A Cold Day in Hell and Other Graveyard Shift Problems
JA Logwood
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I’m not a headache person. I’m more of a tummy-troubles girly, honestly. Stress, dairy, pre-exam nerves, it all goes straight to my gut. But tonight, the throbbing behind my eyes has me scowling at every customer. It might be the fight with Cora I can’t stop rehashing. Or the skull-rattling bass from that neonazi Artie’s slow drive-by’s. Personally, I blame the entity in the freezer. Following some arcane logic, it’s chosen tonight to act up, unleashing a racket of clanks and ominous hisses.
I step across the cones blocking the freezer case and slap an out of order sign on the door. Frost spreads across the glass in response.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a big mean cold guy, I get it,” I mutter.
At the counter I open my notebook, doodling my way through another round of recrimination and indignation. Of course Cora wants a job with regular hours. Even EMT’s have dayshifts. And that’s what normal people do. That’s what you thought you’d be doing by now, back when this job was just a way to get back on your feet.
The bell above the door jingles and I tense, half expecting Artie. I’ve never been so relieved to see a skinny kid in a hoodie slouching down the junk food aisle.
“Welcome to EZ Bite. Frozen food section’s closed.” My faith in humanity’s ability to follow basic signage went out the window after I started here. The first of many beliefs to be shaken. Graveyard shift will do that to you.
Artie’s still parked across the street, leaning against the driver’s door, smoking and watching. Rosemary kicked him out of the store two weeks ago. Literally kicked him out, he sailed halfway across the parking lot from the punt. His sad pack of skinhead bros, who witnessed the whole thing from a distance, hadn’t given him much sympathy. Since then he’s been lurking around like a stray that can’t decide whether to bite or turn tail. Getting your ass kicked by a being of immortal darkness is usually enough to deter further acts of stupidity. But Artie’s two brain cells haven’t synced up on the matter, or they’re being shouted down by the mean in him. Either way, he makes me nervous.
Hoodie kid slinks up to the counter, depositing an energy drink the size of his forearm, a stash of candy, and a bag of beef jerky. I ring them up absently, back at the fuming part of my internal spiral.
How dare Cora take a day shift position like it doesn’t tank our whole situationship. How dare she tell me like it’s an invitation. Her stupid handsome face so earnest, for a moment I’d been tempted to pin her down and climb back up on it and–
“Sorry, uh, forgot something.” The kid scuttles away, the back of his neck beet red, leaving me holding the bag of jerky mid-air. I narrow my eyes at his retreating form, wondering what flavor of high he’s on.
Picking my notebook back up, I flip through the last few pages. As usual my hands have been working without the knowledge or guidance of my higher consciousness. Bees, flowers, content frogs wallowing in rushes, and birds singing in branches twine across the page. I can almost feel a breeze, the sun’s warmth on my face. I snap it shut, the slap of pages loud in the stillness of the store.
Stillness. Shit. “Hey! You ok kid?”
No response. I grab the emergency kit from under the counter and I sprint towards the back. Behind the cones, the freezer door hangs open, the bottoms of a ratty pair of converse disappearing between ice-encrusted pints of Ben and Jerry’s. His ankles are bony under my hands as I grasp and pull. The Entity pulls back.
“Oh, it’s gonna be like that huh?” Tucking both legs under one arm, I brace my foot against the display case, and stretch for the kit beside me with the other. Beneath the bandaids, Narcan, a couple wooden stakes, and a container of powdered silver, I find it. Pulling the cork out with my teeth, I fling holy water onto frosted-over Hot Pockets.
With a creak like a frozen pond shifting in a thaw, the kid comes loose. We tumble back, an end-cap of chips cushioning our fall. He’s flailing and gasping. Ice crystals cling to his eyelashes and hair, but his wide brown eyes are clear, no sign of possession.
“Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”
I wait until he’s sipping a steaming cup of coffee, wrapped in an emergency thermal blanket pilfered from the auto supply section, before calling Rosemary. His color’s better, though he’s still twitchy, his expression haunted. A near-fatal brush with a cosmic horror will do that. Of course, so will meth, and that’s not totally out of the question.
“I’m not on drugs” he mumbles, then flinches.
Oh great, a mind reader.
He frowns. “It’s not my fault, you think really loud.”
“Funny, I thought I was using my inside voice.”
Rosemary finally picks up, jazz playing softly in the background. “Hello Maxie, dear, something the matter?”
I rub my eyes, sorry to be interrupting what sounds like a much nicer night than I’m having. “The freezer tried to eat a creepy mind reading kid.”
A pause. “Actual child or young adult?”
I give my thawing friend a once-over.
“I’m almost 20,” he scowls.
“Not a minor.”
“Well, that helps. And the freezer? What’s it doing now?” Rosemary asks over the buzz of a kitchen timer.
“Still thumping and bumping. I hit it with holy water, but it’s not totally down.”
“Sounds like it warrants an investigation. And I’d just pulled dessert out of the oven, too. Let me just untie my dinner guest and I’ll be right over. With cookies.”
