This is a story I waited a long time to tell. However, I should start this story from the beginning, right?

  Alright, let’s try this again, properly this time.

  Some time ago, a regular kid and a weird man met. Not too long ago, mind you. They already had their little pocket computers. They met on a night like any other, at 3 am inside a convenience store of a gas station. In a small town named Ashbrook, in the south of …. Well it doesn’t matter. I don’t remember anyway.

  So, Will. He is your average late teen. Working in a low-paying job, dreaming high. But not knowing how to get there, though, as one does at 19 years old.

  That day, for Will, started like any other. It was 9:40pm. And Will was late for work. Again. He woke up with dry drool glued to his cheek, wondering what year it was. He checked his phone and saw the time and he was in a panic.

  He jolted from the couch, wearing this stained shirt, underwear and socks and ran to the shower, TV still on. Took out his shirt in the hallway, the underwear at the door to the bathroom and jumped into the shower. Still with socks on.

  Now, dear reader, you have to be thankful that you can’t smell things through words. Because this place smells like… ass. And dirty socks. Wet socks? Will finished his 20-second shower and noticed the socks, tossing them to the corner — oh — and entered his bedroom to dress for work.

  Shirt, pants, socks – dry – shoes. Door, car door — oh yeah, keys. Door, keys, car door. Now he forgot his phone. One more time for good luck. The TV was left on, however.

  5 minutes later and he was at the gas station, where Thomas was waiting for him, checking the watch when Will entered.

  Clocked in, ready for work. Will closed the door entering the tiny space behind the counter while Thomas closed the door of the store. Perfectly timed.

  And there it is. All that running, just to start a shift where absolutely nothing happens. It’s a small town — nobody’s out filling their tank after dark. But Will didn’t mind. It’s only because of how greedy Old Bob is that he has a job at all.

  3 AM. The witching hour, some say. “The boring hour” Will said to the soda cans and candy bars. He had already read all the magazines and pamphlets in the store by then.

  Bored as hell he pulled out his phone. Right after, a noise.

  Will jumped off his chair. A car. A very loud car. A customer, for the boy’s surprise. Driving a dusty, beat-up old black Lincoln Continental. Not that Will knew that — he didn’t know shit about cars. All he knew was, that boat looked like it’s had its ass kicked.

  The driver got out — and walked like he was the one who did the kicking. Tall, wearing a long, heavy wool coat, ranger boots, and a wide-brimmed felt hat, he walked towards the store. Will was already on his feet, waiting, excited.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Good evening,” the boy said to the man, noticing the deep scars across his face. The hat covered half of it — up to his nose — but the mouth, cheeks, and chin were carved with scars, framed by a patchy beard. The welcoming energy drained from Will’s body before he finished the salutation.

  The man walked over to the counter, head lowered, and stopped in front of the boy. Will cleared his throat “What can I do for you, sir?”

  The man lifted his head and looked at him — at the horrendous red-and-white uniform.

  “Map?”

  Will is baffled. “A map?”. Well, he looked too… unique to be from around here. Must have been from out of town. No way someone like that lived here. The town’s folk would've eaten it up by now.

  “We… have it, sir.” Will reached behind him, grabbed one of the pamphlets, and handed it over to the odd man.

  The stranger unfolded the map and studied it for a moment. Then he slapped his hands on the counter — all nine fingers spread wide.

  “This is not complete,” he grunted.

  “Hmm? Sir? This is the only map we have — it’s a small town, and…”

  “Where the fuck is the landfill?!” he screamed, and Will could swear the stuff on the top shelves shook a little.

  “The… the city dump? They don’t usually put that on a map, sir…”

  The boy was sweating.

  The man stared straight into Will’s eyes. Then he took off his hat and set it on the counter, revealing a blind left eye and a black right one. His hair was dark and greasy, and more scars stretched across his forehead.

  He took a deep breath. Hands rolled into closed fists.

  The stranger stared into the boy’s skull.

  “Do you know where it is—” he squinted to read the boy’s name tag “Will?”

  Yes, Will knew. Everybody did in this hellhole they called a town. This was where all the surrounding cities dumped their waste. They saw Ashbrook as just a giant landfill. More like Assbrook, the young say — Will included. He couldn’t wait to have enough money to leave, even if that meant leaving his folk behind.

  “Who the hell shows up at 3 a.m. asking for the landfill?” Will wondered. The guy smelled weird — metallic, with a hint of something sour — and stood too still. Creepy didn’t quite cover it. There was something off about him.

  Will blinked. The stranger was still staring. He realized he had forgotten what was asked.

  “Boy?” he asked again, with a raised voice this time.

  He was startled and replied with a squeak,

  “YES, I KNOW, SIR!” The stranger flinched a little — just a little, don’t get too excited — with this unexpected yell.

  He slid the map towards Will, then took his hands off the counter, still locked in an unbroken stare.

  “It is not on the map, sir.” Will was more in control now. “It is just outside the town’s graveyard,” he said, making that tight little face people make when they’re about to throw up.

  The stranger looked at the map, then back at Will.

  “The graveyard?”

  With a shaky hand, Will pointed to the corner of the map without even looking at it, just staring at the man.

  The stranger closed the map and turned around, walking towards the exit.

  Will, feeling a bit of relief seeing the man leave, thinks he’s safe — safe enough to offer a little extra information, as good customer service.

  When the man was almost at the door, Will yelled something that made him stop in his tracks.

  “Careful with Old Moss. And the Trash Man.” Will gave him a sheepish smile. The smile died the second the man turned around.

  He knew Old Moss was just a crazy old man who made the landfill his home. But the Trash Man... This one was a local boogeyman parents would tell their kids so they wouldn’t wander to that side of the town. Never worked though — every single kid has a story of their own about the Trash Man and Old Moss.

  The stranger turned around and walked back, holding his hat in his right hand — the one missing the middle finger — and stopped where he was before.

  Oh boy, you had to say that, didn’t you? You could have saved yourself.

  Will flinched as the stranger stared at him again. His mind flashing a big neon sign that says, “Oh fuck”.

  “What do you know about this...” he asked, dragging out the words “…Trash Man?”

  “What —” Will cleared his throat, “— everybody knows. That he lives deep in the landfill, in the oldest and deepest of the piles, the one with the most rot and filth, or so the saying goes. Every kid has tried at least once to find this pile, but no—”

  “What about you?” he asked, interrupting.

  “Well, yeah.” Will shrugged. With a lowered voice, a little ashamed, he looked down and continued, “And I could swear I saw movement somewhere past the roads.” He finishes, unsure if he should have shared his old childish adventures. The man might believe him.

  The stranger studied him for a moment. After a few seconds, he put his hat back on, then let out a long sigh.

  “You are coming with me,” the smelly customer said.