Illustration by Kevin James Hurtack © 2006
Charon's Cab
by Kevin James Hurtack © 2006
"The clock's tickin' pal," said Max, a square jawed man with muscles that bulged under his three-piece suit.
"I know, Arnie" Thompson said from behind the wheel of his taxi, "I'll try to get the money t'night."
Max grinned sadistically while he reached into the rusty cab, and patted the fat middle-aged man roughly on the shoulder. Arnie flinched at the man's rough touch, and then without warning was pulled half way through the open window. Before Arnie could protect himself, Max threw an elbow into his face. The cab driver cried out in pain as spots flashed before his eyes, and blood trickled from his nose.
"You better do better then try, Arnold , unless you a wanta end up as dog food. Mister O'Rourke's been very patient with you, but even he's got his limits."
Arnie whipped his bulbous nose with the back of his sleeve and nodded his head rapidly. He knew what Max was referring to by dog food. Mister O'Rourke was not only the head crime boss of The Gallows district of Nocturnus, but also the owner of Pesky Dog Foods. Rumors on the street were those who failed to meet their obligations had their various body parts shoved into the meat grinders at his plant. Arnie had no desire to find out whether there was any truth to the rumors or not.
"Okay, relax I'm justa hundred short. I'll get the rest by t'night."
Max flashed a mouthful of gold capped teeth and released him, "Good boy. With all the whores and Johns out tonight I'm sure you'll be making amends one way or the other, Arnold."
Arnie sighed in frustration as he watched the crime boss' enforcer slip into the throng of pedestrians that filled the sidewalks. It was a Saturday night in the Gallows, the decadent quarter of Nocturnus, but to Arnie's despair no one seemed to be interested in a cab ride. While staring at the flashing neon signs of the bars and strip clubs that lined Fairfax Avenue, his mind raced as he tried to devise a way to get the needed money.
"Damnit," he said, "You cheap bastards, can't ya take a cab?"
Disgustedly Arnie pulled away from the curb and merged into the steady stream of traffic. He slowly navigated his way through the narrow cobblestone streets of the Gallows, hoping to find a fare with no success. After a few hours of fruitless searching Arnie pulled the old cab onto a dimly lit side street.
"Mine as well take my break," he said while shutting the car off, and grabbing his lunch pail from the passenger seat.
As he mindlessly ate his bologna sandwich, Arnie watched the hookers and drug dealers make their sales pitch to by passers.
"Heh, maybe I'll get lucky and get a drunken john that I can take for all he's got," Arnie said, "It's happened ‘fore."
Yet to his dismay, he saw the illicit dealers suddenly turn and run from their street corners.
"Great, don't tell me the pigs have shown up for once?" he said, "I'm never gonna pay off this gambling debt at this rate. Shoulda known O'Rourke controlled the horse track just like everything else down here."
Arnie glanced over his shoulder when he heard the piercing screams and enraged shouting. He saw two dark figures running toward him, and giving chase was a group of people that appeared to be armed with baseball bats.
"Great," Arnie said while hastily starting his cab, "What now some crack-head gang bangers?"
As he started to pull away from the curb, Arnie heard fists pounding on the back window, and someone attempting to open the door. He glanced in the rearview and was surprised to see it was a young man in a business suit. Hobbling beside him was a young pregnant woman.
"I have money! Just let us in the cab!" the man yelled while waving a billfold of fifties.
The woman was breathing heavily and holding her side while she attempted to keep up with her companion's frantic pace. Arnie could see raw fear in her eyes that pleaded silently for help. The mob was gaining on the couple, and their shouts grew louder. Although he couldn't quite make sense of their words, it sounded almost like chanting to Arnie.
"C'mon, already," he said while he slowed the cab to a crawl, and unlocked the back seats.
"Go! Please get us out of here," the man yelled as he slammed the door shut.
Motion from behind them quickly caught the cabby's attention, and he saw that the mob had begun to encircle and close in on the cab.