I hang up and regard the kid for real. His shock of dark curls are snarled, and there’s a tightness to his expression. He stares back, surly and guarded. But he hasn’t asked to leave, which says a whole lot. Most people would be scrambling for an exit. Most people had someplace else to go.
“Whats your name?”
“Ernesto.”
“Right, Ernesto.” I toss him the beef jerky. “Settle in. The boss’ll be here soon; she’ll sort you out.”
He blinks and swallows hard, like this is not reassuring news. As an olive branch, I hand him the ancient iPod Rosemary uses for in-store music. Vampires have a thing about outdated technology.
Ernesto’s eyes light up as he takes the device. “Retro. This is so dope.”
The jerky is gone, the blanket discarded, and Ernesto is lounging comfortably in my chair, deep into a Fleetwood Mac set when Rosemary arrives. Her long grey hair is pinned up in a bun and her trademark velour sweatsuit is purple tonight. She passes me a still-warm tin. I open it and inhale the chocolatey aroma. Ernesto leans over, a hand snaking towards my loot.
I smack it away. “Ernesto, meet Rosemary.”
He tilts his head at her, confusion etched on his face like a puppy. “I can’t hear your thoughts, like at all.”
“A blessing for us both, I’m sure.” she takes his hands in hers, fixing him with her most grandmotherly stare. “Now, Ernesto. When you were in contact with the Entity, did you get a sense of what it wanted?”
I scoff. “You mean besides transporting him to an icy–”
“It’s lonely.” Ernesto’s voice is small, but steady. “I could feel it. I think it could feel me too? We… we have that in common, I guess?”
“Loneliness is a powerful motivator.” She holds his gaze for another moment, giving his captive hands a squeeze before turning to me. “Weren’t you saying the 7-Eleven on Main Street has a possessed coffee maker? I wonder if they’d get along.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re playing demonic matchmaker now?”
“If you emptied a bottle of holy water into it and it’s still kicking then we’re looking at a full exorcism to remove it, and I don’t need the publicity or, frankly, involvement with Catholics. Ernesto. Are you able to stay here while I’m gone? I don’t want Maxie here alone.”
He nods, his shoulders a touch more relaxed. On the way to the door, Rosemary reaches into the hot case for a chicken sandwich. “While you’re here, eat something. You’re too skinny.” She lobs it at Ernesto with a deceptive amount of force and accuracy.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I remember Artie’s malevolent presence. I should have mentioned it, but he’s nowhere to be seen now. Hopefully Rosemary’s appearance was enough to scare him off for good. But I doubted it.
“What’s her deal?” Ernesto asks around a mouthful of chicken sandwich, like we’re old biddies gossiping over lunch.
“What’s her deal?” I squint at him, trying to put a comfortable distance between us again.
“You know what I mean. I couldn’t hear her thoughts. That doesn’t happen. Ever. With anyone. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
He looks so glum that I relent. “She’s a vampire.”
He opens the giant energy drink and takes a swallow. Its chemical sweetness fills the air.
“She’s so old though. I thought they didn’t age.”
“They don’t.” Then, because I can’t help myself, “Those things are terrible for you, you know.”
He shoots me a look that says I was almost sucked into an ice-dimension, I’m not worried about this, but sets it back down on the counter anyway. “So some vampire turned an old lady?”
“Not some vampire, her grandson. Couldn’t stand the thought of losing her. Happens more often than you’d think, apparently.”
He’s still mulling this tidbit over when the bell over the door jingles again.
“Hallo Maxie, how’s your night going?” Jez rasps in her gentle Scandinavia lilt. She shambles towards the coffee, layers of shabby clothing swishing around her.
Ernesto’s nose wrinkles as the scent of pine smoke, wet moss, and rot wafts across the counter. Eau de Draugr.
I shrug. “Could be better. Watch out for the freezer section, it’s got a mind of its own tonight.”
Jez grabs the largest cup we offer, then stops. “Yes, I can see that.”
I peek around the corner. There’s a patch of ice on the floor, unnaturally shiny, stretching halfway up the aisle. I give a low whistle. It’s not a great sign that the entity’s breeched the case.
Oblivious to the danger, Ernesto catches my eye. He points to Jez, then his ears with a shake of his head. I don’t need to read minds to see the delight on his face. How lonely his condition must make him, for the undead to be such a source of relief.
Jez presses the lever on the dispenser. The cup fills but no steam rises. Her leathery skin creases in a frown and she sticks a desiccated finger in the tarry liquid. “Iced coffee it is, then.” She dumps sugar in and tips the half and half. It comes out in a frozen slush. “Or maybe frappuccino.”
Shuffling to the counter, she pulls out a wad of crumpled bills.
I wave them away. “On the house. You working tonight?”
Jez picks up shifts unloading at the docks at night, as long as the work’s under the table and away from bright lights that’ll give her away. “Nah, the port’s been slow. Who’s the new guy?”
“Ernesto. Had a run in with Mr Freeze earlier. He’s sticking around until Rosemary gets back, helping me keep an eye on it.” Ernesto puffs up at the recognition.
Jez tucks the cash away in one of her pockets. “Ah. Thought you might be training a replacement. ‘Bout time you were getting back to the land of the living, isn’t it?”
