"Finish cleaning up and then get out of here, Logan," said Marty, a man in his late forties with dark, pepper streaked hair and a thick goatee. He had just locked the bar's front and back doors after Daniel, the bouncer, successfully evicted the last of the patrons from the night. Behind the bar, Logan was sweeping trash along the floor and into a bin to dump into the nearly overflowing can weighted down by bottles and broken glass. Next he took a rag and started wiping down the bar itself.
"You got my check, Marty?" Logan asked as the man went down a short hall next to the bar that led to the bathrooms and main office.
"Yeah, I'll get it in just a second."
Out in the floor, a young woman in her twenties was sweeping up trash and debris and plucking up empty bottles and glasses. She caught Logan watching her and threw him a wink, but he pretended not to notice and went back to cleaning. When he was done he wiped his hands on his pants and slipped out from behind the bar to start down the hall. Posters and billboards for various local bands and beer ads were thrown up on every available inch of wall space until there was nothing left but a motley of colors and words. It was a little overwhelming and made focusing in on any one thing difficult to do, especially for most of their patrons.
Logan paused outside the office door and knocked sharply. A moment later a voice grumbled from the other side.
"Come in."
He opened the door and stepped into the small, cramped office. It was more of a closet than anything else. He hovered in the doorway and waited while Marty glanced up at him and then used a key to unlock a drawer in his desk, rifling through envelopes before finding one with Logan's name printed on the label. He leaned over the desk to hand it over.
"Thanks, Marty."
"Yeah."
Logan turned to leave.
"Oh, Logan. Jess has a test Wednesday morning. Can you cover for her Tuesday night?"
Logan paused and turned to face Marty again, furrowing his brows. "I think so. Let me check first. Call you tomorrow?"
"Sounds good, thanks."
"No problem, see ya," Logan turned and continued on his way. He passed Jess on the main floor again and threw her a smile. "Night, Jess."
"Night, Logan."
Daniel unlocked the door for him as he approached, nodding his head and grunting a farewell as he passed. The door shut with a slam and the lock clicked as he stepped out onto the street. Breathing in the fresh air, he turned and walked the length of the building to a small parking lot to its right where his car was parked. A handful of fliers had been stuck under the windshield wiper, mostly bands and churches advertizing. He grabbed them all in a fistful and crumpled them up into balls before climbing into the car starting it up.
The engine rumbled and sputtered to life and Logan let it sit for a moment while he rubbed his eyes and yawned like a lion. It had been busy that night, he was exhausted and eager to get home. Finally, he put the car in reverse and backed out of his space before putting it in drive and turning onto the street. He liked working at Marty's, the man was nice enough and the pay wasn't too bad, but it was a long drive home that awaited him at the end of every shift.
It took him about ten minutes to get on the highway and the trip was made easier by that. At this time of night there weren't many cars to be seen and it was easy cruising from there on out. He'd been driving for close to twenty minutes, flicking through various radio stations in hopes that something decent was being played when he saw headlights flashing in front of him. Squinting, he tried to veer out of the way of the oncoming truck but it swerved just as he did and before he knew it, the two metal monsters collided in a cacophony of screaming breaks and screeching metal. His head snapped forward and slammed against the steering wheel. He felt a sharp pain that lasted for only a moment before everything went dark.
Police and paramedics arrived on the scene nearly twenty minutes later, by then the drunk driver of the pickup that slammed into Logan's car had clambered out of his truck and fallen to the pavement. Inside the crushed car, Logan was slumped over in his seat with the seat belt tearing into his cracked collar. His forehead split and the bone was crushed and he had died moments before help arrived. They loaded him into an ambulance and hauled him to the nearest hospital.
—-
The next thing Logan saw was black. Infinite, inky darkness. No matter how hard he tried to squint and peer he couldn't see past the dark veil that clouded his vision. It was cold and his bones were stiff, he couldn't move. He heard voices in the distance whispering and they sounded as though they were being carried by a lazy wind that licked at his skin and hair. He felt something close around his ankle and pull him down and felt something icy cold wash over his body like water and he thought that he was being pulled into some lake. He tried to scream and kick and fight but again he couldn't move and he couldn't even make a sound. The cold closed in around him, overbearing and suffocating.
Suddenly, Logan saw a face in the dark. It was pale as death and its skin was pulled taut over bone. Its eyes were hollow and sunken and black as the black that surrounded them. It was a man, an old man. He moved with ease in this hellish place, despite his age. He walked with confidence through the black air and stopped short of Logan, staring him in the eye. His bony hands rose up and closed around Logan's throat and they were even colder than this dark place. He started to squeeze and Logan tried to thrash.
"Calm," the man said. His voice was made up of a thousand whispering men and women. His hands squeezed tighter.
"Calm," he said again. "There is no pain here."
