Cherry Coke

John was driving faster than he should, trying to make time.

“Easy on the corners dumbass,” Susan complained.

“Quit your bitching. We’re late because of you and that stupid foster kid.”

“He’s not stupid,” Susan corrected, “he’s got brain damage—that’s why they pay us extra for him. You got a better idea of how to bring money into the house?”

“Yeah,” John gesticulated toward the road, “my uncle, duh? Why the hell do you think we’re driving to the middle of nowhere?”

“How does this get us his money?” Susan asked, holding onto the “oh shit” handle above her door with both hands as John continued at an uncomfortable speed. They were traveling over an unlit state highway toward the middle of a remote desert to meet a group of stargazers. John’s Uncle Chet was the Vice President of the Agate Star Gazers Club and charged with finding young members to keep the club alive. Chet was retired, had never married and had no family still alive, except for John who started showing up about six months ago. Chet lived in an old Victorian house, that had been meticulously restored with beautifully manicured grounds. He had multiple cars, all of them imported and in pristine condition.

“Who else is he going to give all his money to?” John answered. “We just work our way into his life and when he gets sick, which should be any time, we move in and take over. Cakewalk.”

As the sagebrush and lines on the highway blurred by the car, something suddenly jumped across the road, lit up for just an instant by the headlights.

“Did you see that? What was it? It was huge!” John exclaimed.

“Probably a tumbleweed,” Susan said, as she exhaled a cloud of cherry-flavored vapor.

“No way. That was an animal. It looked like a cheetah!”

“In the desert. A cheetah? Are you high? They live in like Australia or someplace.”

“They have them in zoos, and some people keep them as pets. Maybe it got loose.”

“It was a tumbleweed, but I’d be willing to consider a cougar,” Susan offered.

“Cougars don’t have spots. I saw it clear as day!” John said. Susan took another drag on her vape and silently rolled her eyes.

There was a sign on the road a mile from the star gazing area that read “Please Turn Off Your Lights.” Drivers were intended to pull over, let their eyes adjust, and slowly drive the rest of the way with only starlight to guide them. John didn’t have that kind of time. He turned off his lights but kept on at high speed. He knew the road was mostly straight and was feeling his way with the tires, ready to swerve if he felt the shoulder grab at the wheel.

“How can you tell if we’re there?” Susan asked.

“They set up little red lights to show you where to park, to preserve your night vision,” John said.

“You better slow down or you’re going to crush that little club under your tires and this whole thing will be for nothing,” Susan complained.

“It’s fine, we’re nearly –” a loud thump stopped John mid-sentence, as he hit his brakes. “What was that? The cheetah?”

“There’s no fucking cheetah!” Susan yelled. John turned off the engine and rolled down his window. The smell of the sagebrush was carried on the cool night air, but the desert was silent. John opened his car door, “Shit!” he said as the dome light popped on. He flipped it off and stepped out. He walked around the car, feeling his way in the dark, trying to see if there was anything injured near the car. Still worried about the cheetah, he carried a sawn-off baseball bat he kept under the seat.

“What do you see?” Susan yelled out the window.

“Shut up! I’m trying to listen.” There wasn’t chirp or trill to be heard. Only the clicking of his cooling engine broke the silence. As he cautiously stepped away from the car he heard what he thought was panting. He imagined the cheetah, injured and crouched somewhere. “Nothing more dangerous than an injured animal,” he thought to himself. He raised the bat, ready to swing at anything that came at him. As he narrowed in on the sound, instead of a cheetah he found an old man lying on his back on the side of the road. He was gasping for air and reaching out to John for help. As John’s eyes adjusted he could see wet blood on the man’s scalp and face, his leg was twisted off at a sick angle. His breathing was labored. “Goddamn stargazer. What were you doing out her old man?” The man’s bony hand continued to reach out for help, but instead, John put a knee on his chest and pushed the bat against his throat. “It’s for the best, guy. You’re not gonna make it.”

He dragged the body to the back of the car, damning the lights inside the trunk as he stuffed the old man under a blanket. He got back in the driver’s seat and said, “looks like the stargazers group is shrinking faster than expected.”

“What happened?” Susan asked.

“Some old guy was wandering around in the dark, got hit by a car and died. Now because he was an idiot we have to get rid of a body.”

“We?”

“You going to turn on me?” John asked as a threat.

“No, I just like it when you think of us as a couple,” Susan said.

“One thing at a time. Let’s find these old fuckers and make nice.” John moved the car slowly down the road and at last saw an array of red Christmas lights marking the stargazing area. Several of the members had large telescopes set up and were murmuring declinations and ascensions to other members. One of the pale, thin men noticed the couple approaching.

“John! Susan! You made it! Wonderful to see you! We’re just getting started,” Uncle Chet said.

“Sorry we’re late, we had to stop and help somebody who hit an animal on the road,” John said.

“Oh no. Are they alright?” Chet asked.

“Yeah, but they never found the animal. They thought maybe it was a cheetah,” John offered.

“That would be very unusual. Antelope are pretty common, even deer. Maybe it was a cougar, but I don’t think they like the desert much.”

“They were pretty sure it was a cheetah,” John offered, feeling Susan’s smirk through the dark.

“Well, you’re here now and that’s what matters. Come on over to the telescope and I’ll get you caught up on what we’re watching tonight.” John and Susan endured three hours of peering through eyepieces pointed at the sky, pretending to be amazed by things they couldn’t see.

***

On the drive back John complained, “I’m not sure his money is worth doing this again.”

“I kinda liked it, I can see why they do it. It’s nice and peaceful out there,” Susan said.

