Episode 2.5: "The God Amp"

Every impulse in my body was telling me not to sit on this nasty bathroom floor, but I could already feel my legs stiffen and ache as they struggled to support my exhausted frame. I moved my back against the wall and slid down to the floor, making sure my hands came nowhere near it. I felt Maxine sit down next to me. Her perfume mixed with a slight hint of perspiration, providing me with a much-needed reprieve from the noxious fecal stench that dominated the small room. Randall sat down across from me, his back to the door. I heard the click-clack of a deadbolt sliding into place.

“G’night everyone,” he said quietly, “If you can call it that.” I was positive that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, considering the madness that we had just experienced. Not to mention the fact that I was sitting upright in a restroom that was long overdue for a cleaning. All the same, I felt myself nod off. It had been a long, bizarre day, and that tends to take it out of a person.

My slumber was plagued by strange dreams, the most vivid of which found me in the middle of a vacant interstate somewhere in the desert. I could feel the hot sun beating down on my exposed neck and arms while I walked the length of this uninhabited freeway. Soon, I could feel a brief respite from the scorching sun, as if a cloud was passing by. I tripped on something hard, and bent down to examine it. It was the size and shape of a guitar amp, but something was strange about it. The outer casing was smooth like glass, and my fingers slid across the grill as if it was a surface covered with cool water.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stood up to greet the hand’s owner, but there was no one there.

“Hello?” I called, hoping for a reply. I waited for what seemed like several hours until I heard the unmistakable strumming of an acoustic guitar. The sound eventually took the form of an achingly familiar voice.

“Welcome to the fifth dimension,” said the voice quietly, “You’ve been brought here to gain important knowledge that will help you in the days and months to come.”

“What knowledge?” I asked. My voice felt thick and dissonant, and it disrupted the natural harmonies that I could hear blending around me.

“The object at your feet is a weapon.” Where had I heard this voice? It was right there at the tip of my memory, but I couldn’t recall the name.

“What exactly is this weapon?” Again, my voice sounded harsh and grating.

“It is called the God Amp. With it, your music becomes weaponry. When the time comes to use it, you must not hesitate,” I detected a change in the background music, “I must go soon. Do you have any other questions?”

“Yeah,” I blurted. For some reason, questions like “So what is this God Amp?” and “Enemy? What enemy?” were pushed to the background.

“Who are you?” There was a pause, as if the voice was debating whether or not to provide an answer.

“I have inhabited many forms and taken many shapes. I travel through the strum of the electric guitar, and through the deep throbbing beat of the bass drum. I am your only hope.”

Episode 2.4: "Introductions"

There’s something about puking in front of people that makes you feel somehow ashamed…like you don’t want others to see what food looks like after it's been in your particular stomach. I decided to take the initiative and break the awkward silence that had settled in our smelly bathroom sanctuary.

“What exactly happened on the bus?”

“Shee-yit! You didn’t see it?” the twangy voice replied.

“Well, no.” I pointed to my sunglasses.

“Why you wearin’ shades? You can’t see shit wearin’ those when it’s dark out.”

“He’s blind, dumbass.” The black dude replied.

“Oh, damn! Apologies, man. Given the pure, pants-pissing terror of the evening, I’d say bein’ blind is an advantage, if it’s any consolation.” Twangy-Voice sounded skinny and lean, like some kind of wild dog.

“After…I didn’t get your name?” The woman had begun speaking, addressing the black dude.

“Name’s Randall.” He replied.

“After Randall took the wheel and stopped the bus, there was something waiting out there in the dark for us. All I could see where chains made of razor wire slicing people in half when I saw you two take off.” Her syllables came out in short bursts, like a semi-automatic weapon. I pictured her with short hair and pursed lips.

“You told us to run, man,” Randall said to me, his voice painting me a mental picture of a soldier or a cop, “How’d you know something was coming if you can’t see anything?” This was a question that I was still trying to answer myself.

“I dunno," For some reason, I felt compelled to lie about what I 'saw,' "I just…I thought I heard something from that direction and didn’t want to find out what it was.”

