Special Sauce

As Scott looked out the car window at buildings along Howard Ave., he wished his date with Martha would never end. He dreaded making the long drive from Evanston back to Naperville. But sadly, each grungy building that Martha drove by brought him closer to his own car. Then he would have to say good-bye. Good-bye, followed by a long lonely ride on the tollways.

"Have you had dinner?" asked Martha.

Scott eagerly turned away from the window.

"No." he replied with a smile. "I didn't have time to." He chuckled. "I had to leave straight from work to--" Scott hesitated, wondering if he should say the dreaded "d-word." "To make it out here in time."

Martha nervously nodded. "I didn't have dinner either. There's a place a few blocks ahead that should still be open. I go there a lot at night."

"Sure." replied Scott.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to. I know you have a long drive back."

"No! No!" blurted Scott. "I'd love to have dinner with you. I could use a meal before heading back."

"Good," replied Martha. "Because I'm starving."

Scott smiled, then glanced at his watch. It was almost 10:30. Had it really been that long? Scott reflected on his date so far. He'd braved the rush hour traffic for over an hour just to make it out here. When he arrived at her condo, he promptly handed her a dozen roses. When he bought them, he worried that giving her roses would be too much for a first date. He was relieved to see her smile when he showed them to her. After she put them in water, they raced over to the theater to catch the re-release of "American Beauty." It may not have been an appropriate date film, but boy did it give them something to talk about. That's how they spent most of the night. Driving around Evanston, and talking. The film, Jewel's lyrics, their jobs, anything on their minds, it seemed like they talked about it.

"Here it is." Martha said, as she pulled into a parking spot. In front of them was a two story dark red brick building. Scott guessed that it was built some time in the 19th century. Below the storefront window was a wooden panel, covered in peeling light green paint. Behind the cracked storefront window, Scott saw a flickering neon sign that read "Fries BBQ and Grill." The "F" in the sign looked like three neon potato wedges stuck together.

"Looks like we'll have the place to ourselves." Said Scott.

Martha opened the car door and started to get out.

"Yeah." she replied. "It looks like it." Martha looked back at Scott as he exited the car. "Not a lot of people go here at night. Mary Tabor likes to come here after Society meetings. She says the place is packed during the day.

Scott nodded. Martha was referring to The Humanist Society of Chicagoland. It was like a church, only most of the members were either atheists or agnostics. Scott had only recently joined the group after reading their web page. At the first meeting he attended, he met Martha, and knew that he had to join. Single, non-believing, attractive females were hard to find, and he wasn't going to pass her up.

Scott looked around the area as he closed the door.

"Well this doesn't look like the best place to be at night."

Scott thought he saw Martha's face turn red.

"If you don't feel comfortable, we can go some place else." she replied, almost bashfully.

Scott shook his head.

"Oh no." He said. "It doesn't bother me. Then again, I do have a yellow belt in kick-boxing."

Martha dropped her jaw. "Yellow belt? Is that a high rank?"

Scott laughed out loud as he started towards the entrance. "Oh God no!" He laughed again. "It's like the second rank."

"Really?" asked Martha as she caught up to him. "I wouldn't know, since I've never taken kick-boxing."

"Well--" Scott started to reply when the writing on the glass door caught his attention.

Below Fries hours, he read the words, "Fries BBQ and Grill. Serving the poison from it's victims."

Scott chuckled uneasily.

"What?" asked Martha.

Scott started to point then stopped. The line now read "Fries BBQ and Grill. Serving fine fast food since 1984."

Scott blushed slightly. "Nothing." He laughed slightly. "I misread something on the door.

Martha shrugged. "It's easy to do in this light."

Scott opened the door for Martha. "I guess it is." He said with a smile.

Martha walked past Scott then opened the second glass door for him. Flattered, Scott walked through the doorway and into the restaurant.

Inside, he could see that the walls were decorated with posters of Chicago sports figures. Where there were no posters, Scott could see the light green paint peeling off the walls. The tables were covered with red scum, and ketchup bottles were caked with dried ketchup.

At the counter, Scott saw two people he assumed to be employees. The one in front of the counter had his back turned towards Scott. He was large man with long curly hair. He yellow shirt and black jeans were covered with dark orange stains. The man spoke in an angry grumble to the employee behind the counter. The employee, an African American, stared blankly at the large man.

"They have a really good BBQ sandwich." said Martha.

Scott blinked. "Oh? I'll have to try it."

Actually the BBQ sandwich did sound like a good thing. Since he moved to the Chicago area, he'd never had a chance to try any BBQ eateries. Now he realized that he should take advantage of the opportunity. Scott started to feel warm inside. It's only been one date, he thought, and she's already showing me new experiences.

He started towards the counter, the taste of authentic Chicago BBQ already in his mouth. As he moved closer to the large man, time seemed to slow down. The grumbles from the man started to sound like a broken tape player.

The man turned towards Scott in slow motion. Scott froze when he saw the man's face. His skin rippled, as if hundreds of worms were squirming underneath his flesh. Thick orange liquid drooled from open mouth. Scott could also see his razor sharp teeth, stained orange from the liquid.

"It kills to satisfy the demand." Came a voice that sounded exactly like Scott's. The voice seemed to come from all directions.

"Can I help you?" growled the man.

