This Uber Eats (1/24)

 This story is set in the same universe as my old Monster of the Week campaign. MotW is an RPG that takes inspiration from Buffy and Supernatural, where the monsters lurk in the shadows of our familiar world. This is my take on a "Cold Open" to an episode of one of those shows. Eagle eyed readers may notice references to the campaign! If you are one of the 5 people to which that has any relevance see if you can spot em!

            Fog clung to the shores of the lake like a funeral shroud. The chill in the early spring air wasn’t enough to keep everyone home, safe against the dark of night. The bonfire on the shore grew tall, surrounded by dancing revelers. They hooted and shouted, imbibing strange concoctions, tilting their heads towards the crescent moon. They danced wildly in the smoke, the flames eating hungrily of the wood.

One of the revelers disrobed, plunging into the inky black waters of the lake, pale feet gliding over the smooth stones on the shore. The others hooted and jeered as he went up to his waist, then his chest. The water around him warmed as he sunk lower, lidded eyes dull against the dark of night. A raven called, its ebony feathers indistinguishable from the black vault of heaven above.

“What’re you doing in there Murphy?” came a voice from the shore. Tom Murphy lolled his head to the side, barely turning as he called back.

“I’m pissing, Jesus Christ!” he slurred, a dumb smile spreading on his face. The teenage revelers on shore booed and laughed. The bonfire roared, surrounded with libations acquired legally and otherwise. Chips, soda, a keg, disparate six packs of whatever peoples’ older siblings could smuggle. Someone, maybe Brandon, brought a joint his cousin got him.

Sonali’s speaker oscillated between modern and classic, each member of the group adding to the harlequin patchwork of the queue. A group of the guys had coordinated, and after the third classic rock song began to play the girls at the party realized that they were in for the long haul. It would be some time before anything they wanted to listen to came on. Mary L said she queued Paper Rings, which offered some relief. A light at the end of a very dark tunnel of Dad Rock.

Becca Schwartz swallowed another cup of the juice that seemed to be made from vodka, gin, Hawaiian Punch, and rat poison from Dukakis Hardware. She grimaced as the vile mixture burned its way down her throat before settling heavily in her stomach. She didn’t want to throw up here. It had been a big deal when Mary T had invited out to the lake for the party, and she didn’t want to ruin a good thing. She hadn’t had enough water today and she knew it. Nobody had thought it prudent to bring anything that didn’t get you drunk. There was always the water in the lake, but she wouldn’t have been that desperate even before Tom Murphy had designated Erebus Lake as his personal urinal. Her head swam, and she shoveled a handful of popcorn into her drying mouth. White cheddar, the texture of styrofoam. Her stomach lurched.

She glanced at her phone. The wobbling numbers seemed to spell out 10:4…. 8? Or was that a 3? She saw several texts from her mom. Telling her to be careful, be safe, make sure she didn’t go home alone. Becca rolled her eyes, regretting the wave of nausea that resulted. Her mom was so paranoid. Weird stuff happened in Erebus Lake, sure, but every town had weird stuff. Maybe not as weird, but comparable she was sure. She grabbed another handful of the popcorn from the bag, munching it out of her open palm like an alpaca at a petting zoo.

“Hey, you thirsty?” a red cup entered her field of vision, sloshing with the juice she was confident should have eaten through the container. She traced the hand back up to a muscular arm, attached to a muscular shoulder, attached to a muscular neck, attached to a somewhat disappointing face. Declan Pryce grinned at her, his tongue peeking through his teeth as he raised his eyebrows towards the cup. It looked like he had chewing gum he forgot to spit out. She grabbed for more popcorn, her eyes not leaving his face.

Square jaw, elegant nose, full lips; All features that would look terrific on any other face. But on his, the amalgamation of beautiful features turned into something smug and garish. Smarish. Gug. Becca giggled.

“Gug,” she slurred, returning her eyes to the task at hand; some popcorn had fallen into her lap.

“So we haven’t really talked much,” Declan slid into the seat beside her, without invitation, “But you seem pretty cool. I was wondering if you’d maybe want to hang out sometime,” he inched his way closer to her, the log they were sitting on suddenly becoming much more claustrophobic than she remembered.

“Uh huh,” she muttered. Elsewhere the girls groaned. Another classic rock song. They began shouting to see the queue, something was going wrong and they needed to get to the bottom of it. With a start, Becca realized she was all out of popcorn. She reached for the bag again, but Declan grabbed her wrist.

“Here, let me help you,” He beamed at her, guiding her hand to the bag she was already in the process of reaching towards, “You’re welcome,” he purred in response to perceived thanks. He winked at Becca. Her stomach heaved, not from the drink this time.

“Y’know,” he continued, “All this weird stuff going on in town, you probably need someone to protect you right? No big deal, but I uh, I made the varsity baseball team as a sophomore. So you know I know how to,” fat caterpillars of eyebrows wiggled in her direction, “swing a bat,” He laughed at his joke, with eyes he didn’t realize were desperately pleading for her to laugh along. She obliged, if only to get her wrist out from his grip.

“Hey you two!” a voice chirped from behind. Becca whirled towards the voice, relieved to see not one, but two Sonali Muhkerjees. The Sonalis smiled, eyes darting from Becca to Declan. “Are we having a fun time?” Becca’s head lolled in a diagonal line, neither shake nor nod. Declan spoke for both of them.

