Electric Gothic Nightmare

A Short Story (Horror)

The blacktop road curved through empty Alabama cotton fields and tunneled through groves of weeping willows. Bugs sacrificed themselves on her windshield so thickly that every half hour she had to run her wipers.

The light flashed on Jackie’s dash. The car’s battery low. The nav system read thirty minutes until the next charging station.

It was already two hours out of her way.

“The problem with being first is sometimes the rest of the world hasn’t caught up,” her mother had said before she left.

“It’s not safe,” she said, “What if your battery dies out there? Just how many charging stations do you think they have in Alabama?”

“Mom, it’s fine,” Jackie said.

“What if you get stranded at some back-water voodoo town?” her mom had asked.

“Mom! You can’t say that!” Jackie said.

“Why not?” her mother said.

Jackie hadn’t bothered to answer.

The yoke on the Tesla sputtered gently against her hand as the car kept itself centered around another curve. From the opposite direction came a beat-up truck leaving clouds of pollution. Her stomach knotted in a grip of rage.

The GPS chirped at the intersection of General’s Highway and nowhere. The station’s roof badly bowed. Shingles sheared off from the last hurricane lay scattered across the gravel, and garbage spilled out of the overfull dumpster that was set back in a patch of weeds.

In the middle of the parking lot, a little boy played. He swung a stick as boys do when they are fighting some imaginary monster. He wore a costume, but from the road, Jackie couldn’t tell what.

She flicked the wheel, bounced over the broken asphalt, and glided into the station on a whisper.

The boy had vanished.

The station’s two lonely pumps stood as ancient relics. Alone and frozen in time. A pickup truck and bulldozer sat opposite the dumpster. These too, like the dumpster, were being colonized by weeds.

The electric charging station, shining in the sun, stood out, haphazardly placed where the gravel met the trees.

She parked.

Sweeping back golden-brown hair, Jackie rummaged through her purse. She needed to text Jason back. He had asked her for an ETA two hours ago, and she had ignored him. She found the phone.

She pushed it on, but its screen stayed black, its battery dead.

Two quick raps on the window and she jumped, whipping around in a panic.

A friendly looking man waved to her through the Tesla’s tinted glass.

“Ma’am, no reason to startle so!” he shouted through the window. “I come to help you plug in... if you’d like.”

Jackie blushed.

She opened the car door. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you walk up,” she said.

He was an African American man, about thirty years old, his smile yellow, and manner kind. He walked to the front of her car.

“No problem,” the man drawled, “what is a pretty thang like you doin’ all the way out here?”

Jackie smoothed her skirt, suddenly self-conscious. “The battery,” she said, “this place... it looked abandoned.”

“Oh that,” he said, “we don’t get many visitors out here.” He plugged the end of the cable into the car’s port and wiped his hands on faded overalls.

He had a glass eye.

She hadn’t noticed at first. It stared straight ahead, the anchor to his other, which now flicked across her figure. Her stomach knotted and she felt sick at her own discomfort.

“Do you know how long it will take?” she asked.

“No idea,” a second voice came from behind, startling her. “They all charge different.”  Another man joined them. He was almost identical to the first, minus the glass eye.

“Ur mighty jumpy today... he don’t bite. That'n's my twin,” said the one with the glass eye.

“Oh, well nice to meet you. I’m Jackie,” she said, and reached out a hand.

“Ma says it’s not good to play with your food,” the man said. He left her hand hanging.

Jackie faltered.

“You want to come inside?” Glass Eye offered, “be a might cooler.”

“That sounds nice,” Jackie dipped her head, unsure whether to ask for their names.

The twin had a limp, one that made him throw his gait wide, one foot shorter than the other.

They approached the station. Vegetation menaced it with green tentacles, like a giant swamp squid were the station a Yankee clipper. Every moment seemed its last, should a moment be a few more years. Vines creeped its corpse and weaved behind loose paneling, deconstructing it board by board.

An old vending machine freed Jackie of the image. It hummed and bumped from its place on the landing, obscuring her view of the front door.

As they rounded the noisy machine, she again startled, this time at the sight of an old lady. She sat droopy eyed and board straight in a wooden rocker.

“Is she alright?” Jackie asked.

“Oh, that’s ma, she don’t talk much. Just sleeps and cooks mostly,” Limpy said.

