 Don't turn up for school. Don't listen to your parents, but do listen to the kids that hang out in the street. Hitch or ride away from town. Get mugged. This was the simple five step plan I followed to end up working at John's Diner. It was the only place to eat for miles in any direction. The only building as far as the eye could see. There's four tables, counter seats, and a restroom out back. There used to be an oversized key for the restroom, but I lost it in my first week on the job. So that was me standing behind the counter hating life, thinking it could not get any worse. I had no idea. It was a Saturday night. The owner, John Jr. had headed off after cashing up. I was on my own. Music faded in and out of the radio propped on the counter. The signal was intermittent. Shaking the radio did not help, but I did it anyway. There had been no customers for hours. The air was hot and heavy. A storm was on the way. I drifted outside just in time to see a truck rattle past. It was clearly not stopping. I sighed. My mood darkened further when I saw what the truck had left in its wake. The pathetic remains of a fox. I wandered over. If it was still alive, I would put it out of its misery. It was soon obvious there was no need. A gash ran the length of its belly and its innards glistened in the flickering light of the diner's neon sign. The thing was roadkill. Using the tip of my boot, I rolled it off to the side of the road so there was no danger of it getting hit again and turned into a nauseating smear. I knew that by morning its flesh would be picked clean by the other critters that lived out here. That's death, I thought, and headed back to the counter. I did not realize I dropped off, but falling asleep while propped up on one elbow was not uncommon for me. I wiped my face, smiled, and said to the stranger who had set off the little bell over the door and woken me, What'll it be, friend? He ordered fries, a burger, soda, and the keys to the kingdom of the relieved. Restrooms unlocked. I told him. I didn't watch him leave and turn to face the grill, glad of something to do. I heard the door rattle gently on its hinges and the bell tinkle. Heard moments later a new truck passing by outside. I waited, listened, but it was another one who had chosen to keep on going. That's life, I thought, and put the patty on a grill. Ten minutes later the food was laid out and ready to eat. But there was no sign of my customer. Bad guts, I figured. Only after another 15 minutes with the food close to cold, I decided to go investigate. The owner had a strict no returns policy and knew down to the individual French fry it seemed to me how much stock should be left when he tallied up. I set off to the restroom ready to holler from outside the door that I could refry but I could not replace. I saw a car, his I figured, parked by the door. And then I saw him. He was lying in the road. He was not moving. His left arm was close to severed. He was dead. Must be, I figured, as I walked over to him on shaky legs. Sure enough, his eyes gazed up unblinking in the direction of the dark, starless sky. I hoped he was staring at the pearly gates, not Beelzebub's barbecue now that he'd crossed over. Then I wretched and went to call the police. Or I would have done had the damn shortwave radio been working. There were no other options, no mobiles or a net, not even a landline out here in the middle of nowhere. John Junior was not due back until tomorrow afternoon. And I couldn't just leave things be. The critters would see no difference between a dead fox and a dead dude. One would merely be a more substantial meal. swearing, I returned to the man's corpse. It lay only a few feet away from the fox. Something had already eaten the poor animal's eyes and dragged its innards out into the open. I'd leave the critters their starter. The man had to come with me. Picking his body up by the legs, I dragged him round the back of the diner where I managed to maneuver him into the restroom. The only way to fit him in there was to have him sitting on the toilet. It wasn't very dignified, but it was better than the alternative. You're welcome. I said and wiped my brow. The man's face looked waxy and unreal. I'd never seen a dead body before, and I hoped I never would again. I went back inside and I waited for this night to be over. The door was barely closed behind me when the rain began to fall. Now I am not a religious man. My grandpappy was and he terrified me when I was a child with tales of vengeance and bloodletting of curses and plagues of the old ways. As the rain became a torrent and the wind began to scream, I thought back to those stories. When the first bolt of lightning bisected the darkness, I wanted to find a corner to crawl into and hide. The thunder rolled in seconds later, and then another flash of light. This seemed to work the wind and rain up into an ever greater frenzy, and soon the walls and roof of the diner were shaking. I cowered there, waiting for them to be torn away, leaving me at the mercy of the storm. I was praying for the first time in my misbegotten life when a few hours later the eye passed over and a stillness settled on the diner. And it was just another Saturday night where nothing is happening once again. I wiped my brow, noticed the uneaten meal was still there, congealed and limp. I figured I should clean it away and get a grip. I lit a cigarette, savored the taste. The bell tinkled. He was back. He walked real strange. His