I grunt noncommittally. A chill creeps up my spine that’s only partially due to the temperature. Not everyone who works the night shift is hiding, but as Cora so astutely summarized, people who stubbornly refuse to leave the night shift might be.
True, my tenure here had corresponded to a low moment where bad decisions and worse luck left me reeling. And maybe I’d used the isolation to retreat from my loneliness and anger, but I am not going to think about that because—stay out of my thoughts, Ernesto.
He snorts behind me. I glower to cover the rush of gratitude as I realize how far I’ve come from that place.
“See you next week, doll.” Jez pulls on the door handle. It doesn’t move. When she lifts her hand, ice crystals cling to her palm. “That can’t be good.”
“Getting chilly in here.” Ernesto’s shivering, the thermal blanket wrapped around him again. I check the aisle. The ice extends three-quarters of the way up, and I swear I can see it moving.
Jez is watching me with a stiff approximation of fear.
Ok, this can’t be worse than when the alien gave birth in the bathroom. It’s a convenience store, use your resources.
I step around the counter, reaching for the display of IceMelt. “Jez, I think you’d better get behind the counter. Ernesto, help me with this.” I shove a bucket of the chemical salt into his hands. We pour a thick line of it across the front of the aisles, then retreat to join Jez.
Shoulder to shoulder, we watch the ice front creep up to the line of salt, then stop.
Ernesto breathes a cloud of relief. “Now what?”
Before I can answer, the bells above the door jingle. Apparently the Entity is only trapping people in, not out. Which is a real shame, because standing in the doorway, grin dripping with menace and a bat over his shoulder, is Artie. If I had to choose between being trapped with a demon or a nazi, I’d take the demon every time.
“Wellwellwell, my favorite freakshow.“ He stops and blinks. “Fuckin’ cold in here.”
Ernesto leans in. “Maxie, his thoughts are not good.”
No shit.
When a stray decides to bite, the attack isn’t going to be pretty. Still, I try deflection. Eyes on our unwelcome guest, I smile as sweetly as I can manage. “Artie, we’ve had our differences, but I think we can work through them. Why don’t you grab yourself some ice cream. On the house.”
Artie’s pupils are too wide for the bright fluorescent lights.“I think we both know I didn’t come here to talk, you dyke bitch.”
He spits, winds up, and swings hard, taking out the register. The momentum briefly ricochets the bat away. In the opening, I grab Ernesto’s oversized energy drink and chuck it at his face. It hits with a wet thunk before bouncing off, spinning and fizzing over the tile floor.
Artie shakes his head, splattering blood, smile gone. “Spicy huh? That’s ok, I like a little fight. Come on sweetheart, let’s dance.”
He takes a step forward. His foot slides, sending him into a lurch, then a graceless flail, before he hits the floor. We peer over the counter. Everywhere the syrupy beverage has breached our salt barricade, ice is pouring in. Artie, dazed on his back like a turtle, starts to move backwards.
“What’s happening? Help –Help!” He scrabbles at the slippery surface as he slides out of view. His shouts become muffled as the freezer door creaks open. Then they stop entirely. After a minute, the clanking and hissing die down too. The edge goes out of the chill in the air.
Ernesto elbows me. “Guess you’re right about the drink. Those things really aren’t good for you.”
Ernesto and I are mopping up puddles when Rosemary returns with the bedeviled coffee machine. She takes in the scene. “What happened?”
“Artie,” I start. Her fangs are out, eyes deepening to crimson before I can add, “has gone to be with our freezer friend.”
She considers this, then sets the new machine on the counter. “Well, that’s two birds with one stone. Though he’s bound to be terrible company. We best keep this just in case. Maxie, why are you pushing that mop like it personally offended you?”
“It just figures that a human would be the worst part of this night.”
Ernesto looks at me. “The best part too, though.”
I don’t have a response to that, but for the first time all night, the tension at the base of my skull eases.
When he takes the bucket to the back, Rosemary pulls me aside. “What do you think of him?”
I shrug. “Smart. Not phased by much, clearly.”
She taps her chin, considering. “Think he’d be a good fit here?”
“Are you giving away my job?” I grouse.
“No, but a little redundancy isn’t going to hurt. Eventually you’ll move on. If you stay here licking your wounds much longer I’ll have to put a cone collar on you.” She pats my arm kindly.
I put my head down on the counter with a groan. “You know, I can’t even remember when I went anywhere while the sun was up? Cora and I have never even been on a day date.”
“No day like today! Speaking of which, get out of here. The morning shift’s almost here, and it’s too late for me to get home before sunrise.” She catches my soon-to-be trainee and steers him towards her windowless office. “Ernesto, darling, let’s chat.”
Cora’s rig is waiting in the parking lot as I walk out. She hops out of the ambulance, uncertain. “Want a ride?”
I cross my arms. “Did you think an ambulance ride would get you off the hook?
She steps closer, leaning in to whisper. “I’ll let you run the lights.”
I wrap her in a hug, leaning into the solidness of her presence, bracing myself. “Deal. But maybe breakfast first?”
When she smiles, it’s brighter than the sun and twice as warm.