In the bleak winter of ’82 while passing through the desolate high plains of Montana, I experienced the unexplainable, perhaps it was an act of grace, a second chance or just a bad dream.

  “Dude, watch the road,” I shouted at my best friend Kirk after  grabbing the steering wheel.

He’d nodded off only momentarily while driving down a long stretch of highway in the middle of Montana. We were searching for a place to  sleep for the night. This trip was our last hurrah before the start of basic training. Eager to reach the Oregon coast, the lack of sleep made driving difficult. I worried about running off the road and crashing in the dead of winter, with temperatures expected to drop to around zero.

 I pulled out a map, opening the tattered folds. “What was the name of the last town we passed through?”

“I think it was called Denton, or Denny, not sure,” he said.

“Doesn’t look like anything for miles. Maybe we should pull over on the side of the road,” I said, trying to fold the map.

The small hills were now just black silhouettes against an indigo sky.  Kirk pointed to a tall narrow profile of a church with a cross perched atop a tower.

 “Stop here. That church looks like a good option. Maybe we can sleep on the floor,” I said, slapping the dashboard.

“It looks abandoned and dark. I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, shaking his head no. 

“Let’s at least check it out. What do we have to lose? There ain’t any towns around for miles and besides, we don’t have much money for a motel…. Unless you want to sleep in a cramped car,” I pleaded.

Kirk didn’t push the subject and let me have my way as he always did. We turned off onto a small dirt road winding up a slight rise. Once at the top, we could see grassland in all directions. The hill was bare except for a dark lone church. We got out of the car and trampled through the dry grass and cracked soil towards the front door. Kirk walked ahead scanning the ground with his flashlight checking for rattlesnakes.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in ages,” I said, poking at a spider web that hung across the front door.

I knocked. “Is anyone here?”

Kirk turned and got the chills, “This place gives me the heebie jeebies.”

 I knocked again, “Is anyone here? I rattled the knob, scaring a rat that ran past my feet.

 “Oh fuck no! I’m not sleeping in some rat infested building,” he said.

  “I’ve slept in much worse. It’ll be fine, can we at least check it out?” I said.

The door creaked as I shoved it open against the dirt and leaves. It appeared to be abandoned, with graffiti written on the walls, and beer cans strewn about. He aimed his flashlight at the wall. There was a pentagram spray painted in red. The words “ Joey is a faggot” written in blue, “Hell is for children” written in black beside silhouettes of kids with red eyes. 

“This is creepy as fuck,” I said, shining my flashlight across the words. 

The foyer had one door that opened to the nave of the church. We peered inside where broken pews lay scattered in a heap, cobwebs dangled from the ceiling, and broken beer bottles lay in a thick layer of dust that covered the warped and damaged floorboards.

“Ew, we should go,” he said, pulling the door closed. To the left, a small tight stairway spiraled upwards.

 “Let’s see where it goes,” I said, climbing the creaking steps.

 “I don’t like the looks of this. I’ll stay right here,” he said.

“I’ll be right back then,” I said, continuing upwards.

“Wait for me! I don’t like it down here by myself,” he said, rushing up the stairs to join me.

We shoved a broken door open to a room the size of a closet with three tiny windows on each wall, a small metal cot with bare rusty springs, and a faded torn picture of Jesus taped to the peeling floral wallpaper.

 “This don’t look so bad, kinda cozy huh Kirk?”

“It’s okay I guess,” he sighed. I guess he didn’t want to argue. He seemed too tired to argue and succumbed to my persistent demands. We retrieved our sleeping bags from the car, drug them upstairs and laid them out on the floor.

“It’s better than sleeping in the car huh?” I said.

“Hardly, this place gives me the quimpers. I’m not gonna get much sleep tonight,” he said, wadding his coat into a pillow.

A deathly quiet gripped us as we lay in our sleeping bags upon the cold, wood floor, with no wind every sound was amplified.

Kirk woke up in the wee hours of the morning mumbling something about having to take a piss. I barely remember him getting up when I saw him peeking through the wooden slats of the window to the road below.

 “Go back to sleep Mike. I’ll be right back.”

I rolled over during the night, shivering on the cold hard floor. I reached over for Kirk, but he wasn’t there.

