Maureen

         Like most country roads, State Route 143 was dark and lonely at night.  Jerry Bevins was fiddling with the radio, searching for something to interrupt the hum of the road when he first saw her.  She was standing next to a battered Ford Galaxie and waving her arms frantically.  He slowed down and clicked on his high beams.  Even in the distance, Jerry could see she was a young and very pretty redhead, and he wondered what she was doing out here at this time of night.  He pulled in behind her and put the car in park.
         The woman looked at him expectantly, and Jerry realized he had been staring at her through his windshield.  He rolled down the window.
         “What’s the problem?”
         The woman walked over and leaned down.  Jerry could smell her perfume mingling with the smell of leaves and the cool night air.  She smiled.
         “I’m so glad you stopped.  I think I’ve got a flat.”
         Jerry smiled back and opened his door.  “Let’s take a look,” he said.  He walked to the back of her car and crouched down. 
         “Well, it’s flat alright.  Do you have a spare?”
         The woman bit her lip and looked worried.  “I really don’t know.  This is my husband’s car.  I was just driving it tonight because Peggy couldn’t give me a lift to work.”
         Jerry felt a trace of disappointment at the word "husband," but didn’t show it.  “Well, don’t worry, I’m sure we can figure out something.”  He stood up. “I’m Jerry by the way.”
         “Oh.  I’m sorry.  I’m Maureen.  Maureen Ryder.”  She held out her slim hand, and Jerry shook it gingerly.  “Nice to meet you,” Jerry said.  Her hand was warm, and Jerry held it for a second longer, then dropped it, self-consciously. 
         “I’ll get my flashlight,” he finally said. “Could you open your trunk?”
         Maureen laughed at his awkwardness and Jerry took a second, then joined in before walking back to his car to find his flashlight.  He came back and shined it into the open trunk.  “The spare looks fine to me,” he said.  She brushed against his arm as she leaned in close to him to look.  “We’ll have you back on the road in no time.” 
         Maureen held the flashlight while Jerry got to work.
         “I was lucky you were driving by,” Maureen said in between Jerry’s sharp tugs on the lug wrench.
         “Yeah, it’s pretty late.  I don’t imagine this road gets much traffic, even in the daytime.”
         “It can get lonely out here,” she said.  “That’s why I was so glad to see you.”  She moved in a little closer with the flashlight.  Jerry pulled the tire off of the axle.
         “I only use this road as a shortcut when I have to work late at the diner.  Peggy usually drives through town.”
         “Your friend Peggy sounds eminently reasonable,” Jerry said.  He fit the spare onto the axle and began tightening the lug nuts.
         “Yeah, reasonable and boring.” 
         “Not for you, huh?” Jerry asked.
         “No, I think I’m more of an adventurous type.” 
         She was standing very close to him now, and Jerry could feel her eyes on him.  He paused for a moment, then stood up. 
         “Well, I think that does it,” he said.  He tapped the tire with his foot, and turned to face Maureen. 
Maureen smiled in relief.  Jerry thought her green eyes almost glowed in the glare of the headlights.  “I really don’t know how to thank you.  You are a lifesaver.”
         “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Jerry said. 
         “You have no idea,” Maureen continued.  “My husband would have taken a week to get to it.  If I could tear him away from his drinking buddies.”  Her face clouded for a moment, but then she looked at Jerry and tried to smile again.
         “Anyway, thanks”  she said in a quiet voice. 
         Jerry reached out and patted his hand on her arm.  “Hey, look, it’s all over now,” he said.  He made a sweeping gesture with his arm towards the tire.  “See, good as new.”
         Maureen brightened.  Jerry looked at his watch.  “It’s getting late.  I was planning to find a motel in town anyway.  Why don’t I just follow you back to town?  That way we’ll be sure you make it okay, and you can show me the way to a motel.”
         “Oh could you?  I’d feel a lot better.”  Her green eyes were fixed on Jerry’s.  She lowered them.  “And I’m sure there’s a vacancy at the motor lodge.” 
         Jerry looked at her for a moment longer.  He suddenly felt very tired.  “Good,” he said after a few seconds.  “Let’s get you home.”
         Maureen led him a long way along the windy road, and finally made a sharp right turn which led them past a closed service station and used car lot, and into the driveway of the Bealton Motor Lodge.  The green neon sign said “Vacancy.”
