Mystery Lake

[13] Hollows

Roxanne knew this had to be a hallucination, just as Miranda speculated was going to happen. It didn't make any sense why everything would turn into a nightmare and the wait staff into monsters. It was just too much, so it must be a hallucination. She must be imagining this. She closed her eyes and concentrated on forcing herself back to reality.

When she opened them again, they were still there, but the other customers were no longer missing, or they were missing in a different way. Instead, she saw a collection of forlorn, withered figures seated in the booths and chairs, with only faint wisps of hair or perhaps a fragment of an eye to suggest that they might once have been human. The only thing they had in common with each other was that they all sat with their heads slumped and their arms limp and dangling lifelessly.

Chiara screamed again, and Brock pulled her into a tight, protective embrace while Miranda reached for Ross, but the boy was like a statue. Roxanne reached for Jake, but the big man already had his arms around her.

The remains of all the plant-like garbage they had in their mouths clung like rancid peanut butter as Roxanne stammered, "Who are you? What are you?"

The winged, oily, black-toned women gave each other knowing grins. "Why, we're the Hollows. Don't you know us? You smell like fairy, but you're as dumb as human rocks. What curious things you all are."

An odor invaded and pervaded Roxanne's nostrils. It reminded her of the stubborn mold and mildew that he couldn't seem to get out of her parents' old shower, no matter how many times he applied elbow grease to every single corner, along with the strongest sprays that made him choke, just to stand in the area for hours afterward. Persistent rot that refused to go away, in a barely human form.

Jake supported Roxanne with words of his own, held close like a protective bundle. "What do you want from us? Leave us alone!"

The Hollows chuckled, a moist, twisting sound like a swarm of insects in a swamp invading every human inch. The one closest to Roxanne leaned forward and answered in a surprisingly maternal tone, "Now that's an odd question. We want nothing but for you all to be full with your breakfast, sweetheart. Aren't you satisfied? We can bring out more food, as much as you want. You just keep eating and eating, honey. You look so hungry. You poor thing. You're so skinny. So famished. All skin and bones. Honey, we need to put some meat on you. Just keep on eating. We take good care of you at Molly's. No one ever leaves hungry."

Roxanne shivered and shook her head. She doubted anyone left this place alive or anything close to it.

Plan. She had to come up with a plan, or something terrible was going to happen. Talk. These creatures sure seemed to like talking. She had to keep them talking.

"I don't want to complain, but I'm afraid your stuff is a little too vegan for my taste. I'm looking for real meat. Some big thick... kielbasa, I'm talking sausages that would make a man weep." She avoided looking over at Jake to acknowledge her spontaneous inspiration.

The Hollows blinked with their endless black eyes and tilted their heads. It seemed that this reaction was unexpected for them.

Roxanne continued, "Not those dinky sausages. A big, fat bratwurst. I'm not looking for anything too fancy, mind you. But a nice, hearty meal, something a growing girl needs. Hard, girthy, and slathered in mustard, the yellow stuff that makes a woman moan." Roxanne demonstrated, moaning and yowling like a cat in heat, "Mmm! I want to feel that meat all the way down. And I can't stop with just one. I'll eat two, three of them. Or maybe just one really big one; I'm not too picky."

She moaned again. Jake's face was a little red. The Hollows looked at each other. They seemed really confused. Maybe it was working. Roxanne pressed, "Come on, you know you want to give it to me!"

The waitress in charge approached slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Her eyes darted over the six as if she didn't quite understand what was happening. "But why do you need any more meat? We have brought you meat. We brought you everything you asked for and more, sweetheart."

"That's just your cutesy salad stuff for little girls, not a meal that would fill me up. I've been craving a real man's meal all day. You can't deny me my meat. Beef, hamburgers, pork chops! You got those big, juicy steaks? The real deal, not imitation made from grass and dirt, you got those?"

Her eyes drifted to Brock, who continued to look very skeptical. She was skeptical of herself as well. But if these bastards were gonna play an all-American diner, she was going to ride that as hard as she could. All entendres intended with hard meat love, the kind that made arteries scream with joy.

"Aren't you a good old-fashioned diner, serving real, red-blooded meat?" Roxanne's voice rose in challenge. She would have loved to crack her knuckles loudly and proudly, but her girlish hands wouldn't let her.

The lead Hollow's eyes narrowed to inky slits, and her mouth curled in disgust. "We can serve whatever you like, sweetie."

Roxanne snorted, "Yeah, right! You don't have a damn thing on the menu that would put real hair on a pair of diamond-hard, dripping tits! I want my food so hot and greasy it gives me a carpet burn!" That didn't make any sense, but all the better. To accentuate her point, she let out loud moans of exaggerated pleasure and did a few awkward hip gyrations for good measure.

Oddly enough, Jess demonstrated this sort of thing as a joke many weeks ago, and Joel's version at the time had her rolling. Like this, the performance had a little something more. Jake pinched his mouth shut while still holding her.

The other Hollows chittered and murmured sharply, as if this were the most repulsive thing they had ever witnessed. The lead one backed off, her face twisted as if she just stepped in a pile of shit. She soon regained her composure and continued, "Now, honey, that's just not the kind of talk I like to hear. Why don't you relax? We have more food coming up. More than enough. You all just keep eating, and you can stay as long as you like."

"Nah. I'm full of that stuff. I don't want any more food from you. I want a juicy bratwurst, one so big that it splits me open. With creamy mustard that coats it so thick that the taste is all you can feel as you suck it off deep in your mouth and swallow it, so that it satisfies you like nothing else." She made slurping noises with her tongue and gave more exaggerated, enthusiastic moans of satisfaction while rhythmically thrusting her hips in front of the Hollows to make the point.