Logan realized then that as tight as the man squeezed his throat, he was still conscious. He could see and feel but it did not hurt. He cleared his throat and that was the first sound he managed to make. The man released him and beckoned with a bony hand to follow as he turned and started walking away.
"Come."
"You got my check, Marty?" Logan asked as the man went down a short hall next to the bar that led to the bathrooms and main office.
"Yeah, I'll get it in just a second."
Out in the floor, a young woman in her twenties was sweeping up trash and debris and plucking up empty bottles and glasses. She caught Logan watching her and threw him a wink, but he pretended not to notice and went back to cleaning. When he was done he wiped his hands on his pants and slipped out from behind the bar to start down the hall. Posters and billboards for various local bands and beer ads were thrown up on every available inch of wall space until there was nothing left but a motley of colors and words. It was a little overwhelming and made focusing in on any one thing difficult to do, especially for most of their patrons.
Logan paused outside the office door and knocked sharply. A moment later a voice grumbled from the other side.
"Come in."
He opened the door and stepped into the small, cramped office. It was more of a closet than anything else. He hovered in the doorway and waited while Marty glanced up at him and then used a key to unlock a drawer in his desk, rifling through envelopes before finding one with Logan's name printed on the label. He leaned over the desk to hand it over.
"Thanks, Marty."
"Yeah."
Logan turned to leave.
"Oh, Logan. Jess has a test Wednesday morning. Can you cover for her Tuesday night?"
Logan paused and turned to face Marty again, furrowing his brows. "I think so. Let me check first. Call you tomorrow?"
"Sounds good, thanks."
"No problem, see ya," Logan turned and continued on his way. He passed Jess on the main floor again and threw her a smile. "Night, Jess."
"Night, Logan."
Daniel unlocked the door for him as he approached, nodding his head and grunting a farewell as he passed. The door shut with a slam and the lock clicked as he stepped out onto the street. Breathing in the fresh air, he turned and walked the length of the building to a small parking lot to its right where his car was parked. A handful of fliers had been stuck under the windshield wiper, mostly bands and churches advertizing. He grabbed them all in a fistful and crumpled them up into balls before climbing into the car starting it up.
The engine rumbled and sputtered to life and Logan let it sit for a moment while he rubbed his eyes and yawned like a lion. It had been busy that night, he was exhausted and eager to get home. Finally, he put the car in reverse and backed out of his space before putting it in drive and turning onto the street. He liked working at Marty's, the man was nice enough and the pay wasn't too bad, but it was a long drive home that awaited him at the end of every shift.
It took him about ten minutes to get on the highway and the trip was made easier by that. At this time of night there weren't many cars to be seen and it was easy cruising from there on out. He'd been driving for close to twenty minutes, flicking through various radio stations in hopes that something decent was being played when he saw headlights flashing in front of him. Squinting, he tried to veer out of the way of the oncoming truck but it swerved just as he did and before he knew it, the two metal monsters collided in a cacophony of screaming breaks and screeching metal. His head snapped forward and slammed against the steering wheel. He felt a sharp pain that lasted for only a moment before everything went dark.
Police and paramedics arrived on the scene nearly twenty minutes later, by then the drunk driver of the pickup that slammed into Logan's car had clambered out of his truck and fallen to the pavement. Inside the crushed car, Logan was slumped over in his seat with the seat belt tearing into his cracked collar. His forehead split and the bone was crushed and he had died moments before help arrived. They loaded him into an ambulance and hauled him to the nearest hospital.
—-
The next thing Logan saw was black. Infinite, inky darkness. No matter how hard he tried to squint and peer he couldn't see past the dark veil that clouded his vision. It was cold and his bones were stiff, he couldn't move. He heard voices in the distance whispering and they sounded as though they were being carried by a lazy wind that licked at his skin and hair. He felt something close around his ankle and pull him down and felt something icy cold wash over his body like water and he thought that he was being pulled into some lake. He tried to scream and kick and fight but again he couldn't move and he couldn't even make a sound. The cold closed in around him, overbearing and suffocating.
Suddenly, Logan saw a face in the dark. It was pale as death and its skin was pulled taut over bone. Its eyes were hollow and sunken and black as the black that surrounded them. It was a man, an old man. He moved with ease in this hellish place, despite his age. He walked with confidence through the black air and stopped short of Logan, staring him in the eye. His bony hands rose up and closed around Logan's throat and they were even colder than this dark place. He started to squeeze and Logan tried to thrash.
"Calm," the man said. His voice was made up of a thousand whispering men and women. His hands squeezed tighter.
"Calm," he said again. "There is no pain here."
Logan realized then that as tight as the man squeezed his throat, he was still conscious. He could see and feel but it did not hurt. He cleared his throat and that was the first sound he managed to make. The man released him and beckoned with a bony hand to follow as he turned and started walking away.
"Come."