A crack of thunder then a flash of light following by a deep growl that hung in the air and tickled the guts. Several people were in the small diner on the edge of town, nervously playing at the plates in front of them. One couple, young and stupid, whispered in their booth as their coffee got cold. An old man at the bar watched condensation race themselves down his perspiring pint, lost in thought. The aging cop and his partner at the end of the line hadn't finished their burgers and the fries had long ago gone icy. Tension. The best word to describe the air in the diner was tension and the best example was that of a metal wire stretched to the point where the steel fibers were so tight that you could almost feel them straining to hold on.
The waitress came out from the kitchen area and walked up to the middle aged couple and their son who were waiting at the bar. "I'm sorry. The cook isn't feeling well so we had to close the kitchen. Can I get you some coffee and some pie?"
The couple shifted around a bit then the wife spoke over the husband's more timid tone, "Yes. That would be great. Can we just sit where we want?"
The waitress "mmm-hemmed" them then said, "anywhere you want."
The husband nodded then turned. The wife and son looked the other way then they all seemed to decide on the booth in the corner near the police.
The waitress went into the kitchen and cut the pie and carefully put the pieces on a clean plate. She took her time to make the presentation as nice as she could. After all, this was the last night for them all and she wasn't going to let anyone go into the afterlife without doing her best to make it comfortable.
A minute later the waitress appeared and placed the pies on the table, gently, followed by the steaming cups of coffee. "Hot coco for the young man," the waitress said then winked at the boy.
"Thank you," he said politely as he took the cup from the tray and put it down in front of him.
The waitress refreshed a few of the mugs and on the way back to the kitchen she replaced the luke warm beer with a colder one. "Paul, don't let these get too warm. They loose their taste then they heat up, honey," the waitress said heading back into the kitchen.
"We should probably get going," the older cop said. "We can't stay here all night. Not right to stay in one spot like this." A crack of thunder made him jump and he cussed. "God....da...M. OK. Just thunder," he said to himself as he stood up. The younger officer didn't follow and said, "I want to finish this meal first. Before we leave. There's no need for us to just run out like this when we haven't even eaten a meal yet."
The older cop must have been waiting for the excuse to stay because he did not offer an argument. He simply sat down and asked the waitress for a fresh plate- "Maybe just some pie?"
The waitress was pleased to hear the order. She was proud of her new flavor-a pumpkin pie. Just in time for the fall. As before, she carefully cut it out and placed it on the plate and added the fresh whipped cream. Proud, she walked the pies out to the cops when she came to a dead stop.
"Where are you going?" She asked the two men in trench coats that were at the door. They stopped in their tracks and slowly turned around. One of them cleared his throat and said, "Look, lady. We haven't got time for this. My friend and I have-"
"-no where to go. Not anymore," the waitress said. "Just take a seat and stay out of that rain. You don't need to go out there in this kind of weather. There's no telling what is out there on a night like tonight."
The men looked at one another then they looked around. The taller of the men undid his jacket then he move it open, exposing a pistol on his hip that was being held in a leather holster. "Lady, we're leaving. And I don't care what's out there. I do care what's in here and we're not sticking around. We had out dinner, thank you, but we will be on our way. There's no need to keep us like this. Playing with us."
The pistol was suddenly torn out of its holster and went flying into the kitchen. The cook came out, wiping his hands on a white rag that he hung from his belt. The waitress moved to the side and bowed her head slightly.
Death, in any form, remained an ancient and powerful presence. He leaned over the booth and looked around. "Where do you intend go?"
The taller felt bold, or must have, because he pointed at Death and said, "If you want to drag us to hell or heaven, or whatever then do it. But I'm not going to sit here all night waiting for something to happen. You got this place-everyone in here is scared. They're terrified and you and her, what ever the fuck that is, are playing this kitchen game with us. Like we're toys or somethin'. Now, I'm heading out of here and you ain't going to stop me!" Then the man turned and headed out the door. A man, or at least it looked like it was a man, came out of no where. He was nude and his stomach had these terrible gashes across it as if someone was dragging a knife, point down, into his guts, but not pushing hard. Just letting the razor cut. The worst part about the image was the fact that the man's face was gone. Someone or something had cut it clean off, leaving these empty sockets and this flapping tongue. Blood, never ending blood, gushed like a hose out of his neck and face and brains slipped out of his sockets and nose. The "man's" fingers were gone, the flesh, which left sharp bones as points that he used to grab the tall man. He tore him off of his feet and threw him to the ground. The people in the diner watched, screaming, begging, as the creature pushed his fingers into the mans neck and skull and the tall man thrashed about the ground, pounding his fists and feet into the wet concrete until they were broken and bleeding. The creature howled or cried. Whatever it did it made everyone in the diner hide their faces and cover their ears. It was a horrible, terrible sound that made their souls cower.
The remaining man in the diner cried out, "Do something!" He crowded the door, but did not leave.
Death pushed a spoon around the counter and waited for the remaining man to stop his pointless pleases and crocodile tears.
"Why aren't you doing something?" A woman screamed. Death paused.
"I do not control the door. For some, it's locked. For others, it's unlocked. What waits on the other side is not my decision, but yours. It's a decision you made a long time ago. Think of it as the bed you made and I am the will that will force you to sleep in it. When you arrive here," Death said waving about, "in this purgatory of sorts, we are still moving in time. Still on the river. The ports appear as they appear and those who want to disembark do. But what waits on the other side of those doors isn't anything I control. Me and my, uh, assistant do our best to make this transition less painful. We cook, we clean, and we try to be polite. But if you're going to be assholes we can be assholes too." Death lifted his hand and prepared to snap his fingers when the young cop at the end of the bar said, "WAIT. Sir, please. You're right. We know you're right. I knew I was dead when I got here. And I knew what this was. It's just the shock of it all. But the food and the pie," he said putting another bite into his mouth, "are amazing. Really. Please, just" the cop said looking around, "How do we know when we're supposed to leave?"
Death grinned, "You like the pie?" The Waitress fixed her hair a bit and smiled. The cop smiled too, "Yes. I do."
"So do I," a child said. "I really like the pie. 'specially the hot chocolate."
Death stood tall now. His smile was one of both pride and joy. "They like the pie." he said to the waitress. "Do you want some more?"
The little girl held up her plate, "Yes, please."
The Waitress seemed to float now. She took the small plate, all smiles, and went to get the pie when the door chimed. She turned to see who had come in. Everyone was suddenly shocked to see the world outside had transformed. Warm sun kissed the tinted glass. The summer sky hosted the tall trees and together they welcomed the birds and cool wind. It was inviting and beautiful. The tension that clung to everyone like a cold, wet shirt had been replaced by fresh, warm cotton sheets. A mans stood in the door and when he saw the little girl he seemed to explode with joy. The little girl did the same and the two looked as if they had known one another their whole lives. The man picked the girl up and swung her around. "I'm so glad to finally meet you face to face!"
The girl giggled, "Me too! I kept dreaming of you when they were making me sick. When I was sick. I was really sick in the end, I think. But I couldn't wait to meet you."
The man and little girl left the diner, but not before the man put down a hefty tip. "Thank you for taking care of her while we prepared her place." Then they left.
Death wiped a small tear from his face then he made some excuse for the pollen. The waitress softly punched him in the arm and said, "you're such a softy." Death happily walked back in the kitchen, "They like the pie!"
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