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Late, Late at Night
Written by Dan Frankenfield   

 

It was nearing midnight when Pete, a local, called.  I was brushing my teeth and spit it out.  I shouldn’t have answered, but I did.  He said he wanted to take a walk.  Said he was coming to get me.

At this hour Pete was drinking.  His eyes narrowed when he was drinking.  There was a hint of something mad when his eyes narrowed at you.  I hung up the phone and took a swig of the mouthwash.  I swished it around for a while until the burn was unbearable.  I knew my teeth were clean and my gums were clean.  If nothing else, the chances of gingivitis were minimal. 

 I walked back into the bedroom.  Pete was standing there thumbing through letters on my desk.  It was startling and I didn’t want him skimming through my letters but he was already there.

-I let myself.

-Yeah.

-Come on.  Let’s go.

He walked out my room.  I grabbed my cigarettes and followed.  We walked towards the industrial part of town.  Fifteen minutes later we were at a factory site.  I didn’t trust Pete a whole lot but we were there.  The building and the machinery, metal walkways and underpasses were all deserted.  Supposedly the place was still in a sort of recessed operation but at night it was dead and there weren't even birds or bugs or animals around.  I kicked some gravel and dust blew up.

-What are we doing here.

-Walking.

-We’ve stopped walking.

Pete took out a small pipe and packed it.  He had me smell it.

-It smells like pot alright.

-I paid fifty for this

He sparked it.  We continued walking.  Walking into the woods where there was a trail and thick brush on either side.  This was his town.  We walked further into the woods and the trail kept going.  Frequently, we stop and he’d pack it.

-Do you want it?

-No, not really.

-Sure?

-Yeah, I’m sure.

After about a mile of walking, the trail whittled itself unrecognizable and the moonlight wasn’t enough light.  Pete squinted his eyes and looked about.  He looked confused.

-I’ve sort of lost my bearings here.

-If we walk in any one direction, we’re bound to run into something.

We walked in the straightest direction we could.  It was nearly impossible though.  There was no trail of any sort.  The thicket got so dense that there was no direction in hell to go. 

Finally, after clawing under the lightest thicket for fifteen minutes, we saw lights at the edge of the woods.
 
-I recognize that.  It’s the chemical plant.

-They have guards.  We need to be careful.

The guards would surely be patrolling the plant and would call police if we were spotted on the premise.  We decided to circumvent the guards and continue along the edge for another two hundred meters or so. 
We came across a little shack that was supposed to be a church.  A church called the Oasis.  It had always resembled a cult, exclusive and dangerous.  There was a shrill drilling noise in the distance.  It was a screeching that cut right to the bone.  On and off and on and off.

-Do you hear that?

-I don’t know.

-Do you know what it is?

-No.

It got more noticeable.

-It’s coming from the church.  I know it is.

-I don’t know.

-There are no lights though…no cars in the parking lot.

-Who knows.

-It just doesn’t seem right

There was a big expanse of field between the road we needed to be on, to avoid being picked up by county police for trespassing and who knows what else with Pete’s paraphernalia, and the church.  It didn’t seem right but there was nothing to do but get to the road.  Pete ran first and I followed. 
We got to the road.  Our breathing was very heavy.  The drilling could still be heard faintly.  Screeching off and on and off.  We walked on.

***

Walking back, Pete asked me for a cigarette.  I gave him one.  He lit it and asked again if I wanted to smoke, told me it would ease my mind. 

-But just what do you think that drilling was?  At this hour?

-Who knows.

-With no cars in the parking lot?

-Could be a lot of things.

-With no lights inside the church.

-Could be anything.

-I don’t want to think about what it could be.

-Then don't.

And we didn’t.  Pete asked if he could come in and I told him I was awfully tired and that I really just wanted to go to bed. 

-Man, it’s early.

-It’s after one.

-Lets go for another walk

-The first was enough.

It was now very late and chilly outside.  He said he wouldn’t be long at my house.   We both ate tomato soup even though I had already brushed my teeth, and we smoke another cigarette together before I tell him it was time for me to go to bed.  He leaves, saying he is going for another walk because he is an insomniac.  I bush my teeth and swig Listerine long after I feel the burn.  I write, seal, and address a letter home about the place I'm living in and get under the covers.  That night, while I’m having a nightmare of the church late, late at night, Pete is out running madly through the outskirts of town.

 

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