“Like the grave,” John said. “By the way, we have to get rid of the old guy in the trunk and ditch this car.” John drove a generic 1990s sedan, the tires bald and the paint peeling away in patches. He had borrowed it from a neighbor in his apartment complex who was on hospice. John figured he didn’t need it and wouldn’t miss it. “I’ll chop up the stargazer and drop the Hefty bags in some restaurant dumpsters on Friday. By Monday there’ll be enough rotten food on top of him they’ll never notice two little garbage bags of old man. But we’ll need a new car.”

“Do you think Chet would loan us one?” Susan asked hopefully.

“Maybe. Might be a good way to feel him out, see if he trusts us yet. I’ll tell him we’re having car trouble and see if he can give us a ride to next stargazing thing. Then hit him up for it.”

***

The following week, Chet was happy to drive John and Susan to the Agate Stargazers gathering, and commented on how much he enjoyed the smell of Susan’s vape, “It smells like Cherry Coke, which is one of my favorites!”

“Me too!” Susan said.

“So Chet,” John leaned forward from the back seat, “how’s the club membership drive going?”

“Good! Just look at you two. A couple of youngsters ready to learn about the mysteries of the universe.” John was surprised that Chet didn’t mention the old man he tossed in the dumpster. Surely he noticed that one of his members had gone missing.

“About the club, Chet,” John faked a weary sigh, “our car is on its last legs, and we won’t be able to come out here without a new one.”

“I can drive you, no problem,” Chet said.

“Yeah, well, we also need to get to work and the store, you know—day to day stuff.”

“Did you find work? I thought had to stay unemployed until your disability claim was settled.”

“That’s right,” John said through clenched teeth,” but Susan has to get our foster kid to school and run him around to appointments. Poor kid spends a lot of time at the doctor.”

“Well, I’m happy to drive you around when I can but my plate’s pretty full,” Chet said.

“That’s great, Chet, but we were thinking maybe you could help us to get our own transportation, seeing how we’re family and all. You know, blood’s thicker than water.”

“You know what John, I think you’re right. Why don’t we talk about it on the way back? We’re almost there.” The “Please Turn Off Your Lights” sign disappeared as Chet turned off his headlights and continued on in the pitch black, barely slowing.

“You must know this road pretty well,” Susan said, “to drive in the dark like this. John barely made it the last time.”

“Spend enough time in the dark and you can almost see your way,” Chet said with a chuckle. The arrived at the red Christmas lights and got out. “John, could you help me with the telescope in the trunk, it’s pretty heavy for one person.”

“Sure thing, Chet.”

“Susan, why don’t you join the group and get started, we’ll be right there,” Chet suggested.

“Okey dokey,” Susan said, trailing a cloud of sickly-sweet vapor.

Chet and John walked to the back of the car, popped the trunk and in one swift move Chet handcuffed John to the bumper and put his hand over John’s mouth. Chet was strong–weirdly, strong John thought and worried he might crack his jaw as he held his hand on his face to keep him quiet.

“Any thoughts on what’s going on out here?” Chet asked. “The animal you saw, the old man in the road that you hit. Why is the desert to silent? Any of that adding up for you John?” John shook his head. “Here’s what we’ll do, I’ll uncover your mouth so you can speak but I’m going to hold your free hand and squeeze if you make any noise louder than a whisper.” Chet grabbed John’s hand like he was going to shake it and squeezed until he heard a couple of bones pop. John let out a muffled scream. “So that’s exactly what I don’t want you to do. I want to talk to you, but no yelling. Understand? Only speak in whispers.” John shook his head and Chet removed his hand from his mouth.

One handcuffed to the car the other held by his weirdly strong uncle, John decided to do as he was told to buy some time until he could figure out how to get the upper hand. “What do you want to know?” John asked.

“No John, I asked you what you think,” Chet repeated.

“I did wonder about the old man we hit. I figured you guys would notice if one of your members went missing,” John said.

“He wasn’t a member,” Chet said.

“I guess that would explain it,” John wished he had his baseball bat.

“What about your cheetah? How do you explain a large cat from Africa running around the Idaho desert at night?” Chet asked.

“Somebody’s pet got loose? Maybe it was a tumbleweed?” John wasn’t coming up with any ideas on how to get loose and was starting to panic.

“What you saw was Terry, he’s one of our members. He has a leopard skin jacket he likes to wear for our outings. It’s just his thing,” Chet said, covering John’s mouth again. “I can hear your heart racing John. I can smell the sweat starting to bead up all over your body, I’m afraid it’s time for you to go.” Chet bit into John’s neck and pulled blood out of him like a ten-year-old sucking on a milkshake. He crushed John’s jaw as he leaned in to get every drop. Chet unlocked the handcuff and let John’s limp body drop to the ground as he headed off the join the group.

“Susan!” Chet said as she appeared from within a cloud of vapor. “How are you doing? Is everyone making you feel at home?”

“Oh yeah, everyone’s been really nice. Where’s John?”

“He wasn’t feeling well and decided to rest a bit. Tell me, what do you do with that foster child when the two of you go out?”

Susan paused, unsure for a moment and then said, “We tie him to a chair and lock him in the coat closet. He likes it. It calms him down.”

“That’s wonderful. We’ll pick him up later,” Chet said.

“For what?” Susan asked.

“For dessert.” The stargazing ghouls descended on Susan, tearing her open and feeding on her like a pack of leeches.

Terry, still in his leopard-skin jacket, paused and said to Chet, “You’re right, it does taste just like Cherry Coke.”