Nominated for the 2006 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in an Anthology. Featuring Jennifer Pelland, Christopher Rowe, Steven Savile, Nancy Fulda, Eugie Foster, Scott Nicholson, Bryn Sparks, Rhonda Eudaly, Lavie Tidhar, Cherie Priest, Angeline Hawkes-Fulbright, and Mari Adkins. Learn more 
Short Fiction: Blue Lights
Gunter Johnson stood on the corner of Vine and Main wearing a cardboard sign strapped around his neck. Hours ago, he lost count of the number of obscene gestures and swear words tossed his direction. Did people really think he wanted to be out here? Granted, he knew he looked ridiculous. Who wouldn’t?
He shivered against the early spring breeze that gusted through the streets of downtown Lexington. As though directed by the wind, a group of high school boys walked down South Main making straight for his corner. They guffawed and shoved each other, taking turns drinking from a brown paper bag.
“Please let them go down First Street,” Gunter prayed. A car drove past, honking their horn, the driver laughing and pointing. The teenager’s stopped, directing their attention to the vehicle and then to Gunter. They sauntered straight over like a pack of hungry wolves.
A boy, maybe 18 years old, eyed Gunter from head to toe. The boy flicked the strap that held the cardboard sign and got right in Gunter’s face. “Hell, Herschel, we got us a first class certified loser.” He reeked of cheap vodka.
The leader of the pack, probably ‘Herschel’, read the cardboard sign aloud.
“Pick Pizza Plaza! Pizzazz pizza for $5 bucks!”
Gunter averted his gaze. “I got coupons for a free drink.”
The boys laughed. “Don’t you know how stupid you look?”
A Mercedes turning up Main Street momentarily blinded Gunter with its blue halogen headlights. Through the haze, he whispered, “Pizza Plaza is your place for fun, eat pizza by the ton.” He had to play it cool, because old man Dook was peering out the door of the Pizza Plaza. And Dook hated Gunter, only giving him the job to repay a favor to Gunter’s parole officer. Any excuse Dook could find, and he would get rid of a scumbag like Gunter.
“Hey Herschel, take his sign.”
“No, please don’t!”
Herschel snorted and reached for Gunter’s cardboard display. Gunter smacked his hands away. Herschel rushed forward and slammed Gunter against the bricks of the Plaza.
“I know who you are, sicko. Don’t ever touch me again, unless you want my daddy to blow your fucking head off!” Herschel tore the cardboard sign away. “Come on, guys, we got better shit to do than mess with this child rapist.”
Several of the boys whacked Gunter upside his head for good measure. And as quick as they appeared, they disappeared around the corner. Gunter sighed and slid down the wall to the dirty sidewalk. “I’m not a rapist.”
Dook stormed out of the Pizza Plaza. His pasty face was accented with smears of dough. “You know whose boy you just messed with? Have you no common sense? That’s councilman’s Smith’s kid. You’re fired, you worthless pervert. I don’t want my business associated with you.”
Gunter didn’t bother to argue. He placed his face in his hands and wept.
“Close the goddamn door, you fool,” someone screamed. Gunter stumbled inside and took a place at the bar.
“Bald Knob bourbon?” Gunter inquired.
In a second, a tumbler appeared with several swallows of the stout whiskey. Gunter tossed it back in one swallow. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. “Another one, please.”
Gunter gathered his thoughts. He was an ex-felon, a victim of circumstances. His former roommate and best friend of twenty years, Barkley Henson, disappeared one fateful summer day nearly three years ago. Barkley never worked and often took trips to Florida with his girlfriend to visit an uncle, so his absence was no surprise to Gunter. But three days later, the Feds and the county sheriff showed up at his apartment with a warrant to search the premises. They scoured the apartment and uncovered a stash of stolen credit cards in Barkley’s room. And to his misfortune, Gunter had no proof that Barkley existed. Barkley wasn’t listed on any of the utility bills, nor was he on the lease agreement. Barkley never kept personal belongings in the apartment. There was no sign that anyone but Gunter lived there. So when a sheriff’s deputy found a box of bootleg videos under Gunter’s bed, logic told them one thing; that they belonged to Gunter.
The box contained hundreds of hours of underage porn ordered from black market distributor from Thailand. The entire stash was ordered using the stolen credit cards. It didn’t take long for the court and jury to find him guilty and send him to jail for two years for identity theft and owning child pornography. He was out in eighteen months on good behavior and parole.
Gunter paid for another round of bourbon. His parole agreement required him to maintain gainful employment. Unemployment status at any time longer than 30 days meant his parole was revoked and back he went to the state penitentiary. Last time he was unemployed, it had taken him 29 days to find a job, the job at the Pizza Plaza.