 “Kirk, where are you?,” I whispered, but there was no answer. I poked my head outside of my sleeping bag only to view an empty space where his sleeping bag should have been. “Kirk, are you outside?” I yelled. But still no answer, just dead silence. An uneasy sick feeling of being alone gripped my stomach. I quickly put on my clothes cursing as I did. Peering out the frosty window the sagebrush sparkled white under the moonlight. The car still sat where we parked it.

I crept down the stairs whispering Kirk’s name but there was no answer.    In the foyer beside the front door the words “Keep the damned door shut. Don’t let the demons inside,” was written in black magic marker. I ignored the warning and pushed the door open. A blast of cold frigid air  engulfed me.

 “Kirk, are you out there?” I whispered. The ice crunched beneath my feet as I approached the car. I peered inside, but it was unoccupied. “Kirk, Kirk, if you’re out here let me know.” There was only silence.

I had a sick feeling in my gut, that kind of feeling you get when something feels wrong.

I picked up a large stick holding it as a weapon and circled the church wading through the tall grass. There was no sign of him. I crept back inside slowly opening the door to the chapel, peering across the broken pews and empty bottles. “Kirk, are you in here?” I whispered. On the far side of the room I thought I saw an odd object in the shape of a man standing motionless against the wall with eyes staring back at me in the darkness.

 “Who’s there?” I said crouching low.

 The sound of raspy breathing and then a low whisper, “Shhh, not so loud. He might hear you?” a male voice said.

“Who might hear me?” I whispered, looking back over my shoulder feeling my knees begin to buckle.

“It looked like Death,” said a young man appearing from the shadows. He grabbed my hand and pulled me beside him on the floor behind one of the upended pews. “He floats on a cold breeze, silent with dark vacant eyes. We were hiding in this church for days.”

“Who were you with?”

“Becky, my girlfriend. Our car broke down on the highway and we walked and walked.”

“Have you seen my friend Kirk? He was upstairs with me.”

“No, You’re the first person I’ve seen in days since Becky.”

“What happened to her?”

“I fell asleep, and when I woke up, she was gone,” he said.

“So tell me more about this creature.”

“Tall and bony with skin stretched tight across its face. It mumbled my name Oscar, Oscar, Oscar as it floated past me, its feet dragging inches above the ground. I was scared shitless. Do you have any food?”

“I think we have some in the car, but…”

“Never mind, if you go out there, you might not be able to get back.”

“I stared at the kid in disbelief. “What? So how long have you been here?”

“Days perhaps, I don’t remember. We fell asleep on one of the pews and when we woke up things were different. The building got destroyed and we must have been knocked unconscious. This thick fog settled in and there were these little frogs everywhere croaking the word forty nine over and over. We got trapped inside this place while giant four foot tall fuzzy slugs were grazing outside at night like sheep.”

“I’ll be back. I need to find my friend.”

“No, don’t leave me. I can’t stand being alone again,” he said, grabbing my arm.

“Come with me.”

He shook his head no, “Promise you’ll come back.”

I fumbled through the darkness and found the door. I stood outside staring up at the crescent moon then looked out over the barren frosty fields. “Kirk where are you?,” I yelled. But there seemed to be a faint glow that encircled the church yard. Perhaps the moonlight reflecting off the frosty grass, yet it seemed odd.

It was then I noticed silhouettes of people standing just past the light as if they were forbidden to cross. More gathered and stood motionless, some towered over others. The sight of them gave me the creeps. One particular tall figure traipsed through the tall grass towards me.

 I ran back upstairs hoping Kirk was back, but his sleeping bag was empty. I heard a noise and footsteps creaking up the stairs. I got down on the floor trying to remain quiet. I hoped it would be Kirk. I waited anxiously.

 A strange voice whispered, “Mike,…Mike,…Mike, followed by an ungodly screech like a wounded cat. I cowered on the floor with the sleeping bag pulled over my head trying not to breathe too loudly.

I must have fallen asleep.

 The next morning I awoke curled up on the floor shivering as tiny mice scampered around me. Outside a brilliant sun rose  above the horizon while prairie birds sang, making a noisy chatter. Sunlight bathed on the top of the steeple and the little window caught the first rays of the sun. I stretched my sore legs and arms and yawned. Things didn’t look quite so terrifying in the daylight.