"Mister, please!" the woman said, "Take us to 104 Perry Street in the Greenwood district."
Something flew out of the darkness and struck the cab causing the occupants inside to jump in surprise. Without a second glance back, Arnie stomped on the accelerator and merged into a deserted street. After a few blocks he glanced in his side mirror and saw no signs of the gang.
"What the hell was that all about?" Arnie said.
"We don't know who they were," the man said with a faint accent Arnie couldn't quite place.
"Ya sure ya don't wanna goes to the cops? I mean them folks seemed like they was out to hurt youse guys."
The passenger shook his head, "No, we don't want the authorities involved in this, just take us home."
"Okay, whatever, just thought I'd ask is all," Arnie said as he made a left hand turn onto Colfax Avenue .
Arnie glanced in the rearview mirror and studied the couple for a moment. Despite the darkness of the cab he could see that the man had an olive complexion and close-cropped black hair. The man stared blankly out the passengers' window with glassy brown eyes that appeared a little too big for his face. The woman had a similar appearance, but her curly black hair fell to her waist. She kept her eyes down cast, and her hands neatly folded on her belly.
"What are youse two doin' down here anyways? Ya ain't from ‘round the Gallows, I can tell by the looks of ya."
"We visit our Lord," the woman said.
The man turned his head and glared at her, "She means we were seeing our priest in preparation for the baby's arrival."
Arnie glanced in the mirror as they spoke and saw the woman refuse to make eye contact with her companion. She held her head low, and her long hair concealed her face.
"Don't they got priests in yer neighborhood?"
"Of course," he replied, "but this is an old family priest. My wife is due any day now, and we believe in having a priest at the birth. It's an old tradition but we believe in keeping traditions alive."
Arnie nodded, "Gotcha, but how'd youse guys get down here? Greenwood district's pretty far from here."
"The train," the man said while glaring at Arnie.
As he glanced into the rearview Arnie couldn't help but shudder at the iciness of the man's gaze. For a moment it appeared that the man's eyes were pitch black, but Arnie dismissed it as the poor lighting. He knew that the train hadn't run through the Gallows since the 1960's, but Arnie figured bringing it up wouldn't be a good idea. There was something shady about the couple, but considering the size of the man's billfold Arnie could overlook any uneasiness he felt. Besides, they were in the Gallows, odd characters were par for the course.
An uneasy silence filled the cab as the conversation died, and Arnie turned his attention to the street. As the cab turned a corner, it backfired loudly, causing the passengers to jump in surprise. Arnie cringed as the cab sputtered, and various lights appeared on the dashboard.
The young man raised an eyebrow, "What's going on with this car?"
Arnie ignored him, and muttered curses at the old car.
Despite his threats the car continued to backfire, and run roughly. Finally, the engine stalled out in the middle of the street. Luckily for Arnie it was well past two o'clock in the morning and the streets were now nearly deserted.
"Damn it," Arnie said to the car, "don't do this to me."
From the backseat he could hear the couple whispering in a foreign language followed by the sound of the back doors opening. Glancing over his shoulder Arnie saw the couple stepping out of the broken down cab.
"Hey, what are you doing? Just give me a sec, and I'll get ‘er runnin' again."
The man shook his head, "No, we cannot wait. We will find a pay phone and call a real cab."
"C'mon, where are you gonna find a payphone in this neighborhood that works?"
Arnie frowned as he watched the couple head down the block. It wasn't that he was concerned about their safety, more then he was concerned about losing a cash cow. Their ride home would have easily covered the money he needed for the debt.
"Great," he said, "this cab's gonna be my casket."
After struggling with the latch, Arnie lifted the hood of the car. He peered at the big V6 engine and scratched his scruffy beard while trying to spot what was wrong. Only a few moments had passed when he felt the tap on his shoulder.
