The Bar

The Bar

On retrospect, seeing as I’m a lot older and also more world-weary, I should have never let the guy in. Of course, I and the others were just being good Samaritans and were trying our best to help but quite frankly, if any of us had known what was going on, things would have turned out very differently.
Back in those days I was working in the Diamondhead Bar in the suburbs. It was a fairly cold night and the entire day had been overcast with rain clouds so dark that you could have used them as ink, and yet through the entire day there had been no rain. Not a drop, not a single one.
I rolled up at the front door when it was getting close to dark to begin my shift. I should tell you now that the Diamondhead was a pretty busy place, and some nights could be so loud that you’d wake up slightly deaf with a hangover from all of the music the night before. That night was no exception and there was a whole herd of customers just filing in, playing pool or darts, drinking their wallets completely dry, and that was how it went for five hours.
At about 9 o’clock or 9:30, it started to rain. Not just a small drizzle, but a massive torrent of water that could have brought Noah back if it had wanted to. A few hours after that and the bar was almost empty. Apart from me, the owner Mr. Gordon and the other staffer, Ben, we were all alone in the place.
‘Alright then, boys,’ said Mr. Gordon, ‘I want you to clear up everything left here by the regulars. Jim, you’ve got the bathroom and table-cleaning duty. Ben, I want you to put the chairs away and wipe down the bench.’
I nodded. Mr. Gordon was a giant of a man, standing at least ‘6”7 tall. He had a big, bushy moustache and could appear quite threatening if you saw him at a distance, but when you got to know him he was just like your old childhood teddy bear. He wasn’t that muscled but looked like he could win a wrestle if he wanted to.
Ben Harper was about my height and was a little bit pudgy around the edges. He was a little bit intense and didn’t like to speak unnecessarily, but was an alright kinda guy. As I went to go and get the mop and bucket, he started on packing the chairs away. Mr. Gordon went into the cellar to get some more beer and spirits for the top shelf and I heard him smack his head – hard – on a beam. I managed to stifle a laugh as his curses floated up the ladder.
‘Hey, Mr. Gordon, are you alright?’ Ben called out. There was a slightly pained grunt and then our reply.
‘Yep... urgh, yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t...’
‘What? Worry?’
‘No, don’t laugh,’ he called out. Once again I was able to stifle the chuckle rising in my throat, but Ben let out an accidental chuckle and I had to run to get the mop.
That night, someone must have had their very first pint because there was puke all over one of the toilet bowls. It had begun to dry and cake over the lid and the smell was awful, but I managed to get most of it off. The job was a little bit difficult and I tried flushing away most of the mess, but suffice to say, that didn’t work very well. Grumbling, I moved back out to the storeroom to get something a little more powerful for the cleaning.
As soon as I had put the bucket back inside, there was a mighty crash as something slammed into the main door from outside. I slammed the storeroom shut and headed back out there, only to see Ben and Mr. Gordon standing there. Gordon was still rubbing his head gingerly, and Ben looked panicked.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
The person on the other side of the door must have heard, because immediately there was a muffled reply from outside. It was hard to tell through both the door and the heavy sound of the rain, but somehow I could tell that the person was screaming something out loud.
Quickly, I darted to the door, unlocked it, and opened it up. A huge gust of wind blew inside and nearly knocked me off my feet, and at the same time it brought in a torrent of water inside which hit me like darts made of ice. Me and Ben were soaked in an instant.
Then the guy fell inside.
He looked to be about Ben’s age, and was about average height. He was wearing a pair of jeans, Nike sneakers and a dark t-shirt, but I couldn’t tell what colour it was. Over all that he wore a leather jacket and had practically wrapped himself up in it. He hit the floor with a hard but soggy thud and lay there, breathing heavily. Mr. Gordon leapt forward in an instant and slammed the door shut, blocking off the cold, biting wind and rain.
‘Oh Jesus, are you alright?’ I asked as I crouched down next to the guy. He propped himself up on his elbow and then managed to sit up, but he was still panting.
‘I... my friend, B.J...’ he gasped. Mr. Gordon looked at Ben.
‘Get him a chair, will you?’ he said. Ben, who was more than a little bewildered, nodded and hurried to the nearest table to get a chair for the guy. Mr. Gordon then crouched down next to him.
‘Listen fella, are you alright?’ he asked. The guy nodded lightly.
