Beyond the Legends Series by Courtney Adkisson

Courtney Adkisson

There was always a crowd at The Bull Horn Brewery. The history was almost as old as its patrons nowadays. Roger White couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t at the bar. It was his life for decades. He’d come over after work from the glass factory across the way in his early years until the place shut down. That’s when his stay became more frequent, and more than just his drink with colleagues after work. The only thing that changed were the wrinkles on his face, his graying black hair and his tired dark eyes that hid behind his thickening glasses. Not to mention the weight he gained going from a lean machine to now a beer gut that his younger self would’ve whipped into shape. But not now.

He didn’t care anymore, especially after his wife left.

After the factory closed, it was difficult for some to get work. Roger especially, he was in his mid-forties and was getting tired. He’s had a few injuries on the job that made it more difficult to keep going with something else.

Former colleagues were getting picked up left and right, even jumping ship and transferring out of state. It was such a small town, and he only knew the little he did. The only chance that was offered was to move out and uproot to some place up in upstate New York or gain a disability check and early retirement savings.

He wouldn’t move. New York wasn’t an option. So he made a decision to stay.

Roger was at the Bull Horn every day since. Drinking and gambling all his years of hard work away after being rejected from job after job. His wife left from his stubbornness angry at him for reconsidering moving and at least continue on to his retirement. But he refused, spending all of their money rather than saving it.

“One more game and we’ll be settled in retirement.”

The cycle continued like that for years. He was always there to win. Another game, another way to make something of himself. More than that job he wasted his life on. Just for them to toss him aside. Cog in the wheel, and replaced regardless of almost his entire life in that place.

So…his wife left. There were no limits to what he could do now almost ten years later.

No wife, kids grown up and out for years now. Even if he had someone, it was short, swift and always ended. Because no one really cared for Roger that way anymore and he accepted that.

The Bull Horn Brewery was the talk of the town for some. But Roger was the one with the full reputation. Drinking, gambling and always followed by the name “trouble”. Maybe not to others, but mostly to himself.

One night, he was playing cards for the whole night, barely anyone there outside of a few patrons who befriended him since the layoff. The bartender, a young man in his late twenties came over offering them another pitcher of beer that they ordered. He was a handsome man, lean and full of life with his reddish brown hair and hazel eyes. Always showed a sense of compassion. He and Roger knew each other rather well after he was hired a few years ago. Closest to having a son-like figure around.

“Good boy!” Roger exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder.

Greg rolled his eyes at the sight of the poker table. He hated his boss let the games slide in the place. But he was the owner…and he couldn’t object. As much as he believed it was bad for business.

“Did you win that boat yet?” Greg asked, his sarcasm showing more than usual.

“Not yet!” Roger grinned as he dealt the cards. They’ve been playing for hours and White was convinced his luck was changing.

“Mr. White…don’t you think you had enough for tonight?” Greg asked, trying not to show a bit of quiet desperation in his eyes. He’s been trying to set Roger straight, but nothing really seemed to get to the man.

“One more game,” Jack encouraged, cigar in his mouth. “Betcha this is the one White. We’ll play until the pitcher is gone.”

Jack was an old colleague of Roger’s at the glass factory. He was around the same age, lean and lacky with graying brown hair and muddy brown eyes. They both bonded over family leaving, refusing to leave the small town. Though, Jack found a new job as a mechanic, however, from what Roger found out was drastically less than what he was making. Roger didn’t want to succumb to that. It was bad enough he was living off of the disability and his retirement savings…that were slowly getting less and less by the week.

Greg hated Jack and Roger could feel the glaring of the man’s eyes on his former colleague. Jack grabbed the beer pitcher, pouring it between their pints. Greg sighed as he shook his head.

“Loaded fries then?” Greg asked. Routine. This was all routine.

“You betcha,” Roger grinned as Jack handed him a cigar.