Maureen drove in first, then turned around and pulled up next to him.  She rolled down her window.  “This is the place.  Plenty of vacancies, just like I said.”
         “Looks fine,” Jerry said. 
         “And if you want a good place to eat breakfast in the morning, try the diner.”  Her voice sounded almost motherly.
         “Thanks, I will.” 
         “Well, thanks again for helping me out.”  She reached her hand through the window and Jerry shook it.  “Goodnight, Jerry,” she said.
                                                           #
         Jerry awoke with a throbbing headache and the disorienting feeling of a strange room.  The morning sunlight bored through the shabby drapes and settled on the faded armchair where his pants lay folded in a neat rectangle.  He watched the dust dance in the sun’s rays for a moment, then rolled out of bed and made his wobbly way to the shower.  By the time he walked across the street to the diner his headache was gone.
         The smell of bacon grease and coffee clobbered him as he opened the door.  A few of the locals looked up as he came in, but then dropped their heads back down to rejoin the usual conversations about hunting, or football, or taxes.  Jerry walked to the far end of the chipped Formica counter and sat down on red vinyl-covered stool.  He didn’t bother to reach for a menu.
         “What’ll you have?”
         The cook's booming voice jerked Jerry back into the present.
         “Uh, coffee, and, ” he glanced over to the specials board. “Coffee and bacon and eggs.”
         “Alright.  I’ll be back with your coffee.  The eggs will take a couple of minutes.  My morning girl didn’t make it in and I’m a little short-handed.”
         “That’s okay, no rush,” Jerry said, but the cook was already walking over to take care of an older couple at the cash register.  He rang up the bill, came back to pour a cup of coffee, then disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen.  Jerry took a sip of his coffee and stared out the dirty window at the parking lot.  The place was popular with the locals anyway, he thought.  Behind the door he could hear the scraping of the grill and the sizzle of hot grease.
He was still gazing out the window when a battered green Galaxie pulled into the parking lot.  Maureen stepped out, tied up her long red hair, and walked around back.  Jerry was surprised to realize he’d been expecting her all along.  He swiveled in his chair, and tried to find something to look at other than her car or the kitchen door.  He finally jerked the menu out of the rack in front of him and pretended to study it.
         “Well, hello stranger,” Maureen said as she brought up a steaming plate of bacon and eggs.  Jerry looked up at her and seemed hypnotized for a moment as she leaned over the counter to put the plate down.  The clank of the plate on the counter brought him back to himself.
         “Oh, hi,” Jerry said putting down the menu.  “I was just taking your advice.”
         Maureen smiled.  “I’m glad you did.”
         “I didn’t think you’d be in so early.”
         “Usually I’m not, but Peggy still isn’t feeling good, so Phil asked me to come in.”  She refilled his coffee cup.
         “How’s the tire holding up?”
         Maureen was still smiling, but she was looking out the window.  Jerry followed her eyes and turned to see a tall, solidly-built man studying the car out in the parking lot.  He studied the rear tire, then raised his head and stared through the window at Jerry and Maureen.  He looked angry.
         “Friend of yours?” Jerry asked.  He hoped he sounded unconcerned.
         “That’s Bobby,” she said more to herself than to Jerry.  “He didn’t come home last night.”   
         Something in her face looked strangely pleased as she watched Bobby march across the parking lot.  She seemed larger than she was, cat-like and powerful.  A twisted knot formed in the pit of Jerry’s stomach.  Maureen glanced down, and for an instant Jerry felt her green eyes burning through him.  Then, as suddenly as he noticed it, the fire in her eyes disappeared.  Bobby walked in.
         “Maureen!”  Bobby said in a mixture of anger and frustration.
         She set down the coffee pot and looked over to Bobby.  “Hi baby,” she said.  “Feeling better?”
         Bobby was even larger up close than he had seemed out in the parking lot.  Jerry was sure he had been a football player in high school.  He was good looking and confident, the kind of guy who always got the girl, and sometimes took yours.  Now, he smelled of booze and stale cigarettes.  And he looked ready for a fight. 
         Bobby walked over to the counter.  Jerry kept his focus squarely on the bacon and eggs in front of him, but could sense that Bobby was considering whether he should beat him now or later.  Jerry hoped for later. 
