Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#069Reader Mode

#069

2. A Family-Run Gas Station Built on Trust and Belief: Where Minimum Wage Prevails

Before starting his trip, Seojun made sure he had all the necessary things. A toothbrush, dental floss, and toothpaste to keep his teeth clean; pajamas for both warm and cold weather; and a soft, comfortable blanket. He also packed fresh, unused underwear. But no matter how prepared you are, everyday items eventually get old and worn out. And gas? Well, it has a way of disappearing as you cruise down the highway.

“Hmm.”

Seojun found himself in this exact predicament as he turned off the beaten path onto a slightly less sketchy stretch of asphalt. His forehead wrinkles were stubborn, refusing to relax as his left eye darted to the dashboard every 0.5 seconds, dreading the moment that cursed fuel light would flicker on. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles turning white. No need to freak out just yet, though. His trusty truck could keep chugging along without a refill for a bit longer.

But you know how the mind works – it loves to blow things out of proportion. Seojun was no exception. His heart raced and anxiety crept in whenever his car wasn’t filled up past the halfway mark. Who would’ve thought such a small thing could make him sweat bullets?

One needs to have driven both long and short distances to understand…

It was his first real adventure, his maiden voyage. As a newbie to this whole long-distance driving thing, Seojun couldn’t help but second-guess himself. He rolled down the window and poked his head out, cautiously scoping out his surroundings. It was a risky move, but the daytime Highway Route 4-4-4, was still a ghost town. Only the occasional truck thundered by.

The early morning sun cast a gentle glow, and the crisp air felt amazing against Seojun’s skin. He poked his head out again, checking on the cargo secured under a tarp. Always prepared since his memory wasn’t the greatest, Seojun had considered the possibility of not finding a gas station for miles. The truck’s cargo space was loaded with fuel cans filled to the brim with diesel.

Still, an uneasy feeling gnawed at him.

Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and he chewed on his pale lips, tasting a hint of blood. Despite the lack of cold, he zipped his jacket all the way up, shivering. Seojun’s tired eyes caught a glimpse of his gaunt face in the rearview mirror. If a stranger saw him now, they might think a ghost was behind the wheel. The source of his anxiety was crystal clear.

Ghosts and zombies, what a messed-up world.

His mind was filled with thoughts of the beings he’d encountered in the cornfield. Tracey and Bailey, roaming around in their dead bodies; April, pulling their strings like a twisted puppet master; and Leah, begging him to find her remains.

In that moment, sheer terror gripped Seojun, his mind reeling as panic took over. Coming face-to-face with zombies had sent him into a frenzied scramble to escape, his heart pounding as he rolled and dodged the corpses controlled by a nightmarish scarecrow. And Leah? Sure, she seemed normal enough, but she was still a ghost. The same ghost who had lured him into the hellish cornfield in the first place!

Of course, without Leah, Seojun wouldn’t have made it out alive. But no matter how harmless she seemed, a ghost was still a ghost. That reality took a while to truly sink in, especially after their emotional goodbye. Leah’s final moments had felt warm and hopeful, like a beautiful dream. But as Seojun’s shaky legs hit the accelerator and he sped past the abandoned van, the illusion shattered like bean pods falling from his eyes.

The cold, hard truth was undeniable: serial killers, space monsters, specters, and zombies controlled by ghosts all existed in this messed up world. As the weight of that realization crashed over Seojun, a scream ripped from his throat, echoing through the air as he sped away.

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A red dot flickered on the horizon, catching Seojun’s eye as he squinted at the road ahead. The cornfield of horrors was far behind him now, but the city still felt a world away and people were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a cry of relief burst from his lips. It was a gas station!

Slowing down, Seojun steered the truck towards the beacon of hope. Despite his stockpile of reserve fuel, in this crazy world, more was always better. His spirits lifted slightly at the sight. As he grappled with the insanity of this new world order, his body ached from the relentless driving and the urge to stop and catch his breath was overwhelming. Easier to count the parts of him that didn’t throb with pain—forearms, thighs, the back of his neck. All of it hurt. Finally, he pulled into the station and parked, massaging his neck with a groan.

