Whispers - Volume 3: A Third Collection, page 2
"Yeah, that’s fucking great and all, but can we shoot and fuck shit? You know, animals and women … in that order, mind." Richard smiled, his bright veneers contrasting against his well-maintained tan. He walked to the edge of Lake Whisper and gazed at the still, tranquil surface. The water reflected the gray sky, giving it a washed-out, dank color. He bent down to collect a stone and skimmed it across the water. It hopped three times, narrowly missing a duck, before disappearing into the depths below. Richard turned around. "When did Harold say he was meeting us here?"
Thomas lifted his portly arm and slid his striped sleeve back. He glanced at his Rolex. "He said about eleven. We’re a little early."
Richard nodded in silence, looking around.
Thomas sighed. "Do you want to get some breakfast? There's a little café down the path." He pointed his arm behind him.
Richard shrugged. "Why the fuck not."
The café was small and comfortable. A proper ‘greasy spoon’ with red leather seats, laminated menus, middle-aged waitresses, and the permanent smell of deep fat fryers that only builders or truckers could reminisce over. A welcoming environment, the fresh smell of bacon and eggs was enough to put a spring in anyone's step.
Thomas stepped through the door, huffing and out of breath. Richard frowned, worried. His friend's weight had concerned him for some time. "You sure you're okay? Walking normally and struggling for breath isn't good."
"I'm fine," said Thomas, slapping his sodden handkerchief to his forehead once more. "Let's get a seat, shall we?" They headed to the back of the establishment.
Thomas shuffled his large frame into a corner booth, the squish of leather groaning behind his weight. He sat down and coughed sharply. His chubby fingers grabbed a menu. "It stinks in here … but they make great bacon rolls." He smiled and lowered his eyes to the pictures of food below.
Richard leant back in his chair, looking at his menu with disdain. After a moment, he sighed. "You'd think they'd have a salad or something healthy."
"It's a café. You can’t deep fry a lettuce."
"Still, it's a lake. Lake Whisper, the greatest sports experience in the West. You'd think they would cater to the healthy. You know; the people who come here to use the facilities."
"There's a Subway around the corner if you'd prefer?" Thomas didn’t look up, his eyes glued to the delicacies on the menu. His eyebrows raised several times.
"It's okay. Let’s see … bacon, sausage, egg … well, I don’t expect they know how to grill food here, so fuck it. Full English it is."
Thomas smiled, eyes still lowered. "That’s the spirit. I think I’ll have the same. And a bacon roll."
"How can you eat that shit day in, day out?"
"Since I don’t care. Dieting, let's just say it's not for me. Probably too late now anyway."
"You should try it at least once. You're not thirty anymore. It can catch up to you a lot quicker now."
"And what? You want me to plan my meals? Drive myself insane with a food plan? Count calories? I'm not a swimsuit model … trust me, you don’t want to see that." Thomas lowered his menu and searched for a waitress.
"You don’t have to do that … urgh, forget it. Do what makes you happy." Richard tossed his menu onto the table. It slipped across the surface and plonked against Thomas's arm.
"What makes me happy is a broad who brings me my fucking food." Thomas located a petite waitress with red hair. He nodded his head and the girl took the hint. She ambled over with a notepad and a fake smile. Braces sparkled across her youthful grin. "Morning, sirs. Can I get you some drinks?"
Thomas leaned in, his cheeks red. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. "Morning…" He glanced at the name badge on her red, pinstriped shirt. His eyes lingered on her tiny breast. "…Penny. I'd like a pint of Pepsi please. My friend here will have water –"
"– actually, I’ll have a coffee, please." Richard looked at Thomas. "We're on holiday, why not?"
Thomas grinned, baring his yellow teeth. "And two full English breakfasts with all the trimmings please, Penny. Oh, and a bacon roll."
Penny scribbled the order on her notepad. She looked at Thomas. "Anything else?"
Thomas waved his hand, looking elsewhere. Penny paused. Richard looked up at the girl. "That’s fine. Thank you, Penny." She smiled and bounded away. The blond man butted the menus together and placed them in the holder. He looked at his friend. "No need to be rude about it. I thought you liked this place?"