‘Yeah, I guess... I think I am, but my foot... B.J...’
I looked down at his feet and saw that the shoe on his right foot was gone. The sock was slightly tattered and stained with a few cuts of blood. I looked up at his face and saw a few little grazes and scratches across his face that had been washed clean by the rain, but there was a deep cut going across his forehead that looked almost like a worry line. A thin trickle of blood began to seep from it and then Mr. Gordon took him under the arm.
‘Okay, Jim, I want you to get the other arm,’ he said to me, before going back to the man. ‘Can you walk, mister?’
‘I can, but my foot... I think I twisted it under the pedal, or something,’ the man said. Mr. Gordon and me both lifted him up gently and helped him walk over to the chair that Ben had brought. As soon as he sat down in the chair, Mr. Gordon went to get a clean bar towel for his forehead. By this point the guy had stopped shivering and was breathing normally again.
‘What happened to you?’ asked Ben. Mr. Gordon came back with the towel and pressed it against the man’s head. He took it and held it in place, wincing slightly.
‘What the hell’s on that, battery acid?’ he asked. Mr. Gordon smirked.
‘It’s Iodine. Be a big boy and stop complaining.’
‘You sound just like my mother,’ said the man with a chuckle. We all joined in for a few seconds but then stopped. The guy looked anxious and scared, and kept peeking out of the window at the street outside.
‘Did you guys hear it?’ he said. I shook my head.
‘No, what do you mean?’ said Ben.
‘My car crashed. B.J... he was in the car too,’ he said. The worried tone was still present in his voice.
‘We were going along and messing about in the car, I just bought it. Then it started to rain and we got... uh, I don’t know, KFC, or Mac’s or something. Anyways, we were going along down the road and then, outta nowhere, this girl just appears in the middle of the road and I tried to avoid her, but we swerved and smashed into the corner of a building.’
Mr. Gordon looked at both me and Ben. I knew what he was thinking: we’d have to go out there and get the other person. He turned back to the guy, who was once again looking out of the window.
‘Listen to me, did you have your headlights-’
‘Yes, I had them on,’ the guy said. ‘I don’t... I just don’t know what the hell happened. One minute we’re driving at five under the speed limit with only a sheet of water in front of us, and the next... bam! She just appears, running across the street with a freakin’ poncho on, right in front of the car!’
The guy looked really, earnestly stressed out. And scared, too. Mr. Gordon looked outside the window to see whether the car was out where the guy was looking, and then turned back.
‘Look, mister-’
‘Hensleigh. Nathan Hensleigh.’
‘Nathan, how far away is the car?’
Hensleigh licked his lips. ‘It’s... ah hell, I don’t know... maybe about a block or so away?’
‘Then why did you come here?’ asked Ben. ‘Why not anywhere else? There’s at least a dozen other shops and plenty of houses in this area.’
Hensleigh smiled weakly. ‘Your place was the only one with the lights on.’
I managed to conceal a grin. Mr. Gordon went back to the bar and got a bottle of beer and a glass, then turned to me and Ben.
‘Listen, boys, I want you to go outside and get the other kid. If he’s not badly injured, then bring him back here and we’ll call an ambulance. Just make it quick and don’t waste any time.’
‘He’s my brother,’ Hensleigh said, running his hand through his hair nervously. I nodded and had to drag Ben out to the back to get a few raincoats.
‘Aww, I don’t want to go out there,’ Ben whined softly. I grabbed a coat and threw it to him.
‘Don’t complain, Ben. This won’t take very long, and besides, these will keep us warm.’
Well, as it turned out... I was wrong.
We headed out the front door and as soon as it was closed behind us, I started to wish that we had something thicker to put on. It was absolutely freezing, to say the least. The rain wasn’t as hard as it had been before, and now it had lowered in intensity so that it was just like an ordinary rainfall. But it was still hard and if it hadn’t been for the raincoat I would have been even more wet than I already was.
‘I hate you, Jim! This isn’t fair!’ yelled Ben. I chuckled.
‘Hey, Mr. Gordon told us to do it!’ I called back. Then we both set off down the street, without any further ado.
Hensleigh had been right; the Diamondhead had been the only place with its light still on. The rest of the street was pretty dark; almost pitch black, even with the lamp posts overhead. At that point, the rain decided to make that night a little bit more miserable than it already was, and the torrent started up again. Ben moaned loudly and kicked a puddle hard in frustration.
