Crooked Smiles

True Nature

"Spill the deets," he laughs, swirling old coffee in a cold mug. "This file," he points firmly in the centre, "Is a result of my own meandering. No one came to me. No one talked about it. I happened upon the town by absolute chance. One summer, just like every other, I went to Keji and..." he trails off with a sentimental smile. It's as if he were there right now, singing to the birds like a Disney princess. "Man, I'll canoe, hike, talk to the tr- er..." he cuts himself off, refocusing on the issue at hand, "anyway... that year, my car ran out of gas on my way back. Caledonia, as you probably know, is the only gas station for miles. But... Lady Luck wasn't on my side that day; the gas station was closed for whatever reason." He looks up with bags under his eyes. The intensity of his expression births a familiar a fright inside of me. "I went to the grocery store, asking where I could fuel up, but-"
"Wait," I interrupt, reliving it all: the kids face, his breath, his voice.
"Blonde kid, white. Freak."
"... wide, glassy eyes..? And a-"
"Crooked smile."
We both freeze, realizing the overlap in our trauma, then we laugh, but I see the discomfort in his eyes and I feel it in my heart.
"Let's just say cutie here didn't get his gas... I broke down a half an hour later. Can't say I was a happy camper," he huffs a spiritless breath, but follows it with a clever smirk.
Shake, shake, shake.
I realize I've been anxiously shaking my legs like a crackhead's dog.
"I'm sorry, Dale."
"It's okay. All said and done now. Besides, it's comforting to see I'm not the only one," he smiles with a stitch or two. "But... I'm sad to say my story doesn't end there."
"Clearly," I motion to his obsessive files concerning the strange town.
I'd probably do the same; I guess that's why I'm here.
"So," he fiddles with his tattered coat, "my curiosity got the best of me; as it usually does," he chokes, then he clears his throat with a tangled brow and frown. "I went back and found more than I could've ever imagined. The truth... the truth was... too much for me."
"What do you mean?"
"They- well... the whole town is like that." he opens up the folder to show photos, upon photos of Caledonia; more specifically, the people. People during the day, people during the night. People here, people there: all with those stupid fucking faces.
"The whole town..." I say aloud.
"I don't know why they do it." He slaps his hands down on the desk, his tone sharp; tortured.
I jump, ceasing to shake.
"Do what...?"
"I just want to know why," he ignores me, slowly releasing every word. "But like a kid who wonders why the sky is blue, there's no answer. Those smiles? That's a beautiful mask in comparison to their true nature."
"What? What's their 'true nature'?" I bark, annoyed with how painstakingly long he's taking to tell me.
He must think I can't handle it.
"Please~ please tell me."
"Alright!" He shouts back, like an animal whose been poked and prodded at for too long.
He sighs, burying his head in his hand. Then he drops it; heavy. His stare is almost as weighted.
Then, he speaks.
"They eat each other."
"What?"
"They eat each other," he sobers his tone, with a face that's o so matter of fact.
I can't stomach it.
"What do you mean? Like..?"
"Oh fer gods sake, Melonie. Not like Zombies, or a fun thrash and bash like the movies. I~ I've seen it. Every morning, they go out into the clear cut wasteland like moths to a light. They circle around one specific stump, once a beautiful pine, and stand as still as rocks. They won't speak. But then, one steps forward and just like that, they drop like a fly. And... the rest tear into them like it's Black Friday."
I twitch, but that can't shake away the terrible visual Dale has painted.
"Why..?" Is all I can manage, recalling the phone call; it just makes too much sense now.
"Well that's the question, isn't it," he laughs, heartless and empty. "I imagine they'll do that till there's not a single fucker left."
My blood runs cold and my mind instantly goes to my brother; left at school without protection. He's as good as a baby surrounded by hungry wolves.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I jump onto my feet and pace around like a lion in a zoo. "Shit, why did I leave him there?"
Dale looks up at me with confusion written all over his pretty mug.
"Who?"
"My brother!" I shout as though he should've known.
He stays silent. The warmth he once brought to the room has shrivelled up and died of hypothermia.
Then, he stands up, grabbing his keys. The jingling reminds me of that night:
The kid's breath...
Only now do I realize it smelled like meat.

Jingle, jangle.

"We have to go!"
He looks at me, this time, with the determination of a tiger.
"He's not one of them yet," there's a spark in his voice as he rushes out of the office, his trench coat whipping like a hero's cape.
"C'mon!"