The gas station had definitely seen better days. The red roof had faded to a dull maroon, the pillars stained like an oil slick. The fuel nozzle handles were caked with grime, each one indistinguishable from the next. And the reek of gasoline was so strong it made Seojun’s eyes water. He pinched his nose, wondering if even breathing was risky.

But hey, at least the fuel prices didn’t suck. Seojun started refueling without complaint—he still had a long road ahead, and every penny saved was a small victory. As he leaned against the truck bed, his gaze wandered aimlessly. The weather was holding up at least, fluffy white clouds drifting across the sun, a cool breeze caressing his skin.

Seojun stretched his arms and legs in the fresh wind. He felt very tired. He shook his head vigorously, trying to snap out of the drowsy haze. Without thinking, his hand patted his pockets, and he suddenly looked around, fidgeting nervously. His foggy brain had almost led him to make a massive mistake. Luckily, he’d left his cigarettes in the glove box.

As the gasoline trickled into the tank, Seojun heaved a sigh. Somehow, he’d grown used to the taste of those bland lemon cigarettes, and now his mouth felt empty without one. But lighting up at a gas station? Not unless he wanted to go viral as the world’s dumbest arsonist. The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Gum or candy it is, then…

His gaze, lacking its usual sharpness, drifted towards the convenience store. Like most gas stations, this run-down joint had a little bit of everything. But the dirty windows and the haphazard outdoor display screamed neglect. A rusty chain lay coiled beside the door, as if it had given up on its job ages ago.

As a former convenience store clerk, Seojun couldn’t help but nitpick every little detail. But no matter how much he grumbled, it’s not like there was another option for miles. In a world where serial killers, space monsters, zombies, ghosts, and evil spirits roamed free, his complaints seemed pretty trivial. With his wallet and phone in hand, he stepped into the store, just another insignificant speck in the universe.

“Ugh.”

The pathetic sound slipped out before Seojun could catch it. As he stepped inside the store, he wasn’t surprised by what he saw. It looked like cleaning was a once-a-year thing here, with dirt-filled corners and flickering lights that were on their last legs. But that wasn’t what made him do a double-take. Right next to the counter near the entrance, stood a tall glass case displaying a skeleton model, like something straight out of a science lab.

Seojun’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. He blinked hard, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Meanwhile, the clerk at the counter remained engrossed in a magazine, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. His dark hair peeked out from under a hat and his eyes were somber. The clerk’s demeanor was consistently calm and ordinary, barely acknowledging his lone customer with a glance. It was the perfect level of social interaction for Seojun’s liking.

Tearing his eyes away from the glass case, Seojun straightened his hunched shoulders and boldly met the gaze of the CCTV camera mounted on the ceiling, determined to appear unfazed.

The convenience store was laid out in a simple 十 shape, with shelves arranged in neat rows. Fireworks sets were displayed front and center, demanding attention. Around the corner, a tempting array of snacks and random knick-knacks beckoned.

Seojun took his sweet time checking out the options, trying to decide which snacks were worth his cash. Before he knew it, his arms were packed with a mountain of chips, candy, and gum. When he dropped it all on the counter, the clerk gave him a look that could kill. Seojun scoffed inwardly at the guy’s annoyed face and the half-heartedly placed posters – clearly someone was being lazy today.

With an exasperated click of his tongue, Seojun’s gaze drifted involuntarily to the rows of cigarettes lined up with military precision behind the counter.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His car was already stuffed with those bland lemon cigarettes – he probably had enough packs to build a life-size replica of Notre Dame Cathedral. The smart thing to do would be to just pay for his snacks and leave. But his willpower had checked out, his patience evaporating like morning dew. The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“How much for a pack of those cigarettes?”

The employee, clearly done with everything, tossed a pack with some geometric designs on it labeled “Red Family” on the counter.