We got to an intersection and couldn’t see the car that Hensleigh had mentioned anywhere. I looked back and forth and couldn’t see a single thing through the rain, not even the slightest sign of an accident.
‘Hey, what’s that?’ I heard Ben say. I turned around and saw that he was pointing at the opposite side of the street, right at a building. I couldn’t see anything and was about to berate him, when I realised something about where Ben was pointing.
The lamp post wasn’t on.
And, to top it off, behind it there was a dark, car-shaped shadow.
We rushed over to see if there was anybody inside. One of the doors, the driver’s side, was wide open. The car appeared to have clipped the lamp post and then bounced into the corner of a building head-on. The entire windshield had been shattered from the force of the impact with the wall and the hood was buckled up, pointing upwards.
But there was nobody in the car.
That took a few seconds to register properly. No-one was inside the car and that could mean that-
‘Come on!’ yelled Ben, tugging at my coat. I turned around.
‘What is it? We can’t go now, there’s a guy out here! We have to find him!’
‘Jim, I don’t think that there was someone in the passenger’s seat in the first place!’ he said.
I looked back inside. The car wasn’t new but it was in good condition. Well, apart from a few old scratched on the back and the empty packets on the back seat, it could have been passed off as having been pretty nice. Hey, I would’ve bought it.
‘Look, let’s just go back and tell him that we couldn’t find his brother,’ Ben said. Begrudgingly, I turned away from the car and headed back to the Diamondhead.
‘What do you mean by, “I don’t think anybody was inside”, Ben?’ I asked, almost having to yell over the wind and the rain.
‘I don’t know... the seatbelt hadn’t been touched and I doubt that a person would close the door after being injured badly,’ he said.
I thought that Ben was just being his old, paranoid self, and so I chose not to answer. Instead I chuckled loudly without bothering to try and hide it. Ben gave me a “Ha ha, very funny” look and we both trekked through the flooded streets back to the bar.
I had forgotten just how warm and cosy it was on the inside of the bar when we came back in. I was shivering and took of my raincoat, which was absolutely drenched in water. I hung it up on the jacket rack by the door and then went to Hensleigh and Mr. Gordon.
Hensleigh had put a bandage around his head and was drinking a small glass of beer, although it looked as if he hadn’t taken a single sip. He noticed me coming and glanced up quickly, his eyes pleading.
‘Was he out there?’
‘We... we couldn’t find him. He wasn’t in the car,’ I said. Hensleigh’s eyes widened and he stood up.
‘What do you mean, he’s not out there!?’
‘Calm down, Mr. Hensleigh,’ said Mr. Gordon, coming back out from behind the bar. His face looked confused, but at the same time there was something else behind them.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘The phone’s dead,’ he replied. Now it was me who felt confused. Ben came up to us from hanging up his coat and looked around at us for a second.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The phone’s dead and that means we can’t get an ambulance out here unless we walk to the hospital,’ said Mr. Gordon. Hensleigh slumped back into his seat, his face now the perfect picture of distress. He grabbed the beer and took it down in one go, then slammed it back on the table so hard that I thought it might break for a second, but it didn’t.
‘Well, can we take a car or something? Do you have one?’ he asked. Mr. Gordon shook his head.
‘I do have one, out in the garage, but it fouled up a few weeks ago. I’m still waiting for the mechanic to get back out here.’
Hensleigh slumped again, but just before he did, I caught his eyes widen for a second. I didn’t like it one bit for some reason, even if he was just contemplating how bad it was going to be for his brother. He looked back up and that suspicion was gone, and his face was once again distraught.
‘What can we do about him?’ he asked softly. Mr. Gordon thought for a moment.
‘Well, the phone’s dead, and that means that we can’t get somebody from the authorities to get over here. We could always try one of the neighbours’ phones, but I don’t know if we could... say, how badly was your brother hurt?’
‘He, uh... he got knocked out in the crash. He was wearing a seatbelt but there aren’t any airbags on his side, and he must have hit his head. I-I guess that maybe he was just knocked out but he thought that I was hurt, and then he went out looking for me...’
Hensleigh shook his head. ‘I don’t know, this is just... really bad, really confusing for me right now.’
Mr. Gordon made a move back towards the bar. ‘Just wait there a second and I’ll try to see what the problem is. If anything happens, just give a shout. I’ll be in the basement.’