Hours went by and one game after another, Roger kept losing. Jack’s winnings kept benefitting with a free drink, a free appetizer by Mr. White’s wallet. Every beer, every food run, Roger was getting more and more fed up. His tab was adding up and every nudge from Jack wasn’t helping. He was about to lose almost everything he had for that week in that one night.

“How about another Rog,” Jack grinned. “Could really go for dessert.”

Roger rolled his eyes, putting down his cards.

“Save it for tomorrow, will ya?” he suggested.

Jack put up his hands, grabbing his beer.

“Hold you to it,” he grinned as Roger stood up. He couldn’t let the bastard see how on the edge he was getting as he made it to the back and out the door to the stone alleyway.

The place was quiet as Roger took a look at his watch his father gave him decades ago. Midnight. Man, how time flies at this place.

He pulled out a cigarette, placing it in his mouth as he looked for his lighter. The door swung open behind him.

“Come to lecture me?” Roger asked, as he glanced over seeing Greg approach. He leaned against the wall next to him.

“Depends…you want to know how much is on your tab tonight?” Greg asked, crossing his arms about his chest.

“What are you my ex-wife?” he asked, as he found his lighter and flicked it to light his cigarette.

“$300 just on tonight, Rog,” Greg rolled his eyes. Roger sighed, scoffing in amusement.

“I’ll get him tomorrow,” he replied which just made Greg’s anger flair.

“With what?” Greg asked. “What could you possibly have left to give that man? Your food money? Your meds?”

Roger rolled his eyes as Greg hovered over him.

“All his does is run you dry. It’s been like this for months especially,” Greg warned. “He’s manipulating you.”

“He’s a friend. I’ve known him my whole career. I can’t blame him if the cards are in his favor,” Roger objected. “Besides I win some. I’ll get him tomorrow.”

He takes another puff of his cigarette and Greg rolls his eyes, his irritation growing by the second.

“Roger,” he groans. “Please…you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Doing what? It’s just a game. And I’ll get lucky eventually,” Roger states.

“I know you didn’t used to be like this,” Greg mentioned. “There’s a man who had a wife and kids. And you’re throwing any form of a future away-”

“You’re right, I’m not bogged down anymore by a cheating ex-wife and kids who don’t talk to me anymore. Ungrateful bastards,” Roger smirked, but Greg could tell from his eyes he was more hurt than he wanted to admit. “And Jack won’t know what hit him when I finally get that hand.”

Greg’s jaw twists and he shakes his head.

“Sure Rog,” Greg accepted. “Stay out of trouble…”

Roger waves him away as Greg turns on his heel, heading back to the bar.

***

The next night felt different as Roger stepped into the Bull Horn. It was a weekday, quiet and raining. Jack was seated at their favorite booth and he was about to move towards him when something different caught his eye. A new bartender.

The man had his hair slicked back, eyes were dark but piercing and dressed in all black in a button-down shirt along with fancy pants and polished shoes. The guy was way too overdressed for this rundown place. But he was chatting up the younger ladies at the bar, clearly gaining their attention. His eyes then dart over to Roger.

Roger’s skin prickled with goosebumps at the young man’s stare. His mind went alert as he motioned Roger over.

Roger glanced at Jack who was distracted by a meal and some more beer for the night. Then his legs started moving forward to this new face.

The bartender was still chatting with the women as he approached. His voice was smooth and they smiled at him as they took their drinks. He glanced at Roger.

“Ladies, please?” he asked, waving them off. They grinned, nodding over to him, waving their daintily painted fingers at him. Roger scoffed in amusement as the man winked over at them as they left.

“Bit of a ladies man, aren’t you?” Roger teased. That’s when he looked around the bar, even eyeing the swinging door to the kitchen. “Where’s Greg?”

“You must be Roger White,” the man smirked. Roger stiffened at his name through this stranger’s voice.

“Yeah, uh,” Roger replied, clearing his throat. “Yes I am.”

He leaned his arm against the bar as the bartender grinned.

“Oh, and Greg stepped away. He quit last night,” the bartender sighed. “Bar life’s too much for him.”

