Forgotten Monsters
Just past noon, the sun stood center a sky free of clouds. A fierce bright circle haloed by piercing rays of light shot down and ricocheted off the black top and into the old beat up jeep, the heat intensified as it penetrated through the thick dirty glass of the windshield. Asphalt stretched out in front and trailed behind the jeep for miles. The flat landscape on either side pushed out far into the horizon, empty, not a tree or building in sight, just tall grass creeping its way to the shoulder’s edge. The top of the jeep was off and the speed of the road pushed around the warm air. The driver, Chris, looked over at his girlfriend, Abigail, in the passenger seat trying to read a crumpled map as the wind assaulted her face, blowing around wisps of blonde hair that were rapidly escaping her ponytail. She made futile attempts to pull them back and get them under control.
“Do you see where we’re at on the map?” asked Chris in a slow sweet
“No, I don’t know where we are?” Abigail said still staring intensely at the map waiting for it to make sense somehow. She sighed pushing the map down into her lap and looked out at the empty road through the mud stained windshield. Using her hand as a visor, she turned to look at Chris. “This car is filthy.” She said flatly. She was getting sick of being on the road. Sick of being in the heat. She could feel herself getting cranky and ready to start a fight.
“It’s a Jeep! It’s supposed to be dirty” He looked at her and smiled. He was
getting annoyed himself. They were out in the middle of nowhere, for her.
Looking for a park that he was beginning to think didn’t really exist. An extra credit project from her photography teacher. If she
came back with decent pictures of the dinosaur park in the middle of nowhere
“Look another road.” Abigail pointed to a dirt road off the right that led into the vast openness of the fields.
“Maybe it leads to some small town. We can ask for directions.” He looked at her for agreement. She just shrugged with indifference.
“What could it hurt?”
He turned the jeep down the road. Abigail coughed as dust kicked up into the open frame of the jeep. Chris slowed down a bit to keep the dust out of their faces. The road began to narrow. The jeep shifted and swayed as it pushed over the neglected road burdened with rocks and holes. They had been traveling for 20 minutes or so and still saw nothing, no other roads, no buildings, no small town like Chris said they might find.
“Should we turnaround?” asked Abigail.
“Naw, let’s go just a little further, there has to be something sooner or later. This can’t just be a road to nothing”
Abigail shrugged “Alright.” She looked back down at the useless map for some reassurance.
They went on for another couple of miles until finally something appeared over the horizon, an old barn and farmhouse. A barbed wire fence lined the parameter. Dead rusted corpses of cars and trucks festered in the front yard. The front porch slouched under the weight of the sunken roof. Bottles and cans were tied with twine to the eves of the porch overhang. They clanged together and the afternoon sun glistened off the glass and aluminum. The jeep sank into the road that turned to mud the closer they got. Chris stopped, engine still running. Without the noise of the tires against the mud they could hear the loud drone of a swarm of flies hovering over the carcass of smirking dog in the dirt drive just ahead of them.
“Gross” Chris mumbled as he leaned forward to get a better look.
“Shhhh, listen!”
“What?”
“Don’t you hear that?”
“What, the flies?”
“No, shhhh. It’s something else. It’s like a grunting or something” Abigail brought her finger to her lips, motioning for silence. Her brow furrowed with concentration and she turned her ear up to better catch the sound.
“I don’t hear anything” Chris said turning towards her in his seat. “Oh shit!”
“What!?” Abigail’s face stiffened in fear.
“Look!” he said pointing behind her. She turned her head, chin touching her shoulder. Two pigs, one behind the other, the front hooves of the top pig dug into the sow’s pink hairy back.
“Eeeewww!” Abigail stuck out her tongue in disgusted. She turned back to Chris, giggling.
“Well I’ll be damned. Two pigs fucking” Abigail slapped him playfully in the chest. He laughed. She laughed. The pigs still fucking grunted loudly to each other.
Abigail’s smile fell. She looked past Chris and into the front windows of the house.
“What?” Chris turned and faced forward again. Inside the house something stirred. It was hard to see through the dirty glass smeared with mud and dust. All that could be made out were shadows and silhouetted figures, standing tall and looming at the front windows. Abigail and Chris both fell very silent. Suddenly a lot of commotion erupted inside the house. Furniture crashed on the floor and the sound of glass could be heard breaking. A voice from inside called out “Whoopee aw yeah! Git it! Git it!” A deep bellowing laugh accompanied the yelling. “Fuckin ride it! Fucking git it! Whoooo yeah!”
