Of Royal Descent (4 page)

"There comes a time when we all must pay for our choices," Chuck
replied before bounding out into the cornfield.

"Chuck!" I screamed. 
What the hell?!
 

I ran my free hand through my hair and tried to listen for the direction in which Chuck ran.  I heard nothing.

"Chuck!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.  "Not cool man!  C'mon!" 

No reply came. 

I looked down at my feet.  In one step, I would be in the cornfield.  I looked behind me.  The El Camino sat on the side of road, empty and waiting, beckoning me to slip into the safety of its confines. 

It wasn't an option.  I couldn't go anywhere without Chuck, e
ven if he was being a major asshat at the moment.  I looked back into the sea of corn. 

Dammit
, I thought,
who eats raw corn on the cob?

I took one step into the field. 
The atmosphere changed immediately. The air was heavier.  I couldn't take a full breath.  It was as if there was an iron fist clutched around my lungs. 

Chuck scream
ed, and I ran headlong into the corn, bat in my right hand.  Stalks were smacking at me mercilessly.  There were so many of them; they slowed me down, blinded me.  My breathing was so loud that I could hardly hear the next scream when it came.  It sounded farther away.  I ran as hard as could, gasping, into the sea of the unknown.

A third scream rang out, this time right ahead of me.  I didn't slow down as I barreled through the field
, and I fell out from the corn into an open area.  Chuck stood about twelve feet away, his back to me.  We were alone in the oddly-vacant circle.

"Chuck!  Are you okay?" I gasped out, bending at the waist
and sucking in huge gulps of air that burned my chest.

He
slowly turned toward me.  His face was swallowed in shadow, his eyes appearing to be recessed into his skull.  Placing his right index finger to his lips, he motioned to the corn surrounding us on all sides with his left hand.  I squinted into the walls of our prison.  Slowly, I realized we were not alone.  Low, guttural noises came from every direction.  I stepped softly toward Chuck.

"What's the plan?" I silently mouthed.

Chuck shook his head in resignation.  His eyes grew wide, and I realized something began to protrude from the towering rows of corn.  I held my breath, unable to move when I realized what approached.  Long, gray, humanoid arms were parting the stalks and closing the gap.  There must have been a hundred of them.  The guttural noises became louder, transforming into wailing. 

I awoke screaming before I could see the rest of the bodies emerge.   

"Hey!  Hey!  It's okay, man."  Chuck was at the wheel with his right hand stretched out in front of me, attempting to calm my flailing arms as we sped down the highway.  I stilled and shook the post-dream cobwebs from my consciousness.

"Sorry, I'm okay," I exhaled.
 

Chuck eyed me suspiciously.
"Some dream, huh?"

"You could say that."

There was a long pause as I assessed our whereabouts.  It was still daylight, and we had just passed a road sign that announced it was only twenty more miles to Cleveland.  I took a few more cleansing breaths as my heart returned to its normal rhythm.

"Hey Chuck, what's Ohio
known for?"  I turned my head in his direction, and he appeared reflective as he considered my question.

"The Reds?
  The Bengals?  Buckeyes?  Why?"

"Just wondering."

"I'm ready to eat.  What's for lunch?" Chuck asked. 

I swiveled my head in the direction of the window. 
Nope, no cornfields on the horizon
.

"Anything but corn... and I insist on paying this time," I answered.

Chuck furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head in puzzlement.  He didn't ask.

4

Just a few miles outside of Cleveland, Chuck and I stopped for lunch.  I was determined to foot the bill out of the meager savings I’d managed to compile throughout the summer.  Delivering frozen seafood orders to local businesses and homes for Chuck’s dad wasn’t a bad gig.  It didn't pay much, but well enough considering the other perks that came along with it.  Eliot had always kept my family supplied with free seafood.  Not to mention, Chuck would often ride with me on my deliveries.  I set my own schedule, more or less, and driving the freezer truck was pretty cool - no pun intended. 

I had been craving meat
, and the thought of thick, juicy steak incited some pretty wicked growling on my stomach’s behalf.  We decided on a steakhouse,
go figure - the one time I pay
, and Chuck steered the El Camino into the congested parking lot of Meaty Joe's.  I took the surplus of customers as a good omen despite its awful name.  As bad as the name was, however, the way in which it was displayed was even worse.  MEATY JOE'S was painted in all caps onto a rusty sign in white lettering, followed by a cartoon steak.  At least, I'm pretty sure that's what it was supposed to be.  With googly eyes and a lame smile, it waved to the potential customers as they passed by.  Whether it was a steak, or a decaying Valentine heart, or simply a pile of brown poop, it did little to instill my confidence into the quality of their menu.  

