Heaven, Hell, or Houston: A Zombie Thriller by Erb Thom

Author:Erb, Thom [Erb, Thom]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2015-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

19.

Life’s a Misery

Jimbo’s Rusty Cactus Diner & Blue Sky Drive-In

Rt. 14

Friday, 11:34 p.m.

“Jesus H. Christ, where the hell is Ellen? Robbie Casella bellowed toward the kitchen of the roadside diner, her half smoked Lark clinging precariously from her full bottom lip. She glimpsed up at the Elvis Presley clock hanging on the yellowing wall and shook her head. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me, Jimbo, ‘My goddamn car won’t start and that low-rent man o’ mine is off drinking down at Finn’s again. Or, I’m sorry Jimbo, but this storm is really, really bad and ya know how bad my eyesight can be,’ did I get that about right?” She smiled, her wide face still held the beauty of her fifty-five plus years on the planet.

“Well lookie who wins the prize at the bottom of the Cracker Jack box.” Jimbo poked his stubble-covered, round face through the serving window that separated the kitchen from the counter. His thick white muttonchops hugged his rosy cheeks and huge, yellow-toothed smile. He smacked the bell on the counter with the flat of his spatula and shot Robbie his friendliest grin. She knew all too well what the next words were going to be, regardless of how high he piled the sugar on.

“Oh, ain’t no way in hell, I’m takin’ her shift again, Jimbo!” She placed the plate of biscuits and gravy down on the worn counter in front of a lanky trucker who reminded Robbie of one of those hippie ZZ Top boys she’d seen on TV.

“Can I have some more coffee?” The Trucker’s words fell on deaf ears as Robbie spun on her well-worn heel, one hand on her wide hip, and squinted back at the portly diner owner.

“You do realize I just worked a ten hour shift at this hell-hole, right?” she said through pursed lips and adjusted her peroxide blonde hairdo, waiting impatiently for a response.

“Yeah, Robbie, I know, but what do ya want me to do, huh? Ellen’s about as reliable as a damn Pinto, but I can’t do this myself. And hell, the storm out there is ragin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat. I got a feelin’ that we’ll be seein’ a rush of truckers and other poor folks out there needin’ a place to ride the storm out, so what you say, Robbie?” Jimbo’s head popped back through the service window, with his hairy, thick arms held out in an exhausted shrug. “C’mon, honey. Look, I’ll make it well worth your while.” He gave her a long, promising wink, and his bushy white eyebrows played along with the accompanying teasing grin across his unshaven face.

The storm pounded the small diner, and the yellowish colored rain pelted the windows. Robbie knew that, once again, she was going to get screwed, and not in a good way. She buckled and adjusted the horn-rimmed glasses on her face, letting a small smile break across her lined face.

“Oh, like that’s going to be a real deal breaker.” She let out a dull chortle and waved him away back into the kitchen.

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