Before either of them could say anything to each other, Chris threw the jeep into reverse cutting the wheel and swinging the back end of the jeep around almost slamming into the pigs. The pigs squealed falling backwards in fright. They both jumped up and ran in the other direction towards the barn, ears flapping as they trotted as fast as their short legs would take them.
As the farmhouse disappeared in the rearview mirror they both began to laugh.
“You’ve watched one too many movies Chris!” Abigail laughed slapping her bare knee.
“You were scared too!” he flashed a big toothy grin. “What the hell do you think was going on in there?”
Abigail raised her eyebrows, “I don’t want to fucking know.”
The jeep found its way back to the deserted but paved highway. After another boring hour of driving, in which they both would share isolated fits of laughter through long stretches of silence, they spotted a sign for a gas station and pulled off at the next exit. The road leading off the highway was short this time and to their relief the station was immediately visible from the road.
***
The jeep pulled into the station and stopped at a pump at the far end of the lot. At the other end was a pick up truck with a gun rack overflowing with rednecks all in various stages of dress. Only some were wearing shirts, those of which were not wearing shoes. All of them were wearing denim pants or overalls. They were big and sweaty. Some of them had tattoos, tattoos of naked women and Klan insignia.
Before getting out of the car Chris turned in his seat to look at Abigail then out to the group of sweaty men. “Do you have to go that bad?”
“Yes” she said squirming in her seat.
“You can’t hold it?”
“I’ve really gotta go.”
“Alright, but make it quick. If something happens, I can’t defend you against that big group of guys over there.”
“I’m sure,” she clucked. She hopped out of the truck and closed the door. “It’ll be fine.” She gave him a condescending grin and turned to walk towards the attendant station.
Chris got out and started pumping gas keeping a close eye on Abigail the whole time. Abigail passed the truck as she made her way to the attendant station. As she moved past them time slowed to a crawl in anticipation for something awful to happen; an unwelcome remark, an ugly gesture, threatening behavior, but she passed without incident. Just before the door closed behind her in the station she could her one barefoot man say to a shirtless one, “now how’s she gonna press charges? She’s only twelve years old!”
The attendant leaned back in his chair behind the counter. He was middle aged,
sweaty and dirty but had a friendly smile.
“Hi. Would you mind showing me where we are at on this map?” Abigail pulled the map from her back pocket and unfolded on the counter.
“Well now, let’s see whatcha got here.” The attendant leaned forward putting his elbows on the counter. He pushed up the brim of his trucker’s cap to get a better look. “All right, here we are right here.” He pointed to an empty space on the map. “Where ya tryin to get to?”
“Umm, Beaver?” she said half questioning the name in the hopes that he would recognize it and tell her exactly how to get there.
“Oh ha ha! Ya’ll musta gotta a little turned around when ya saw sixty three split. Yeah now whatcha wanna do is, see get back on the road you came and go north til ya hit the sixty two and follow that west til ya get to the four one two take that south and ya’ll get to Beaver. Anything else I can help ya out with ma’am?”
“Yes, do you have a restroom I could use?”
“Oh sure, of course” he reached under the counter and pulled up a hubcap, tied to it was a key. “It helps keep people honest” he said pointing to the hubcap as he handed it over to her.
“Oh uh-huh yeah” Abigail took it and walked out of the station. Chris was using the squeegee on the windshield. The men were still loitering around the pickup truck talking and laughing. They became hushed as she passed cutting their eyes at her, mouths hanging open, tongues darting out, but they said nothing.
Abigail walked around the back of the building and found a door labeled “bathroom”. She balanced the hubcap on her knee as she unlocked the door. It squeaked as she pushed it open. The room was dark except for the light streaming though the filthy window pane and onto the toilet. The air was stiff and heavy with a foul odor. It seemed more important that the door was locked to keep the smell in rather then keep people out. Abigail moved slowly towards the toilet. The seat was missing and the bowl was full of shit that probably hadn’t been flushed in years. The floor and walls were covered in piss that had hardened causing the rubber soles of her sneakers to stick to the grimy tiled floor. Abigail could not stomach the smell any longer and left as quickly as she could, not bothering to lock the door behind her.
When she came around the corner of the building she saw that the pick-up truck was gone and Chris was waiting in the jeep, playing with the radio dials. The station attendant winked at her when she returned the hub cap, tipping the brim of his hat with a click of his tongue.