Once inside, we were seated by the hostess, a young
, doe-eyed girl named Jane.  She placed our menus in front of us and glanced down at me.  Quickly, she averted her eyes and redness crept up her cheeks.

Keeping her gaze firmly on the table, she asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

Chuck looked at me and gave a light-hearted smile.  "Yes," he addressed Jane, "I would like a Mountain Dew."

"And for you?"
  Jane's eyes briefly met mine again before being cast back in the direction of the salt and pepper shakers.  She fidgeted with the order pad in her hand.

"The same," I said, pretending to turn my attention to the menu.

Jane left the table, and I raised my head to see Chuck's lopsided grin.

"I told you," he began. 
"All the time.  Disgusting." 

I rolled my eyes and began reviewing the menu in earnest this time. 
A picture of a porterhouse caught my eye, and I began to salivate.  Lost in the steakhouse menu pornography, I barely noticed when Jane reappeared with our drinks and a basket of rolls.

Delicately, she sat them in front of us, serving
my drink last.  She hesitated there, and I felt obliged to acknowledge her presence.  I raised my eyes to hers and nodded politely. 

"Enjoy your meal," she said before breaking eye contact and turning on her heel to make her way back to the hostess podium at the front of the restaurant. 
             

I looked down and saw the slip of paper next to my drink.

"Her phone number.  Without even trying.  Dee-sgust-ting," Chuck said, stressing every syllable of the last word as he took a roll from the basket.

We were pleasantly interrupted by our waitress. 

"Welcome to Meaty Joe's.  My name's Anna, and I'll be your waitress.  Are you ready to order or would you like more time?" she asked, glancing first at Chuck and then at me.  Her breathing hitched momentarily as she rested her gaze in my direction.  She bit softly on her lower lip before taking a great and sudden interest, just as Jane had, in the tabletop.  I looked over at Chuck who was shaking his head in disbelief and giving me the You-Make-Me-Sick look.

Suddenly, I recalled my pangs of hunger.

"We're ready to order," I said.  "I want the Porterhouse Delight with a baked potato, heavy butter, sour cream on the side, and asparagus for the vegetable."  I looked over at Chuck, who followed suit.   

"The same
but with mashed potatoes instead.  And can we get another basket of rolls?"

"No problem.  And how would you like your steaks?"  Anna asked, apparently recovering from her momentary lapse. 

"Both well-done," said Chuck absent-mindedly.

"No, wait, I'll take mine medium-rare," I added quickly.

"Got it," said the waitress, giving one last, lingering look in my direction before quitting our table.

"Since when do you eat steak medium-rare?" Chuck asked, eyebrows
raised.

"I don't know.  Since now I guess.  It just sounded good."

I glanced around at the crowd of patrons surrounding our booth.  There were some families with small children and a young couple, but most of them were presumably on their lunch break judging by their casual business dress.  Soft country music piped through the speakers that were spaced throughout the restaurant.  A man with a Southern twang was crooning about leaving the past behind.

I returned my attention back to our table t
o find Chuck staring at me.  I widened my eyes as a nonverbal substitute of asking him, “What?”

"That last nightmare must have been pretty bad," he said, taking another roll from the basket.  I grabbed
one too, spreading a liberal amount of honey butter on the top.

"Just your run-of-the-mill nightmare," I said, taking a
large bite.

Chuck
took a drink of his soda.

"So
you
always
wake up swinging?"

I continued to chew slowly while I decided how much I really wanted to reveal to Chuck.  Obviously, he was already aware I was having nightmares.  But it just seemed so weak of me to have to admit what the nightmares consisted of.  After all, I was 21 years old
- a man by societal standards.  This wasn't like when we were kids and Scooby Doo monsters would keep me up at night.  No, I couldn't tell Chuck what my dreams were of.  To be honest, I didn't even know if I could have explained them had I wanted to. 
Just exactly what were they about?
  Monsters?  Demons?  My grandfather?  The unknown?

I took a drink.  "No, not usually," I finally stated in answer to his question.

There was a brief silence before Chuck decided to let it go and changed the subject.

"Well, we've got about four hours before we get to Kettering according to the GPS."

There was a slight prickling sensation on the back of my neck.  I exhaled.  "Good.  I really just want to get this over with."

I looked up as Anna, our waitress, appeared with our second basket of rolls.  "Here you go," she said, smiling brightly. 
             

"Thanks," Chuck and I said in unison.

She lingered, but having nothing more to say, slowly walked off to her next customer.

As she turned away, I noticed the table next to our booth.  It was one where a family was seated - a young couple with a toddler in a high chair.  The child was a chubby-cheeked little girl with blonde, bouncing curls
, and she was sitting very still and staring directly at me.  I stared back, wondering how a child could be so still.  Her parents weren't paying attention, lost in conversation between themselves.