He quit. Roger’s stomach turned at the last conversation. Perhaps he had another job offer. Hopefully…

“You wanna do me a favor then and be a good lad and get me a beer?” Roger asked.

“Is that your version of welcome aboard?” the bartender grinned. “It’s Aidan by the way.”

“Look, I’ve been here for a while now Aidan. Call it a right of initiation to get this old man a drink,” Roger smirked. “I have a game to win.”

He turned as Jack waved at him, motioning him over. Roger waved back and grinned. Other customers started roaming into the bar and grabbing Aidan’s attention. Aidan leaned forward before Roger could leave, pushing a pint over to him.

“Well…break a leg Mr. White.” Aidan smirked. Roger grabbed his pint nodding. He felt the man’s eyes boring into his back as he took a seat.

The first three games Roger was on a roll. But after that…he kept losing game after game after game. He was losing not meals, but money this time. Jack wanted to up the stakes and he damn well took the bait.

After he finished his second beer, Roger couldn’t help but slam the table and left out into the alleyway. His hands were shaking as he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. He got himself under the building’s slight roof that covered the coming rain.

He was losing everything. His mind swirling. What could he do for money? He already sold some things his ex wife left and never came for. He glanced at his watch that his father gave him. Would he?

“Tough game?” Aidan’s voice radiated in the alleyway. Roger jumped. There was no door opening, no nothing just the sound the rain to know anyone was out here with him. It scared him so bad.

“Let me guess, magician is your second job,” Roger scoffed in amusement, brushing away the confusion. “Made me almost jump out of my skin.”

Aidan just grinned in amusement.

“So…?” he asked, referring to his old question. Roger rolled his eyes and walked up to him.

“Whatever I say to you doesn’t leave here,” Roger groaned. “Can I trust you?”

Aidan raised his brows and smirked.
“That bad?”

Roger hesitated. Was he desperate enough to rely on a total stranger? Yes.

“That lucky bastard took everything I had in a matter of hours,” Roger growled. “He’s the only one that I can’t best. I can count the wins with one hand.”

“You ever consider that maybe there’s some foul play?” Aidan suggested. Roger rolls his eyes.

“I don’t think the man is smart enough for that,” Roger scoffed, taking another long drag of his cigarette. “I’ll get him…”

“Are you sure?” Aidan asked, crossing his arms about his chest. “Seems to me like you’re stuck.”

“I’ll get him. Somehow. Maybe…I just gotta find something.”

That’s when Aidan reached into his pocket. Roger glanced seeing a flash of green bills in Aidan’s hand with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Let’s make a bet,” Aidan sang. Roger’s eyes widened. Those were hundreds. How the hell did this man have hundred dollar bills in his pocket? Chatting up the ladies at the bar must’ve been giving him a decent tip.

“Play again,” Aidan encouraged as he slowly walked up to Roger. “Just look a little closer at his hand. Something is smelling a little fishy with your friend.”

Roger swallowed, looking away from him.

“No, I know Jack. I’ll take his honesty and friendship to the grave. He’s just…just a little lucky I guess,” Roger insisted. Aidan grinned.

“Really? Is that a challenge?” Aidan coaxed. Something about his voice sent shivers down Roger’s spine. His hand grabbed Rogers, placing the cash into his palm.

“Prove it. If you win, you can keep that,” Aidan insisted. Roger scoffed, looking at the money in his hand. The most he’s seen since working at the factory.

“And if I lose?”

“Well then I guess your grave is as good as gone then, hm?” Aidan smirked.

Roger then smirked back, pocketing the money in his shirt pocket. This would be easy. Jack is an honest man despite being frustrating at cards. Maybe they should consider a pool house.

“Grave and all,” Roger agreed with equal teasing. “Thanks for the cash.”

He patted the pocket as Aidan grinned, nodding as Roger headed back inside.

***

Roger made his way back to the booth. He tried his best not to look so smug as he approached Jack who was enjoying his recent pint of beer.

“Hate to break it to you Rog but I think I won for the night,” Jack smirked. Roger reached in his pocket, flashing the new cash.