"Told ya ya wouldn't be able to find a pay phone," Arnie said without looking over his shoulder, "wait inside the cab, cause this'll only take a sec."
"Where are the Unclean?" said a grave voice.
Arnie jumped in surprise and spun around to face the voice. To his dismay he saw a group of three people standing before him. Standing to the left of Arnie was a young Latino man with a red bandanna covering his short cropped black hair. He was armed with a bloodstained Louisville slugger, and wore an oil stained jumpsuit with Al's Garage embroidered on it. Standing behind him was a middle-aged white woman with a frizzy grey hairdo and a grease stained hot pink waitresses uniform. Pinned to her top was a large name tag that read Hello, My name is Flo . The waitress fiddled with an old switchblade in her left hand while taking drags from a cigarette that she held in her right. At the head of the group, and apparent leader, was an elderly black man with thinning grey hair. Surprisingly, he was clad in the garb of a priest, but carried a Louisville Slugger that was stained with old blood. Despite their eclectic appearance Arnie couldn't help but notice they all had an expression of raw fury on their faces.
"Uh, what?" Arnie said while trying to put some distances between him and the mob.
"The Unclean," the priest said staring at him.
"I dunno what yer yappin' 'bout, Father. I'm justa cab driver. If ya needs a lift, I'm yer man. I'll have this piece of junk runnin' in no time."
The priest slammed his baseball bat down onto the bumper of the cab, "The man and woman that were in your cab, where did they go?"
Arnie studied the group for a moment. He'd seen junkies before, even those on PCP, but he could sense that these people weren't junkies. For whatever reason they'd become fully engulfed by some type of rage that Arnie couldn't fathom, but could feel rippling off of them like a form of energy. Arnie wondered if they were some new hate group that often cropped up in the Gallows. No matter who they were Arnie didn't want any trouble with them. Being in debt to O'Rourke was bad enough.
"They went lookin' fer a payphone, 'round the block."
The old priest stared at Arnie for a moment, "a baby."
"What? No, just some girl and guy."
The clergyman grabbed Arnie by his shirt collar, "did they carry a child with them?"
Arnie swatted the man's hand away, "Get yer hands off me, man. I don't care what yer deal is chasin' ‘round people, but ya ain't gettin' shit from me unless I see some greenbacks."
The priest smirked, and then rammed the baseball bat into Arnie's gut. He doubled over and cried out in pain, and before he could react the priest had shoved him atop the engine. Arnie looked up to see the priest getting ready to slam the hood of the taxi onto him while the young mechanic held Arnie down.
"What the hell!" Arnie said, "Stop, I'll tell you what you want to know."
The priest nodded with a faint smirk, "Good."
He could feel himself tremble with fear. Arnie had no idea what was going on, and hoped that the strangers would just leave him alone.
"There was no child, but the chic was pregnant. The guy said that she was due pretty soon and something ‘bout a priest, or seeing their lord. Somethin' like that, man."
The elderly black man still held onto the hood of the car, "What else."
"That they believed in traditions, and didn't wanta go to the cops and report the mob chasin' ‘em. They just wanted to go back home to 104 Perry Avenue up in Greenwod."
The old man nodded to the mechanic who released his hold on Arnie, "Good. You will take us in your cab."
"It's not runnin'."
"I'll take care of that," said the Latino.
As he turned Arnie saw that the young man was leaning over the engine and making adjustments.
"Give it a try," he said.
Arnie slipped behind the wheel of the cab, and the engine turned over easily. He couldn't help but smile at the sound of the purring engine, but the firm hand on his shoulder sent a chill through him.
"Now you will take us."
Without glancing up at the priest, Arnie nodded in agreement. As his passengers entered the cab, Arnie fastened his seatbelt, and smiled inwardly when he saw that none of the strangers did. Without another word, Arnie pulled onto the nearly deserted street and headed in the direction the couple had gone.
After a half dozen blocks they spotted the young couple waiting at a bus stop.
