Persona non Grata : Part 1

    This story is for Angel

    He drove as slowly as he could, looking at the map he had fanned over his steering wheel; glancing up once in a few seconds at the stretch of the empty road ahead of him.  The frown on his face became more and more pronounced.  It would be another few minutes when he spotted a worn road sign that told him there's a small diner and gas station five miles ahead.  He folded the map in half and tossed it beside him.  He let out a long sigh and stepped down on the gas pedal.

    As he pulled into the unpaved rest stop, the tires of his sedan kicked up clouds of dust.  He spotted a rusty sign that said "Suisun Town" that hung a few feet behind the diner.  At least, he assumed it was a diner.  It looked like a single-family house with "we are always open" chiseled into a wooden plaque and mounted over its doorway.  There was an old truck and a late model black BMW and three motorcycles parked to the left of the doorway.  A few feet away, a single gas pump with a tattered paper sign that read "out of service" was taped the nozzle.

    Leon consulted his map again.  He couldn't find Suisun Town.

    "Where the fuck am I....?" He whispered and pulled his sedan between the truck and the BMW and parked.  

    The strong smell of cooking grease greeted him when he stepped through the opened door of the diner.  There were six people sitting at the counter encircling the cooking area toward the back of the room.  They all turned and looked, as soon as his boot heels clacked on the wooden floor.  They continued to stare as he walked up to the counter and selected a seat furthest away from the group of bikers in their leather vests.  There were two men in red plaid shirts and jeans sitting three seats down from the bikers.  A middle-aged man in an immaculate blue suit sat at one of the two round tables close to the windows.   

    The men continued their chatter and eating when an old woman stepped out.  She picked up a metal coffee decanter and shuffled to Leon.

    "What'd you like?" She said, looking as tired as she sound.  She retrieved laminated menu from her apron and shoved it in front of him.  

    "I am a little lost." 

    "What's that?" She said and selected a tan ceramic mug from beneath the counter, pouring half of cup of coffee into it before setting it down.

   "This is Suisun Town...?"

   The old woman shrugged.

   "Is Valencia far from here?"

   The old woman's eyebrows knitted together and looked at the ceiling for a moment.

   "Don't know," she finally said and turned to the other men sitting at the counter.  "Anyone of ya know where ---"

   She gestured with the coffee decanter until Leon said the City name for her.  He was met with silence until one of the bikers shook his head.

   "Best turn around and go back where you come from," he said.  "Not a safe place."

   "I won't be there for long."

   "It'll take you a few second to get murdered," another biker said - twirling his fork in the pile of scrambled eggs on his plate.  "Worse could happen to you, pretty boy."

   The three bikers laughed.

   "I can take care of myself," Leon said, his voice low and leveled to hide his irritation.  "Can you tell me where it is?"

   The bikers looked at each other then looked back at him.

   "No," one of them said.  "Made a point never to go near there."

   Leon turned away and asked the old woman for a phone.

   "No public phone here," she said.

   "Any phone," he said.  "I'll call collect.  My cell phone lost reception about twenty miles back."

   She stared at him as if she was about to make the biggest decision in her life.  Leon took out his wallet and took out a twenty-dollar bill, placing it next to the coffee cup.

   "Five minutes," she said and took the twenty, shoving it into her apron.  She nodded at the backroom where she came from.  "The first room to the left."

   The office was probably where the old woman also slept, he gathered from the rumpled old blanket and pillow on the couch.  He found the phone literally buried beneath piles of dated newspapers and magazines and unopened bills.  He breathed out a relief when he heard the dial tone when he picked the receiver up.  He dialed the number from memory and shifted through the papers strewn about as he waited for the phone to be picked up.  A sleepy voice answered him.

   "Joe," Leon said.  "I'm fucking lost."

   "Jesus Christ, Leon....I marked the map for you."

   "You didn't mark it right.  I'm in a town that's not even on the map."

   "Yeah, that meant you took a wrong exit and got lost."