“Oh no sir. I still got a round or two in me,” Roger objected with a smug look on his face. Jack’s eyes widened at the cash.

Roger glanced, noticing his new bartender friend leaning against the counter of the bar. He winked at him. Observing. Roger’s skin prickled and for a moment he wasn’t sure how confident he should feel.

“All right then,” Jack grinned bigger. “You deal.”

Roger took his eyes away from Aidan, sitting back in his former seat across from Jack. The cards were dealt. Within twenty minutes, Jack won the game. He began celebrating again when Roger turned his head to Aidan at the bar.

Aidan not missing a beat, turned to him, motioning his head over to Jack’s direction while Jack isn’t looking. Roger then looks as Jack chats up a waitress who’s running her night shift.

Cards. There’s old ratted cards that are identical to the deck up his sleeve. It can’t be. Roger’s heart dropped at the sight. He…he’s a fraud. And he’s laughing like he did nothing wrong.

Boiling, Roger slammed the table instinctively grabbed his arm.

“Rog what the hell?!” Jack screeched. Roger gripped onto his arm as the cards come flying out of his shirt sleeve, spilling onto the floor.

There was silence amongst the late night patrons, only the sound of the music that played.

Roger stared at Jack dumbfounded. Then…he was fuming in an instant.

“You know I thought I was outmatched by some lucky bastard,” Roger growled. “Turns out you’re just a fraud.”

“Buddy,” Jack scoffed, his eyes widened in fear over the anger of his voice.

“Friends don’t rob each other,” Roger snarled. “You’re a menace.”

“Rog-”

Roger wouldn’t have it. He stormed out of the bar and back into the alleyway. Jack…someone he’s known for so long, someone he used to dig deep in conversations with, was cheating. He was robbing him of everything. He knew his situation and still took his money. Roger’s world was crashing so rapidly as he paced up and down the alleyway. Every game was a lie. That’s when the door swung open.

It was Jack. Roger glared at him as Jack approached him rather hesitantly.

“Roger…come on man. I’m sorry…” Jack groaned. He grabbed the cash Roger gave him for the night. “Here you can have it back.”

“Oh now I can have my money back?! How about the last few years. I sank so much into your sorry cheating ass!” Roger growled as he charged up to him.

Jack’s eyes widened as Roger got in his face full force. He snatched the money from his grip.

“Come on you have your money back. Just let us move on, yeah?”

“Every game. And not once you were honest?”

“I needed the money Rog and the occasional free meal. I’m not making as much as I used to.”

“Jesus Christ Jack!” Roger cursed. “The hell is wrong with you?!”

“Now you’re starting to sound like my ex,” Jack scoffed. “Look, if you didn’t have the money you shouldn’t’ve been playing simple as that. It’s not my fault you’re easy.”

That’s when it clicked. All the rage fell into one moment and it was unstoppable.

Roger grabbed Jack by the shoulders shoving him against the stone wall. Before he could control himself, fists made contact to Jack’s body. Curses ran through his mouth with every hit. The impact and groans from Jack were satisfying some broken part of him every second.

“Rog!” Jack gasped. “Stop!”

That’s when Roger hands wrapped around his throat.

“I lost everything to you, you bastard,” Roger whispered harshly. Jack was gasping for air and Roger just felt the stinging of anger, betrayal and it became too much.

As he watched the fear in Jack’s eyes, something hit his mind. What was he doing?

That’s when the breathing stopped and Jack’s body slumped. Roger let go as the body slid down the wall and fell into the mud.

Roger looked at his hands as they started trembling from the adrenaline.

“Jack?” he whispered harshly. He shook him but nothing. He wasn’t breathing and his face was blue outside of the bruising and bloodied nose. Jack was dead.

“To the grave, eh?” a voice appeared from behind. Roger swung around in absolute panic. It was Aidan, there was no sound of that man coming out with them again as he smoked his own cigarette.

Roger’s face paled as he started stammering.

