The Song of a Gazelle

Dark, struggling, demented anguish is all that can be felt between mile 13 and 31 on Range Road 73. Despair lingers. The air hangs thick enough to feel as though one is breathing through a straw. The atmosphere stings with the bloody scent of sweet iron musk. The locals say the road is the epitome of death. Thousands of men, women, and children have disappeared; all being reported to have taken a route through Range Road 73. Electronic activities cease, vehicles become disabled, minds distort, and no one who has entered that stretch of gravel has ever been heard from again. They say around midnight, on the eve of every full moon, a sweet and tangy melody can be heard by the poor souls who are destined to die. An undeniably irresistible, soft, bleeding, longing tune; strong enough to pull one in without any notice or protest. Some say it is the song of a siren, a siren no one who ever heard was able to resist.

The sun hit differently there on HWY 1530 between the cities Claremont and Bordelain. There was something about this area, it sang the song of a gazelle; light, gentle, elegant. Mal drank in the crisp afternoon air; warm as it entered his nostrils, but cold enough to sting the back of his throat. There was a hint of lavender, as well as the sweet and musty odour of a nearby grow op. “On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair . . .” the current day could not have been any more opposite than the tune blaring from Mallory’s rear speakers. It was bright and relaxing instead of dark and ominous. They did have one thing in common however; their allure was equal in weight and stature. “. . .Welcome to the Hotel California . . .” rang out as Mal passed a sign,

HUNDA 15

“Fifteen kilometres till the next town?” Mal thought as he looked down at his gas gauge, right as that yellow ‘empty’ light flickered on. “Crap, at least a station is close. I can’t believe I forgot to keep an eye on the gas”, he whispered to himself, snatching his attention away from the music and his intoxicating surroundings. Mal continued a smooth and steady cruise, soon passing the sign,

HUNDA NEXT RIGHT

As Mallory took the exit, his tires hit gravel. “FUCK” Mal shouted as the sound of grinding, heavy popping rang louder and louder as the tires slid against the rock shards. His small sedan fishtailed left, then right, then left again twisting his car half-way around before it came to a sudden, jerking stop. “Fucking, fuckety fuckers fuck” Mal exhaled in relief. Slight fishtail; no spinning out and no diving down the side embankment. “Pay attention Mallory,” Mal told himself as he slowly pulled his car around to the intended direction. As Mal slowly and carefully drove, he looked into the distance and could see a few silo’s jutting up into the air and a nearby water tower; “Ah” he thought, “There is Hunda I presume”.

As Mal drove he saw a turn-off with the road sign, ‘RR 73’. He looked down the road which angled about forty-five degrees from his current course, exactly where he wanted to go after his tank was filled. “I wonder if it connects . . .” Mal’s mind wandered off as he reached for his map. This road could possibly shave off 30 minutes to a full hour off of his already hefty commute. “Damn, not listed” it appeared as though the road was perhaps too new to have made it on his map, though it looked well used. Suddenly, Mal passed the welcome sign, “Enjoy your time in Hunda” and in town he was.

As Mal drove into town, it looked as if he could see the main centre not too far away. Mal kept driving straight, but to his astonishment, no gas station. “Stop and ask for directions” was a fleeing thought before he talked himself out of it. “Nah, why waste anyones time? The town is small, I’ll find one eventually.” Thirty minutes later, driving down most non-residential streets, still! No gas. “Fuck, fine, I’ll ask” Mal finally surrendered to the nagging idea. Pulling to the side of the road he saw a mechanics shop, the sign read, “Terri’s Mechanics and Tow”. There was also a butcher shop which looked closed down, and a small sign reading “PUB” hung outside of an inn. “Well, I could use some lunch, maybe a beer” Mal thought as he powered down his car and walked across the street.

As Mal entered the pub he could smell cigarette smoke and french fries. There were hightop tables and dart boards to the right, to the left were stairs leading up to a higher section. Straight ahead was the bar, 8 seats total, with a pool table to the side. Mal walked straight to the bar and sat down.

“What can I do yer for?” came a voice from behind the bar. As soon as Mal looked up he saw a man in his mid-forties walking through swivelling doors that lead from the kitchen.

“Hey man, I could use a pint, whatever you usually serve for the house.”

“That is our Hunda Hail, we have a brewery a few clicks out of town.”

“Perfect, let me have ‘er.”

Mal watched as the bartender poured a golden, glistening, frosted pint; so cold, it hadn’t begun to condensate.

“Thanks bud, I can tell by the look that this will hit the spot. Do you have a menu?”

“I think we got one kicking around here somewhere. We don’t get a tonne of visitors, townies usually know what they want before they walk through the door.”

“Ok then, just give me your most popular meal. A surprise is usually always good every once in a while.” With a sideways grin the bartender slapped his hand against the wood and said, “It’ll be out in 10!”