   "I didn't take any exits," Leon said - marveling the five year-old post mark on one of the bills he'd picked up.  "You marked a road that didn't exist.  I traveled west anyway, and ended up in Suisun Town.  Look it up and tell me where to go from here."

   Leon read the address from the envelope and waited as his contact cursed and typed loudly on his computer.

   "It's not really a town," Joe said.  "It might be about half-a-mile long, from the look of it.  Maybe that's why they didn't bother listing it.  Anyway, just get back on the road and head South 101."

   "There isn't a South 101."

   "If you stay on the road you are at long enough, you will meet it," Joe said.  "It's two in the afternoon.  Can I go back to sleep?"

   When Leon stepped back out, the bikers had already left.  The man in the suit was still sitting at the table, sipping tea and reading a newspaper.  The two men in plaid were counting out their change they'd fished out from their overalls.  They left the change on the counter beside their emptied plates and waved good-bye to the old woman who only grunted in reply.  She turned her attention back to him and offered the menu again. 

   "I have to go," Leon said, taking his wallet out for a ten and placed it next to the coffee mug.  "Thank you anyway." 

   "You shouldn't go," one of the men in plaid said to him when they filed past him.  "Awful place, that Valencia."

    Leon gave him a weak smile and nodded, following the men out to the parking lot.

    "Shit..." Leon cursed at the sight of his Buick leaning on the driver side on its two slashed tires.  "Those fucking bikers..."

    The men in plaid stared at the tires and at Leon.

    "They are trying to do ya a favor," one said. 

    "By stranding me at this fucking place?" Leon said, running his hand through his hair.  "Those assholes..."

    The three stared at the flattened tires.

    "You should go home," one of them said as they climbed into the truck.  "You can call for a tow or somethin' from Emma's phone."

    The truck's engine turned with great difficulty - thick plumes of smoke bellowed out from the back of the truck.  

    "Go home boy," the passenger stuck his head out of the window and said as the truck was backed out of the slot and puttered off down the road toward the direction Leon had come.

    "Fuck fuck fuck...." Leon said into the dissipating cloud of smoke.  "FUCK!"

    He turned and nearly ran into the man in the three-piece suit.  

    "Need help?" 

    "I guess," Leon said sheepishly, backing away to put distance between them. 

    "You wanted to go to Valencia?"

    "But first, I need to get my car serviced -- "

    The man smiled and nodded.  

    "My name is Belmont.  Andrew Belmont," he said and gestured at the BMW.  "I can drive you to -- "

    "I think it's probably more convenient if I called for a tow from here."

    Belmont shook his head.

    "I'll take you to Valencia," he said and walked toward his car.

    "But my car -- "

    "It's not going anywhere," he said.  "Someone with a tow from Valencia can come back out here with you."

    Belmont stood next to his car and waited.  Something's wrong, Leon can feel it.  The turning and twisting of unnamed emotions that churned in his belly.  The cop instinct in him told him he should stay.  The Beretta that was pressed into his shoulder holster beneath his left arm didn't make him feel any better.

    "Do I look like I can possibly hurt you?" Belmont said with a grin that made Leon recoil inside.  

    "I really --"

    "You shouldn't fear getting into a stranger's car," Belmont said.  "You are not a child."

    Leon drew in a deep breath and let it out.

    "No, I guess not."

    He was never certain if the memories he had of his mother's death was real.  Always the same images.   The dead with browned and mottled skin drawn tightly over their bony frame feasted on the blood and innards of his mother's body.  They huddled over the corpse that had been split open and washed with in crimson.  His mother's long blonde hair was matted with pieces of flesh and soaked with blood.  He could see her one of her hands, curled into a loose fist - lay severed from the wrist.

    He had climbed out of the small crawl space his mother had pushed him into when the dead came.  After hearing his mother's screams dwindle into whimpers then nothing - he crawled out of the small hole inside the linen closet and toward the wet sounds.  Leon knelt by the doorway, on his hands and knees, suddenly realizing he would also meet his mother's fate as he stared at the hunched backs of the dead.  One turned and looked at him.  Its mouth dripped a piece of flesh.  After it swallowed, a smile formed on it thin lips.  