He eyed Jerry for a moment, and then looked back to Maureen. 
         “Damn it, Maureen, where’ve you been?”  A few of the locals raised their heads, then resumed their muttered conversations.
         Maureen looked up at him sweetly.  “Right here at work, honey.  I’m filling in for Peggy today.” 
         Bobby took a step towards her.  “You know that’s not what I meant.  Where were you last night?”
         “I was right here last night too, Bobby.  I had a flat on the way home, and you were gone by the time I got there.”  She picked up the coffee pot and turned to place it back on the burner behind her.  Out of the corner of his eye, Jerry could see Bobby clenching and unclenching his fist. 
         “A flat?  You can’t change a light bulb without help.  Who changed the tire?”  Bobby’s voice was getting louder, and some of the locals were starting to pay attention. 
         “A friend,” she said.  The slight smile and too-warm voice made Jerry wince. 
         “Damn it Maureen, you listen to me!” Bobby’s powerful arm shot across the counter and grabbed Maureen by the arm.  He jerked her in closer and she let out a whimper of pain and fear.  “You’re still my wife.” 
         “Bobby, please,” she stammered “you’re hurting me.”  Bobby leaned his head close to hers and almost whispered through clenched teeth.  “You don’t know pain Maureen, but so help me, you’re going to learn.” 
         Jerry stood up and put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder.  “You’re hurting the lady, mister. That’s enough.” 
         Bobby let go of Maureen and shook off Jerry’s hand.  “Who the hell are you?” 
         “I’m just a guy trying to eat his breakfast,” Jerry said.  He raised his voice.  “And I, and all of the rest of the people in here,” he swept his arm behind him, but kept his eyes on Bobby, “think it’d be better if you left now, before Phil there has to call the police.” 
         Bobby's blue eyes narrowed.  He glanced at Maureen,  who was still standing behind the counter and rubbing her arm, then looked back at Jerry.  “Later then,” he finally said.  “For both of you.”  Then he turned and plowed past the wide-eyed locals and back into the street. 
         Jerry exhaled in relief and put the ketchup bottle he had been hiding in his right hand back on the counter.  Maureen was gone, and Phil was standing in her place holding the coffee pot.
         “He’s not a bad kid, you know,” Phil said at last.
         “You could have fooled me,” Jerry said with a nervous laugh.
         “He’s not like that when he’s sober.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
         “Tell that to Maureen,” Jerry said seriously.
         Phil shook his head.  “That girl’s no good for a straightforward guy like Bobby Ryder.  He never drank anything stronger than beer before he married her.”
         “So it’s all her fault?” Jerry asked.  The football hero-worship was making him angry.
         “Didn’t say that,” Phil replied.  “He just seems to have a hard time letting it go.”
         Jerry grabbed his check.  It was signed “ThanX, M.”  Across the top, there was a telephone number.
                                                           #
         Jerry spent the rest of the day thinking about Maureen and Bobby and what Phil had said.  At six, he dialed the telephone number. 
         There was no voice on the other end, just the click of the receiver and an empty silence.  “Hello?” Jerry said urgently.  “Hello?”
         “Jerry?” Maureen’s voice sounded girl-like and frightened.
         “Maureen?  Where are you?  Are you alright?”  Jerry was standing and almost shouting into the phone.
         “I’m okay.”  Jerry heard her exhale slowly.  “I’m at Peggy’s.  She’s at work, and I’m fine.”
         “You don’t sound fine.” 
         “Jerry, you don’t know what you’re getting mixed up in.  I’ve never seen Bobby so angry.  You might get hurt.”
         “Don’t you worry about me.  I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.  Now, how do I find you?  I’m coming over there.”
         “No.  You’ve done enough already.  You don’t know what he might do.”
         “That’s right.  We don’t know what he might do.  That’s why I’m coming over, to make sure you’re safe.  That’s it.  What’s the address?”
         “She’s on Gadsden Road, about a mile out of town.  Ask at the front desk.  Everyone there knows Peggy Munson’s house.”
         “Alright, I’m leaving now.  Lock all your doors and windows, and if you see or hear anything, call the police right away.”
         “Okay.”  Her voice sounded very calm.  “And Jerry?”
         “Yes?”
         “Be careful honey.”  The line clicked as she hung up the phone.