He headed off behind the bar and opened up the cellar door, and I heard his footsteps going down the soft wooden steps until they faintly hit stone and began to klack-klack across the floor. Hensleigh started to breath heavily again, almost sounding like he was crying. Me and Ben moved over to him.
‘Hey, man, don’t worry about a thing. I’m sure that Benja-’
‘B.J.,’ he said.
‘B.J., I’m sure that he’s alright,’ I said. Hensleigh looked up, his brow furrowed.
‘What are you saying that for? I’m not crying,’ he said. It was true, he wasn’t, but he did look sad. Almost depressed, if that’s the right word to describe it. He had a whole mix of things on his face and looked like he was on the verge of crying, but wasn’t quite there yet.
Just then, there was a thumping at the door. It sounded like a person knocking; not leisurely, of course, but not as if they were hurt or distressed. So, not like Hensleigh when he came up. The guy was probably a drunk, I reasoned, and I didn’t want one of them coming inside at this time, not in the least because of what we were trying to work out. Ben made a move to get up, but I stood up first.
‘I’ll go,’ I said.
‘But what if it’s just one of the regulars?’ he said. ‘I mean, I have worked here a lot longer than you and I know a few of the people that come here at this time. So I could deal with them.’
I just shrugged. ‘Just this once, please. But you can do the next one.’
Ben nodded and went back to Hensleigh, trying to make some conversation. Hensleigh just seemed to be nodding and answering simply with “yes” or “no”, so Ben gave up on it pretty quickly.
I got to the door and peered out through the stained glass window at the top, trying to see who was out there. There was a man standing there, hunched up in the rain, wearing a dark jacket of some kind and a baseball cap, but I couldn’t see any emblem on it. He just stood there patiently, but I could tell that he was freezing.
‘Are you alright, sir?’ I said. The man’s head lifted up and he looked up at the door, nodding.
‘Who is it?’ asked Hensleigh, with an eager look on his face. His eyes were pleading. ‘What do they look like?’
I looked back out and saw the guy again, turned around and watching something from across the street. He had taken his cap off and was drying his hair with his hands. I turned around to Hensleigh, patiently but anxiously waiting for an answer.
‘Was your brother wearing a baseball cap and a dark jacket? I said.
Hensleigh perked up. ‘Yeah, that sounds like him, alright.’
I froze.
Something didn’t seem right. Hensleigh’s look of despair had disappeared in an instant, and now he looked positive and alert, but not because of what was outside. That look that I saw go quickly through his eyes was back again, but now it wasn’t gone in a second.
Then he smiled. It was a cold, callous smile, and co-
Without warning, he whirled around and reached out with his right hand, grabbing Ben by the throat and lifting him up. Hensleigh made a sneer and then turned to me as Ben squirmed, his face turning red.
‘Open the door,’ he said in a smooth tone. He no longer sounded like he had before... my mind was swimming. What the hell was going on? Who was this guy?
I just stood there, bewildered.
‘Open that door right now,’ he repeated, speaking smoothly and calmly. Ben took a hold of his wrist and gasped, and Hensleigh turned back to him. He raised a finger to his lips and then lowered him a little so that he could stand on the floor. He didn’t let him go, though.
He smiled again, in a way that would have been comforting if he hadn’t been holding Ben by the throat. ‘Tell me, is this guy a friend of yours?’
I nodded.
‘Okay then, sure. Stupid me.’ He smiled. ‘I should have known. So then, tell me this, Jim, would you want to see him die, slowly and painfully?’
I stood still, and then shook my head violently. This guy... I didn’t know if he was for real, but either way he had me scared. Really scared. Quite frankly, even though Ben wasn’t really what I’d consider an actual friend, he was still a person I could hang out with and I didn’t want to see anything happen to him. So, reluctantly, I opened the front door.
The second man came in. He was wearing an old leather jacket and had a long-sleeved white shirt on. He had long black hair which was flattened onto his head and had piercing green eyes that seemed to glow. He glanced at me as he entered and I flinched, pushing the front door shut and once again stopping the water and wind from getting in.
‘Took you long enough, pansy-boy,’ the man growled roughly. I flinched once again and he chuckling loudly, baring his teeth as he did so. He walked over to Hensleigh, who smiled warmly.
‘So where the hell have you been?’ Hensleigh said in an annoyed-yet-cheerful tone.