I looked back at Chuck, who was taking a third roll.  My cell phone rang
, and I fished it out of my cargo pocket.  JENNY read on the display.

"Hey, Jenny."

"Hey.  Just reporting that your car was returned to the driveway in prime condition and that includes with a full tank of gas."

I smiled.  "Thanks."

"Hey, where are you?  Is that country music I hear in the background?"

"Oh, yeah, uh, we're at a steakhouse."

"Which one?"

"L
isten Jenny, I have to go.  Our waitress is coming.  I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, later."

"Bye."

I snapped the phone shut and slid it back into my cargo pocket. 

"Why did you tell Jenny our waitress was coming?" asked Chuck.

"S
he asked me which steakhouse we were at.  I didn't want to lie to her and tell her the name of a steakhouse in South Portland."

"Ok, but you do realize
you still lied to her, right?"

My eyes narrowed.

"You told her the waitress was coming, I assume in order to get off the phone."

"Yeah, she is coming. 
Right?"  I looked up to see our waitress approaching with our plates.  Chuck stared at me. 

"How did you do that?" he stammered.  "She must have been in the kitchen or something.  I didn't see her a second ago."

"Oh, I don't know.  I just... thought I saw her coming."

Chuck continued to assess me with
squinty eyes and his head slightly tilted to one side.

Anna reac
hed our table and placed our order in front of us. 

"
Can I get you anything else, guys?"

I pried my gaze away from my steak long enough to be polite.
  "Thanks, we’re good."

She appeared crestfallen by my
abrupt dismissal, but she smiled politely and made her way from the table.

I returned my focus to the steak in front of me. 
Why am I so hungry?
I thought as I picked up my steak knife and made quick work of the Porterhouse.  When I came up for air, I noticed Chuck was staring at me. 

"What?"

"Hungry?"

"I guess," I answered, shrugging my shoulders.

I made a conscious effort to proceed slower with the baked potato and asparagus.  We finished our meal in comfortable silence.  Shortly afterward, Anna brought our check.  Chuck and I slid our hands out for it at the same time. 

"Sorry, habit," he said, withdrawing his hand.

I picked up the check, and movement in my peripheral vision drew my attention.

"Eat, honey.  Look here.  Look at mommy."

The mother of the toddler at the next table was trying in vain to shovel food into the child's mouth.  The little girl was too distracted to eat... because she was
still
staring at me.  The mother looked up at me, and our eyes met briefly before we both looked away. 

"Here comes the plane.  Nom
nom nom," I could hear the mother continue.  Chuck was oblivious.  He was finishing his lunch.  I snuck a peek back to the child.  Yep, still staring.  Weird. 

When Chuck reached the bottom of his Mountain Dew, I pulled out my wallet to get a tip for the waitress.  I laid a $5
bill on the table, and we stood, preparing to pay at the register.  As we rose, my eyes cut over to the little girl who continued to watch my every move.  I took one step from the booth, and the precious, little angel began to scream.  No, wait.  Maybe
scream
isn't the right word.  It was more of an ear-piercing shriek.  I instinctively cupped my hands overs my ears.  It only took a moment before it occurred to me to walk out of her line of sight instead of standing there, staring at her staring at me.  I put my head down and walked swiftly passed the table.  The high-pitched wail of torment ceased, and I let out the breath I had apparently been holding. 

Chuck was right beside me. 
"Was that little girl screaming at you?"

“
I think so."

"That was weird."

"Yes.  Yes, it was."  I nodded in agreement, and we made our way to the front to pay our bill. 

Jane, the hostess,
saw us approaching and hovered by the register.  She looked up at me and I smiled what I had intended to be a polite I'm-leaving-now smile.  Her answering grin was so broad and dazzling, I immediately felt guilty.  Of what, I wasn't sure. 

We paid
for our food, and Chuck and I found ourselves once again clambering back into the El Camino.  I slid my seat belt over my lap and buckled it as Chuck turned over the engine.  As we backed out of our parking place, he cleared his throat.

"So
what was wrong with those two girls?" he asked.

"What?"

He put the car in forward, and we rolled our way toward the exit to the lot.

"The girls in the restaurant.
  The hostess?  The waitress?  They seemed to take a shining to you."

"
Nothing was wrong with them.  I already told you yesterday.  I'm just not into chasing after random girls."

Chuck
put on his turn signal, and we pulled out onto the road.  He glanced at me briefly.

"Yeah, I know, you want a relationship, whatever.  My point is
, how do you know they aren't relationship material until you get to know them?"

Hmm
, I thought. 
How did I know?

"I can't explain it.  I just know."

Chuck peered into his rearview mirror before merging back onto the highway.  "In the same way you knew our waitress was coming to our table before she actually was?"