CHAPTER TEN

WAITRESS

The diner was empty. I don’t mean empty as in no diners. It was devoid of tables, chairs, counters, napkins, cash registers, and waitresses. Shafts of light filtered in through smudged windows and danced on the bare dirt floor.

Alexander and Abby turned to leave, but the door wouldn’t open. They jiggled the handle, but it wasn’t about to budge. Trapped, Alexander panicked, while Abby remained calm.

“There’s an explanation for this.” Abby’s eyes peered around the café.

Alexander ignored her. Yeah, I’ve followed a girl with cooties to my doom, he thought. It escaped his mind that Abby followed him into the café, not vice versa. He was in no mood to take the blame.

An eerie voice spoke from behind them, “Table for two, my lovelies?”

The hair on Alexander’s arms bristled.

An ash-white overweight waitress stood holding menus in her colorless hands. Her straggly, thin gray hair hung on her head in splotches. She wore a see-through apron. In fact, Alex could see through the apron to the counter behind her. The apparition pointed to a table toward the back of the dining room. Suddenly, the empty room was now full of ghostly diners and looked even less inviting.

Specters of varying sizes and states of decomposition sat at tables, eagerly eating invisible food out of stained stainless steel bowls. One phantom patron shoved a wooden spoon into his mouth, evidently unaware he was headless. Another nonchalantly picked his hand from the bowl, reattached it to his bony wrist, and continued his lunch.

“We have a table in the back.” The ghostly hostess pointed to an empty table in the rear.

Alexander’s eyes widened. He felt his heart beating faster.

Abby held his hand like a vice grip. “We can’t stay.” She fumbled behind her back for the door handle.

“Nonsense. The two of you look famished,” insisted the ghoulish waitress. Her grin sent shivers down Alex’s spine.

“My friend’s on a diet.” He pointed to Abby. “A strict no-bugs diet and, well, this place has bugs.”

“Yup, a diet,” Abby chimed in.

“So, as you can see, although I’d love to stay, it would be rude to eat in front of my friend,” continued Alex, trying to sound confident and not too freaked out.

The ghost turned to the patrons at their tables and pointed. “They think they have a choice,” she giggled spookily. The room erupted in bone-chilling laughter.

The head of the waitress swiveled 180 degrees towards Alex and Abby, who were both pawing at the stubborn handle. Now her eyes were on fire and foam gushed from her mouth. “Table for two in the back, and this time I insist.”

Defeated, Alexander and Abby followed the waitress as she floated to a table in the corner of the café. Years of dust and smudges marred the tabletop, and the chairs fared no better. “Your waitress is Shelly. She will be here soon. May I get you something to drink while you wait?”

“We’ll be fine.” Alexander blew the dust from the table. It swirled around with the violence of a mini tornado before depositing back onto the table.

“Suit yourself, Dearie, but it’ll be a long wait. Sometimes Shelly doesn’t show up for work for months.”

“Water?” Abby whispered.

The ghost cackled. “Water, how cute. We don’t serve water. Two beers coming up.”

“No,” Alexander raised his hand to protest. The ghastly diners all stared. Some held their eyes in their hands and gawked as best they could. “I mean, we’re trying to cut down,” he clarified.

“Dearie, you might as well enjoy your stay. Nobody ever leaves here. They think they do.” A loud screeching sound followed by the rattle of chains echoed through the diner. Many of the diners grabbed their checks and exited. Others remained, unconcerned, as if the rattle of chains were commonplace in the restaurant.

“Oh look, you’re in luck. Shelly came to work today. I’ll bring your beers and the check. Drink them fast.” She floated away, but returned seconds later with two Styrofoam cups filled to the brim with brew.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said we couldn’t leave.”

“Right, you can’t.” The hostesses set the cups and check on the table.

“Why the to-go cup?” Alexander was more concerned about the cups than the beer inside.

“Trust me; it’s less messy this way. We only accept cash as payment.” The rattling chains grew louder.

“We, uh, have no—” began Alex.

“Tell you what,” interrupted the ethereal server. “It’s on the house.” She disappeared along with the remaining patrons, tables, and chairs.

Alexander and Abby huddled alone in the diner as the rattling of chains and a large menacing shadow inched nearer.

                                                                      

Malley and O’Toole returned as the last flashes of the sun’s brilliant rays faded into the western mountains. Using trees as a protective cover, they drifted from trunk to trunk. It could prove disastrous if ordinary townsfolk saw them. Since their invisibility cloaks were worthless, they had to be extra careful. Thank goodness it would soon be nightfall.

Store owners settled their businesses before locking up and rushing off to their homes. Daytime affairs concluded just as the doings of the evening began. Thus was the way of any small village. The cycle never changed. The day became night and night trudged slowly back into day. Not one villager was aware their lives changed. Not one person knew that a ghostly restaurant appeared out of nowhere, and an evil presence was in their midst.

Who knows, maybe they were used to evil. After all, they lived halfway down the valley, just close enough for King Boyce to notice them. Of course, the sight of two leprechauns in the park might have given them a clue that not all was right in their little corner of the town.

Boisterous voices echoed from the bars across the street from the unlit park. In stark contrast, the silence was the norm from the dimly lit cottages opposite of the park. O’Toole and Malley crouched behind large oak trees in the park centered between loud bars and the hushed quiet of the houses.

“Alexander,” O’Toole whispered from his hiding place, but the whisper fell flat, drowned out by the voices from the tavern.

“It’s of no use, O’Toole. We need to risk getting seen, or wait until pitch darkness.”

“I don’t see them,” O’Toole replied, twisting the tie string on his cloak.

“I’m sure they’re hiding. They’re safe. I can feel it in my bones.” Malley was unsure, despite his optimism. “Do you think we should’ve told the boy about the girl?”

“Tell him what? Tell him we’re hesitant to believe he is the one?” O’Toole bit his lip and peered from the trees to the place they left Abby and Alex. “Tell him we found a witch to take his place if he should fail?”

Malley drew circles on the ground with a small stick. “I guess not. We should’ve stayed near them.”

“And risk the future of our quest? Are you ready to give up what we have accomplished?”

Malley counted on his fingers. “Accomplished? In one day, we talked a young boy into going on a death-defying quest with us. He was almost arrested. And we hired a witch to tag along, just in case the boy fails. Some accomplishments,” he muttered.

O’Toole whispered for Alexander again, but the whisper could not drown out the gruff voices from the taverns.

“That about sums it up.” Malley scratched his beard with the stick.

“You forgot one thing,” O’Toole tied the drawstring on his cloak.

“What could I have possibly forgotten?” Malley as he pulled his cloak over his head.

“You forgot the part where we lost the boy that we swore to protect.” O’Toole kept an ever-present eye on their surroundings as they left the shelter of their hiding place.