"I like this place. What I don’t like is little girls looking at me thinking I eat for three."
"She was just doing her job, calm down."
Thomas sat in silence. He gripped the saltshaker between his fingers and spun it nonchalantly on the red tabletop.
Richard leant in. "So what is there to do here? Except speed up a bypass or hit on underage chicks?"
Thomas continued spinning the shaker. "A bit of everything. Kayaking, spas, football, tennis, they have that Tough Mudder challenge shit that everyone's raving about too." A smirk creased his face.
Richard smiled. "What about shooting, archery, crossbows? You know, manly shit?"
Thomas laughed. "Oh yes, there's plenty of that, my friend. Don’t you worry, there's a bit of everything for all involved. Something for everybody. Harold wants us to do paintball when he arrives too."
Richard's eyes lit up. "Yes, I'd love to shoot that prick in the face."
Thomas frowned. "That’s not very nice, is it?"
"Yeah, like you've not thought of doing that?"
Thomas paused and smiled. "No, I'd shoot him in the fucking scrotum. He needs a shakeup in the balls department since his wife castrated him. Do you know how much effort it took to get him here today … well, when he finally arrives? I shit you not; it was like making a deal with the courts."
"Heather isn’t all bad." Richard spun around to check the café. They were the only inhabitants.
Weird, he thought.
He glanced back at Thomas. "She's just protective, is all."
"Ball and fucking chain, that’s what she is." Thomas coughed, his flabby jowls jumped in unison. "I hope I haven’t caught something from that fucking Mex–"
"Shhhh, you can't say that here. You'll get us arrested."
"Bullshit. I knew I shouldn’t have paid that wetback to shine my shoes. Little shit."
Richard flinched at the racist slur, recalling their detour earlier in the morning. He'd stopped for a bite to eat and Thomas had paid a small boy to clean his shoes. He shook his head, not surprised by his friend's actions. Seconds later, Penny walked over with the drinks. The wonderful aroma of coffee filled the air. Both men closed their eyes as they reveled in the smell. Richard looked up, smiling nervously. "Thank you, Penny."
The waitress blushed and walked away, holding the tray to her chest.
Richard smiled. "Nice kid. Might think you're a racist bigot, but nice."
Thomas laughed. He noticed Penny conversing with a man in the background. The look on their faces wasn't one of friendliness.
"What time's check in?" Richard supped his coffee. Creamy, he thought. Just how I like it.
Thomas swallowed half of his Pepsi in one, long straw suck. He belched, bubbles tickling his nose, and smiled. "That's the beauty of Lake Whisper. You can check in whenever you want."
"Really? How do they get the rooms tidy in time, you know, after check out?"
"Lake Whisper is cool like that. Some things are better left unexplained."
"You mean it's off season and no one comes here?"
Thomas smiled. "Something like that, yes." He looked up at Penny as she approached. Richard sipped his coffee, his lips broke the froth and tingled with the heat. He winced.
Penny stepped to the table, concern on her young face. She forced a smile that exposed her gums. The light flickered off her braces. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but we're out of food."
The sentence stunned Richard, who looked at Thomas. He glanced back at Penny. "You're joking, right?"
She shook her head, saying nothing. Thomas wiped his sweaty brow, knocking the saltshaker over in the process. "You mean to say this establishment, a café, has no food, the one commodity that it's responsible for selling?"
The waitress nodded.
"What are you, a mute?"
Penny said nothing.
"What did you tell the gentlemen, Penny? Jesus H. Christ, you’re fucking useless."
A broad-shouldered man stepped into view. Richard and Thomas switched their glances to him in unison. A strand of the man's black hair flopped down over his sweaty forehead. His face was red from heat. He wore a white chef's jacket and striped trousers. The look on his face was anything but welcoming.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but Penny has it wrong. It’s not that we don’t have food, it's that the power is out. We can't cook any food so I'm afraid your breakfast plans will need to change." The man folded his arms. A gesture of defiance, ending the one-sided conversation.
Thomas laughed. Richard leaned back in his booth. "So why are the doors open? If you can't cook anything, what's the point of opening?"
