The Grievers
by Poysyn
The clock crept toward five o’clock. Near the end of a long day, Charlie Shaw stretched in his chair. He glanced around. Max, in the cubicle across from him, was playing Minesweeper without much luck. Jay, the new kid, dug his finger into his nose, seemingly quite intent on excavating something from deep within his skull. The smell of burnt coffee and whiteout permeated the office. Charlie looked down the hall for the new receptionist, but could barely see the edge of her desk. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow he’d ask her out. Charlie turned back to his computer.
The report had been done for hours, but if he’d handed it in early, it would soon be back, with many changes and corrections. If he handed it in on his way out, he wouldn’t have to see it again until tomorrow. He played with the formatting a little, not really changing anything, watching the clock. At last, five o’clock came. The office filled with noise as the silence was broken by the stirring of the workplace dead. Everyone started moving now, logging off, call-forwarding their phones, and getting their coats. Within fifteen minutes this place would be as silent as a crypt, except for the cleaners, with their squeaky carts and squirt bottles of bright blue, pink and green.
Charlie left in the middle of the pack, a move that he carefully planned. He didn’t want to seem too eager to get out of there because it looked bad. He pulled on his overcoat and gathered up his briefcase and lunch container. There was nothing work-related in the briefcase — a newspaper and maybe some old paper — but it made him feel important to carry it. His lunch container had held the remnants of last night’s “Hungry Man’s” Salisbury Steak, but he polished it off at lunch. Occasionally, throughout the afternoon a burp had reminded him that frozen dinners were even worse the next day.
“Big plans tonight, Charlie? You seem like you’re in a rush.” It was Jay, flushed and busily putting on his coat.
“You know what they say about a rolling stone,” Charlie smiled. “I gotta hit the gym tonight. I have to hurry if I want to get a locker.”
“Have a good workout.” Jay went down the other hallway, towards the “E” parking lot.
“It must suck to be new and have to park so far away,” Charlie thought. Workout, hah! That’s a joke. Charlie remembered the gym clothes in his car; pristine running shoes never used. He always had every intention of working out, but for some reason he always had something else to do. Like tonight, important game on tonight, his team could go all the way this year, of course he could use the exercise, but he’d go twice as long tomorrow.
His car started with a healthy rumble. He loved to drive, especially fast. Charlie weaved in and out of traffic, confident in his ability to control the vehicle at any speed. Pulling in to merge, he started home.
Traffic was bumper to bumper, and Charlie wasn’t having any luck with the lights either, every one was red as soon as he got there. He could feel the back of his neck getting hot as he got more and more frustrated. Up ahead to the right, he noticed a line of cars heading off onto a wide residential street. Charlie decided it couldn’t be any worse than the traffic he was currently buried in and started to maneuver for the turn. He pulled into the right lane, narrowly missing the back bumper of the car in front of him. He just followed the yield to the right.
It was a lovely park-like residential area. The huge houses were well back from the road, surrounded by large, mature trees. Charlie sighed as he continued down the winding road, the stress melting away. He could make it home in record time, and be good and settled before the game came on. He found himself looking at the houses. The lawns were well kept, obviously manicured and landscaped with care. The buildings themselves were freshly painted and immaculate. A groomed median divided the lanes; many trees shaded this area too. It was a lovely setting, a place where you would expect to see children playing, people jogging and dogs being walked.
That’s when it occurred to Charlie. There was no one outside. No one. Not one single sign of human life other than the line of cars snaking its way through the area. Of course, he thought, maybe the rich lived differently. Maybe they didn’t go outside much. He wished he could live in a house that nice, have a gardener to do his lawn stuff. One thing he hated more than exercising was yard work. Even now, the grass and weeds in his yard were threatening to take over the sidewalk. If he could, he’s cement over the whole thing.
A few weeks ago his neighbors had decided to come and give him a hard time about his lawn. They said the jungle in his yard was affecting their property values. Now he was waiting to see how high the grass could get before they did something. The nerve of them! He had paid just as much money for his place as they had. If he wanted to live in a meadow, so be it.
The line of cars snaked along steadily in front of him. They just passed street after street at a constant speed. No stop signs or lights. That was cool. That morning he had gotten stuck halfway in an intersection because of a damned light. Sure, he had been running late, but he should’ve cleared it easily. If it hadn’t have been for that old man in the huge boat of a car making the turn. So he was late this morning. Not his fault though, that guy should’ve let him make it.
