didnât mean my retreat had escaped his notice, though.
âSlow down and think on it a minute. Weâre the only ones who know, Lou. Weâre the only ones who know weâre in hell. Ainât you given a thought to what that means?â
âAll Iâm thinking about is getting the fuck out of here, wherever âhereâ is. I ainât had much time to consider indulging every depraved little fucking fantasy my subconscious has to offer me.â
âWell,â Carter said as he drew his pistol and studiously perforated the scalps of the two denim-and-flannel fuckers, âmaybe you should.â
Felt like something in the left side of my chest ripped in two when I seen that. I couldnât breathe. A luminous shade of red rose into the blackness of the night sky as I reeled. I saw the heavens turn the color of turbid blood, like a backlit canopy of black sackcloth with hellâs inferno glowing behind it. I looked for Carter as my knees gave way. Actually made eye contact with him for a brief moment before I started to slide. My last thought as the ground rose to greet me was that I had to be hallucinating. Couldnât find no other explanation for his eyes suddenly going missing from a face so moldered that it was sliding off his skull in hunks of gray-black meat that splattered his shoes with black blood and pus.
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An ass-kicking in a glass. Thatâs what you got on any night Browder was pouring drinks at Paradise Pub.
I found myself sitting in my usual seat. The stool at the north end of the bar near the toilets had the seer perched on top of it. Her deck of tarot cards was spread out atop the bar where she sat reading a rummy his fortune. My thoughts turned to Carter, and I didnât know whether to feel better or worse to find myself remembering more and more with each new moon. The one thing I still couldnât remember was going home between visits to the pub, and the worst part of that was that I found it didnât concern me so much.
Iâd lost track of how long Iâd been here. A week? A year? Did it even matter anymore? Most nights, I just sat here trying not to wonder how many times Iâd relived the same nightâs activities. I tried not to wonder what sin Iâd committed in order to end up here, or how many of my fellow patrons here sat wrestling with the same question.
Tonight, for the first time, I got Old Man Solomon talking a little. I tried to take his mind off those damned coffee cups that keep his face so long. Had I known where the conversation would lead us, I might not have pursued it.
âI see your friend has figured things out,â he said quietly after weâd exchanged a few amenities. I felt equal parts offended that heâd called Carter my âfriendâ and fearful over what he might be alluding to. Carter was changing in ways that made me want to spike his drinks with a little holy water. Whatever he was becoming, he damn sure wasnât my friend, not no more.
When I didnât answer, he told me, âYou know what I mean. Thereâs nothing to be gained by playing dumb, am I right?â
I watched Carter from my stool where he stood laughing and chatting up some dude in a leather biker jacket. I noticed Carter wasnât drinking beer tonight. Hadnât heard him order nothing but cola all night. I wondered what that was about.
âNobodyâs playing with you, old man,â I said. Damn Browder had me calling Solomon âoldâ now.
âHave it your way,â he said, returning his attention to the cup of coffee set before him. âA word to the wise is sufficient, or so itâs said.â
âIf youâve got something to say to me, then say it,â I told him. I wasnât about to be baited.
âIâm saying that I know what it is to want someone to stop the world so you can get off. But the devil of it is that once the world stops for you, itâs hell