"We can still serve cold drinks and…" Penny tried to interject. The man raised a hand and she cowered away. Richard noticed the gesture and tensed. The man stepped forward. "Did I fucking stutter?"
"No, but you're being very rude. Why stay open, even if what Penny tried to say is right?"
"It's my business, sir. I'll run it how I see fit."
"Without any customers? You clearly didn’t go to business school, sir." Richard emphasized the last word. Fury erupted on the man's face.
Thomas intervened. "And why not put a sign up? If you're not cooking because of such inconvenience, grab a pen and start writing. That's terrible service. We've been driving all night to get here and then this happens." Thomas was breathing heavily.
Richard nodded. "What happened to the customer is always right?"
The man turned to Thomas. "You haven't paid for anything yet. That doesn’t make you a customer but merely a visitor. And with that tone, I no longer want you in my restaurant. You've outstayed your welcome. Please leave."
Richard reached for his pocket. "At least let us review the menu. Maybe grab a sandwich, something cold. After all, we did order drinks already…"
The man pointed at the table. "These drinks?"
Richard nodded. "Yes."
The man grabbed Richard's coffee and pulled it off the table. The cup shattered on the floor, spilling foamy brown liquid everywhere. "Ooops," he said, mockingly. He then grabbed the Pepsi glass and threw it behind him, smashing it against a wall. Penny cowered out of the way as the soda began to dribble down the yellow paintwork. The man smiled with a frenzy in his eyes. "Spillage. I'm sorry, no payment required. Penny, get a mop and clean this mess up. Some visitors can be so careless."
Thomas and Richard glanced at one another.
The man sneered. "Now get the fuck out of my café."
"Well, that was odd."
"Some people, huh?"
"Some people need to realise manners cost fuck all." Thomas laughed. He was leaning against his Audi, head on his arms, exhausted. Richard was sitting on the grass a few feet away, tossing stones into Lake Whisper.
The rear door was open. Thomas removed his jacket and placed it onto the rear seat. He reached in and took out a small brown sack. Remaining in a white t-shirt and trousers, he closed the door and sat down beside Richard. He placed the brown sack on the ground between them, breathing heavily. Richard looked at his friend. "You should really see a doctor about that, you don’t look good."
"I'm healthy. The people around me fuck me off and cause me unnecessary stress. I'm fine."
"I'm just saying…" The sentence trailed off. Richard lay back on the grass.
Why bother?
Silence filled the brisk, morning air. Thomas took a Pepperami from the sack and started eating it. With his other hand, he removed a can of Dr. Pepper and popped its cap with one hand. He aimed both at Richard. "Want some?"
The man looked at the processed meat and soda and shook his head. "No, you're okay, have at it." Within half a minute, the meat stick was gone. Thomas took a second from the bag and devoured it, washing it down with the fizzy drink. He belched once more, the carbonated taste clawing at his throat. "That's better." He put the rubbish in the brown sack and sighed.
Both men watched the lake. A family of ducks was swimming across it, infinitely patient. The sky was a bland white with peaks of blue scattered throughout. Within a few hours, the sun would pop through and light up Lake Whisper. It looked to be a beautiful day.
Anywhere looks better in sunlight, thought Richard.
He sighed. "So, what else is there to do in this place?"
"I already told you." Thomas was biting a Snickers bar. "We had this discussion."
"No, apart from the sports and the stuff everyone comes for. Are there any trails or paths or walks to go on? I fancy a walk; I need to clear my head."
Thomas took another bite. After swallowing, he leaned towards Richard and put on a low, whispery voice. "There's always the house by the lake."
Richard tensed again. "There's a house on the lake? How gloriously clichéd. Where?"
Thomas pointed across Lake Whisper. "Just behind those trees. It's a short walk from here. People are warned to stay away. No one comes out alive. Stuff like that."
"Stuff like that? What a salesperson you are. Remind me to never hire you as my advertising rep."
"It's a spooky house. I've seen it. Grand and creepy like in the old style movies. I've never been inside though."