‘Well, you did tell me that if there was more than one I should do something, so... rather than get the two while they were outside, I just watched them as they looked at the car. Besides, didn’t you say that we needed one alive? If we have ‘em all together, that’s much easier.’
Hensleigh sighed. ‘Fine, but I swear to you, Braille, if this doesn’t work out, you’re a-’
‘What the hell is going on here?’
I turned to the bar. Mr. Gordon had just come up the cellar steps and was standing behind the bar, looking at Hensleigh and the man. The man got a look of surprise on his face and stepped back slightly, while Hensleigh smiled – or sneered – and let go of Ben all of a sudden. He hit the floor and began wheezing, scared out of his wits.
‘Ah, nice to see you again, Mr. Gordon,’ Hensleigh said in that familiar, icy tone. Mr. Gordon looked just as befuddled as me and Ben, but unlike us he was moving slowly towards the bar, eyeing the two men standing there.
‘So then, the phones still out?’ Hensleigh said, and grimaced slightly like he was trying to hold back a laugh. Gordon nodded slowly.
‘Uh huh, that’s right, they are,’ he said. He finally got to the bar and rested his right arm on top of it, moving it towards a bottle of whiskey. The man – Hensleigh had called him Braille – just stood there, watching Mr. Gordon warily.
‘Well then, would you... uh, you two like a drink or two? Settle this thing right here, on peaceful accounts?’
It then occurred to me why Mr. Gordon had moved towards the bar. He always kept a double-barrelled shotgun under the counter, but said that he’d hardly ever had to use it, the last time being in ’77, when I was still in diapers. He was able to keep his arm still, though, and I was hoping that either Braille or Hensleigh had picked up on it.
‘How about... no,’ said Braille with a growl, and he made a move towards the bar. Suddenly, though, Hensleigh held up his hand and stopped him before he could go any further.
‘Let me take care of this, hmm?’ Hensleigh said, and then he leaned in and whispered something in Braille’s ear. He turned around and looked at me with one eyebrow raised, and gestured at me. Hensleigh nodded, and then looked straight at Mr. Gordon.
‘I wouldn’t mind a drink, to tell you the truth,’ he said and he walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool. Mr. Gordon grabbed a glass and poured the whiskey into it, doing it in his smooth and delicate way. I can tell you right now, that was an incredible tense few moments, and the atmosphere was so thick that you could have cut it. I’m not joking.
Then it happened.
Mr. Gordon just let a fist loose and punched Hensleigh hard in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground, the glass he was holding shattering on the ground. Braille made a move to grab him, but for some reason I ran up behind him and spear-tackled the bastard right in the back, sending him to the ground where his nose snapped on impact. With that I got Ben and lifted him up onto his feet.
Mr. Gordon then pulled out the shotgun and levelled it straight at Hensleigh as he lolled on the floor, trying to get up. He was up on his elbows when he finally noticed the gun. I looked over at Braille; he wasn’t moving. Ben was okay on his feet now and so we were about to make a run for it, but decided against it. If Braille was only knocked out and he came to, then Mr. Gordon would be in a tough spot, even with the shotgun.
He glanced over at us.
‘Jim, Ben, I want you to open the front door. Send these two packing,’ he said, never training the gun off of Hensleigh. He turned back to the man on the floor.
‘Now then, Nate, I was perfectly happy to help you and make sure that you were alright, along with your brother,’ Mr. Gordon said, nodding at Braille. ‘but you just went and spat that in my face, and then to top it off you tried to rob us and endangered us. Now then, I’d suggest that if you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out that door with your big friend here and never come back.’
Silence.
The feeling of dread was palatable.
Hensleigh just sat there, propped up on his elbows, and then began to giggle. That turned into a soft laugh and he slowly stood up, wiping away a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he shook his head with mock sadness.
‘Really, you think that I came in here to rob you?’ he said. He glanced around at me and Ben and smiled before turning back, but in that second that he was turned around I saw something that sent a chill up my spine. The cut on his forehead was completely gone. It wasn’t that the bleeding had stopped, there was nothing there at all. Not a line or bruising, nothing at all.
Hensleigh then scowled viciously at Mr. Gordon and made a move to reach inside his jacket, maybe for a gun or something. But Mr. Gordon was still holding the shotgun on him and with a tremendous BANG he pulled the trigger, straight at Hensleigh’s chest.