The woman’s face was pulled backwards in a wrinkled grimace, and never so much as twitched, despite the conversation next to her.

Spices, mold, and musk - her essence oozed signs of the future. That future being death, incarnate, waiting around the corner, hands steepled, in anticipation of his newest bauble.

Glass Eye held the door open for Jackie.

Limpy followed too closely.

His hot breath, or maybe just the humid breeze, brushed away the hairs on the back of her neck. She shivered.

Maneuvering away, she tried to keep them both in view. Happy with the space she had created, she scanned the shelves, as if really interested in buying a can of expired beans. The shelves were mostly bare. The station’s stock left on pallets positioned around the store.

“If you are a lookin’ for somethun to eat, dinner should be ready,” said Glass Eye.

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose,” Jackie said on impulse.

The true weirdness of the invitation, of this place, had yet to worm its way from the base of her head into the front part of her brain.

Family dinner at the gas station.

“I wouldn’t let Ma, hear you talkin’ like that, she don’t take to strangers turning down her cook’n,” Limpy said.

“Sure then,” Jackie smiled helplessly.

“Well, this way,” Glass Eye said.

Nervously, she followed, and the twins led her through the back of the store, past an empty freezer section that smelled of sour milk. They dipped through a beaded curtain of the Virgin Mary, and into a small kitchen, an old vinyl table its centerpiece.

Something boiled on the stove. A stew of some sort. She could place the celery, the carrots, and some type of meat - pork maybe? Also, the scent of cumin, but not in an overpowering kind of way.

She fumbled with the nearest chair, which was mismatched to the table and put her uncomfortably low, with no place to rest her elbows.

Limpy sat next to her, staring intently at her profile.

Remembering the dead phone in her hand, she asked if she could charge it. Glass Eye merely grunted, pointing to a cracked outlet on the far side of the wall, while Limpy continued to stare.

Jackie plugged the phone in, vaguely aware of Limpy’s eyes as she bent over.

The baseboards were layered in grime. Her hands fluttered, and she drew a deep breath, finally aligning the plug to the socket.

Why was she so nervous? Was this what her therapist meant about “catastrophizing.”

“I was surprised to find a charging station, so out of the way,” she said, returning to her seat.

“That was Ma’s idea, she always had great ideas. Got the state to pay for it and every-thin’,” said Glass Eye.

“Alabama supporting clean energy,” Jackie said, “You love to see it.”

“What’s that?” asked Glass eye.

“What’s what?” Jackie asked, confused.

“He is meanin’, what's clean energy?” Limpy said.

“Oh, it's... it’s just electric,” she said, regretting her response the moment it left her mouth.

“Well, it keeps us fed,” Glass Eye said.

The beaded curtain parted, and Ma stood there, hunched over. The mummy had risen.

“You must be Ma,” Jackie said, again reaching out a hand, and again disregarded.

The old woman shuffled to the stove, shooing Glass Eye away from his post.

Jackie sat back down.

The four of them slurped in silence while Ma sat board straight in her chair. Eyes slit shut. Bowl steaming in front of her.

The meat fell apart in Jackie’s mouth and it had taken nearly half of the bowl before she decided what it was.

“This is amazing,” Jackie said, “Is it pork?”

“You could say that. Some call it Long Pig,” Glass Eye said, grinning to the others, and drawing a laugh from Limpy. Ma merely pursed her lips, what Jackie imagined was the mummy’s attempt at joy.

Their reactions gave Jackie pause. She had never heard of a Long Pig, but then again, she wasn’t well versed in pig breeds. Maybe, it was a southern thing, slang for possum.

At that, her stomach churned.

“I tolds you it was good,” Glass Eye continued.

“Do you mind if I get a second bowl?” Jackie asked.

“He’p yourself,” Ma said, the first time she had spoken. "You'd think they didn’t feed you.”

“I mean, I don’t need a second bowl,” Jackie said.

“What’s a matter you don’t like mines cook’n?” Ma said.

“No, it’s amazing, that’s not what I meant,” Jackie said.

“White’n’s never sayin what they mean,” Ma quipped. The twins laughed eagerly.

Jackie pushed herself up from the table. She had lost her appetite for more but filled the bowl anyways. Anything to escape the awkwardness. How was it that she always said the wrong thing?

With difficulty, she forced her way through the second bowl, the bowl she had forced upon herself.

