'll check it and call tomorrow, same bat time same bat channel."

"Before you split I have something for you."

Jimmy turned to his bike and unlaced one of his leather saddlebags. He pulled out a fist sized item wrapped in a shop rag, re-laced his bag and turned to Danny.

"When you see the kid tell him to dissolve a little of this in some orange juice or something sweet, it tastes pretty much like shit but will help slow down some of those visions he's been having."

Danny took the bundle and unwrapped it. inside was what looked like ground up sticks that didn't smell none too good.

"What the fuck is this, smells like shit."

"Maybe it is." Answered the albino from behind his shades.

"No really, what is this crap."

"Sorry Amigo, secret recipe, just tell him a pinch should be enough in a full sized glass of juice. It'll mostly dissolve, he might throw up but it will keep his demons at bay for a day or two. By then we should be getting together so we can bring this thing to resolution."

Jimmy was already putting his gloves back on when Danny told him he would do as he was told. They went their opposite directions, Danny very troubled about his young friend.