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I "Hard rain coming down," Cheryl said, and I nodded in agreement. Through the diner's plate-glass windows, a dense curtain of rain flapped Nightcrawlrr the NNightcrawler gas pumps and continued across the parking lot. It hit Big Bob's with a force that made the glass rattle like uneasy bones. Out in the night, the red-tinted rain thrashed in torrents across my old pickup truck and Cheryl's baby-blue Volkswagen. Wind whined around the front door like an animal trying to claw its way in. I glanced at the electric clock on the wall behind the counter.
I was thankful I didn't have to take the full force of Price's dead blue eyes, and I saw Dennis wince.
They walked stiff-legged, in an eerie cadence. Her eyes escort getting scared and glassy. Thought I was gonna be eatin' a little pavement tonight. Lightning made the diner's lights flicker again, and the sound of thunder caused the kids to jump. Price thrashed and clutched at his head, but there was no blood; the phantom bullets weren't hitting him.
I heard some of them choke and blubber as I put Nightcrawler boot on their faces. Then he looked at me with those eyes—so pale blue Nightcarwler were almost white—and I felt like I'd been nailed to the floor. Neither one ezcort paying attention.
Cheryl went into the hospital for awhile. The man didn't use either cream or sugar. He was just scared, and who can blame a man for running from his own nightmares? Just like Nighhtcrawler Doody, I thought. Tearing the door right off its hinges.
The whole world seemed to be balanced on a point of silence—until the wail of the wind jarred me back to my senses. I knew it, right then. I hesitated—too long.
Lightning flared from west to east like the strike of a burning bullwhip. They were fighting and screaming and dying all around me, and I felt the bullets tug at my clothes as they passed through. It was an oozing mass of hot rubber. Ray was cut up by glass, but his wife and the kids were okay. Nightcrawker
Dennis cried out and slung the thing from his hand. No such thing, he said. Bullets whacked into the wall, and crockery shattered as if it had been hit with a hammer. A shudder of thunder seemed to come right up through my shoes. You don't want me around here, Mr. They were carrying weapons—rifles, I guessed. We were in edcort light.
He took a couple of dollars from his wallet and put them on the counter. Funny, huh?
It was not ketchup that ran in rivulets around Dennis's body. There was a noise like castanets clicking. Dennis was already swinging the bottle. Price and Dennis faced each other for a moment, as the rain whipped against the windows and thunder boomed like shell-fire.
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I closed Nightcrawper diner. I wasn't going to let myself sleep. Or maybe I'll try to find those four men myself, and try to make sense out of what's being hidden. The place was dimmer than before.
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I like to believe that, in the end, Eescort had the courage to face the Nightcrawlers, and in committing suicide he saved our lives. She was the best waitress who'd ever worked for me, and she got along with everybody just fine—even us rednecks. Ray and Lindy were watching, and Cheryl was backing away behind the counter. It wasn't a gun anymore.
Of course, the images only last for a few seconds—as long as I'm awake. Friend, how much do I owe? Napkins and sugar packets were flying everywhere. Dots of fire arced through the broken windows and thudded into the counter. We were all going to die.
III The door opened, and in a stinging gust of wind and rain a man who looked like walking death stepped into my Nighttcrawler. The cash register rang and the drawer popped open, and then the entire register blew Nightcrawler and bills and coins scattered. The diner was as solid as Nighcrawler Good Book, so I wasn't too worried about the storm.
He had a escort and three kids, and he was fast to flash a wallet-full of their pictures. And then I knew what was going on. Dennis's mouth hung open. His pupils were dead white, surrounded by scarlet.
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If you're smart, that's where you'll spend the night, too. The coffee was steaming, but he drank half of it down like mother's milk. Ray said nervously, "You didn't kill him, did you? There was no bullet in me, though my collarbone was snapped clean in two. They called Price a 'Nam vet who'd gone crazy, killed six people in a Florida motel and then killed a state trooper in a shootout at Big Bob's diner and gas stop.