Perhaps the most unassuming of vehicles, the minivan is shunned for its looks. Most see one and their first thoughts are family and safety. Today's feature is a minivan in it's entirety, from bumper to bumper the whole car has a story to tell.
Now, usually I like to deliver more of a preamble but the layers of the monstrous are positively dying to show you themselves.
***
Trevor's brow was slick with a nervous sweat. He hadn't noticed the sleeping passenger in the minivan as he slid into the driver's seat to steal it. He had bumped into the lady at the grocery store and lifted her keys from her purse before she even got a cart. It wasn't much of a car but he could still sell it for a couple hundred bucks and score tonight. The headlights from the passing cars temporarily blinded him as he approached an on ramp. He was merging onto the interstate to get out of the city when he heard grumbling from the back and an old man coughed. Trevor hadn't thought to even look in the van after he heard the chirp from it as he thumbed the fob.
"Who the hell are you?! Where's Sheila?!" The old timer shouted.
"Shut the fuck up old man!" Shit! Now there was a witness and he would have to drop the old man off somewhere. He flashed a fairly realistic looking replica pistol at his passenger. He couldn't afford a real gun, not that he could get one anyway with his record.
"Fine! Shoot me then!" The old man taunted. "No? Then tell me where my daughter is. Is she alright?"
Trevor slammed his hands on the steering wheel. "Yeah, old man. She's probably calling the cops right about now about her stolen minivan. Hey, shit! Give me your fuckin' cell phone, man!" He turned a little in the seat.
"Enough of that old man business. Call me Frank." Frank dug out his old flip phone his daughter made him carry 'in case of emergencies.' It probably wasn't even charged. Trevor took the little folding brick and almost laughed.
"What is this boomer shit? You ain't got a real phone, Frank?"
"Don't even want that one, but Sheila, that's my daughter you robbed, insisted on it. Ever since my wife passed she's worried I'll fall and be unable to get help. I'm only 60 for pete's sake!" Frank grumbled eyeballing his captor's eyes in the rear view mirror. They stared daggers at each other in silence for a few minutes. "So?"
"So, what, Frank?"
"What are we going to do about me?"
Trevor was trying to think about what to do with his geriatric passenger. So far he hadn't been a problem other than being present in the stolen vehicle.
"So?"
"Shut up, man! I'm trying to think!"
"You need money, son? Is that it? Why would you steal a soccer mom-mobile?" Frank laughed at the driver. "Why not go for something more flashy? I would."
"Yeah I need money. And knocking off minivans is easier than grabbing a corvette. Next to no security and in general nobody cares."
"So, motive and opportunity. Well how bout this. I'll give you all the money I got on me if you pull over and get out. I'll even tell the cops I was just joy riding, keep them off your back." Frank offered.
"Why the hell would you do that for me?" Trevor's nervous sweat came back.
"I've been where you are, son. Figuratively. Never stole a car but I done some bad things 40 or so years ago trying to do right by my lady." Frank held up his left hand and pointed at his wedding band. "Did alright I guess, she married me. Tell me your name, son. I won't tell the cops. Promise."
"Trevor." He didn't know why, but for some reason he actually trusted Frank at his word. Maybe it was his offer of help and understanding, maybe it was his age. He kind of reminded of him of his grandpa now that he thought of it.
"Now that we aren't strangers any more, what do think about my offer?"
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"How much money you got?" Trevor asked. Frank laughed and started digging in his pocket for his wallet.
"I got $542 dollars and a coupon for a free banana split. We can share the banana split to seal the deal if you can find a place that honors the coupon."
Trevor's heart jumped a bit. It was more money than he would get from the minivan and he didn't want to threaten Frank to take it AND the van.
"Where is the coupon for?" Trevor asked, the tension draining from him. Frank passed the money and the coupon up.
"We got a deal?" Frank held his hand still for Trevor to shake. "A man shakes hands when he makes a deal." He paused. "And eats ice cream in this case." Trevor put the fake gun between his legs and twisted awkwardly to shake Frank's hand.
A sign on the highway indicated that the fast food place that offered the free banana split was on the next exit. They sat in silence again, but less awkwardly now. Trevor had caught a hell of a break. Frank was an alright dude.