He just... I don’t know how to describe it properly, but he just sailed backwards through the air, over a table, and slammed into one of the windows hard. The glass shattered and a blast of wind shot in through the now empty window pane, and he seemed to hang there for a moment before landing on his feet and slumping over onto the table in front of him. He inhaled sharply, spat out a glob of blood and then collapsed onto the floor, leaving even more in a smear on the table’s edge.
Without taking a breath, Mr. Gordon whipped the gun around straight at Braille, the barrel still trailing smoke. He gestured the gun to the door, but not at him. I pushed Ben towards the door as quickly and quietly as I could, intending to get the hell out of there.
We both stopped, though, because of the laugh.
Braille began to chortle loudly, his chest heaving up and down as he did so. Mr. Gordon frowned and raised an eyebrow, watching the bigger man uneasily.
‘What’s so funny?’ he asked cautiously. Braille stopped and smiled, then pointed at where Hensleigh had hit the floor. Both Ben and me looked-
Hensleigh was gone.
There was a small puddle of blood – not very much – on the floor where he had fallen. Shards of glass lay everywhere and rain was whipping inside, drenching everything near the window. There was even a slight outline from where his body had been hit by the rain instead of the floor. But the fact of the matter was this: Hensleigh’s body had just disappeared.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous crash at the door from the outside. I spun around and saw that someone – almost certainly Hensleigh – was trying to bash the door in. As I watched, the entire bottom of the door just caved inwards, along with a foot with a Nike sneaker on it. The section near the doorknob then shattered, sending splinters of wood all over the floor.
Mr. Gordon whirled to face the door, but as I watched in horror, Braille leapt forward with frightening speed and grabbed him roughly from behind. He took hold of Mr. Gordon’s gun arm and slammed it on the bar, making the gun discharge and blowing up a fluorescent light and making me and Ben duck. Mr. Gordon struggled until Braille took one arm and twisted it violently, making Gordon cry out in pain.
The door’s knob broke off and it was kicked open, almost tearing off of its hinges. Hensleigh was standing there, soaking wet and illuminated from behind, making him look like a hell-bent spirit out for revenge. He walked inside , looking very grumpy and lividly pissed, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his chest.
The shirt had been ripped to shreds as a hole about the size of a fist sat there. The skin beneath was ripped up and bleeding heavily, leaving a grisly trail of blood down the front of the shirt. He slicked his hair back (not that he really needed to) and then looked straight at me and Ben. He grinned, showing off his perfectly white teeth.
‘Okay then, ol’ barkeep,’ Hensleigh said, ‘that does it. That just... it just isn’t cricket, you know what I’m saying? That hurt. That fucking hurt, man. And to top it off you just ruined my new fucking jacket. This cost eighty bucks.’
‘You could always buy another one, Nick,’ said Braille, but he was glared at and shut up, still holding Mr. Gordon strong. Hensleigh looked at the both of us, licked his lips, and then began to walk at us quickly. We both stumbled backwards, trying to keep away from him.
‘Get back, you bastard!’ yelled Ben, who grabbed a chair and swung it at Hensleigh. He just smirked and when the chair came down again, he grabbed it and tossed it away before snatching Ben’s wrist and dragging him close. Ben shrieked but Hensleigh didn’t let him go, instead grabbing both arms behind his back and tilting his head back so that his neck was fully exposed.
I just stood where I was, my legs seeming to have latched onto the floor with my terror.
‘Because you just caused me pain,’ Hensleigh said in a low, dangerous tone, ‘I am going to cause you pain. But not physical, of course. You’re going to watch as this kid dies.’
Ben gasped and tried to squirm out of Hensleigh’s grasp but couldn’t. He smiled first at me, then Gordon, and then closed his mouth. He bit down twice and then opened his mouth up wide.
Then, horrifically, it began.
Hensleigh spat out what looked like two teeth, grinned manically, and then opened his mouth wide. Instead of canines, there were two small points, but then they began to push though his gums, making blood trickle down his mouth.
His teeth grew longer and longer until they were about as long as a pen lid, and then they stopped pushing out. He shut his mouth and licked his lips, grinning at Mr. Gordon. All he could do was stare back, jaw about to hit the floor, with a look of absolute horror in his eyes. I’m sure that I must have looked the same.
‘So now you should know,’ Hensleigh said, baring his teeth – and fangs – again. ‘This is what we came here for.’
And then he tilted his head back, gave a snarl, and dug his fangs deep into the nape of Ben’s neck.