         Jerry looked around for something that would help him, but there was nothing in the room but some bent wire hangers and a plastic shoe horn with “Bealton Motor Lodge” stamped on it.  He threw it down on the bed and grabbed his coat and car keys.  Outside, a cold rain began to fall.  Jerry looked out across the parking lot, and hoped the desk clerk knew where Peggy’s house was. 
         “Going out?”
         The voice came out of the darkness, but Jerry didn’t need to see the face to know it was Bobby.  Jerry pulled the door closed behind him, and started for the light in the motel’s front office.
         “I wouldn’t,” Bobby said in a flat voice.  He moved a few steps forward into the light.  Jerry caught the flash of something silver in his hand.  Bobby shrugged.  “You’d never make it.”
         Jerry swallowed hard.  “What do you want?” He hoped his voice sounded calm. 
         Bobby took another step forward.  Jerry could now plainly see his odd smile and the silver revolver he held in his hand.
         “All I want is to be happy again.” 
         “What do I have to do with that?” Jerry said.
         “I’m going to show you.  Let’s go for a ride.”  He motioned with the pistol for Jerry to get into his car and kept the pistol aimed at Jerry’s head while he walked around the front of the car and climbed into the passenger seat.  Jerry sat stiff and upright, with both hands clenched on the steering wheel. 
         “Where are we going?” he asked without turning his head.
         “I think you know that already, Jerry.”  Hearing Bobby use his name felt like a punch in the gut.
         “I don’t know where she is,” Jerry said.
         “That’s okay, Jerry.”  Bobby clicked back the hammer on the pistol.  “I do.  Now drive us out of here, and make a left onto 4th Street.  We’re going to Peggy’s.”
         Jerry drove as silently as a big city bus driver.  He was surprised at how calm he felt, as if all of this had somehow been inevitable.  What were his options?  Maybe someone from the diner this morning would see them and call the police.  But it was raining hard at dinnertime in a small town, and 4th Street was empty.  He could try to crash the car, or maybe just stop suddenly.  But each bump in the road was punctuated by the grate of a pistol barrel on his ribs, and Bobby’s finger remained on the trigger.  He’d have to wait.  But, what about Maureen?
         “You aren’t thinking about doing something stupid, are you Jerry?”  Bobby’s oddly conversational voice broke up Jerry’s thoughts.
         “No, nothing stupid.”  Jerry shook his head slightly.
         “That’s good.  Turn left here, then take the next right.”  Jerry slowed down and made the turn.  “I need you for a witness.”
         “Witness?” 
         “Don’t sound so surprised.  I need you to watch me kill Maureen.”  Jerry shivered at the matter of fact tone.  Bobby continued.
         “Do you go to church Jerry?”
         “Well, I was raised Catholic, but I haven’t been inside of a church in years.”
         “Do you know what a succubus is?” 
         “Some kind of demon, or something?”  Jerry suddenly wished he had paid more attention to his catechism teacher.
         “That’s right—I looked it up in the library.  Take a left at the stop sign.  But a succubus isn’t just any old demon, Jerry, it’s a female demon.  And her name is Maureen.”
         Jerry stiffened as he realized the man jabbing a pistol into his ribs was not angry, but crazy.
         “Sounds nuts, doesn’t it Jerry?”
         “Yes.”  Jerry said after some hesitation. 
         “I thought so too—at first.  But then it happened to me.  I started to lose it, and that’s how I knew.”
         “Lose what?”  Jerry was remembering something he read somewhere about talk therapy.  Maybe, he thought, if he could keep Bobby talking, he could find a way out of this.
         Bobby was looking out at the dark road ahead.  “Love,” he said matter-of-factly.  He turned back to Jerry and continued in that strange expository voice.  “That thing out there has emptied me.  I can’t give it.  I can’t feel it—not from friends, not from my family, not from strangers, not from anyone.”  His voice trailed off for a moment.  Then he said slowly, “I am in Hell.” 
         The car came around a bend and Jerry’s headlights illuminated a small, boxy white house at the end of road.  Bobby looked out the windshield.  “And tonight I’m getting out,” he said, and moved the pistol an inch higher on Jerry’s ribs.
