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November 2008

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Our print division, Comet Press, is currently accepting submissions for horror, suspense, and dark crime novels and novellas. Visit www.cometpress.us for details.

Available for order from Comet Press

DEADLINES: AN ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR AND DARK FICTION, will be released in November of 2008! Visit www.cometpress.us

Hurricane Floyd
by Shannon Esposito

Florida air drips with magic. From the first moment Jessie stepped from her rusted Ford pickup and gazed above the harsh filling station lights to the open night sky, she knew this was true. Pulling the humidity and gas fumes deeply into her lungs, she released the mixture with a sigh and smiled. Yep, something could definitely happen to her here. Something magical.

“Hey pretty lady.”

Jessie peered over her shoulder, distracted by the process of counting the loose change from her ashtray and trying to decide if she wanted a beer or a Snickers to celebrate her new found freedom. She watched the naked man leering at her as he walked over to a bike leaning against the building. Well, he wasn’t completely naked, but the only thing she could see was the naked beer belly hanging over cut off jeans. Snickers, she decided.

“Hey yourself.”

“Wanna party?”

Jessie closed her truck door with her hip and eyed naked guy as she moved toward the front of the gas station, the change clutched tightly in her palm.

“Yes,” she said, as she rested her hand on the door and stopped to meet his gaze. His eyes were green and glassy and suddenly filled with the desperate light of hope. She let a small, seductive smile turn up one corner of her mouth, a strange sort of power exploding in her chest. “But not with you.” She watched as the light dimmed and then was replaced with dark anger as blood rushed to his face.

“Bitch,” he spit at her as he struggled to mount his bike. He said some other things, too, but Jessie was too distracted by this new feeling to care.

It wasn’t much trouble finding the beach. The boardwalk was empty except for a few dark shadows huddled together on a bench at the end, where the lights didn’t quite reach. She would need to find a hotel or apartment to stay in, but all that serious stuff could wait until morning. Tonight, she was nobody. She belonged nowhere and to no one. Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life, but tonight her life was a blank slate full of all possibilities and emptied of all things dark.

The wind lifted her hair from her shoulders as she stepped out of the truck. She slipped off her shoes and tossed them in the seat, her eyes fixed on the dark ocean rolling in and breaking somewhere on the shore. It was larger and more mysterious than she could have imagined. Moving as if she were in the presence of God himself, Jessie stepped up onto the boardwalk, made her way down the ramp and let her bare toes sink into the sand.

“Cold.” She shivered, her eyes swelling as she tried to take in the entire span of the sea. Its borders dropped off into the eternity of night. Her gaze swept the shore. Its surface was clean and empty one moment and in the next it was full of spreading foam until once again—in the unfathomable beauty of order and pattern—empty. A tiny cry escaped her throat as a completely foreign sense of lightness sends her running like a child toward the water. She reached its morphing border and began to twirl viciously, the salty spray reaching her face, her laughter unleashed from somewhere deeper than the ocean, spilling out and flowing into the sound of the breaking waves. She spun until the earth spun with her, and she collapsed onto the wet sand. Eternity swelled above her; pinholes of light winked at her as if the night sky was sharing its secrets. So this is what it felt like to be alive? She had taken the reigns finally and completely. She had awoken from her slumber. She had thrown off the veil and climbed furiously up out of the darkness. She would not look back. Even with these intentions, the past came back in a flash.

Thunder groaned in the distance. Lightning flickered in the tiny closet, glinting off the sharp blade in her hand. Long pieces of shredded cotton, polyester and denim filled the floor. There was a thud below her. Jessie jumped.

“Don’t come up here,” she whispered…pleaded, wiping the wetness from one cheek. Thunder cracked. Footsteps on the stairs. Something began to move within her as if emotional devastation were a physical force, loosening her insides…her judgment, her sanity. He walked into the room, into the emotional landslide that his own careless steps had set in motion. Jessie stood, her fingers wrapped around the blade handle; her mind not on the man standing in front of her, but the man that had failed to stand beside her. Screams filled her head.