Ben shrieked as the thing bit down into him, and started thrashing and moving back and forth to try and break free. But he couldn’t. Hensleigh just stayed there like a leech, not letting go, and never breaking eye contact with Gordon. I just backed up in terror, unable to move properly.
Ben began to weaken. He gasped, looked up, and gasped again. Blood had begun to dribble down his neck and it was staining his shirt collar, and then Hensleigh just tore his teeth free. A quick spurt of blood went out before Ben clamped his hand to the puncture wound and hit the floor, groaning softly. He started to move towards the door, trying to reach it, blood pooling up from behind his hands. Hensleigh just watched him crawl off, then grinned and said, ‘Thanks, kid,’ before moving over to Mr. Gordon.
Mr. Gordon was breathing heavily and still trying to get out of Braille’s grip. Hensleigh had a streak of blood going down his chin and dripping onto the front of his shirt. He wiped it off and then licked his lips gently. Braille chuckled loudly and Mr. Gordon squirmed again, this time forcing the bigger man backwards a little. I backed up once more, headed in the direction of the storeroom. Hensleigh smirked as he wiped his chin again.
Mr. Gordon squirmed a second time and made Braille take another step backwards; this made him frown and he tightened his grip around Mr. Gordon’s neck a little. Hensleigh glanced at me for a moment, making my heart skip a beat, and then went back to Gordon.
‘You don’t honestly think that you can escape, do you?’ he said. Mr. Gordon smiled.
‘No, but he can,’ he said, gesturing to me with his head. I froze as Hensleigh turned completely in my direction and stood there like a lion waiting to pounce.
I was completely exposed in the middle of the hallway. Ben had disappeared out of the door and into the rain, leaving just me, Mr. Gordon and two freaks inside. The back exit was through the kitchen, and I had just passed that door and was near the end of the hall. To my left were the slot room, the bathrooms, and then at the very end was the storeroom.
I weighed my chances. The slot room had no actual door that could hold back something that could smash through two and a half inches of Oak, like Hensleigh had done, so going in there was suicide. The bathrooms were worse, as you could imagine, and the storeroom had a flimsy door with no lock. And all that there was in there was cleaning equipment, hardly anything to-
Cleaning equipment.
Flammable materials.
I ducked my hand into my pocket and found a new lighter that my cousin Frank had given me for Christmas. I didn’t smoke, so I didn’t actually have to use it, but for some reason I had always carried it around. I didn’t dare to take it out, though. Quite frankly, I’d rather be hit by a bus than be sucked through the neck.
Hensleigh grinned, showing his teeth and, more importantly, the fangs. He began to walk towards me, slowly.
That must have been what Mr. Gordon was waiting for, to get Hensleigh’s attention away. With a primal yell, he pushed himself backwards and slammed Braille’s head into the brick wall behind them. Braille yelped and let go of Gordon, and now that he was free he whirled around and punched him in the face. Hard. The bigger man’s head slammed against the wall again and he slumped onto the counter, groaning.
But, far quicker than I thought was possible for a human – although the two men were definitely not humans – Hensleigh whipped around and leapt at Mr. Gordon, grabbing him by the throat and forcing him against the mirror behind the bar. The mirror shattered and its pieces flew everywhere, and Mr. Gordon tried to grab the creature’s shoulders to push him off.
Suddenly, his eyes went wide and a massive gush of blood spurted all over the wall as Hensleigh jerked his head to one side. Mr. Gordon went limp and then both Hensleigh and Braille were on top of him, cutting off the blood flow.
Somehow, my mind kicked into gear then and I scrambled to my feet, making a mad dash towards the storeroom. I hit the door and twisted the knob, getting inside before darting over all the cleaning products and sprays inside.
There were a few bottles of cleaning fluid there, lined up on the shelf. Next to them was a couple of dirty rags, but I didn’t need them. I was looking for a spray, maybe bug spray, so that I could at the very least push them back a little if they came near me. I frantically searched, tossing away a few bottles before finally finding a can of fly spray. It felt light, though, so I shook it to make sure it wasn’t empty.
It was.
I tossed it away and looked near it for some more, and finally found another can. It felt heavy in my hands and I grinned, reaching into my pocket to pull the lighter out. I turned around to make the final run out of the bar... but didn’t see the hand fly out from behind the doorframe and hit me hard in the face.