    It made an growling sound and beckoned the others to turn to look at the boy.

    "Perhaps we should save this one for tomorrow," one of them said, gesturing at him with a bloody bone.  "Cook him slowly over a fire."

    They laughed.  The sounds they made hurt his ears.

    "Yes, it would be a shame to eat him whole."

    Leon stared at them dumbly, not even frightened enough to attempt an escape.  

    "I think we should tether him to a stake and eat him a little sliver at the time," another said as he stood.  The hard pads of its feet made tapping sounds as it walked toward him.  "Carve a little piece of him every few minutes so we can hear how wonderfully he scream as we eat."

    The others cackled and laughed.  Leon finally willed himself to move, crawling backwards away as the dead came closer -- the stench of decay strong.

    "No fear, little one -- " it said as it reached out with its bony fingers.  Leon scrambled backwards away faster but the front door was still yards away.

    "We'll ... " It said then fell silent.  Leon's clothes were suddenly wet with the cold blood.  He stared incoherently at the severed hand of the dead near his foot.

    Then the room was silent for a few second until the dead howled and stumble backwards.  Fear and realization struck him then, as the boy gather his legs together and stood.  He ran toward the front door but he didn't go very far.  

    Leon ran into someone's arms that held to him, enclosing him in a coat the stranger wore.  The faceless man's embrace was warm, nearly familiar.

    "Don't look," he said.  

    The wet sounds of flesh being torn from their bones were as loud as the dead creatures in his house screamed.  Leon was trembling so hard that he could barely stand.

    "It's okay," the voice told him.  "As long as you don't look...you will be okay...."

    Leon's eyes fluttered open but they couldn't focus.  He stared down at his hands on his lap.  He couldn't make them move.  It was already a trying effort for him to take in a lungful of breath.  His chest hurt.  His head hurt.  He couldn't make his eyes stay open.  

    "Awake already?" A soft voice said to him.  "Did you have a nice dream?"

    Leon felt the car he was riding in slow and then came to a stop.  He managed to hold up his head high enough to see Belmont put the car in park and smiled curtly at him.

    "We still have some way to go," Belmont said and reached behind the car seat, pulling onto his lap a black leather satchel.

    "W...h..."

    Belmont retrieved a small silver case from the satchel.

    "I was surprised to find the gun," Belmont said.  "No badge or work ID.  Undercover maybe?"

    How did he....?

    Vague recollection came to him in pieces.  They had stopped at a gas station twenty minutes into their ride.  Belmont had asked Leon to refuel the car while he excused himself, taking his black bag with him into the convenient store.  When Belmont returned, he had carried two cups of coffee with him.  

    Coffee....  

    "Drugged.....me...." Leon rasped the last thought he had before he dropped the half-filled cup onto the carpeted floor as his consciousness spiraled away.  

   His sudden surge of desperation gave him a little more strength.  He could lift his right arm but he couldn't close his fingers around the car handle.  He want out.  He didn't care where he was.  He just want out. 

   "Be a good boy," Belmont said and pushed the needle of the syringe into the a small bottle of yellowish fluid.

   "Get....away...." two of Leon's fingers curled around the handle but he couldn't find the strength to pull it.  "Don't..."

   Belmont tapped the filled syringe with his fingertip then squeezed out a few droplets to air it out.

   "We will be home soon," Belmont said softly, running one hand through Leon's hair - a few times to comb through the strands with his fingers.  Then his hand closed on a fistful and pulled his hair backwards until Leon was staring into the ceiling of the car.  "This won't hurt a bit."

   He felt the prick of the needle break his skin and the drug pressed into him.  His face flushed instantly - the burn spread rapidly.  By the time Belmont had released his hair and replaced a cap over the needle, the sensation of being swept into a warm blanket washed over him.  His eyelids were already being pulled shut.  

   "Have another nice dream," Belmont said and kissed him on his forehead.  "My pretty little angel...."

    Then there was nothing as a comfortable darkness embraced him.

   ~End 1~