feet dragged, his legs shook. In fact, his whole body shook and twitched like it was dancing with electricity. One arm hung on by a scrape of flesh. The other was reaching forwards, picking up the burger. Drill laced with blood trickled down his chin. As he opened his mouth, he stuffed the burger in hole and began to chew and swallow. He finished and looked at me. His eyes now blinking rapidly, looked at me and he murmured, burger. I got another patty out and put it on the grill. The customer is always right, they say, and there was no way I was arguing with this aberration now settling into one of the counter seats. Hell, he could have this one on the house and John Jr. could kiss my ass. Burger. He said again, having polished off his second one. I kept flipping, kept dishing up. There was something about the way he watched me while he waited for me to serve up, almost as if he could not wait. And why should he? When there was a lump of raw meat there for the taking me, I was scared senseless. And my imagination was an overdrive. But I was not going to risk it. I just doled out his dozenth burger when the little bell tinkled. I jumped. The man was preoccupied devouring. So the fox had an audience of one when it walked into the diner. Its empty eye sockets were pools of darkness in its rain soaked pelt and its guts trailed after it slick with gore. Its snout sniffed the air. Just above it, another lump of fat speckled meat was disappearing into the man's maw. It howled. Burger. The man said. This time I put two on the grill. I feel at this point I should mention that I was not just trying to avoid being the second best fast food on offer once the patties ran out. I was trying to formulate a plan. My car was in the garage, and I'd been relying on John Jr. for lifts for weeks now, for which he was docking my wages, the tight SOB. I assumed that the man still had his car keys on him. The nearest populated place was a hundred miles away, so to walk there would have been insane. My best bet was to wait for a new customer and hope they were carrying. Hope they would blast the brains out of the man at the counter and his four-legged companion. I'd seen enough movies to know this was the only way out of this nightmare. In the meantime, I said. Burger. Beat him to it. Outside, the first flecks of light were heralding a new day. My arm ached and my face stung from all the fat that had spat back up onto it, and the all-you-can-eat offer was still going strong. Two more burgers began to sizzle, and the building began to shake. What the hell, I thought, was this the apocalypse part two? The dead shall rise, and then the earthquake will kick you when you're down. But no, it was the cavalry. Trucks and tanks, and even helicopters all passing by the diner. Dozens of them all right outside, and one of them, a jeep, was pulling up. I put down two freshly cooked patties as a distraction, then headed outside as nonchalant as I could. A window on the jeep rolled down. A red-faced man looked out. I could see three stripes on the arm of his uniform. Boy, he drolled. Weas on our way to town to sort some mothers out. You got any hide in there? Any coffin dodgers, foot-dragging biters? You got yourself any Z's in that there grease, dispenser boy? I've always had a problem with authority. I hated my teachers. I hated my parents. I hated the cops who used to cruise by the street corner and hassle and arrest and dole out beatings. I hated. Then and now. Nah, I replied. Nothing like that here. Just good people enjoying good food on a beautiful Sunday morning. He spat a glob of chewed tobacco onto the ground, shrugged, then wound the window up. They drove away. The rest of the troops had gone by now. I went back inside. I was alone once more with my burger loving customer and the Fox. And we had a new problem. There's no burgers left. I told him. Burger. I held out my hands. The freezer is empty. Burger. All gone. His lips curled like Elvis making a comeback from beyond the grave. Specks of undigested burger meat filled the gaps in his teeth. No burger. He said. No burger. I replied. The Fox howled. I knew then that I'd made the worst mistake of my life that whatever had made me rebel against the system one more time had left me exposed. A human sized spare rib. I began to cry. The man studied me for a moment, then turned and began to walk away. The Fox looked up at me, then trailed after him. The bell tinkled and they were gone. And nothing had tried to eat me. I did not know why. Perhaps I was too scrawny or failure has a stink that's just too unappetizing. Or perhaps they knew what I'd done. Not pointing them out to the army. Not getting them destroyed. I shook the radio. The signal had cut out altogether but was back. There was a news report on about the massive electrical storm which had caused damage in the nearby town and tragically casualties. The internet and mobile networks were down as well. The authorities had requested military support and the soldier boys were doing a grand job. It was BS. A cover up. I'm sure of what I saw. And I believe there will be more. That's why I'm recording this in the hope the truth can be known if I don't make it. I'm standing outside the diner, watching, waiting for the figures to appear on the horizon. They'll be walking real strange and they'll be hungry. My only hope is that the man with a Fox will somehow let the others know that the person behind the counter at John's diner is a friend and not on the menu.