Looking around Mal could hear voices, but saw no distinct persons. All of a sudden, a door hidden to the bars left opened up and a small group of four gathered in. All headed for the pool table, the short-haired blonde came up to the bar ledge.

“Henry! 4 Hails, 4 Haggard Hunda’s, and 4 Snout Sandies!” As soon as she shouted, her eyes, as hard and hazy as her voice, scanned over to Mal and gave him a once-over. “Make that 5 Haggard Hunda’s!”

“Coming right up!” Hollered Henry from behind the swivelling doors, interrupting her gaze. She looked over to the kitchen, then walked back to her friends. “Let’s play doubles” Mal could hear her say, and the group split; two on two.

As Henry began pouring pints, Mal could hear the large ‘CRACK’ that began the game of pool. Mal looked over at the blonde, wondering what on earth she ordered him. Henry began pouring a bunch of shots, probably the Haggard Hunda’s, or whatever they are called. Henry shuffled over and put 4 gold shots in front of him, and then glided over to the group, placing down the beers and shots, all the same colour. The group gathered around and with a loud “SALUDE”, the players began taking their shots. Henry came back behind the bar and looked over to Mal,

“It’s a game the locals play. Each Haggard Hunda is four shots, all the same colour so you cannot tell them apart. Every other person gets one shot in the bunch that is simply juice, and as soon as that player takes the juice shot, they have to finish what is left of their drink.”

“That sounds dangerous, a good way to puke! What is in the shots?” Mal was curious, but his stomach was already curdling.

“That is always a surprise! It could be anything; whiskey, tequila, or if I am feeling nice, a good ‘ol Burt Reynolds.” Mal looked down at the shots,

“Well, I can’t take these anyway. Gotta get back on the road! Speaking of which, my car desperately needs gas, where is the nearest station?”

“Oh, you poor chap, Hunda doesn’t have one. The closest is about thirty-five kilometres north. You have enough gas to get you there?”

“I mean, I could risk it, but I really don't think so.”

“No, I wouldn’t risk it out here. These roads outside of town don’t get a lot of traffic if you become stranded. We also have wild animals a who knows what else! We do have a tow service, but since it's Sunday it is closed right down until tomorrow morning. It’s cheaper if you use their gas service; Terri will go and bring you back a full gas can to get you to the next town, you just have to pay for the gas, the can, and the time.”

“Ah, but it’s not open till tomorrow? Do they have any type of an emergency system? I will pay whatever price they want for after hours help.” Mal was feeling nervous, stressed, and desperate. He didn’t want to stay in this erie town till tomorrow.

“Sometimes they do, but not today.”

“Why ‘not today’?”

Henry gestured with a finger towards the blonde at the pool table, who was now wiping her face after chugging her pint,

“Cause that’s Terri, and after those shots I don’t think she is in any condition to drive.”

Terri looked over to Henry and walked over to Mal. “I’m sure Henry here filled you in on how these work! Now, we only had one apple juice over there,” She said as she pointed towards her empty pint on the other table, “which can only mean you have one here too. Drink up! And get ready to chug.” Terri smiled with a mischievous grin and excitedly gestured one shot closer to Mal.

“I guess I have no excuse to get out of this, eh? Hey, Henry! Can I get a room in the Inn for the night?”

“Absolutely! I will give you our Stranded Wanderer’s discount. It’s not a real promotion, just my way of saying I’ll knock off 30% for your troubles.”

“Thanks Henry” Mal said in a low tone as he grabbed the first shot and took it; Fireball. Terri knuckled over the next; Honey Jack. The third one went down the worst; Tequila! Mal braced himself for what was coming.

“Chug!” Terri yelled as Mal took the apple juice shot and he picked up his pint and finished it off.

“Come play some games with us, since you’re here for the rest of the night. May as well make the most of it!” Terri invited, and walked with Mal back to the group. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name” she said as she was getting ready to introduce Mal.

“It’s Mallory, Mal for short” and just like that, everyone was making introductions and inviting Mal into the days shenanigans.

About seven hours later, who knows how many shots, and some beers, Mal was ready to hit-the-hay. In a typical drinkers slur Mal said, “Thanks for the awesome day guys. Time for me to car-a-a-a-ash out. Gotta travel tomorrow.”

“Okay guy, thanks for joining us. Where are you headed?”

“Bordelain! Speaking of which, where does that Range Road 73 lead? It looked like it may be a short cut for my trip.” Everyone went silent. Even Henry behind the bar. You could hear a pin-drop.

“Don’t go there. There’s a reason why it is not on any map, people disappear there.”

“Oh, common Terri, that’s just superstition!” One of the guys in the group jeered, “There’s no proof there is anything weird about the road. Sad people go there to end their lives, no reason to think it has anything to do with the road.”