"Wait here and keep the trunk open," the priest said while motioning to the curb.
Before he could respond, Arnie felt the icy sharpness of a knife against his throat. Looking into the rearview mirror Arnie saw the waitress holding a switchblade to his neck.
"Don't do anything stupid, sweetie," she said in a melodic tone.
Arnie sat motionlessly behind the wheel and watched as the two men approached the couple. He wasn't sure if it was because of fatigue or not, but the couple didn't attempt to flee. Arnie could feel his heart begin to beat rapidly, and sweat soaked his shirt as a melee broke out. To his surprise the young couple moved with a fluidity that was almost surreal. Despite the blows of the baseball bats the couple fought fiercely like cornered animals. The old priest and mechanic had suffered their fair share of wounds, and were almost overwhelmed by the couple. Their saving grace came when the priest pulled out a small crystal vial and tossed what looked like water into the faces of the couple. Hideous screams came from the man and woman as they clenched their faces. Arnie wasn't sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw steam rise from their faces. The two men leaped upon their victims and quickly hogtied them with rope.
"What the hell is going on?" Arnie said while he watched the young man be dragged back to the cab.
"The Unclean must be purged," Flo hissed in his ear.
Arnie grimaced as he saw the young man's face was full of blisters as he was dragged past the car. Flo pressed the blade sharply against his neck when Arnie squirmed in his seat at the site.
"Don't be a cowboy," she said.
"This is sick. Why are you doing this to them?"
"The child she carries will bring darkness to the world."
"Great," Arnie mumbled. "You guys are religious nuts."
"We are the saviors of this world!"
Arnie closed his eyes at the sight of the young woman's ruined face while she was dragged past the cab.
A moment later the sound of the bodies being tossed into the trunk followed, and then the heavy sound of the trunk being closed. The priest and his companion quickly entered the cab reeking of sweat and blood.
" Nine One One Icarus Street ," the priest said while whipping his brow with his coat sleeve.
"What?" Arnie said while glancing at the priest from the corner of his eye.
"Do it. We must purge them before the dawning of the new day, or else shadow shall fall forever."
The waitress pressed the knife to his neck hard enough to draw blood. Arnie flinched and glared at Flo. The thought of backhanding her with his fist crossed Arnie's mind, but he knew it wasn't worth the risk.
"Fine."
Flo slipped back into her seat as Arnie headed down the vacant street. As they drove, Arnie could hear whimpering coming from the trunk of his cab. The sound made him sick to his stomach. He didn't know what these nut jobs were up to, and he didn't trust them to just let him go after they got to their destination. As he drove along the twisting streets Arnie guessed that if he could save this couple from their captors he'd get some type of reward. The couple had to wealthy if they were living in the posh Greenwood district, and walking around with a billfold full of fifties. The only problem Arnie could see was how to take out all three freaks at once. As he drove along, he hatched a plan, and tried not to grin too much at his private thoughts.
"Don't take the long way," the priest said, "we don't have much time."
"What exactly are they?"
"Unclean," the priest said while he frowned faintly.
"Yeah, I know, but how exactly are they unclean."
"They are children of the Worm. Cast down from Heaven and create chaos amongst the Children of God. War, famine, despair, hatred are all products of their work."
Arnie raised an eyebrow, "and how'd ya know that?"
The priest chuckled, "We've been fighting them for centuries."
"Ah, of course."
"You do not believe in God, my son?"
"Yeah I do, father," Arnie said, "but how'd you know they were these children of the Worm?"
"They are marked. The sign of the Worm on their palms."
Arnie nodded as he gradually increased the speed of the car," And what of the child?"
"The mortal son of the Fallen One."
"Ah, of course. But once they're purged what will become of this mortal son of Fallen One."
"He'll return to his father in Hell."
”I guess you'll be keeping" company then," Arnie said while jerking the car off the street and aiming for an electrical pole.
