A big, burly trucker, hat pulled low over his browse, pushed into the diner. Normally, I loved truckers. Some were skeevy, yeah, and some were too tired to even function, mainlining coffee like it was their actual job, but for the most part they were respectful and tipped well. Some even had great stories. And maybe this trucker did too, but I couldn't even contemplate that because of the massive, shadowy figure clinging to his shoulders.
Name: Phantasm
Class: Lost Spirit
Level: 5
Uh oh…
Unlike the other ghostie-goo I’d run into, this one’s level was glowing a bright, malevolent red in my vision, like a warning sign. And boy was I heeding the warning, immediately turning around and going to Amy.
“Heeeey, it's almost time for me to start doing my side work, do you mind taking my table that just came in? It's a solo trucker, no big deal. I know he's gonna tip good.”
Amy looked over to the table and gave me a nod, but before she could answer verbally, her face lost all of its color again and she was rushing back to the bathroom.
“I'll take that as a no.”
Quickly heading to the back, I checked to see if my or her relief had arrived early. It wasn't unheard of, considering how finicky the late night slash early morning buses could be, but just my luck, it was only the two cooks.
“What's wrong, Bridgey-Boo? You look like you've seen a ghost.” I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the middle-aged man for a moment, truly confused whether he was joking or had some sort of insane insight on my situation. His smile faded. “What? Is there something on my face?”
“No, uh, must have misheard you is all,” I said, quickly going to the coffee pot and pouring a cup. My mind was racing, but I really couldn't think of any other solution that had me avoiding interacting with the man and his ectoplasmic backpack. It really seemed like I was stuck up a creek without a paddle.
I couldn't just not serve him. After all, he likely had absolutely no idea about the boogeyman gripping his shoulders and floating above his head. If I took much longer, I had no doubt that he would come to the window facing the back and ask if he could be served.
I guess I had no choice.
Pasting a smile on my face, I went out to greet him, apologizing for my tardiness and setting the cup of coffee on the table.
“Figured you might want this while you look at the menu,” I said while decidedly keeping my gaze locked on his face. Perhaps the eye contact was a little too intense, but I was doing everything I could to avoid acknowledging his shadowy companion. Maybe if I didn't pay attention to it, it wouldn't pay attention to me.
“Yes, very good. It likely can't sense you since you're not a full Reaper. As long as you don't let it know that you're aware of its existence, it should leave you alone just like every other human. It really only cares about the soul it's attached to.”
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I didn't thank the voice verbally considering I was in the middle of talking to a patron, but I hope that she could feel my gratitude.
“Is there anything else I can get you while you peruse the menu? Or are you ready to order?”
“This regular?” the trucker asked, nodding at the coffee cup. While his voice was gruff, perhaps even curt, it wasn't rude. I got the distinct impression that he was incredibly weary.
“You bet it is. But we do have decaf if that's what you want.”
“I'm afraid even smelling decaf might knock me out now. Might as well bring a whole pot. I've got another hour's drive before I get to the hotel I want to stop at.”
“Roger, roger. I'll get a whole new pot started for you and take your order once I'm back.”
“Sounds good to me.”
It was a particularly disconcerting thing, having a regular, friendly conversation with one of our customers while trying to decidedly ignore the violent and dangerous entity hovering just a few feet away. While I tried not to look at it, it was hard not to notice its movement in my peripheral vision, and I swore that sometimes it swung its head closer to look at me, almost as if it was trying to startle me into reaction.
Thankfully, I managed to keep my cool, and I hightailed it out of there as soon as I could. My life certainly wasn't easy before finding a dying Reaper in an alley, but it sure had gotten a lot more complicated really, really fast.
“Putting on another pot of coffee with the solo machine for a customer,” I called to the cooks as I tried to steady my breathing. “Does anyone want the dregs from the double-burner? I might as well start all of them fresh considering the end of swing shift rush should be here in an hour or so.
“Yeah, I’ll take it,” Niko answered back.
“Gotcha. Coming right up!”
Did I take my time making sure my coworkers got mugs of steaming drinks? Yes, I did. But there was only so long I could procrastinate, and soon enough, the whole pot on the single machine was done.
I knew that not many diners would serve their clientele entire pots of coffee, but we had a machine specifically for it and as long as people didn't mind the weight, they seemed pretty happy about it. A lot of our repeat late night customers specifically mentioned it whenever they complimented the place, so it wasn't likely to go anywhere soon. And to be honest, I kind of liked it. It was simple, but it was also a little touch of extra consideration that helped the people that we served.
It really was too bad that a whole pot of coffee wasn't likely to change the temperament of a level five phantasm. Because I was pretty sure that if it did, the voice would have given me that tip already.
“Here’s your fresh pot! Now, what can I clog your arteries with tonight?”
The trucker let out a short laugh, but there wasn’t heart in it. Maybe I was too far in my own head, but it felt like the guy was just a bit… sad. Like there was a dreary watercolor gray bleeding into all the edges of him.
“I’ll take the double bacon cheeseburger with extra mayo, extra lettuce and can I have some broccoli on the side instead of fries?”
“Broccoli?” I teased. “Our specialty here is causing heart attacks, not preventing them.” I couldn’t always pull that line out with everyone, but I found plenty of blue collar types enjoyed being able to joke around with me.
“Yeah, well consider me a spanner in the works. Trying to be a little healthy.”
“Well it’s a great step. Broccoli is delicious, if you ask me. I’ll go put that into the kitchen for ya while you enjoy your fresh pot.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
“It’s my pleasure, really.”
I hurried off, eager to be away from the phantasm again. I swore the bare skin of my arm that was facing it now felt oily and a bit cold, like it had leached the energy from me.
“You’re doing a great job,” the voice soothed as I sped-walked away. “You’re not ready to take on a level five at all. It’s best to play it safe.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to take on a level anything,” I countered under my breath.
“Um, excuse me, Miss! Could I get a refill? My server disappeared.”
I whirled on instinct to a young woman who was sitting at the island with bar stools that stood between the kitchen window and our table and booth area, grin on my face.
“Sure! That’s no—” I froze mid-sentence, because with my instinctual turn I’d ending up facing the direction the trucker was in, and like magnets, my eyes ended up locked with the phantasm’s.
Time stood still for a moment, screeching to a half with a discordant note in the back of my head. For the briefest of seconds, I hoped that somehow, I could tear my gaze away in time.
Nope.
The ghostly figure let out a roar, its amorphous mouth nearly doubling in size as it opened wide, smoky teeth emerging like dozens and dozens of daggers.
Welp, I was in trouble.
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