The others caught on and followed suit. Miranda was surprisingly adept at it, grinding and humping the table as she ran her hands down the curves of her body, squeezing her ass as she slapped it against the cushion. Jake raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes focused on Roxanne, which she appreciated in between acting out the most debased pantomime possible. He got into it as well, thrusting against the wood. Brock whirled and shook himself around, as if he were having a seizure.

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Not exactly what Roxanne was going for, but the creatures still looked suitably appalled. Ross's efforts were rather artificial and forced, but that didn't seem to be a deal-breaker.

Chiara's version, however, made Roxanne so proud again, as the girl threw herself into the act like an exotic dancer bound by the tiny space allotted to her. She even went down between her legs, undulating as she grabbed her breasts and moaned about hot meat. The Hollows recoiled in revulsion, and the nearest cocked her head and put on a voice closer to her human form as she responded, "What the fuck is wrong with you humans?!"

"I just want to be stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving!" Roxanne shouted, "Can't you give me that?"

"No!" They said together as one.

"Why not?! What's the big deal? You're a diner! Serve me, I need my sausage!" She made one last dramatic display, moaning and shaking her butt in the air, thrusting it forward for all to see, and pointing it so that it was hard for them to look away. Their mouths hung open, and their heads tilted like confused birds, wondering why in the world a human would make that face or sound, let alone behave like that.

Finally, it was too much. One of them uttered a horrid hissing sound like steam erupting from a kettle as they retreated to the kitchen. The others quickly followed. As the last one vanished through the door, she turned with an expression as if she wanted to spit. "You're all crazy!"

Once they were gone, Roxanne collapsed against Jake. "That was the best I could come up with. If you guys have anything else, let me know."

"If I think of anything, you'll be the first to know, bratwurst lover," Jake said, massaging his hip gently and smiling slightly.

Despite the tension of the moment and the fact that they were still in a dark, ruined, and terrifying diner with creepy figures lifelessly left by the other windows, Miranda laughed softly, as if suppressing a cough, and I asked, "What psychology thing was that? That was amazing."

Roxanne had absolutely no clue, noting that the only thing she remembered from her barely attended psychology lectures were the names Freud and Jung, and she wasn't sure how to spell either of them. Jake figured it had some psychological name but couldn't conjure up the words right then.

Ross spoke in the quietest whisper, questioning, "Why don't we just run?"

In response, Roxanne pointed to the nightmare outside, with a tangle of unknown cars in perpetual darkness surrounding the diner. "If you want to try, be my guest. I don't know if we're in a dream, another world, or what, but I will fight it with whatever I have, for everyone I can."

"Only you...would think of fighting monsters with sex and horniness...." Ross softly groaned, then gasped in panic. "I don't want to die when I finally might have my life back, and it's already slipping away. Don't fuck me." Ross fumed and watched the kitchen door closely.

There was no possibility of actual cooking or any of the other tricks of it being a diner. They all braced each other for the next round of whatever was to come. Brock looked genuinely worn out for the first time that Jake could recall. They waited. Breathing came in hesitant bursts. The patches of underbrush and dirt in their mouths that they had once thought were breakfast still lingered despite coughing and spitting up as much as possible.

The glasses of water left on the table looked so perfect, but there were so many exhausting illusions that those had to be just one more. A mouthful of choking sand.

"They are old and picky..."

The voice came from the counter. It sounded just like Sherry's and, at the same time, like a poor imitation gurgling out of a mouth that didn't exist anymore.

"I don't care. And I will show them that even though I am young, I can be just as fierce."

The headless corpse, with the rat thing perched on its shoulder, stepped towards the table. Sherry's ruined hands extended to ensnare each of their wrists. Roxanne felt her strength slip away.

She tried to pull herself to her feet and yank free from the trap, but it was as if she was pulling on dead, numb flesh that extended everywhere from Sherry and all over her own body.

A chill ran up her spine, and her stomach turned to fire. But her hands were gently pulled down to rest on her own lap. She felt something else—a tingle at the tip of her nose and the faintest brush of lips across her forehead—like a parent would give to a child. Not her parents, but other parents—better parents. She felt warm, protected, and safe. She didn't need to fear the thing she was so afraid of.

Her head lolled around, as if the bones inside were no longer holding it together. She could see the others in a similar state as Sherry gently pulled each of their heads back, like a child playing with dolls, to get a better look at them, as if she still had eyes.

Roxanne could see Chiara with the same nervous, trusting smile, wanting to believe the world was a beautiful and hopeful place where strangers could be trusted. Miranda, with gentle, heartfelt, warm concern, shyly dancing around her gender issues with cautious boldness. Brock, with his exuberant, boundless energy, bringing light to all the dark spaces with just a little turn of his lips.

Ross with his tension and frowns, but it wasn't the kind he usually had; it was the strength of a protector, remembering his past of abandonment but hardening that pain into love and productive help. And Jake, beautiful Jake, with his concern for others, even when he should have been pulling himself up, his brows turned inward and his mouth tight with the scrutiny of love, making sure that every smile was genuine and not a shallow cover for fear.

Some were her friends, some still strangers, and some annoying faces she really didn't want to see. But she was so happy for each and every one of them as the room brightened and cleared, if only in her heart. It was fine. Everything was fine. They just needed to keep eating; they just needed to relax and be polite to their hosts. That was all there was to it, and then...

The bell at the front of the diner tinkled gently, so lightly that it seemed like it was a mile away and underwater, but she could still hear it. Through the consuming mass throbbing against her ears, there was a voice—a man's voice like gravel gliding across stone.

"Hello there. Are you open? My name is Cerberus, Agent Cerberus with the county Health Department. I'm afraid I have a few questions for you."