“Well, it may have saved our lives, so I guess we should be thankin’ you. What’s your name?”

“Ed. Ed Devlin. I’m traveling to Boston from Toomsboro, Georgia.” I reached out my hand, which Randall enveloped in his. The dude must be huge.

“I guess after sharing a near-death experience, introductions are appropriate.” The woman replied, “I’m Maxine Gunn. I’ve been living in Baton Rouge. What’s your deal, truckstop?” I assumed she was talking to the dude with the twangy voice.

“Name’s Elvis Wickham. Came out from Dodge City, Kansas, and this has been the absolute weirdest day of my entire life.” I heard the sound of water running and quick, slurping gulps as Elvis drank deeply from the faucet. I hoped it wasn’t the one that I puked in.

“How about you Randall?” Maxine asked.

“Yeah, Randall Cobb. I’m from Morristown, New Jersey.”

“Well,” Elvis began as he sat down on the floor, “Now that we know each other’s names and have nearly been flayed alive by sadomasochists, I guess we’re ready enough to spend the night in a filthy bathroom together.” We all murmured some form of agreement.

Episode 2.3 "Bathroom of Solace"

“Something…something’s coming,” I muttered and pointed in the direction of these three shapes that I could see for some completely unknown reason, “We’ve got to get out of here.” At this point, the shapes broke into a full sprint, and the screaming started up again. I heard the sound of a jagged knife cutting through steak (not chains ripping through what was left of the passengers), the man next to me grabbed my shoulders and yelled, “Move!” once more.

We ran for what seemed like hours. My legs didn’t want to cooperate, and my lungs burned. I kept looking back towards our bus and felt somewhat relieved that the blazing forms had subsided, leaving me to my familiar blank vision.

“Quick! Let’s duck in here!” I heard a panicked woman gasp. A door hinge squeaked open, and I was taken inside with the rest of the survivors. The thick smell of stale air freshener mingled with human waste led me to believe that we had just ducked into a rest stop bathroom that was in dire need of some maintenance. The stench nearly caused me to gag, but on the plus side, I wasn’t getting sliced in half by razor wire.

“I bet some weird shit has gone down in here!” Another voice, nasal and twangy, echoed out against the restroom walls.

“Did you guys see those…things? What the hell were they?” This was the woman again, speaking in a slightly more calm tone of voice that revealed a subtle Southern drawl, “Oh shit! And what about those people’s heads popping like zits! I’ve never seen so much blood!” Her description confirmed the grim suspicion that was gnawing at me. Instinctively, I ran to the sink and turned on the cold water so I could rinse what I now knew to be blood off of my face. My heart felt like it was trying to break out of my chest and I was having trouble breathing. What in the hell was going on? Exploding heads? Fiery creatures wrapped in razor wire? And I swear this must be the filthiest rest stop in the state.

“You doin’ okay, Shades?” The Southern woman spoke, “You’re lookin’ greenish.” I placed my hands on the edge of the sink and breathed in a cloud of toilet smell. I thought the oxygen would help clear my head, but it didn’t. It made me barf. I did my best to guess where the sink was, but I heard some of it splatter on the ground at my feet. Amid surprised shouts of disgust, the woman grabbed my shoulders.

“Oh, dude! Here, let’s have you sit down for a bit. Come on. It’s okay.” She led me to a bench that must have been bolted to the wall. I was grateful for this puzzling addition to the rest room. The guy who yanked me off the bus didn’t seem to be fazed by my sudden surge of puke. He was talking quietly to himself, working out the events that had just transpired.

“They looked like people, but they moved way too fast…and the chains…they were almost like…a part of their body?” I couldn’t tell for sure, but he sounded black. Based on the voices and breathing that I could hear inside the slightly cramped bathroom, I guessed that there were only four of us, including me. I felt dumb for puking all over the place. Now we had that awesome smell to deal with. In order to occupy my mind, I thought about my dad. I hope he’s okay.