***
The sun hung low in the sky casting an orange pink glow along the horizon. The jeep had finally made its way to the park at nearly dusk, only 30 minutes or so left of day light. The couple pulled into the gate and under a sign that read DinoWorld. There was a shack with a large picture window in front that served as the ticked counter. The jeep pulled into the small parking lot and stopped, both Abigail and Chris stepped out.
“Well I guess this it.” Chris leaned over and kissed Abigail on the forehead.
“We don’t have much light left.” Abigail reached into the back of the jeep and pulled out her black camera bag and slung it over her shoulder.
Tapped on the inside of the window were the handwritten ticket prices for entry. The window had two panes of glass that slid open from the middle. One was always open during park hours. That is where the old woman always sat. She sat on a stool slightly hunched at the waist, wearing a dingy white tank top with a pastel polka dot pattern, pink, yellow, and turquoise. Her aqua shorts reached down to her fat knees where the flesh gathered around the joints. Peaking through her pasty white skin were thick puffy varicous veins. A wide round nose sat between two fat rosy cheeks that puffed out almost hiding two squinty little black mole eyes. Her thin grey hair was barely enough to cover her head, scalp showed pink though the sparse strands. Loose lips hung from her gapping mouth revealing the few remaining teeth.
The view from the outside in was dimly lit. A yellow light in the center of the ceiling flickered intermittently. The walls of the shed were wood paneled. The one large room served as a kitchen. The avocado green stove against the wall had a halo of grease around it, a vent clogged with grease and dust, and the top was caked with grit and grim. A cast iron skillet and large pot rested atop the stove crusted with remnants of past meals. An old refrigerator hummed loudly on the opposite wall. A Formica topped, chrome leg
dinning table sat in the middle of the room, around it were four unmatched chairs. At one of the chairs sat a Native American man. He held up five cards close to his face as if in the middle of a game. A cigarette hung from his lips. He wore nothing but a loin cloth tied at the waist with a leather belt. On his left arm, from his shoulder to his elbow, were three lines tattooed on his leather skin and he wore a wrist watch. His hair was short at the top and long in the back, two long braids hung down in front of his ears. His skin was pulled tight and devoid of any moisture. Both of his glass eyes reflected the yellow light hanging above.
“Is that a stuffed Indian man?” Chris asked carefully pointing to the stuffed man. The woman looked him dead in the eye.
“Yup.” The P popped its way past her floppy lips. She then chewed on the tobacco she had stored in the pocket of her lower lip. The spit dinged when it hit the spittoon under the counter and she wiped the brown drool from her fat hairy chin.
Chris bought two tickets trying to speak as little as possible. Handing one to Abigail, they walked towards the entrance.
The entrance was a short walk down a narrow path. Above the gate was a big wooden sign that read, “DinoWorld” in faded yellow letters. Below the sign on a stool sat a fat sweaty man with blotchy red and pale white skin. He wore neither a shirt nor shoes with his faded denim overhauls caked with dirt and human filth. He was quietly chuckling to himself as he picked at something deep within his ear when the couple approached.
“Do you need to take our tickets?” Chris held up his ticket and hiding behind him, Abigail griped his other hand tightly. The man pulled his finger out of his ear and took a good look at what he’d collected. He studied it closely, his fat lips hung out in front of his face, paying no attention to the tickets being held out in front of him.
“Our tickets, do you need ‘em?” Chris pushed them out further trying to get the man’s attention. He grunted, yellow teeth gleaming through his ever gaping mouth, and flicked the mess on the tip of his finger out into the air. He reached up and snatched the tickets from Chris’ hand. With out looking at them he ripped of the ends and handed them back to Chris.
“Thanks” Chris said squeezing Abigail’s hand as he pulled her along through the entrance. As they passed the man on the stool grunted again, farting loudly as he scratched the thick part of his rump.
Once they were out of his sights Abigail spoke again. “That guy was gross. Did you see how dirty his hands were?”
“Yeah I saw it.”
They followed the winding cement trail past each large fiberglass and concrete dinosaur statues. Light peaked behind the sagging structures and the faded paint blended into the dimming sky. Abigail pulled her camera from her bag and got down on one knee to get a creepy upshot of a blue and grey brontosaurus.
“That should be a cool shot. Let me see” Chris leaned over to try to get a view of the tiny digital camera screen.
“Oh cool, check this out” Abigail stood up and handed the camera over to Chris for him to get a better look.
While the two them had their attention focused on the tiny screen of the digital camera, a slim figure lurched out passed the shadows and into the fading light to find a place right behind them.