Charlie squinted into his rear-view mirror. He realized with a start that everyone was the same distance apart. No one was speeding up or passing — just rolling along at this leisurely pace. Even Charlie. He made no move to pass, to speed up or to honk his horn. He didn’t tailgate the guy in front of him or try to muscle him in to speeding up. Weirder than that, he felt no need to. He was perfectly at ease with staying in his place in the line. It was calming, relaxing. It felt as though it required no effort to steer his car through the turns. It was almost like all of the vehicles together were a part of a train, on an invisible track.
He thought about the new receptionist at work. What was her name? Carrie? Sherry? Cherry? Something like that. Man, was she hot. She had long dark hair and olive skin. She seemed at once exotic and sensual. He’d love to get a piece of that. Today she had worn a red skirt and multi-colored blouse, with red pumps. He loved those shoes. Spike heels, dark red leather. He imagined her naked except for those shoes. He could feel himself getting hard just thinking about it. He glanced around furtively for a moment and considered taking care of business. Stealthily he moved his hand over and tried to wedge his hand under his gut. He couldn’t get to his fly or button. When had his gut gotten so huge? God, she would never go out with him unless he looked good. Gym, definitely going to the gym tomorrow.
He noticed that all of the cars seemed to be going where he was, at least none of them had turned off yet. Surely some of them had though, he just hadn’t noticed. Charlie began to watch the cars around him, waiting for one of them to turn off. He counted seven cars in back, four cars in front. Mile after mile, there remained seven cars in back, four cars in front. He figured, no big deal, he would just turn off on the next street.
But there was nowhere to turn off. He would just take the next side street. He put his signal on and began to slow down. There was a street but no break in the median where he could turn, at least none he could see. But that was crazy — how did these people get to their homes? He put his foot back on the gas and went to turn his signal off, when he noticed something.
All of the cars behind him had their signals on, and he was still the same distance from the cars in front and behind him. How could that be possible? Unless they all slowed down when he had tried to make the turn. He turned his signal off and one after the other, all the cars behind him followed suit.
“That’s crazy,” Charlie said out loud.
The strange convoy continued. With nowhere to turn around, Charlie just kept on. It was getting towards the city outskirts and still, seven cars in back, four cars in front. Charlie felt like he was caught in a dream, but he was sure the cars stayed the same distance apart. The street offered no stop signs, no break from the constant speed, the slow winding scenery. Charlie felt like screaming; then he noticed the front car had its turn signal on.
Charlie laughed out loud, so great was his relief. How ridiculous, to think this was some sort of procession or something. Dusk was falling rapidly and the headlights and taillights glowed eerily. It seemed like something out of a cheap horror movie, the road to insanity, how childish to think of something like that. What a strange coincidence, the second car just turned its signal on. As he watched, so did the third. His palms became sweaty as he waited for the fourth to comply. Charlie counted silently in his head “one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three…” he gasped when the signal clicked on. The red light winking at him. It was his turn. He could feel the weight of the expectation. The unseen drivers on the cars behind him, waiting. His fingers shaking, he reached out and turned his signal on.
Almost immediately, he could see it spread down the line. They were all turning together.
He said to himself, “This is insane, I’ll just not turn, no big deal. I’ll just keep going straight, meet up with a main street somewhere and make it home in time to see the game. I’m not a child for God’s sake.”
He concentrated on the road past the turn. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and held the car straight. Like a snake the wheel twisted in his hand and the car turned. By itself. Charlie sobbed in fear as he followed the caravan down the narrow lane.
He heard a soft hissing ad the tree branches caressed the sides of his car. He shakily locked the doors with the auto-lock and tried to focus on the road. He could see almost nothing ahead, only the red taillights of the vehicle in front of him. He stayed the course. The lane emerged in to a dark parking lot. They passed a sign. “Eternal Rest Funeral Home.” Charlie laughed out loud. He had inadvertently gotten in to a funeral line. Everything made sense and his imagination must have done the rest. Charlie decided he would just wait in the car until everyone went in, then he’d quietly drive away. He felt so stupid. What an overreaction! Charlie waited, now relaxed.
No one moved. They all just waited, parked, headlights on. Charlie realized the lights at the funeral home were dark, it was obviously not open. He felt a little chill run down his spine. He needed to know. Turning off his car’s ignition, he got out of the car. He smoothed his hair back and fixed his tie. He would solve this little mystery, but it would take some finesse.
Charlie slowly walked up to the next car. His mind began to consider what kind of ghoul could be driving the car. He was relieved to see a normal man sitting at the wheel, a woman at his side. Charlie rapped on the window. The man looked at him, startled and rolled down his window.
