The Ghost of Dome Rock Road

Hey Boil Man!

A soft gray mist filled the air in the room. Barry wasn't sure if it was something in the air, or maybe his eyes needed to clear. He rubbed his eyes gently, but the thin gray smoke remained. This place looked familiar - very familiar. He noticed a large French tapestry adorning the wall above an overstuffed sectional on one side of the room. On the other side, sitting on top of an antique curio table, was a miniature suit of armor, just like the one his dad won in a poker game when he was a kid. A flicker of light caught his attention, and he turned and looked at the other end of the massive living space. The flickering light was coming from a big-screen television. He could make out that someone was sitting in front of the TV in an oversized leather La-Z-Boy recliner.

His legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each as he walked toward the flickering light. He smelled a familiar odor. Liver and onions! Yuck! There's no mistaking that foul aroma but wait...What the hell? Just then, he could hear his mother talking in the next room. She was on the phone, gabbing with her friend Doris. How could this be? His mother had passed away seven years ago from cancer. Yet that was her voice in the next room! Then it hit Barry. He was standing in his parents' living room, but back in time. His father was sitting in his Laz-Z-Boy smoking a cigar and watching Monday Night Football. Barry felt a gleeful sense of nostalgia, remembering how they would sit in that recliner watching MNF when he was a kid. Then a shiver of reality jerked Barry's thoughts back into growing up in the Jankins household. All at once, the gray mist covering the room coalesced into a frightening form that seemed to engulf Barry. He gasped for air.

A cellphone on the table next to his dad's La-Z-Boy rang. His dad answered the call. It was Sheriff Fred Koontz. Barry could clearly hear the sheriff's voice through the phone receiver. "Mr. Jankins, it's Sheriff Fred Koontz of the La Paz County Sheriff's Office. One of my deputies informed me that someone called the sheriff's office to report a break-in at a local church. An eyewitness was sure they saw your son and some of his friends break into The New Hope Church this afternoon. They trashed the place, wrote stupid and hateful stuff all over the walls. Mostly petty vandalism kind of stuff. The pastor was very upset, but he said if the kids cleaned up their mess and if someone pays for the damages – he won't press any charges."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Sheriff Koontz. I'll send my son over there to clean up as soon as he gets home, and I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this as quiet as you can. I owe you one." Before the sheriff could reply, John Jankins ended the call and bolted out of the La-Z-Boy. He was furious! He began shaking violently as he yelled out to his wife in the next room. "Edna, where is that damn kid?" Edna poked her head through the swinging door from the kitchen, the phone receiver still held against her ear. "What's going on, John?" "It's that God damn boy! He's got himself into trouble again, and this time it's serious. I don't know what the hell is wrong with that kid. He's been nothing but trouble since the day he was born." "John, what a terrible thing to say, you don't really mean that "-- John cut her off before she could say another word. "You're goddamn right, I mean it!"

Barry's thoughts turned dark when a chilling voice abruptly interrupted his train of thought. "Yeah, man! You was the death of your Mummy. So what...let's git out of here n' go have some fun." Barry recognized the voice immediately and remembered the dark, evil presence in his head that he felt earlier when he was in the back of the cop car. Except now it was right here - in the room with him, and he realized this thing was orchestrating what he was seeing.

"Why did you bring me here?" Barry asked. "To show you what you did before, it don't mean shit anymore, "the voice bellowed in a sadistic tone. The words seem to come out of a rough opening in the fuzzy gray mass that looked like a head when it talked. Instead of teeth, though, there were razor knives in its mouth. Barry could see what looked like a hot flame getting ready to leap out of its mouth when it spoke. "Hey!! Remember that prick chem teacher you had in 10th grade?" the ghost shouted. Barry remembered that teacher, alright, Mr. Simmons. Some kids called him 'Boil Man' because he had a terrible acne problem. He caught Barry cheating on his final exam and flunked him! Barry had to go to summer school to make up that class.

"What about him?" Barry asked. "Well, he cumin' back from La-La Land with his family right now. Let go have some fun!!" Suffocating darkness fell over Barry as he felt himself being transported to another location.

Al Simmons had just pulled out of the rest area a few miles beyond the Ehrenberg Point of Entry on the I-10. His grown sons were dozing behind him in the back seat, and his wife was snoring loudly in the jump seat behind them. Their two pugs began settling in on the front passenger seat when the canines suddenly yelped loudly and scurried to the back of the SUV. It startled Al momentarily, but the pugs were a little high-strung, so this behavior didn't seem that unusual. He went back to listening to the radio, except now there was strange static coming in through the front speakers of the sound system. This was strange since satellite radio doesn't have the same reception issues as traditional AM or FM radio. He smelled a peculiar odor coming from the front passenger seat that hadn't been there just a few minutes ago – sort of a combination of sulfur and men's aftershave.

Al fumbled with the dial on his radio, thinking he could dial out the static when he began to hear a voice, faint and raspy at first but quickly growing louder. Then, wham! He could make it out clearly – "Hey, B0il Man! You prick, where do ya tink yous going?" Al began to feel a noticeable tug to the right on the steering wheel of the big SUV. "Dis one for Barry!" the growling voice shouted over and over again through the front speakers.

Al turned his attention away from the radio because he was seriously drifting onto the highway's right shoulder. He couldn't stop the hard tug on the steering wheel. He tried slowing the vehicle, but it seemed like someone was pushing down on his foot, preventing him from letting up on the accelerator pedal. The SUV started hitting the rumble strips it veered onto the shoulder. Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

The thumping sound started his passengers. "Al! What's going on?" screamed his wife from the jump seat. "I don't know," Al replied nervously. "Something or someone is pulling on the steering wheel, and I can't stop it." One of his sons frantically chimed in, "What do you mean, someone, Dad? There's no one up there with you, is there?" Al replied, "No! I mean, yes, but the radio keeps saying something about a guy named Barry or something." Just then, the SUV left the shoulder and went airborne. Traveling at well over 90 miles per hour, the big Chevy careened down a steep ravine, flipping end-over-end several times before coming to rest against a massive boulder.

Barry looked down on the wreck from the freeway shoulder. "Bam!! That's what I'm talkin' about, man!" the evil voice clamored loudly. Sure, Barry had briefly thought about burning the teacher's house down that summer. Especially after his girlfriend dumped him, but he would have made sure no one was home first. There were innocent people in that smashed-up SUV down in the ravine.

Then a thought cut through Barry like a hot scalpel through tender flesh. Is this what it's going to be like - forever? Was this evil 'thing' in charge of him, or could he somehow command it to do what he wanted it to do? Like, go away!! He remembered the words again on the laptop screen when he was in the cop's police cruiser. Choose Wisely... What did that mean? Where did that come from? Could it help him get rid of this evil specter?