“Would ya’ll like a tour?”
Abigail screamed loudly, nearly jumped out of her skin. She and Chris turned around to find themselves, very closely, facing a man, who was quite tall and very wiry. His hair was black and slick with grease. It stuck to his face darkened with dirt and grim. His filthy clothes hung loosely on his body with endlessly moving long gangly limbs poking out of them. He held out a hand nearly black with dirt, gunked up finger nails, for Chris to shake.
“The name’s Earl.”
Chris just waved an open palm “hello” crinkling his nose from the overwhelming smell of shit. The man pulled his hand back into his body, his face scrunched together with social awkwardness. He sniffed his fingers loudly before placing his hand at his side.
“I’m a real good tour giver.” He continued. “Nobody knows this park better ‘en me.”
“I think we’re okay on our own, thanks.” Chris pulled Abigail closer to his side.
“Now ya see here, this dino’s called the cockelsourus. It liked to eat plants and leaves and things. It made a noise like this ‘uh uh uh ahh oooh’ it had real big turds, turds so big other animals made their homes from it.”
Abigail and Chris stood frozen, mouths hung open. Abigail had to push her face into Chris’ shoulder to hide her grin and keep from laughing. Earl continued to make the cockelsourus’ call, arching his back and posturing. Brown juice flew past his stained teeth. A pocket of tobacco sat just under his lip.
“Thanks but we’d really like to see the park on our own.” Chris politely grinned and moved past Earl, still holding Abigail’s hand. Earl pushed his fingers up to his nostrils and took another big whiff. He followed behind the couple closely and made his way in front of them, turning around and walking backwards so he could continue with his tour.
“Now this one here, this one here is my favorite. It’s called the titisouraus. Ha ha, that’s a funny name. The titisouruas well they would breed like rabbits, fuckin’ all over the place.”
Chris stopped in his tracks, pulling Abigail to a stop. “Look guy, we really don’t want a tour. Please, just leave us alone.”
With great concentration Earl locked his eyes onto his finger tips; shoving the butt ends into his nostril he took a big whiff from the dirty ends. Abigail gave Chris a look of confusion. He pulled her by the hand and the couple moved on, stepping to the side to avoid getting anywhere near Earl as they passed. Abigail took a peek back to see Earl sulking away back into the dark. She looked up at Chris. He grinned at her, the fading sun haloed around his face. She began to giggle and he, with some relief, let out a chuckle. Behind them Earl held a large rock over his head with both hands. It was heavy enough to make his joints tremble. Before either Chris or Abigail noticed, Earl slammed the rock into the back of Chris’ head with a deep dull thud. Abigail gasped, her voice stifled by fear. Chris’ hand slid away from hers as he fell to the ground, his finger tips whispered across her wrist. Her knees buckled. She turned around trying to catch him. She looked up to find Earl standing over them, suddenly still, eyes wide and wild, brown stained grin. A quiet “please” escaped her throat. With lightening speed Earl shot out his fist square into the center of Abigail’s face, knocking her out cold before her head hit even the pavement.
****
Abigail’s right eye rolled open but would not focus. A dull pain throbbed behind her left socket. She tried to open the swollen eye but the lids were sealed shut. There was a deep throbbing in her jaw that moved from her chin up through the whole of her face in steady penetrating waves. Her teeth were numb. She rolled her tongue over them, fearing some may be missing and to her dismay, many were. She tried to, but could not lift her hand up to get a better assessment of the damage. The other arm too was immovable. As her head unclouded from being unconscious, she began to realize the throbbing pain moving in steady circles from every joint. Both arms and legs, as far as she could tell, were broken. Her head could wobble a bit from the top of her neck. She moved it as far as she could down and from left to right, and scanned her self with her one good eye, taking a tally of all the damage. She was on the floor, piled up like rags, limbs hanging loosely from her body.
She didn’t know where she was and she really didn’t want to know. She just wanted to find Chris and get home safe. She could hear the wet sound of something being pulled apart. Tilting her head back her right eye caught a quick glimpse of something red hanging from the ceiling. Her head fell forward before she could figure out what it was. The wet sound turned into a scraping. She pushed her chin up again, the back of her head nestled between her shoulder blades. This time she caught a glimpse of the fat ticket taker. He was wearing a plastic apron tied around his back. He stood in front of whatever was hanging in front of the ceiling. But her head fell again before he moved. A pain shot past her ribs as she took a deep breath and pulled her head up again. Just as she did the ticket taker bent forward and she could clearly see this time what was hanging from the ceiling. It was skin, a whole skin, a whole human skin. She could see the outline of the body, every last finger. As much as she didn’t want to believe it, she knew the skin belonged to Chris. Then she caught the sound of drill behind her. Her head fell forward. Too afraid now she didn’t lift it again. The sound of the drill got deeper then higher as it pushed its way in and then back out of something.
