A Room with a Moose

“Death is coming for me,” Blue said.

“Don’t be dramatic,” said Agent Lamb, switching the recorder to off.

“You don’t understand. The Golden Hand of Maronhi has eyes and ears much further and deeper than you can understand.”

“The information you’ve provided me is more than enough to take down Mr. Smith. We’ve already got a team prepared to raid his compound and make an arrest.”

“He’ll know it was me. He’ll send someone else.”

“We’ll get you into witness protection.”

“They took my family. I’ve got nothing left.”

“You’ll start a new life.”

Blue wiped a tear from his eye. Agent Lamb watched with fatherly concern before checking his watch.

“I’ll get your statement to the captain. With your consent to testify against your former employer the Golden Hand of Maronhi will be brought down. You’ll start a new life. No one will be able to harm you again. Hold tight here and I’ll be back for you in thirty minutes. When that clock says 01:07 I’ll be back.”

Blue nodded and slumped down in the booth as Agent Lamb stood to depart. Lamb stopped and put a firm hand on Blue’s shoulder, “Thirty minutes. Get yourself something to eat, I hear they have great pie. It’s going to be okay.”

The Cherry Pit Diner was the perfect place for Blue to meet with Agent Lamb; it was a truck stop diner tucked off the freeway entrance in an unincorporated area of land. It served breakfast, lunch, and dinner twenty-four hours a day. The entire place was decorated like a ski lodge with large wooden beam work, taxidermized ducks and rabbits, and chandeliers of antlers. They featured a reservable event space, A Room with a Moose, for social events like weddings or corporate gatherings. The event space was named for the life-sized moose that stood on a pedestal behind the bar.

Agent Lamb had reserved the moose room so that he and Blue could speak uninterrupted. A cold chill ran through Blue as he watched Agent Lamb exit the diner. He took a sip of his coffee.

“What’ll you have, hon’,” the waitress startled Blue, but remained stoic in her stance. Her velvet red hair was stacked curl upon curl in a beehive bun with a pencil sticking out of each side. She wore a nametag brandishing the name Sybil.

“What do you recommend?”

“Everyone likes a patty melt,” she poured more coffee into his cup.

“Okay, I’ll take that.”

“You want that with sauerkraut? It’s our special,” she chewed on a stale piece of gum.

“Sure.”

“Fries, onion rings, mashed potatoes, or a side salad,” she drew out the word salad.

“Surprise me.”

Sybil the waitress left and Blue slumped back into his booth again. He looked up at the giant moose, the moose stared back placidly.

“I bet you were taken before your time as well. Maybe someone will stuff me and put me inside a restaurant,” Blue took off his hat and ran his hands through his curly locks. He put the hat back on and let his brown curls slip out from under the brim.

Before long Sybil returned with his order and a glass of water. She set down the sandwich and a side of onion rings near him followed by a piece of cherry pie, across the booth from him, before starting to walk away.

“I didn’t order the pie.”

Sybil turned on her heels and pulled a pad of paper out of her apron with one hand and a pencil from her hair with the other, “Room with a moose… patty melt, sauerkraut, ‘surprise me’ side, and one cherry pie. I wrote it hon’, you don’t want it?”

“I’m not sure how hungry I am.”

“It’s on the house then,” and she turned and left the room.

“Well, moose, I think I’m about to have a patty melt as my last meal. What do you think?”

He took a bite of his sandwich and dabbed an onion ring in a mystery pink sauce with little green flecks of pickle. It wasn’t bad. He was hungrier than he realized and finished the entire meal.

He sat back and looked at the clock hanging above the moose. Nearly thirty minutes had passed since Agent Lamb had left; he’d promised to return in thirty.

Blue struck the lip of the pie plate with his fork and pulled it over to himself. He forked the tip of the triangular dessert and examined the gooey innards.

“Maybe things will work out,” he said and put the pie in his mouth. He chewed and bit down on a cherry pit. It sent a shock through his teeth and jaw, and he exhaled as he swallowed. The pit lodged itself in his throat right at the base of his tongue.

Blue tried to swallow, he tried to breath in, but he could only grip the table as his lips began to turn blue. He stood from his seat, knocking his knees on the table, and fell back down.

He looked to the moose as his vision shaded and then he saw, sitting across from him, was the hooded figure of death.

Death reached out a boney finger and dragged the pie back over to his side of the table as Blue closed his eyes for the last time.

Death took a phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He let it ring while he picked up his fork and took a bite of the pie. Someone on the other end answered, “Hello, this is death number 1131519, I’m reporting the early release of subject Blue Alces. Yes, the Golden Hand of Maronhi cult assassination.”

Death paused to listen.

“I realize it’s not scheduled this week. Listen, Linda, you aren’t even going to believe this shit. This guy wasn’t supposed to go until next week, a hit job, and I was familiarizing myself with him. Anyway, I got hungry, so I ordered a little pie and he took a bite of it. Choked to death on a cherry pit. Complete accident.”

Death paused again, a high pitch voice emanating from the other end.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have ordered the pie. Let me bring you a piece, you’ll understand. Yes, I’ll start the paperwork right away. You can’t make this stuff up though. This is the kind of thing that ends up on Unsolved Mysteries. Yeah, yeah, yes Linda, prepare for arrival.”

Death finished the last bite of his pie, snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

Agent Lamb pulled up to the Diner as the clock above the moose turned to 01:07.