"Let's eat inside." Frank said. Trevor must have looked nervous because Frank continued. "It's cramped back here. Besides, I need to get the keys and my phone back from you." Trevor parked, not exactly happy with this, but it was a reasonable request.
They got out and Frank stretched. He reached back into the van and produced a cane with an intricate handle.
"You get us the ice cream, I'm gonna find us a table. I know I just complained about sitting, but I'm old and standing is worse." Frank said with a sly smile. Trevor went to the counter and ordered. He turned to face Frank while the clerk made the ice cream, who waved and smiled. Trevor really liked Frank and wished they had met under different circumstances. When it was ready, Trevor took the banana split to the table with two spoons and sat across from Frank. They ate and talked a bit.
"So why are you stealing cars for money?" Frank asked between bites.
Trevor was shocked by the sudden bluntness. "I haven't been able to find work since I got out of prison." He admitted. Frank nodded.
"Sorry to hear that. What were you in for? You kill someone or something?" Frank smiled.
"No, no! Nothing like that! I got caught boosting cars and did a couple years. Nobody wants to hire a felon with a theft charge. Afraid I'm gonna steal from them, too." Trevor looked dejectedly at the dwindling ice cream. "And here I am stealing cars again, so I guess they were right."
"This is temporary. You hear me? You'll get sorted out soon and won't have to steal cars ever again."
"You really think so, Frank?" Trevor was beginning to really put a lot of weight in this stranger's words.
"Who knows, maybe in 40 years, you'll be straightening out some other misguided punk kid who needs help." Frank said. "Now, I'll drop you off where ever you need, but it's time for me to face the music." They finished the ice cream and walked out to the minivan. Frank followed Trevor around to the passenger side and stopped. Trevor turned to face Frank who, veiled in shadow, looked very sinister suddenly.
"I thought you were driving Frank?" A faint glint flashed on a blade and Frank slid the knife concealed in his can straight between Trevor's ribs. Trevor tried to pull it out, but Frank was much stronger than he looked and wrenched the blade, twisting it and pushing deeper. He opened the sliding side door and eased Trevor down to the floor of the van shushing him.
"Sorry kid, you were a happy bonus tonight. Normally I wouldn't go for someone like you. I got a date with a single mom and I'm missing out." Frank was talking to a corpse. Trevor was dead already and his blood was beginning to drip onto the parking lot. Frank cleaned the knife and slid it back into the cane.
He drove like a bat out of hell to get back to the city. He pulled up in front of a plain white house. It looked like a mirror image of ever other house on the block. This one was different, of course. Some one was waiting for him. He noted with glee that there were no police cars in the driveway and pulled in. Frank walked around the house and noted that he couldn't see inside; most of the curtains and blinds were drawn closed, only the dining room showing a vague outline of someone sitting at the kitchen table through frosted glass.
Frank looked up and down the dark street again, wanting to be sure no one had seen him. He made his way up the steps on the porch, cane thumping softly. He noted the front door was unlocked, checked over his shoulder again and walked inside. He walked with a smooth grace that he hid normally with his cane. For a man of his age, he moved with surprising agility. He approached the dining room and saw one woman at the head of the table and another tied to a chair across from her.
"Daddy! How did the carjacking go? Why didn't you call me, you know how I worry." The woman got up from her chair and hugged Frank. She had the barest hint of a baby bump starting to show.
"Don't worry about me, Sheila. I took care of the punk. Remind me that I have to get my money back from him when we leave." Frank slammed his cane on the table and the woman whimpered through layers of duct tape. "You chose a pretty one for the ritual. Next time, you get to chose one for yourself, pumpkin. We have to make sure that baby is strong, like his momma." Frank began to unbutton his shirt, revealing dozens of occult tattoos.
Sheila, Frank's daughter, excused herself as her father got to work on the sacrifice. She turned on the television and was please that the muffled screams were drowned out by the noise. She looked out the screen door for any witnesses and when she was happy she closed the door and locked it.
***
Not all of the Curio's features have real monsters, you know. Sometimes our prey can be just as monstrous as us. Sometimes, humans are more monstrous than the tales they tell. True crime has had such an uptick in the past few years that I wonder if humans will replace monsters in the food chain like they have everything else.
Rumination will get me nowhere. Work to do, stories to tell. Come back again, I'm sure I will have a feature just for you soon.