Chapter Text
The old diesel engine of the school bus roared to life with 2 flat tires and 20-year-old fuel. It lumbered down the road slowly, gaining speed faster and faster, the finder standing in the door of the bus. He turns and looks at the large rock on the accelerator. The bus swerves, and he corrects it with the rope tied around the steering wheel.
“Now,” he laughs and lets himself fall backwards onto the pavement as he yanks the cord, sending the bus tumbling down the road.
He walks away, never looking back, as the fuel tank explodes, blocking off a section of road. A hundred yards from the gas station. “Let’s see if that motivates him,” the vampire grins.
Josh gas watches from his window with his feet up. He rings the number for Jack Harrington. “He just blew up a bus down the road from me. Are you going to send help?” he asks calmly.
Jack Harrington, smoking his third cigar of the day, sighs, “Give me the door, and this all goes away.” He looks at the foul-smelling cigar and stubs it out in the tray. ‘These things will kill you, but I don’t know if the stress will do it faster.’
Josh slams down the phone, and it rings. “Give me the door, and I will stop,” the finder says over the phone and hangs up before Josh can respond.
“You know, I might if I knew where the freaking door was!” Josh Gas eats another hotdog to calm himself. “I am getting worried.”
The door is comfortably hidden inside the nursery bathroom. “What do I do?” it asks itself.
Josh starts his great-grandfather's tank and drives it out of the shop. He pushes the on-fire bus off the road before getting out and sweeping the broken glass off the road before parking it back in his garage.
“Why does he have a tank? You have got to be kidding me,” the finder says, watching through a pair of day vision binoculars.
The vampire drives his van out from behind the billboard. He gets out with a pickaxe and swings at the edge, lifting out a piece. repeating the process until the section of road is ripped apart.
Josh sighs from inside his gas station; he walks behind the gas station and starts filling the back of a work truck with cold patch. He drives out to the scene of the damage and throws the torn-up pieces away; he fills the holes and tamps the material flat.
The door moves. The gloryhole: “Oh god, don’t look.” “Go further,” he cries and pushes harder and ends up on the outside of the ranch looking to the south. He moves, and the door is now on the back of the sign across from Jim’s Gas again. He moves again, and now he is inside the porn section of the gas station. “Again!” it struggles and puts itself back behind the counter of the gas station.
“Who is this guy McGyver?” The finder yells in his van. He watches as Josh goes back into his gas station before grabbing his bolt cutters. “I will show you.”
He climbs the telephone pole and cuts the wires one at a time; the thick cables land on the ground, and he scampers back to his van. The wires are arcing and melting the dirt, making small puddles of burning glass.
Josh manages to get the truck parked and head back inside. He spies the door right away. “So you’re back.”
“I am back,” the door says. “I am lost. What do I do?”
“I don’t know.” Josh sits down; he looks at the store. “Did you steal the child?”
The doorkeeper looks between the crack. “No, but he was inside.”
“Inside the door?” Josh raises his eyebrows. “Did you eat him?”
The doorkeeper shivers with horror. “No,” it says, the door shaking with disgust.
“Where is he?” Josh asks, hoping for any clue. He looks at the door and into the eyes of the strange creature.
“Somewhere dark and clean and quiet,” the door says. “He sneaked past me.”
Josh sighs, “Not a lot to go on, is there?” The power goes out, and Josh hits a switch under the counter, kicking the backup propane generator online.
“The finder won’t stop until he gets you.” Josh says, looking out the window at the vampire climbing down the pole. “And the motel won’t help us until the baby is returned.”
“What about other vampires?” the door asks, squeezing the hinges on the cheap hollow door painted blue with a sign that says “Serious Gamers Only” from a 2-bedroom apartment in Oklahoma.
Josh Gas dials the ranch and gets directed to Trish. “How can we make this go away?”
Trish answers the phone from a bubble bath. “Give him the door or give him something he wants more. Do you think we can get a meeting with him?”
Josh gasps and looks outside at the van driving down the road to hide behind another advertising sign almost out of sight. “Yes, I think we can get a meeting.”
“Set it up for tonight at 8:00,” the vampire says, playing with a rubber duck that floats by. “See you there, Josh.” Trish hangs up the phone and lets her head slip under the water. She stares up at the ceiling. ‘What does he want more than the door?’
Josh, with his feet up on the counter looking at the door, calls the finder back. The phone rings, and Josh taps his fingers on the Formica countertop. “Pick up, you wacko,” he says.
The finder throws the bolt cutters into the back of the van as his phone rings. He looks at it and spots the caller ID “Gas Station.” He looks at it contemplatively, then snatches it up and puts it to his ear. “Where is the door?” he says into the empty air of the phone call.
“Standing 20 feet in front of me, but look, we need to talk face-to-face,” Josh says, his eyes not leaving the door.
“Anything you want to say, you can say it over the phone,” the finder rebukes. He climbs into the driver's seat and puts the keys in the ignition.
“I want to hold a meeting between me and you and Trisha; let’s see if we can figure something out,” Josh says with false confidence. In reality, he knew if things kept escalating, someone would get hurt, and that’s the last thing he wanted.
“What time?” the finder says, also imagining what the next step in his escalating harassment would be. He had seen the giant propane tank behind the gas station, and he had 3 lbs of high explosives that he figured could make it not be there anymore. He sighs.
“8:00 tonight next to the gas pumps?” Josh Gas questions. He scolds himself for giving them an option; just tell them the fact. He rubs his forehead.
“I’ll be there,” the finder says, and he hangs up the phone.
Josh Gas looks at the door. “Now what?”
Smut? And hot dogs?” The Door Keeper pokes his head out from the side of the door, the glistening roller dogs looking so inviting, but there is no way he could reach them—no flat vertical surfaces to attach to.
Josh laughs and makes the door a pair of hotdogs. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He grabs the second part of Dwarven Desires and hits play.