"Well, at the risk of sounding predictable, let's go and have a look." Richard hesitated. "But we go in together, okay?"
"Sure." Thomas struggled to his feet. His shirt became untucked and Richard caught a glimpse of doughy stomach fat. It wobbled as he scrambled to his feet. He sighed. He really was concerned for his friend. Thomas's health bothered him and if he carried on, he'd have a stroke or heart attack.
Just because I'm health conscious, I shouldn’t preach it to others.
This is different. He's your friend.
He doesn’t want to hear it.
Tell him anyway!
He didn’t have the heart to tell him, though. Thomas rarely listened to advice as he always took it personally. Back to square one, Richard thought. Maybe one day, you'll get through to him.
Richard jumped to his feet and patted himself down. He took out his mobile phone and dialed a number. Thomas noticed. "You don’t have to make a reservation; the house is open to all who dare to enter." The obese man laughed at his own joke.
Richard laughed. "I'm calling Harold; he should be here by now." After a minute, he hung up. "No answer."
Thomas nodded. "Maybe he's driving."
"Wherever he is, he's late. Harold is never late."
"There's a first time for everything," Thomas replied flatly. "Maybe he's already here and we haven't seen him."
Richard nodded. "I'll try him again in a bit."
"Shall we?" Thomas put on a posh voice and chuckled.
The two men walked past the Audi and found a small trail littered with leaves and discarded twigs. The grass was overgrown and faded green, bending into the pathway itself, concealing it in places. The path was obvious through the trees, but both men trod carefully anyway. It skirted the edge of the lake. Several picnic outcrops, decorated with wooden tables and chairs, broke up the foliage. One or two held small docks, ideal for fishing. Today, they were vacant.
They walked in silence, occasionally pointing at Nature and the lake itself. The chorus of crickets and insects provided a natural soundtrack to their journey, making both men smile. Occasionally, the wind would catch the trees and send a whistling, waving sound into the air.
They passed a phone booth, which seemed to be obscenely out of place in the middle of the woods. Richard made a note of it. He looked at Thomas. "If I die in the house, you come here and call for help. You got that?" He laughed at the joke.
Thomas smiled. "I bet you a hundred pounds it doesn’t work."
Richard grinned. "Well, in the vein of a horror movie, let's not bother finding out now. We need to be in mortal peril before we even consider such a thing."
"Gotcha."
"My phone will probably lose signal too." Richard checked it. It didn’t. He silently breathed a sigh of relief. Thomas ambled ahead of him and shouted, "In the interests of full disclosure, I had the Audi serviced last week. If it doesn’t start, then you know this is a horror movie."
Richard laughed. The noise disturbed some birds in a bush nearby. They scattered and flew off into the distance, darting between several trees.
The trees suddenly cleared and both men stepped into a vast, open area. Richard whistled and Thomas sighed, leaning on his knees, his saggy belly pushing against his arms. Sweat dripped from his brow. Richard patted his friend on the back. "You okay?"
"Yep. Gimme a minute." Thomas breathed heavily, rasping noises escaping from his lungs. Richard grew concerned and looked away. His eyes widened at the sight before him. "Would you look at that?"
An iron fence, overgrown with thistles and stinging nettles and thick grass stood before them. It filled half of the clearing, the other half serving as a makeshift driveway filled with cracked concrete and dead leaves.
Behind the fence stood a huge, grey, clapboard house.
The previously white paint was now flaking and dirty, the windows smeared with grime and the front door – which stood central above some old, withered steps – was a faded red, now more a burgundy color. The house looked old and quaint and vintage. The angles were sharp and vicious, created before the dawn of modern health and safety, giving the house a timeless look.
A sense of terrible dread sent goose bumps up Richard's arms. He suddenly felt cold and attempted to rub the gooseflesh from his forearms.
The house's outline against the morning sky was dominant and daunting.
"This is the place." Thomas turned to face Richard. "Grand, isn't it?"
"Who owns it?"
"No one knows. It's been here for years. Lake Whisper was built around it and it's become somewhat of a legend. People tend to give it a wide berth. I think for most, walking into the woods looking for it is generally conceived as foolish."