The priest had just enough time to turn and look at Arnie with a puzzled expression before the collision. He went flying head first through the windshield and skidded half a block on his face. One of the back doors came open upon the collision which caused the Latino mechanic to be violently ejected onto the street. His body skipped across the street until it smacked violently into the side of an abandoned building. Flo managed to stay inside the vehicle, but the force of crash smashed her head against the side of the car which caused her skull to shatter.
Fortunately for Arnie, his seatbelt protected him. Despite the whiplash and some cuts from the broken windshield he was still in one piece. With great difficulty he unfastened the safety belt and fell out of the car. He made his way back to the trunk which had popped open and when he glanced inside he saw the bodies of the young couple. Both of them were still and their large black eyes stared dully up at Arnie.
"Shit" he said, "I guess I didn't plan that too well."
Painfully, Arnie reached down and checked for a pulse, and quickly pulled his hand away when he found none on either of them. Out of curiosity Arnie checked both of their palms, and found no signs of any markings or tattoos on their palms.
Off in the distance Arnie heard police sirens, "Great, the pigs are comin' I gotta get outta here."
Panic began to fill him as the sirens grew closer, and he knew his only chance was to run before they got to the scene. Arnie figured he'd be arrested for manslaughter or worse. He doubted any jury would buy the crazy story of what happened even if it were the truth. Arnie took a half dozen steps before he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the trunk.
"Nah, I can't leave 'em like that," he said. "There, much better," Arnie said after pulling the billfold out of the dead man's pocket.
As Arnie shoved the bills into his pants pocket, the sharp aroma of gasoline quickly enveloped him. When he looked down, he saw a large puddle forming under the cab. As he glanced up, he saw a pair of cop cars coming around the corner a few blocks away. Arnie quickly staggered back from the crash, and began to head toward a nearby alleyway, but he felt something grab the bottom hem of his shirt. Despite pulling as hard as he could, Arnie couldn't free himself. A chill ran up his spine as he felt something cold and hard brush his back. He swallowed hard and looked over his shoulder to find the woman's dead eyes gazing up at him from the trunk.
"Get your hands off me!" he yelled.
Arnie staggered back from the trunk and fell backwards into the puddle of gasoline. As he did so his shirt tore free from the woman's dead hand.
"Heh, don't be so stupid, Arnie," he said aloud, "She's tied up and dead she can't get you."
The squeal of the cop sirens and shouts of police officers caused Arnie to leap to his soggy feet. Without looking back, he sprinted for the alleyway. Shots rang out, and struck the brick wall beside him as he ran for cover.
"Ha, you pigs ain't gonna catch me," Arnie yelled with a wide grin.
His out of shape body began to plead for mercy after a few feet, and Arnie obliged by slowing. He found a spot behind a nearby dumpster and crouched there with the hopes the cops wouldn't spot him. Panic and adrenaline kept Arnie's mind racing wildly causing him to not notice the trail of gasoline that trickled down the alley and pooled around his feet.
A few more shots were fired, and then panicked yells filled the air. A moment later Arnie felt the ground beneath his feet tremble and a horrendous roar filled the air.
Arnie grinned smugly, "No more piggies. No more debt to O'Rourke. And insurance will cover the car after I report it stole. Until then think I'll go down and bet the rest of this loot on the ponies."
But that grin soon vanished from his face when a trail of fire swept down the alley and engulfed him in its fatal embrace.
The End
Kevin James Hurtack was born and raised in Western New York. He earned a Bachelors of Art degree from Buffalo State College in the Fine Arts. His poetry has been published in Whispers of Wickedness, Decompositions, and Wicked Karnival. Kevin's illustrations regularly appear in Static Movement Online, and he's done work for Meat Grinder Press, Theatre of Decay, and Night To Dawn. He's currently working on a collection of his own short stories, poetry, and illustrations set for release later this summer. When not creating Art Kevin can be found in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado enjoying an adventure of mountain biking or hiking.