Jackie finished and felt sick. Her eyes flitted between the empty bowl and her phone, wondering how best to excuse herself.

“More?” Limpy asked.

All eye(s) watched for her response.

Jackie gulped.

 Her mouth responded independent of her brain, and she said, “Yes.”

“That’s my girl,” the mummy said, beaming, and Jackie, for but a moment, felt relief at having finally answered correctly.

Glass Eye grabbed her bowl. He skipped to the stove, scooping the stew in heaps.

He set the steaming bowl in front of her.

Jackie picked up her spoon. Hands shaking, she began to eat. She felt flushed. Beads of sweat breached her brow, yet she ate, ever committed to not offending.

The three watched, waiting with bated breath for her final review.

She plastered an empty smile on her face, and said, “that was amazing, thank you.”

“You want more?” Ma asked.

The color drained from Jackie’s face.

“Just kid-din, love, it’s all gone.” the mummy said.

Jackie excused herself and grabbed the phone. She hurried through the beaded curtain, before anything more could be said.

Limpy followed her through, again too closely.

She had quit smoking over a year ago, but her thin nerves had reignited the urge. She asked Limpy if she could buy a pack, desperate for something to calm her down.

“Do you need a lighter?” Limpy asked.

“Actually, I do,” Jackie said.

Outside, she freed the box of its plastic, and packed the cigarettes. Marlboro Lights. She carefully selected one from among the others and placed it between full lips. Her heartbeat furious. The meal threatened to come back up, but the nicotine settled her stomach.

Encouraged, she took a deeper pull, and exhaled slowly, coughing gently as her lungs readjusted.

The sun sank lower in the sky, now at the hour where gold gilded everything. For a moment, she was happy.

She powered the phone on. It had gotten almost half a charge over dinner. She needed to talk to someone. Jason could always calm her down.

When the phone had fully booted, the tiny icon for service just spun and spun. When it stopped, it showed no service.

Jackie cried.

She lifted the phone to the sky and turned in every direction. Hopeless. This was truly nowhere. She looked at the Tesla, so out of place, and it gleamed in the evening pink.

She needed to go. She didn’t care how far she got, she could call for a tow, or hitch, but she didn’t feel safe.

Jackie dropped the cigarette and ran to the car, clicked the key fob, and jumped inside. 

It had not charged at all!

“What in the absolute fuuuuuck!” she screamed, slamming her hands against the yoke.

She hurried to the front of the car, and there, on the ground, lay the plug, pulled free of the port. She plugged it back in.

She would have to wait even longer now. Leaving was no longer an option, for she only had ten miles left in the battery, more like five with the way she planned to drive. Enough to get her nowhere.

The thick wall of vegetation rustled behind her. The little boy she had seen earlier emerged, half naked, in ragged jeans and sandals. On his face a wooden mask, its ghoulish mouth wide open.

Its black slits stared at her.

“Did you do this?” she asked.

The boy just stood there, mute, a tiny witch doctor from a far-off land.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the boy said.

At this, Jackie’s rage boiled over, and in her rage, she forgot her fear.

“Why did you unplug this?” she shouted.

Without another word, the boy ran off into the woods, branches snapping in his wake.

“Get back here!” Jackie yelled. She set off after him. The trees were thick, and they tore at her. A branch caught her blouse, ripping a clean tear in the shoulder. Weeds scratched the bare of her legs, but she charged forward.

Quite suddenly, she broke through the wall of trees and upon an empty dirt road.

The road was badly carved up. Deep trenches, tire tracks, full of water from the last rain stretched down the road before her.

The bulldozer?

The boy stood in the road, watching her.

What would she even do if she caught him?

She considered taking the road back to the station and forgetting all about the little menace. No, he must know how much trouble he had caused. She chased after him.

The boy paced her expertly, always keeping the same distance between them. When she ran, he ran, and when she ran faster, he ran faster, and when she had at last tired herself out and needed to walk, he skipped along waiting for her to catch up.

The sky gave up orange for gray.

The road ended in the swamp, disappearing beneath murky water and a sea of mossy trees.

The boy stopped at the water's edge.

The bugs clicked on, a gentle white noise opposite the pounding in her temples. Fireflies blinked above the water.

The boy made no move to avoid her. Instead, he pointed a tiny finger towards the swamp.