“Yeah we’re fine Sonali, thank you. Just getting Becca another drink,” he placed the drink in her hand, which she looked at mournfully. She had white cheddar powder on her hand that she was really looking forward to tasting. “Have a good night!”

“Oh how nice of you Declan!” the cheer captain strutted over, forcing herself between Becca and Declan on the log. Becca was too preoccupied with her popcorn/hand situation to question where the second Sonali had gone. “Are you thirsty Becca?” She shook her head, perhaps too quickly. Ah! The second Sonali was back. Becca smiled at her two friends. She did not smile at Declan.

Sonali delicately parted Becca from Declan’s cup, turning her back completely to Declan, “Maybe water, huh?” Becca glanced at the lake, Tom Murphy was still in there, a look of dull satisfaction glazed on his face.

“‘Sere’s nothing to drink,” she mumbled.

“See, she’s fine!” Declan peeked around Sonali’s shoulder, “We were having a conversation?”

“I’ve got some waters in my car Becca, you can have one,”
“Two?” Becca nearly shouted.

“Yes, of course, you can have two,” Sonali smiled, helping Becca stand.

“This is such bullshit man. I’m trying to have a conversation and you just totally cockblocked me,” he began to rise from the log, raising his voice. “It’s total bullshit, you can’t just decide whether or not I get any tonight,”

“No Declan, I can’t. And at this point, neither can she. So sit down little boy. We’re going to get Becca some water” Declan’s face flushed as red as the letterman jacket most of the revelers wore (Go Bulldogs!).

“Who do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are!” The crowd turned to the conflict, conversations dying down, as Declan’s voice rose higher, “I’m co-captain of the varsity baseball team. Var-si-ty! You know what that means?”
“That you weren’t good enough to be sole captain?” Sonali shot back.

“No, it means that I’m better than everyone else here. I don’t have to put up with this bullshit at this dumbass lame party by the stupid lake,” all conversation ceased. All eyes were on Declan. Brandon Oshii rose as quickly as his cousin’s weed would allow him. Eyes turned to him, breath held. He raised his hand in a placating gesture, saint-like in his patience. And he uttered forth his decree.

“Hey Declan,” he said softly, kind eyes glassy and bloodshot, “C’mon man,”

It was done. Brandon had spoken. Flaming swords guarded the party from re-entry, and Declan had been cast out. Brandon had spoken. The severity of Brandon’s scolding reverberated over the glassy surface of the lake. Even Tom Murphy turned his head to register the scene playing out behind him. Declan blanched, mouth opening and closing like a fish in a dentist’s aquarium.

The party continued without him, as though he was already gone. Brandon sat back down on the lid of his cooler and took another hit before passing it on the left hand side. Declan looked from face to face, desperate to find a kind eye. None matched his gaze. Brandon had spoken.

“Fine! I’m done! See you at school on Monday, and don’t think we’ll be chill after this,” Declan stormed off away from the shore of Erebus Lake. Brandon smiled at him warmly and waved as he departed, the swine. Heat, hotter than that of the bonfire, radiated off of Declan as he stalked into the night. A few people called for him, said it was dangerous to go alone, to wait a bit and someone could give him a ride home. He ignored them, pulling his phone from his pocket. The stupid sheep were just following the crowd. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he was just trying to enjoy the party. He scowled at his phone. It was $24 to Uber back to his house on Huntingdon Ave. Bullshit.

His parents would cover it, of course, his card wasn’t even linked to the account, but it was the principle of it. He glanced back at the party he was all too happy to leave. They couldn’t hang. Sonali was currently trying to coax Becca into eating some of the grinder that Mary F had brought. Sonali was so selfish.

His uber pulled up moments later. A beat up old junker, black paint chipped and peeling. Its engine rumbled low, like a predator. The windows were fogged, humidity clinging to the glass. Declan rolled his eyes and grabbed the door handle. He didn’t bother checking the license plate. This was for him. He didn’t even spare a glance at the driver as he made his way into the car. His parents could buy this car a thousand times over. The guy was lucky to be picking him up. Declan may even give him a $3 tip.

Declan slid into the backseat, the entire thing upholstered in a hideous red/pink faux leather. At least he assumed it was faux leather. The whole thing was sticky and damp. The guy could definitely use an air freshener. The interior of the car smelled like bad breath. Declan strapped the seatbelt across his body. It had one of those ratty plush covers that his grandma had, this one a faded pink covered in tiny bumps where the fuzz must have fallen out. The car door closed. They idled for a moment, Declan’s face buried in his phone.

“So are we leaving or what? This is gonna cost you a star,” Declan shouted up to the driver's seat. The engine rumbled again, and Declan could feel the vibrations in his stomach. He tapped his foot on the soft floor of the car. Jesus, did this guy drive through the lake to get here? Why was everything so wet? “Hey, uber driver, let’s gooooo!”. He looked up at the front seat, giving his best WASP deathglare.

The front seat was empty. There was no steering wheel. No center console. The dashboard was squelching, shifting, meat. Declan gagged. He reached to unbuckle his seatbelt but the buckle had sunk into the gap between cushions. He grabbed at the strap, his hands squelching against the cover. Bile roiled in Declan’s stomach.

A tongue.

He beat his hands against the glass, calling for help, for anyone. His hands slid down slick window panes, gliding over the membrane that appeared to be glass. He shouted again and again.

Down at the party below, they laughed and danced. Headlights turned away, driving into the woods, back to town. They could hear the car's engine as it pulled away, grumbling like an empty stomach.