The entire world seemed to go in slow motion. Everything seemed distant and I could see stars in front of my eyes. I vaguely felt the rack of equipment hit me from behind, and then slumping to the floor. I shook my head a few times to wring out the dizziness, but then I felt a cold hand around my neck and felt myself being lifted up.
‘Tch, tch. Naughty,’ I heard Hensleigh say. I opened my eyes and now it was the throbbing in my nose and the headache that seemed distant.
He was right there in my face, grinning, his long fangs barely visible behind his lips. He lifted me up a little higher and I put up my hands to try and support myself, when I remembered: the spray. I couldn’t breathe very well but I managed to lift it up and pointed it straight at his face.
Hensleigh cocked his head slightly.
‘What the hell are you-’ he managed to get out, before I sprayed the can in his face. He yelped, letting go of me, and as soon as I hit the floor I whipped my lighter out of my pocket. As soon as he had let go of his eyes, he started back at me until he saw the lighter in my hand, right in front of the can’s nozzle.
‘You cunning little bastard,’ he said.
I snarled and lit the lighter, then sprayed more of the can into his face. A tongue of fire lanced out, hitting him in the eyes and setting his hair on fire. Hensleigh screamed, and then began to scream louder as the rest of the spray lit his entire face up. His hand caught fire and he fell straight onto the shelf of cleaning fluid. The rags lit up like torches before Hensleigh ran outside, yowling as he went.
I dashed outside, well aware of my aching face, when I saw Braille round the bar. He had a bib of blood going down his shirt and looked like he had just eaten a huge meal. He first watched Hensleigh dash outside with his face on fire and then back at me.
‘What the-’ he managed to get out. It got up to the bar, feeling like a man possessed, and picked up the whiskey bottle that Mr. Gordon had left there earlier. Braille turned back around and I hurled the bottle straight at him, shattering all over his face and chest. He took a surprised step back and then growled at me, baring his teeth. Gritting my own, I lifted up the spray can and lighter once again, sending a tongue of fire over him. He lit up instantly and fell backwards onto the liquor stand, causing and even bigger fire to build up.
As quickly as I could, I ran outside into the pouring rain. I shivered as the water hit my skin but it didn’t faze me. I ran across the road to a parked car, slid over the hood, and landed on the other side.
The Diamondhead exploded.
At least, it almost completely burned. The chemicals in the storeroom blew up one after the other, blowing out all of the windows. I heard a chiming noise, possibly from several of the slot machines, when a second explosion tore through the wall of the kitchen. The fire escape door was blown off and an alarm sounded for a few seconds before it was cut off. The gas main had detonated, although I wasn’t trying to think of how it had happened. Slowly, I stood up and looked up at the bar. It was still in one piece but was burning. A few flames were licking out of the blown out windows and lightly scorching the top of the frames, but apart from that the front looked intact.
I just stood there, watching the bar, my mind reeling. The rain came down in heavy sheets, some of it flooding inside the wrecked door of the Diamondhead. It looked like the place might just survive.
I turned around, wanting to get away from the whole mess, when I heard a voice from behind me.
‘That really was something, you know,’ it said icily. I froze and began to tremble. Slowly, I turned around to see Hensleigh standing there, his face and the rim of his shirt slightly burned, looking more than a little bit miffed. Some of his hair had been singed off and it was still smoking lightly. He looked at the bar and then back to me.
‘I’ll let you go this once. But you’d better be careful.’
‘D-don’t hurt... look, I-I swear-’ I stuttered, but he half-grinned.
‘I’m not going to kill you. Hell no, that’s not what I wanted to do. Maybe, in a few years time, we could settle this out on a slightly different term.’
I stumbled backwards, not daring to take my eyes off him in case he did something. But he didn’t. He just stood there in the rain, rubbing his face. Already it didn’t look half as bad as it had, and the wound on his chest was only a few light cuts and holes. They weren’t bleeding.
With that, I turned and ran.
It’s been about six years since that night. As I said, I’m a lot older and I’ve managed to convince myself that it was all... I dunno, just something crazy. It’s possible that the fangs and the blood-sucking were just part of the fear I was experiencing.
But that doesn’t really ring true. Even though it happened and I don’t think that those two guys were really like that, something weird happened the other day.
Even though he died from blood loss on that night, I saw Ben Harper on the subway platform on the way home from work.
And he had a familiar grin on his face.