Mechanical corpses peaked above the swamp’s surface, like icebergs in an arctic sea.

The whole of her breath escaped, leaving a vacuum in her chest.

 Rusting in the swamp lay at least five Tesla’s, vines curling through their broken glass, moss grafted to their dingy frames and once shiny mirrors. And further out, where the shadows grew darker in the dying light, there were other types too, a Prius, and a Smart Car.

She counted at least ten different vehicles abandoned to the swamp.

But what of their owners?

She stared down at the deep rivets carved by the bulldozer’s heavy tires. The tracks disappearing into the swamp before her. Jackie retched up the entirety of her meal. The swamp began to spin, and she steadied herself against a willow. She knew what had happened here.

Jackie scrambled back up the muddy road, clambering on hands and knees, until she reached the top of the hill. She sprinted back the way she had come. At the end of the road laid both her means of escape, and the means of her demise.

---

It was dark when she reached the station.

She stopped where the road met the very edge of the parking lot and tried to catch her breath.

Nothing moved.

On the far side of the lot, her car gleamed in the dim light from a single flickering bulb, hanging from the station. Its light a weak yellow. It did not illuminate so much as cast shadows. The clunky vending machine whirred.

She needed a plan.

She would creep around the edge of the parking lot, where it was dark, and the yellow light did not touch. If she were quiet and quick, she could be in her car speeding away, but only if they had left it plugged in...

She clinched the key fob in her hand.

It wasn’t even a real key. One she could use to gouge out an attacker's eyes. No, it was a useless hunk of plastic, free a stabbing point, rounded corners for a civil society.

She creeped along the edge of the lot. Low, she crouched, and picked her path.

She was halfway to her car when the station door creaked open. It bathed the lot in a bright white light, and Jackie fell to her belly. She pressed her face against the ground and prayed.

A twin stood silhouetted in the doorway. He stood there for what seemed an eternity. At last, the silhouette closed the door, leaving the lot dark.

She crawled forward on her belly, too scared to risk a crouch. Her elbows burned. When she was but feet away from the car, she scurried to her feet.

It was still plugged in!

Jackie pulled the plug free of its port. She worked quickly, for the yellow light from the station left her exposed.

She crept to the driver’s side door and drew a deep breath.

She touched the handle.

The Tesla came alive with lights, and chirped, as if happy to see her. She cringed at all its noise and slipped inside.

She jammed the starter, and the engine whirred to life. The battery on 60%. More than enough.

White light flooded the inside of the car.

Jackie slammed it in reverse and hammered the accelerator. The car launched backwards. But almost immediately, it skidded to a stop. Its tires hissing.

She screamed and slammed her foot down harder, still committed to driving away.

But the car didn’t move.

Its engine whined louder the harder she stomped, until it ceased all together.

A giant red warning blinked on the touchscreen...

WARNING: MULTIPLE FLAT TIRES DETECTED> AUTOMATIC SHUTDOWN> FOR YOUR SAFETY> PLEASE REMAIN IN VEHICLE>

“NO, please no!” she screamed.

She pounded her fists against the screen, the window next to her exploding in a spray of broken glass.

A hand grabbed at her, catching a tangle hold of blonde hair. Her scalp on fire, she felt bits of it tear loose.

She prayed all of it would come free if only she could flee.

She was hauled out through the window, jagged glass ripping at her clothes, her flesh, and flung to the ground.

The bulldozer roared to life, coughing black smoke, obscuring its blinding floodlights for but a moment.

The hand did not release her but dragged her screaming across the gravel. The hand picked her up from bloody knees. The hand slammed into the side of her face.

She lay in the bed of a truck. Her world narrowed. It dimmed.

A glass eye. The dozer’s roar. Blinding lights. Blackness.

---

Two Days Later…

George Freeman sat in his rocker. With his one good eye, he watched as the white Tesla pulled into the little lot. The crunch of gravel beneath its tires was the only noise it made. These electric cars were all so silent.

The car pulled up in front of the little charging station.

“Ma, we got anoth’r guest for dinner,” he shouted.

The screen door opened behind him. George glanced over his shoulder. It was Robert, his twin.

“Want me to go get the long pig out of the meat locker?” Robert asked.

“Might as well,” George said. “But make sure you get one that’s cured. And tell ma we got guests.”

Tonight, Papa Gede would smile upon them.