 I opened the door and pissed in the gravel, gazing up at the church. The car was gone. I walked back inside searching through the broken pews, but Oscar was gone too. Why would they leave without me?

I grabbed my backpack and marched back towards the main road to get a ride to the nearest town. I stood for hours thumbing for a car, but nothing came. In desperation I walked east along the shoulder of the road in the cold wind.

It was midday before a car appeared on the horizon, but by then, the sky became gray with snow falling in tiny flakes. I waved my arms frantically and yelled. A dirty, white, rusted pick-up truck driven by an old Indian man, wearing overalls and a cowboy hat with feathers sticking out the top, pulled over beside me.

 “Why are you alone here all by yourself? Cars rarely ever drive this way. You’re lucky I stopped,” said the man. “A big snow storm’s moving in.”

“Me and a friend pulled off the road late last night because I was too tired to drive. We stayed in that old abandoned church in a field off the main road. He must have driven away during the night leaving me behind.”

The old man’s eyes grew big. “Sorry, but I ain’t planning to go anywhere near that church. My people say the land it’s built upon is cursed. You want me to drive you to town?”

“Yes, I’d appreciate that,” I said getting in the passenger side of the truck.  It smelled of cigar, whiskey and sage. An old shotgun was mounted on his back window. The dashboard was covered in a thick gray dust.

 He pulled out into the road and took a swig of booze and offered me some. I declined and he laughed. “Not much of a friend to leave you alone on this road. Did you have a fight?”

“No, he got up to piss and never came back. I went looking for him but couldn’t find him, but I found another man hiding there. He was afraid of something beyond the church.”

“Where is that man now?” the driver said.

 “I don’t know. I fell asleep and when I woke up, he was gone.”

“Maybe he drove away with your friend.”

“I wish I knew.”

As we rode towards town I noticed an abandoned old rusty orange AMC Gremlin off in a ditch. “Stop a second. That looks a bit like my car.”

He pulled over and I ran up to the rusty old heap. The windows were broken out, the front end all smashed, and the seats were old and torn. I opened the glove compartment and found old papers stuck together with the smell of mildew. They were my Army papers from the recruiter.

 “It’s my car all right, but looks like it’s been here for years. What the fuck happened?”

“That can’t be your car. I’ve passed by that car for the last forty years.”

“No, that can’t be right. I need to get to a pay phone.”

“Pay phone? Don’t you have your own?”

I looked at the old man strangely. “What are you talking about?”

“I can call your family if you want,” He said, removing a strange rectangular object from his pocket.

 “What’s that?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve never seen a cell phone?”

“No, is it some kind of fancy CB radio?” I said.

“Uh, yeah I guess so. Everybody has them. So what’s your Mom’s number?”

He dialed the number but it had been disconnected. It was at that moment I panicked and sat down in the grass gasping for air. The world was spinning like a dream.

“Are you okay?” He bent down beside me.

 The sky, a watercolor blue gray flickered on and off like a candle being blown by a sudden gust of wind. The world felt like it was collapsing. A hand lay upon my shoulder. His wrinkled eyes squinting in the golden sunlight peered into me.

 “I’m afraid,” I whispered.

“I know,  I didn’t want to upset you. I wanted you to discover it by yourself. Some never know and go on and on in an eternal search lost in a dream. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m afraid if I say the word, it will end. What happens now?” I said begging for a lie.

“If you wish, I can sing a prayer to help you find your way.”

The old dude took a big swig of whiskey and shuffled around me in a circle singing and chanting in words I didn’t know. In the middle of this he looked through me and around me and then nodded his head and walked back to his truck. As he got behind the wheel he glanced back searching with his eyes. It felt like a dream. The familiar lightness of my steps, the dimly lit sky and memory gaps. It was as if… as if…

I heard the sound of tires running over bumping gravel. “Dude, watch the road,” I shouted, grabbing the steering wheel.

 He steered the car back onto the road breathing heavily. He looked over at me. “I must be tired. We need to find a place to sleep.”

“Deja vu, I think I dreamed all this.”

“Pull out the map,” he said.

As I opened the glove compartment I saw the silhouette of a church off to the right. “Don’t stop. We can make it a few more miles.”