Jessie sat up, her chest heaving, her mind trying to find the edge of reality. The screams were coming from above. She raised her eyes to find large white birds being cradled in the winds, their cries echoing the sentiment of her dreams.

“He’s not worth cryin’ over,” she told the birds, as she pushed herself off the soft sand and marveled once again at the beauty of endless sky and water. The beach was still empty. It must be early morning. She shook out her damp, sandy hair and walked back to the truck.

“Sign says you’re hiring,” Jessie said to the dark young man behind the counter. She didn’t like the way he was sizing her up as his jaws worked a piece of gum back and forth. Even though she had spent most of her cash securing a cheap motel room for the week so she could shower and dress properly for the job hunt, he was making her feel like she needed another shower.

“Yeah,” he said finally, reaching under the counter without taking his eyes from her. “Fill this out.”

Jessie glanced down at the application and then back up into the muddy brown eyes set in olive skin. She had no experience, no current address. No chance of getting hired. Her insides began to move again. That secret power she was beginning to discover floated to the top.

“Do you have enough pull in this place to make a decision?” she asked, leaning closer into the counter and the wiry body that had now become her adversary.

“Yes,” he answered quickly, “of course. This store, it belongs to my family.”

“Oh good,” she said, pulling at her shirt and watching his eyes follow her hand to the line of her cleavage. “You really look like a guy I could be open with. You see,” she said, dropping her voice to embrace him with privacy. “I have just left my husband, and I don’t know a soul here. I don’t have a place to stay yet, or any idea what I’m going to do. So, you see, I really need this job…after all where is a girl to sleep if there’s no money for rent?” She watched his eyes change, fill with something primal at her question. She bit her lip and watched him watching her mouth. “Can you help me?” she asked finally, her hand reaching out to rest easily on his.

“Look,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to shake the thick fog off his thoughts. “We’re hiring for a night clerk. It’s dangerous. We’ve gotten robbed twice this year.”

“Is there a gun here?”

“Yes.”

“Is there any reason why I couldn’t be taught to use it just as a man is?”

“No.”

“Is there any other reason why I wouldn’t be capable of doing this job?”

“No,” he said, glancing once more at the buttons on her blouse as she straightened back into a standing position. She smiled slowly. She could tell he was glad she was taking away his reasons for not helping her. He spit his gum in the garbage and sneered at her.

“Be here tomorrow night at six sharp. You can work with me for a few nights, and we’ll see after that.”

“Thank you,” she glanced down at his plastic nametag, “thank you, Jorge.” She held out her hand, “Jessie.”

“See you tomorrow, Jessie. Bring your driver’s license and social security card.”

“Will do.”

This is too easy, she thought as she drove back to the motel. The sun warmed her face and arms through the window but the wind seemed to be picking up, pushing against the truck from both sides, making her pay attention to the road. She would have to remember to thank her husband for showing her men’s golden weakness, doled out by a court-jester-of-a-God who saw fit to give them a brain and a second body part to render that brain useless. Her mouth tightened with involuntary rage, and she passed the car in front of her, shooting out into oncoming traffic, hearing the blast of a horn fading behind her.

Jessie had to keep pushing the hair from her face as she sat on a white motel towel in her black K-mart bikini, watching the different dramas playing out on the beach: the young mother nervously following her diapered toddler’s every move; the group of young guys playing football and the group of young girls that kept walking by laughing too loudly at the whistles and propositions thrown at them; the scattered people that swam, slept lazily, flipped over, and slathered lotion on each other.

As the day went on, more people came and, as more people filled the sand, Jessie realized something disturbing. She had never felt so lonely. Sighing, she stood up and walked down to the water. It was cool on the hot flesh of her feet. She waded in deeper, moved past the breaking waves and then slipped in completely, feeling her body being pulled one way and then the other, until she floated to the surface again. Lying on her back, her eyes closed against the blinding sun. She let the ocean hold her, daring it to take her wherever it was going. When she began to get the urge to look up and check for land, she fought that urge and just floated.