The man now appeared human. His unshaven face no longer rippled, and his yellow teeth seemed normal. Now Scott could see that he was wearing a red apron with fresh orange stains.

Scott blinked several times.

"Something wrong?" the man asked Scott in a rough voice.

"No, No." Scott quickly replied. "Um, do you have any specials tonight?"

God, I must be tired, thought Scott. That has to be it. But I've never seen--

"We're closed!" The employee behind the counter cried. He spoke in a high pitched nasal tone.

The man turned to the employee. "We're not closed!" He growled. "Serve these people, then close up. Got that Zoe?"

Zoe nodded slowly.

The man turned back towards Scott and Martha.

"Zoe will take your order. I have to create a new batch of special sauce."

"Thank you, sir." Martha replied with a smile.

"I'd tell you what's in it, but then I'd have to kill you." the man said, then chuckled as he walked towards the stairs.

Martha laughed with him, but Scott didn't. Instead he briefly felt sick.

I must be going insane, he thought. No, it must be emotions. I'm just a bit nervous because of this date. But things are going great. I shouldn't be seeing things. I've never seen things before.

"What do you want?" asked Zoe.

Scott faced Zoe. He noticed several needle tracks on Zoe's exposed arms.

"Um. Let me think."

Behind Zoe, Scott spied several plastic jugs, filled with an orange sauce. Each one was marked "Victims." Scott blinked again. The jugs were now marked "Special Sauce."

"You still thinking?" asked Zoe.

Scott looked up at the menu board. The menu items melted, then flowed into a new sentence.

"No more victims!" the board read.

Scott's jaw dropped. The menu suddenly returned to normal.

"Scott," asked Martha, "are you OK?"

"Um." Scott replied. "I think I need to use the restroom." Scott turned his attention towards Zoe. "I'll have a BBQ beef sandwich, hold the special sauce, and a coke."

Zoe nodded and wrote down the order.

Scott pulled out his wallet and gave Martha ten dollars.

"I'll be back in a bit." said Scott as he feigned a smile.

Scott quickly made his way up the stairs. Cold water, he thought. Maybe that will do the trick. Just splash some cold water, and that will wake me up some more. This can't be happening. It's got to be nerves. When you're nervous you see things.

He reached the top of the stairs, finding himself in a dimly lit hallway. He could make out the rest rooms on his left, along with a door to an office. Scott could also see a door at the end of hall, marked, "Keep out! Employees only!"

Scott started towards the men's room when he heard a loud crash, like several metal pots falling to the floor. A muffled moan soon followed. Both sounds came from behind the employees only door.

Urgently, Scott ran towards the door and shoved the door. It opened on the first try as the dead bolt ripped through the rotting wood frame.

Inside he could see a short corridor created by the open door and a walk in freezer. The "corridor" lead to what appeared to be a prep kitchen. On the far wall, Scott could see an employee, his hands tied with an extension cord to a ceiling pipe. His mouth crudely covered with duct tape. His Fries shirt was ripped open, like it had been clawed opened by a large animal. He stared at Scott, his eyes wide open, as his horror showed through his bloody face.

Instinctively, Scott ran towards him, but stopped when he made it past the freezer. On a wooden prep table, Scott saw the ravaged remains of another employee. His chest was ripped open, exposing a empty body cavity. The pale head, dangling off the edge of the table, seemed to look straight into Scott's eyes.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Scott.

The door slammed shut.

Scott spun around. The man was standing by the closed door, holding a plastic jug. His teeth were now sharp and jagged. His finger nails now were black and almost claw like. Breathing heavily he glared at Scott for a few moments then bent over and put his mouth against the jug. He vomited, filling the gallon jug with special sauce.

Scott fought the urge to vomit himself. Could this be another illusion. No. This is too real. This is all real.

When the man finished vomiting, he placed the jug on a self and wiped his mouth on his sleeves.

"The sign said employees only!" the man yelled.

Scott began to back towards the captive employee. His heart began to race, and he couldn't think of a response.

"I'm really sorry you had to see this." the man growled. "Why don't you just leave right now and pretend you didn't see this? No one's going to believe you anyway."

He was right, thought Scott. No one would believe him. Behind him, Scott heard another muffled scream.

"You're right," Scott replied. "So I'm just going to release this person, and we'll leave here. We'll pretend that none of this happened."

The man slowly started towards Scott, shaking his head.

"I need Jamie. I don't need you." he said, then took several deep breaths. "Don't make me kill you. Get out!"

Scott heard Jamie struggle behind him. Scott watched as this thing marched closer and closer to him, and towards Jamie.

I could leave, and pretend this never happened, thought Scott. Who would believe me anyway? But how could I let that man die. I couldn't do that?

Some how, Scott's fear began to fade. Replacing it was a courage that he'd never felt before. He believed that he had the power to stand up to this thing. It was more than a belief. It was almost like faith. Maybe he wasn't thinking clearly, but if he had a chance, any chance to defend Jamie, he had to take it. Otherwise he could never live with himself.

Scott raised his arms and started to assume a fighting stance.

The man stopped moving, as if he was shocked by the sight of someone standing up to him.

"You can't be serious!" said the man.

Scott lowered his chin to a fighting position. Now was the time to see if those kick-boxing classes were worth it.

"No more victims." Scott replied coldly.