“No way. Good ol’ Davis was never suicidal, and he just vanished! No body, no note, no nothing. Jenna said he looked like he was in some sort of trance, thought he was just walking off a few too many. He went that way and never came back. I’d like to see you venture down there!” Terri laughed as she kicked the guys leg in a playful banter.

“Hey Terri!” Henry boomed from behind the bar, interrupting the ominous conversation. “You’re not driving home and you live too far out of town to walk at night. I’ve set you up in a room here, on-the-house.”

“Ok Henry, you’re too good to me.” Terri replied, and with a staggering stammer, got up and headed for the stairway leading to the rooms.

“I guess that means goodnight!” Mal laughed and waved to the rest of the group, who were now headed out the door. “Hey Henry, what room am I in?”

“I put you up in room 3, and make sure Terri makes it to room 5! I always put her in that one, but sometimes she ends up elsewhere.”

“Will do boss.” Mal said as he turned and began walking up the stairway. As Mal rounded the corner room 5’s door slammed shut. “Guess Terri made it home” Mal chuckled as he turned his own door handle and entered.

Mal fell asleep instantly, but about an hour later he heard a door slam. “What the hell?” Mal thought as sloppily rolled out of bed. He could hear a hushed voice in the hall, “Terri, wake up! What’s wrong with you?” Mal poked his head into the hall and saw Terri, slowly walking, eyes wide open. Henry was behind her clearly worried. “I don’t know if she’s ok Mal, probably just sleep walking, but she will not wake up. I woke up to see her almost walk off of her room balcony. Got there just in time, turned her around, and now she’s just walking.”

“I’ll follow her, make sure she doesn’t get into trouble and hopefully bring her back to her own bed.”

“I’ll go with you Mal, keep you company. I’m too worried to get any real sleep anyway. Plus, wild animals you know? I’ll bring my shotgun.” With an approving nod, the two men followed Terri, helped her make it down the stairway safely. Then she headed out the front doors.

It felt like forever that Terri walked in a straight line. Through back yards, across streets, and out of town. They were crossing a large field when all of a sudden, gravel.

“We can’t go there, it’s too close.” Henry said in a worried panic. That’s when Mal saw the sign on the side of the road, a mile marker that said, “13”. “This is Range Road 73 Mal, we can’t follow her any more! We will never come back.”

“You believe in that too? How do you know you won’t come back?”

“Because, no one ever has. Anyone who has passed mile 13 that is. Even now, we may already be doomed.”

“Well you stay right here then Henry, I don’t believe in superstitions. I will try and get Terri to come back.”

“May god show mercy.” Henry trembled and sat down on a large stone.

Mal was looking ahead, watching Terri. He saw her pass the 13 mile marker, walk about 5 more paces, and then vanish. “What the —“ Mal thought as he ran forward. All of a sudden he could feel the air pulsing around him, the hairs on his arms were standing upright, it felt as if all sound was being directly tunnelled into his eardrums. Mal looked down for a moment, in pain from the piercing in his ears, but when he looked up, everything had changed. It was no longer dark like in the middle of the night, it was dark in a different way. Hazy, almost as if the sun were blotted out from intense smoke. Mal took a breath. The air was thick, so thick Mal hardly felt like he was able to breath at all. The odour was musky; blood. All Mal could feel was despair. Mal looked up and saw a vast, breezeless sea. Out a ways, in the open, was a mountain of bones. At the top was a long, slender, woman-like figure. He could see Terri, climbing, almost at the top of the bones. Somehow in his heart Mal knew all of these bones were human, and that Terri was already dead.

As Terri made it to the top, she set her feet on a hard surface and glided towards the slender figure. The figures long, razor-sharp fingers pinched the bottom of her chin and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Then, using those fingers, cut a deep gash in the side of Terri’s neck. Terri stood there, as the blood poured out, unmoved. The figure took out a golden chalice, placed it at her neck and watched it filled with blood, then took a long glorious sip.

“Come to me.” Mal could hear a womanly, seductive plea in his ears. There was a beautiful melody in the way she spoke. He could hear her song; wordless, piercing, irresistible. Mal, without notice, began walking closer to the sea. He was not yet in his trance, but still did not want to stop. The last and most pleasing words Mal ever heard were, “You weren’t chosen, but how can I resist?”

The sun hit differently there, between Claremont and Bordelain. On the sleepy town of Hunda, the sun rose slowly and steadily. The air, clean and crisp; the scent of lavender and a nearby grow op wafting in. No one the wiser of what happened that previous night. On that particular morning, in the clear and refreshingly misty dawn, you could hear a gun shot ring loudly through the air. That was the day Terri’s Mechanics and Tow remain unopened, the drinks at Henry’s Pub remained un-poured, and that small sedan on the main road of this sultry, erie town remained parked, indefinitely.