“Hey, you okay?”

Jessie looked up into a woman’s round, brown face that she was just about to float into.

“Yeah,” she said, pushing her legs into the water and paddling, “sorry.” She looked to her right. The shore was still there, but the people had changed. “I’m Jessie,” she said, feeling the need to reach out and grab hold of something.

“Tia,” the girl smiled, and then pointing at her friends floating close by, she added, “That’s Cherry and Honey.” The girls waved. Tia seemed to notice Jessie’s questioning glance. “Oh, their names?” She laughed and leaned back in the water so her painted toes were poking out. “We just got used to using our stage names at work…we’re exotic dancers. It’s easier anyway. No one ever knows who you really are, you know? You can hide behind it.”

“Yeah,” Jessie answered, watching Tia lay her head back, her body floating to the surface. “So y’all are real strippers?”

Tia laughed, her teeth flashing like they were bleached by the sun. Jessie hoped she wasn’t laughing at her.

“Sure, though the important parts aren’t real,” she giggled and pushed her chest up out of the water. “Gotta spend money to make money.”

Jessie smiled with her. Yeah, with her new understanding of what really mattered to men, what they would give up everything for, she could see how being a stripper would be a very profitable career. The easiest at least.

“I’m new in town,” Jessie offered. “I just left my husband.”

Tia eyed her sideways. “Sorry, hon. Lookin’ for a job?”

“Nah, got one today. At the Seven Eleven.”

Tia lifted her head, her toes disappearing once again. “Geez, Jessie, that’s no place for a lady.”

“It’ll be alright,” Jessie said, beginning to feel the salt and sun burning her lips.

“Well, we’re at the Pink Shell on Fifth Avenue. You come see me if you change your mind. Ronnie’s been looking for girls, and I know he’d hire you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” Jessie said, feeling flattered and at the same time feeling something with claws pulling at her soul. “I’ll keep that in mind. See ya.” Jessie ducked under the next wave and made her way back to the shore. During the walk back to find her towel and shoes, she thought about Tia’s offer. She felt the dark power surge in her gut once again. Why not? She could be the woman men wanted instead of the one they had at home. She could practice teasing them with something she would never give them, instead of giving them everything she was and realizing it would never be enough. She could laugh at the desperation in their seedy eyes, instead of crying at the desperation in her broken heart. Just then, a sinewy man with coffee stained skin and gray hair made smacking noises with his lips as he passed her and smiled. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and picked up her pace.

The counter at Jerry’s Deli was crowded. Jessie sat on a sticky stool elbow-to-elbow with people she was afraid to make eye contact with. A burned hamburger, soggy pickle and cup of strong coffee sat in front of her, barely touched. She was listening to the noise around her, feeling vulnerable and invisible. Maybe homesick. The heavy guy in a black leather vest vacated the seat to her right with a healthy belch and was immediately replaced by a petite woman with long, dark hair pulled back in a green scarf. Jessie welcomed this change. She had enough room to move her elbow now and try the cold burger. Taking a bite, she stole a glance at the woman beside her. The woman smiled but didn’t look at her. Jessie chewed, unable to stop staring at the woman. There was something so calm, tender and hypnotic about her movement, her mouth, and her voice when she ordered coffee and a bagel.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked in that same hypnotic tone, her eyes finally turning to meet her admirer.

“Jessie,” she whispered, her expression freezing as she got lost in the woman’s eyes. They were the same green as the scarf, the same green as the ocean she had come to love, and they held the same promise of eternity.

“Well, young Jessie. I believe people are drawn to me when they need to know something. So, what is it that you need to know?”