“$6.15 for the cancer sticks. That’s the going rate. Want ‘em with the rest of your stuff?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Gimme a sec though, I gotta dig up some change.”

Just the thought of breaking free from those bland lemon cigarettes had Seojun’s hands shaking, even though he’d been trying to convince himself they weren’t that bad. These pointless daydreams had been sneaking into his head more and more, driving him crazy. He couldn’t let his taste buds get used to mediocrity.

But Seojun was never known for his grace or coordination. Inevitably, a few coins slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor as he fumbled around.

A quarter spun melodically before wedging itself between the counter and the ground. Groaning, Seojun squatted down to retrieve it.

As he plucked the coin free, his heart thrummed wildly. A sinister red smear stained the silver surface, like a twisted punchline to some sick joke.

“Need help? Did it roll under there?” The clerk barely concealed his irritation.

Seojun’s eye widened as he struggled to control his breathing. Swallowing hard, he managed a reply. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Whatever you say, man.” The clerk’s bored voice was punctuated by the flipping of magazine pages.

Seojun clenched the coin tightly, shutting his eye to quell the panic rising in his chest. He wanted to deny what he saw, but after his horrifying run-in with the Murderous Scarecrow, he knew better than to ignore his instincts.

Taking a deep breath, Seojun made up his mind. No matter what challenges awaited – headaches, toothaches, aching joints or muscles – he would face them head-on. When crossing a sketchy bridge, it’s always best to proceed with caution and test it first. Slowly, he opened his eye and focused on the coin laying on his thin rubber glove. Blood trickled over George Washington’s face like the petals of a black rose.

With a quick, fluid tug, Seojun peeled off the glove, revealing pale, slender fingers. The blue veins on the back of his white hand hesitated briefly before his short, trimmed nail scratched the floor, letting the blood seep into his fingerprint.

Thud!

The loud noise from under the counter made the clerk frown and shut his magazine. “Sir, are you absolutely sure you don’t need help?” Annoyance dripped from his voice.

Seojun scrambled to his feet, rubbing his head while shoving his other hand into his pocket. “Oh, no, it’s fine! One sec.” He whipped out his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Yeah Dad, it’s me, your tough, reliable son.”

Turning away, Seojun launched into an over the top conversation, drowning out the employee’s audible sigh.

“What’s that? Bobby got sick after eating chocolate? Oh no… But hey, Bobby had a pretty amazing run if he made it to 20 years. Don’t cry, okay? I’m coming home now!”

He hung up dramatically and pocketed his phone. Seojun hastily told the scowling clerk, “Sorry, Bobby ate something he shouldn’t have.”

“And who’s Bobby?”

“Someone’s dog. Anyways, better get that poster up. Bosses hate seeing employees slacking.”

Muttering any excuse to leave, Seojun gestured at a rolled-up poster and bolted from the store like lightning. His soles felt like they were on fire as he ran, senses in overdrive. The reek of oil, his parched mouth, the greasy floor, dry blood in the glove, a distant dog barking – it all hit him at once.

Seojun threw himself into his truck’s driver seat, heart threatening to leave his chest. He slammed the door in frantic haste, catching his leg, but had no time to mind the pain. Trembling hands gripped the wheel as he turned the key and the engine roared. In the rearview mirror, his face was ghostly pale, a sickly blue. Dark blue lips quivered and cheeks twitched with fear and adrenaline.

With a deafening screech of tires, the truck tore away from the gas station. Seojun slammed the pedal to the metal, the freshly pumped gas sloshing wildly in the tank, threatening to spill out onto the asphalt. His mind spun, a scream clawing its way up his throat.

Are you claiming to be eco-friendly by squeezing out oil form people? This place is crazy, not some quaint family business but a bunch of murderous psychos!

A few hours after Seojun’s truck vanished down the winding road, a small, yellow car—a cute little bug, round and compact like a rhinoceros beetle—puttered into the gas station.