The Deer are the Eyes of the Stars

Chapter 3- Bayersville

"-in other news today, the statistical likelihood for young adults fresh out of high-school has been steadily rising at an alarming rate; authorities have partnered with sociologists David Richards and Amy Arden, psychologist Michone Bradwell, and FBI profilers to figure out why and how these young people go missing, in addition to sleuthing out locations of cult activity and induction spots where cult members meet and interact with those outside of their compound-" a frustrated sigh and quick turn of the radio dial on the car’s radio receiver quickly plunged the car into silence. Lou was disinterested and fed up with the local news about whatever local events of relative importance were taking place in the area, and had been playing over the airwaves more than the actual songs or radio programs themselves; silence was the better alternative in Lou’s mind. Lou looked over at his map spread out over the center console, then at the fuel gauge, then up at the road through the rain pelted windshield, and barely notices the glowing yellow sign- glowing a sickly shade of aged yellow like old books and barely visible painted black letters that have gone bone white in some areas from years of sun and weather -choked by thick vines of green ivy, in time to turn off into a gravel parking lot home to a couple gas pumps that look like metal rusted relics bleached by he sun despite the poor excuse of what vaguely resembles a roof made of plywood and chicken wire. He pulls up next to a powder blue rusted gas pump and parks.

No sooner has he parked, that a gas station attendant- 'hadn't those gone out of style by now? maybe not out here.' -dressed in faded denim coveralls covered in old and new motor oil and grease stains, skin somewhere between summer tan and that beginning of autumn pallid, crooked teeth yellowed from smoking jut at uneven angles from swollen gums, scleras an equally sick opaque yellow from alcohol consumption, and a wiry medium build and a look that immediately screams 'skinhead' in Lou's mind despite the lack of tattoos and piercings; strolls out of an equally dilapidated and outdated service station, flickering lights visible though a large broken window, the whole building seemingly being reclaimed by the vines growing over it. Lou rolls down his window as the attendant swaggers over with the grace of a predator that's never lost a fight, and then the attendant's- 'Karl' the embroidered name tag patch on the attendant’s grubby coveralls reads -breath wreaking of tobacco and stale alcohol, plus an invisible fog of mold and dirt stench that clings to Karl as well like a second skin, rolls in like a tide once Lou’s car window is rolled down far enough. Lou nearly throws up in the back of his throat, suddenly feeling giddy and for a brief moment, Lou’s already forced polite smile flickers; Karl doesn’t seem to notice.

"Regular, stranger?" Karl asks, tone friendly but the smile doesn't reach his eyes and for a split second, Lou feels like something just walked over his grave; Lou wasn't small, standing at 6'4'' and weighing in around 250 pounds of muscle and human wall, yet this man was trigger Lou’s defenses and causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand at attention, and Lou couldn't easily discern why aside from the unsettling emptiness in Karl's eyes; like the light hit them, but wasn’t completely reflected back.

"Yes, please." Lou replies, removing a couple folded five dollar bills from his wallet, handing them to Karl and hoping he doesn't have to talk to him again. Karl decides to keep talking.

"Where you from? Not many strangers roll through our town." Karl asks conversationally after he's got the nozzle in the Oldsmobile's gas intake.

"Arkansas." Lou lies easily; he's not about to disclose anything personal about himself to this stranger who is still unsettling him.

"Not much to do out here, Mr. Arkansas; hunting, fishing, drinking, bowling, shooting targets just because we can- that's about the extent of activities we've got, aside from screwing." Karl huffs a breath of laughter at that last one, and Lou feels the urge to vomit wash over him all over again.

"What, too sensitive to hear that fucking is the one of the few activities we have out here?" Karl teases, and Lou deliberately rolls up his window.

He's decided in that moment he hated it here, and that he'll be glad to be out of this place. He doesn't roll the window down, not even when Karl knocks on it to tell him he's done. He checks his side mirror to make sure the gas cap is back in place- it is -and he takes off; glad to be out of there, away from Karl, away from the deeply unnerving feeling that something much larger, much darker, was lurking nearby. Lou senses a shift in the air around him as he puts more and more distance between him and Karl, and chocs it up to the fact the rain is lifting but fog is replacing it and soon he won't be able to see anything. For a brief moment, he swears he glimpses a figure on the side of the road, almost completely obscured by the fog, a figure dressed in black with a pale featureless face and what had to be antlers growing from its head. Lou writes it off as highway hypnosis, and when he finds a quiet rest stop off to the right shoulder of the road, he pulls over, parks, kills the engine of his vehicle but leaves the key in the ignition, before he begins studying the map spread over his center console and passenger seat again.

An old sign, so choked by ivy and mid summer weeds that it was almost invisible, advertising gas and food- ‘S & IPS’ in faded out black letters against a sun bleached yellow light panel with what looked like red neon tubing, but the tubing was broken and the sign itself seemed to be rusting, almost leapt out of the overgrowth just to the side of the road. The building wasn’t much better than the sign, the pumps? Even worse. Two men in grubby denim coveralls were sitting outside the building that looked like nature had swallowed it or was trying to physically grab it with fingers made of ivy tendrils and far too many hands. The pumps were just as ancient as the building, and were overgrown with both ferns of some large variety and rust, and looked like nothing would come up through the tubing and nozzles. Cracks in the uneven weathered pavement gave way for weeds and wildflowers, and even tall grass in some spots, and when he pulled up, both men who looked dirtier than they needed to, had stopped smiling and eyed him like an unwelcome guest.

Lou wasn’t a small guy by any means, standing at 6’4’’ and weighing a healthy 200lbs of muscle, but the way the two men looked at him made his skin crawl and the hair son the back of his neck stand up. There’s motion from within the visible patches of the windows, the interior dark and lit only by the natural light form the sun, which unfortunately was in short supply today due to the air quality being horrendous due to a wildfire a couple states over. Before Lou could even get out of his car, too caught up in the silent stare down with these two apparent locals who clearly did not want him around, the motion from inside ends in shouting, before a young woman, no older than 19 and dressed in a simple cornflower blue cotton dress covered in old stains that have faded away but left the fabric forever marked by their presence and some that had seemingly occurred earlier in the week, with shoulder length brunette hair, fair skin that was unmarked by freckles or beauty marks, petite stature, and shockingly bare feet that made something tighten in Lou’s chest when he saw them.

She spoke something to one of the men staring him down, something too quiet for Lou to hear, but the man suddenly seemed to look both furious and delighted at the same time. A smile that reminded Lou of the Cheshire Cat’s too large grin spread slowly like a sickness over the man’s face, his eyes, yellowed scleras from drinking too much surrounding slate grey irises that held nothing but the crazy look Lou had seen only once before in his life, but once was enough to know they were the eyes of a killer.

Lou decides then to keep driving, and cautiously yet with haste got back onto the fog covered road; taking his chances with the fog suddenly was much more appealing than whatever was waiting inside the rest stop gas station.