“Why isn’t love enough?” Jessie was shocked out of her daze by her own question. Where did that come from? “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and turning away. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Would you like an answer?”

“Yes,” Jessie nodded, her shoulders sinking under some invisible weight.

“Love is enough. Real love. And the test for real love is if it is enough.”

Jessie sat for a few moments ignoring her burger and chewing on the woman’s words.

“Here,” the woman said, putting down her coffee mug and turning to Jessie, “Give me your hands.”

Jessie rested her palms on top the woman’s and felt her small fingers encircle them. The woman closed her eyes and began to talk softly. Jessie had to strain to hear her within the chaos of banging kitchenware and droning conversations. She began to speak of Jessie’s fondness for horses, her craving for children, the fact that she had just made a difficult decision and was still struggling with whether it was the right one or not. And then, she grew silent. Her thin, drawn-on brows pushed downward while her mouth opened slightly in a sharp gasp. Her eyes opened and Jessie felt some strange force pulling her toward the woman, calling to her, and pleading with her not to…not to what? The woman blinked and let her hands fall away.

“Oh, Jessie,” was all she could say. Her eyes said so much more.

“What is it?” Jessie asked fearfully. “What’s going to happen?”

The woman looked for a moment as if she would tell her, and then she looked pale and tired.

“When the storm comes, Jessie, find something in this life that you can hold on to, that you can anchor yourself to. Believe in real love, believe in fairytales…believe in forgiveness.”

The storm did come. Twelve days later in the form of Hurricane Floyd. Jessie had dropped to her knees on the puke-yellow motel room carpet and sobbed until her eyes swelled when she heard the newscaster announce the tropical storm heading towards them had gathered strength, was now classified as a hurricane and had been named after her husband. She then sat there shaking for hours, knowing that he was coming for her. Not looking back was no longer an option. Her husband was a category three when he reached them.

It was four a.m. The wind was beginning to howl, strong gusts were pushing sprays of rain under the door. Jessie sat on the bed in the dark, her arms wrapped around her knees, the tears dropping freely on her arms as she thought about everything from the first day of her marriage to the day she had fled their home, to these last few days with Jorge. Jorge. What a mess she had made of that, too. If only she hadn’t started to really like him, to really enjoy his company. If only she had held onto her power instead of letting him slip his hand into her shirt or press his body against her when no one was in the store. If only she hadn’t been so damn lonely. Then she wouldn’t have let him have his way with her against the freezer in the back and make up some excuse the next day why he had to let her go.

Jessie began to sob again. She pushed herself off the bed, feeling trapped suddenly. The power had gone out three hours ago. The windows were rattling, and the wind was beginning to sound capable of tearing off the roof. She had to get out of there. Jessie intended to crack the door and see how bad it was, but as soon as she opened it, the wind slammed it hard against her, knocking her to the floor while the rain blew in sideways, soaking her and the cheap, flat carpet. She shielded her eyes and tried to see the road through the darkness and the sheets of gray rain veiling that darkness. A sign blew across her doorway. She cringed, and then she stood up defiantly, the storm within her seeking its own kind.

The windshield wipers were no match for the fury Floyd was raining down on his own truck. Jessie tried to keep it on the road but she couldn’t even see the road. She had to trust her instincts and her memory to get her to the boardwalk. She jumped as someone’s shutter struck the passenger door and flinched as a dead traffic light swung so violently, she was sure it would drop down on top of her. But eventually, she made it. She crawled into the flooded parking lot and stared out in the direction she knew to be the ocean.

“Well, I guess God had to level the playing field somehow, eh, Floyd?” The storm answered her by shaking the truck violently. “Yep, he gave us women a brain…and a heart to render that brain useless.” She pushed the wet strands of hair from her eyes and nodded. “I’m glad you came for me. I was afraid I’d never see you again. This lady…she told me that love is real if it’s enough.” She sighed and reached for the door handle.

“I think I’ve had enough of love. I’m ready to come home now.”