“Go git the tub from the back ‘an fill it up” Earl’s voice rose above the screeching of the drill.
The ticket taker set down the blade he had been using to scrap the goo out of Chris’ skin. With his finger crammed up his nose he stared blankly past Abigail. The drilling stopped.
“Go on, go on and git it!” Earl called out from behind Abigail.
The ticket taker grunted and walked away, finger still crammed up his nose. Without him blocking the light, Abigail could see the whole of the hanging skin, the bare bulb hanging behind it shown through yellow. Most of the blood and small veins were scrapped away just a few bubbly clots hung on. A bucket placed below the skin was full of blood, entrails spilled over the sides. The drill made a wet smacking sound as it went through something soft and puckered as it was pulled back out.
A loud rumbling came from the far end of the room. It grew louder and closer. The ticket taker came back into Abigail’s sight. In front of him he pushed a long metal tub, rusted and dirty. He pushed it near the skin and stopped. The drilling stopped.
“Now go get that plaster and mix it up in the tub” Earl spoke from behind Abigail again.
The ticket taker shuffled out of sight. Abigail heard the movement of heavy objects being lifted and moved around. The ticket taker returned with a bag of plaster under each giant arm. He leaned them up against the tub and returned to the place where he had gotten them to retrieve two more bags. He left and came back again with a large bucket of water and a broom handle, with the bristles screwed off.
“Mix it up!” Earl ordered.
The ticket taker poured in one bag after the other, then the water. He pushed the broom handle into the tub. With some struggle he stirred the mix, moving in long slow circles.
“Alright, is it mixed good?” Earl asked.
The ticket taker stuck his fist into the top of the tub. It came back out covered in a white goop.
“Yeah that looks ready.”
Earl grunted and strained a little, picking something up. He brought it over to the drum. Abigail saw, with horror, what it was. It was Chris, with out his skin. Large metal bolts held his joints it place. Earl had his arms wrapped around Chris’ waist, the blood from the muscles soaked into Earl’s shirt.
“Hold em’ steady for me,” Earl held Chris away from his body and the ticket taker grabbed the ankles. They held the body horizontally and slowly lowered it into the tub face up. The ticket taker grabbed two metal hooks hanging from the ceiling. He reached back into the tub and pulled the body out slowly by the hooks latched under the arms. This time Earl held the ankles. The ticket taker hung the body from the ceiling and both he and Earl pushed the tub over a little so that the dripping plaster would collect into it.
“Let’s git started on her,” Earl motioned in Abigail’s direction. “We gotta git these skins into the freezer.”
Abigail was petrified. Her broken limbs prevented her from stirring and her broken jaw kept her from speaking. Only a whimper could crawl its way up from her throat. Earl pulled a blade from his pocket and unfolded it from its sheath. He held it up to the light to inspect it. The dull yellow light jumped off the blade. Earl wiped it off with his shirt and made his way over to Abigail. Her body jerked with as much force as she could give it and a whimper ran its way up and down her throat. Earl knelt down, placed the palm of his hand on Abigail’s forehead, and pushed her head back, exposing her neck. He placed the blade at the tip of her chin and pressed it into her flesh. She could feel the hot blood bubbling up through the wound as he dragged the blade down her neck. Her whimpering became a gurgle and blood spilled down the corners of her mouth. She felt the blade drag all the way down to her pubic bone. By the time Earl reached her wrist she was dead.
***
In yellow shorts and a purple tank top the old woman stood over the stove, frying eggs in the crusty cast iron skillet. At the table were Earl and the ticket taker sipping their coffee. Between them the stuffed Indian man sat still holding the cards in his own perpetual card game, his watch long stopped ticking. On the opposite side of the table were the crudely stuffed bodies of Chris and Abigail. Both of their faces stretched over their skulls holding no expression, their skins were awkwardly placed over the fiberglass frames of their bodies. The dim yellow bulb that hung from the ceiling reflected in the glass eyes sunken in their faces. They sat, slumped over like life sized rag dolls watching the stuffed Indian man always ready to play a game.
Copyright © 2007-2010 Katherine Montalto www.killmonkies.com