Gunter found himself at the end of life’s rope. He refused to go back to jail. The prisoners considered him a pervert, punishing him in indescribable, sodomite ways. That wasn’t even the worst part. His shame nearly brought him to suicide one evening after walking the suburbs of Lexington with his parole supervisor to inform all the moms and dads that a child pornographer lived in the neighborhood. And while Gunter no longer carried that sense of self called ‘pride’, he refused to work for another asshole like Dook.
He contemplated all this while his ample backside rested on a stool drinking his favorite bourbon, the remains of his termination pay slowly being fed out of his pocket to the bartender.
“Hey buddy, shouldn’t you slow down?”
“Mind your fucking business.”
A couple of heavies approached. The bartender nodded and the men rushed forward and grabbed Gunter around his arms. They tossed him off the stool into the street.
“We know who you are. Stay the fuck away from our bar, you creep!” Both men pounded Gunter’s body with their steel toed boots. On and on it went, until Gunter felt numb and comatose. The last thing he remembered was seeing the moon’s reflection through a van’s foggy window.
Pain danced along his body, literally from head to toe. He was hung over and his ribs hurt like hell, no doubt broken. Apparently he wasn’t just kicked out of the bar, but beaten and dumped on side of the road. This was harsh even by Gunter’s low standards.
He spotted a folded piece of yellow paper next to him. Picking it up, he pried it open and read the water streaked contents.
You have been warned. Stay out of Lexington. Gunter cursed and tossed the paper aside.
Grimacing, he planted his body forward and forced himself to his feet. He was faced with two options: hitchhike a ride somewhere or hide in the forest and let nature end his misery. “Let’s see, no money, no job, no friends,” Gunter mumbled. He bundled his arms around his wet, sore body and limped into the forest.
He reckoned he was well south of London, Kentucky, near the Cumberland Falls exit of I-75. The roadway and landscape was familiar. He remembered why. As a child, his family would take I-75 South and get off at the exit that led to the world’s first Kentucky Fried Chicken. They would order a bucket of Colonel Sander’s best chicken, and have a family picnic at the Fall’s campground. His mother, especially, loved the place. Gunter often thought of her as a hippy of sorts, a nature loving, peace-preaching woman of love. He never understood her strange beliefs, but he loved her more than anything.
After every picnic, he and his mother would sneak away and go to a private outcropping of rocks below the Falls to let the water spray cool their faces in the wonderful summer sun.
Gunter walked, listening to his footsteps squishing against the forest floor. He noticed little sprouts of vibrant green blossoming everywhere. Spring worked her majestic glory, awakening the woods, painting her beauty all across the Appalachian region. Gunter did not notice as the pain drained from his body, replaced by the warmth of exertion, and something more. He felt compelled to move, boundless energy refilling the emptiness that was his life just moments before.
In the blink of an eye, the daylight turned to dusk. By this point, Gunter had lost all track of time. He hiked through the forest, knowing by instinct what roots and slippery footholds to avoid. Something primal urged him onward. A full moon rose over the mountains lighting his path through crooked fingers of the forest canopy. The need for food and water disappeared. The broken ribs in his chest no longer nagged his every movement. Like a dog on a hunt, he pressed on.
When he finally heard the roar of water, Gunter could not discern how long he had been hiking. No matter, this did not concern him. He was at his destination, beyond some bushes that bordered the bank of a river. A tickle in his memory brought him images of his mother, of happiness and love. Looking upstream, he witnessed the glory of Cumberland Falls.
Gunter cried at the wondrous sight. In the blue moonlight, he could see the rush of the water and the clouds of mist. Across the river on the other bank, he saw a young boy, full of hopes and dreams, jumping up and down pointing at the Falls. A woman, the boy’s mother, smiled and hugged her son. Gunter did not try to hide. He knew them and they knew him.
The moon reached its skyward apex and a wonderful thing happened. Reaching from the base of the falls and arching downstream, a moonbow appeared. From this moonbow, a goddess of serenity appeared. Her hair glowed pale blue and she was escorted by a beautiful white wolf. She glided to Gunter, who could not meet her gaze, and cast his eyes downward.
“Dianna,” he whispered.
“Diona,” she answered, touching his forehead.
Something spiritual compelled Gunter to speak.
“Diana, queen of night
In all your beauty bright,
Shine on us here,
And with your silver beam
Unlock the gates of dream.”
He recalled these same words as his mother spoke them many years ago. The vision of the moon goddess flashed like a magnificent sunburst. He felt overwhelmed, his consciousness melting away. Gunter dropped to his knees, and for the second time in as many days, passed out.
“Hey buddy, shouldn’t you slow down?”
“Mind your own…” Gunter halted. The bartender angled his head, waiting on Gunter to make his retort. In the corner of his eyes, Gunter saw two burly men stand erect.
“Nevermind.” Gunter took some dollar bills out of his pocket and tipped the bartender. He stretched his legs and stepped outside of the bar.
Through the city lights, he stared at the moon, full and blue. Before he went back to the parole officer, he would make a trip home. It was time to set some things right in this mess of a life.