In a friendly, casual tone Charlie started, “Hi, I’m pretty embarrassed but I think I’m lost. I got kind of caught up in your little group here and…”
The man looked at him blankly then said, “You have to ask the lead car.” He rolled his window back up.
Charlie straightened, a little taken aback at the man’s rude behavior but still he pressed on. He walked up to the lead car, his feet making crunching sounds on the gravel. He walked by the other two cars, each one the driver did not tun to look at him, nor did they make conversation with the other occupants in the car. Everyone stared straight ahead, waiting.
He got to the lead car and rapped on the window. An elderly man rolled the window down slowly, grimacing at the effort.
“What is this? What are you doing?” Charlie blurted out, forgetting the cover story.
The old man smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “We’re early. The service is later. We’re just early. We’ll have to wait for the service to start.”
“Whose service?” Charlie asked
“Doesn’t matter. Anyone. Child, adult, mother, father, daughter, son, sister, brother — it’s what we do. But we’re early, nothing’s ready yet.” The old man finished, then rolled up his window.
“What do you do?” Charlie begged to know.
“We cry when no one else does. When no one else cares if they live or die we make the trip. We are the grievers. We grieve for the lonely.” The old man finished and rolled up the window.
“Wait!” Charlie yelled, but the man ignored him.
Charlie stared at the closed window. Anger welled up, after all this way, after all the insanity, he doesn’t even get a normal explanation? He punched the window, hard. The old man turned, eyes wide and glared at him. A smile began on the wizened face and the smile grew. The lips stretched, past the limits on a normal mouth, reaching almost to his ears until all of the age-yellow teeth showed. A thick black tongue darted out and the man licked his lips.
Charlie fell back, with a yell of fear. He crawled then scrambled to his feet and half ran, half stumbled to his car. He cried openly as he jammed the key into the ignition. Gravel flew from beneath his tires as he turned crazily in the lot. He swerved around the other waiting cars and raced back down the lane.
Charlie swiped the tears from his eyes as he struggled to find his way home. He drove in blind panic for a few minutes; his only thought was to get away. Charlie struggled to calm down and come to terms with all he had seen and heard. Finally realizing he was lost and driving madly wasn’t helping, he pulled over and shakily took a few deep breaths.
He grabbed the map out of the glove compartment, but couldn’t seem to find the street he had come from. Tracing his route from work, he could not even find the turn-off he had taken. He decided if he drove for a while he would probably see something familiar. Turning blindly down a few streets, he finally found an intersection he recognized. A few more turns and he was on his way home.
He finished the rest of the drive, trying to bring himself under control, trying to make sense of what he saw. Surely it must have been his imagination, all that stress at work. Maybe he fell asleep at the wheel. Yeah, that’s it, he was dreaming. God, what a nightmare.
Charlie had completely dismissed the whole experience by the time he pulled in to his driveway. The grass around his house had been neatly trimmed. Now angry, he threw himself out of the car and stomped up the sidewalk. A note found in the mailbox explained that his neighbor had taken it upon himself to mow his lawn. He must’ve bumped his elbow on the car because now his left arm was sore. After the game he would have to go over and give them a piece of his mind.
Charlie threw his jacket and briefcase on the floor. He threw it a little too hard and the case tumbled down the stairs. The lid bumped open and the newspapers flew everywhere.
“Sonofabitch!” he swore. A drink — he really needed a drink. Rummaging in the liquor cabinet he found only a few whisky bottles with a teaspoon of the gold liquid in each. He poured them in his mouth, barely a swallow. Behind some glasses he found an ancient bottle of Crème de Menthe.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” He shrugged and walked back into the kitchen, swallowing the thick green stuff in huge gulps. Although it was giving him heartburn it did calm his nerves. Charlie threw a frozen dinner in the oven. In about an hour he would be tucking into re-heated burritos and re-fried rice
“Olé.” He hiccuped.
He sat in his favorite chair and put the game on. His team was ahead by two goals. His heartburn was getting a little worse; maybe he should go get some Tums.
Two hours later, Charlie’s neighbors called the fire department about the alarm that was blaring in Charlie’s house. The firefighters found the place filled with smoke from the TV dinner still in the oven, now charred black. On the TV, Charlie’s team was losing and would not be going to the playoffs. In the chair sat Charlie, dead from the massive heart attack that had killed him only minutes after he had sat down. A roll of Tums only inches from his outstretched hand.
After all, the old man had said they were early.