Jerry slowed and stopped in the gravel driveway.  There was no other car there, but the porch light was on and one of the windows reflected the silver-gray flicker of a television screen.  Bobby told him to turn off the engine and to keep his hands on the steering wheel.  In a second he was standing at Jerry’s door.  He motioned with the gun for Jerry to get out of the car.   
      Jerry’s slowly opened the door and got out.  They both stood there for a moment, then Bobby said “Let’s go,” and gestured with the gun towards the house.  Jerry turned and walked up to the front porch, with Bobby’s slow, heavy steps crunching on the gravel a few feet behind him.  He stopped at the door, and felt the gun push into the small of his back.
         “Knock,” Bobby said in a harsh whisper.
         Jerry prayed silently that Maureen wasn’t there, but after a few seconds he saw a shadow move across the room.  Maureen opened the door.
         “Maureen, I—” Jerry’s words were cut short by an crashing blow at the base of his skull.  His eyes blurred as he struggled to maintain his balance, the porch light and Maureen and the door spinning like a kaleidoscope in front of him.  He slumped to the ground in the doorway, his breath coming in shallow, rapid pants.  Bobby pushed him to one side and walked into the house.  Someone started screaming.
         Jerry reached out to steady himself, and his hand found the doorframe.  He could hear voices, and some guttural snarling sound.  He held on tightly, his eyes twitching and out of focus.  He was dizzy, but could see his shirt was covered in blood.  He inched his hand up the doorframe, and slowly tried to pull himself to his feet.  Two gunshots cracked out from down the hall.  He held the doorframe and stood, woozy, trying to guess where the voices and the shots were coming from. 
“Maureen!” Jerry tried to yell, but it came out as an incoherent moan.  He staggered along down the hallway, using the wall to guide himself.  “Maureen!”  Another shot rang out from the room right in front of him.  He smelled sulfur and gunpowder.
         “Too late, Jerry.”  Bobby stood just inside the doorway with his back to Jerry.  He turned slightly so Jerry could see he still had the pistol.  “You’re too late.”
         “Maureen?” Jerry’s voice was a little more than a croak.
         The animal snarl returned, but deeper and impossibly loud, until the walls began to shake.  Jerry covered his ears, but the noise seemed to be coming from inside his head.  It grew shriller, and a mass of confused and anguished voices answered:  “Not Maureen!  Not Maureen!” 
         An explosion of light and wind and shrieking noise threw Bobby to the ground, and a howling tongue of flame seized Jerry and dragged him into the room.  He dangled for a second in the air, dazzled by the green light and sound.  The voices rose to a freight-train roar.  “We are Latham-aht-Baalach!” 
         The ground split open and Jerry felt himself falling, then everything went dark and silent.  When he opened his eyes, Maureen was standing in front of him.  Her long red hair fell lightly across her naked shoulders, and her green eyes looked at him longingly.  She lifted her hand to him.   
         “Come to me, Jerry.”  Her sweet, urgent, voice sounded in Jerry’s head.  “Come to me.”  He reached out his hand and took a step forward.
         A crack of gunfire shattered the stillness, and Jerry instinctively turned towards the noise behind him.  Bobby’s charging bulk swatted Jerry aside and crashed like a linebacker into the small figure in front of him, slamming her to the ground with a sickening crunch.
         Without looking up, Bobby said “Run!”
         The figure began to stir.  Bobby looked at Jerry and screamed “Go, before it comes back!” 
        Jerry watched in horror as Maureen lifted her head.  Thousands of shrieking voices filled the air with insane laughter and green eyes peered out from a black emptiness where her face had been.  Five massive talons plunged into Bobby’s shoulder and tossed him to the ground. 
         “You bitch!  You can’t have him!”
         Bobby’s screams grew louder until they rose above the wild, shrieking voices, and Jerry stumbled out of the room and ran out of the house.  Outside, arcs of green flame erupted from the roof then continued around the house, grasping it deliberately, before consuming it all in a maelstrom of wind and fire and sulfurous smoke. 
         Then it was over. 
         A full moon had risen, clear and bright in the night sky.  Jerry walked back to his car and pulled out a worn map from the glove compartment.  He studied it for a moment, then took a pen and marked a dark, heavy cross over the town of Bealton.  He looked at his watch, then back to the map, then folded it and put it away.  Wilson Falls tomorrow, he thought.  Then he pulled slowly out of the driveway and drove off into the night.