“He attacked me,” Roger lied. “I couldn’t-”

Aidan raised his brows. Roger could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“I saw the whole thing White,” Aidan smirked. “It’s a little late covering your ass.”

He walked passed Roger and over to Jack’s body. He checked his pulse at his neck.

“I didn’t mean…” Roger started, his adrenaline turning into frustration and panic. “He shouldn’t’ve-”

“He deserved it didn’t he?” Aidan questioned, straightening up as he watched Roger panic. What? Deserved it?

“He’s a freaking bastard, that doesn’t make it right for him to be dead,” Roger growled at Aidan who only grinned. What was wrong with him? Why was he not calling the authorities or upset that a man was dead?!

“You lost the bet Roger,” Aidan reminded smoothly. “And you bet it to the grave.”

Roger furrowed his brows. Aidan smirked, tossing his cigarette.

“What?” he questioned.

“And…” Aidan started, looking at his rather expensive looking Rolex. “The grave is coming sooner than you think.”

“You mean the cops?”

“Oh no Roger…far worse,” Aidan grinned. “Better get to the train station. You’ll be late on our bargain.”

Roger’s eyes widened as he fumbled with Jack’s body.

“Buddy wake up,” he whispers frantically. “Come on stop joking!”

Then suddenly, Aidan’s hand grabbed and gripped onto Roger as he started dragging him away.

As he looked at the man, Aidan’s eyes changed from his dark color to almost fully black all the way around. Fear struck through him like a knife in seconds.

“Who are you?!” Roger asked his voice panicked.

“Times up Roger,” Aidan sang. “You made a bet to your grave, and we’re going to claim it!”

He checks his watch again as he pulls Roger to him. Within seconds everything goes black the alleyway disappearing around them.

Roger’s eyes dart around in the darkness. Oh God what is happening?!

Then everything stilled, and he was at the local train station. Aidan’s released his grip on him as Roger spun around in confusion.

“You don’t want to miss the train,” Aidan repeated with a smirk. His eyes were still dark and black, there was something inhuman that was radiating off of him.

“What train?!” Roger growled. “You keep telling me about a God damned train.”

Aidan grinned widely which made his skin crawl. This person, this thing wasn’t right.

“Why the train to hell of course,” Aidan replied smoothly.

Roger froze. Hell. He was going to hell.

“You made a bargain Mr. White…I’m only here to deliver.”

“You can’t be serious?!” Roger begged.

“Have a safe trip. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Aidan started laughing as he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

This can’t be true. Roger pinched himself but he was surely awake. This was a nightmare in real life. He had to find help. He looked around frantically but there was no one at the station.

He started yelling for help but it just echoes in desperation around the stone walls as he runs up the platform. There was no one here at midnight. Some people were filing in from late night shifts at the hospital or the nearby bars. But it wasn’t enough for people to help. They all looked at him like he was crazy.

When he reached further down the platform, that’s when someone caught his eye.

“Greg,” he whispered. The man was sitting at the bench in a uniform of the station staff. Did he work here? “Greg!”

Greg’s head popped up at the sudden cry and furrowed his brows as he stood. Roger was sweating, panicked and desperate.

“Mr. White? What are you doing here?” he asked in confusion. Greg caught his breath, leaning forward as he looked around.

“Greg, you need to listen to me. The train of hell is coming for me,” Greg replied frantically. “You have to help me!”

Greg looked at him with concern and rolled his eyes.

“Roger clearly you’re drunk,” Greg sighed. “You need to go home.”

“No! No! The man at the bar, he’s coming for my soul!” Roger objected. “Don’t you understand I’m in danger!”

Greg looked around noticing the small amount of people that were there were starting to stare. He must’ve looked like a lunatic. He grabbed Roger and pulled him aside.

“Roger…you need to calm down,” Greg begged in a whisper. That’s when tears started flowing out of Roger’s eyes as he looked down at the ground. “Is that blood? My God Roger what happened?”

Roger looked down. Blood from Jack was on his shirt, on his hands from the punches he threw. Only now did he notice them and he shook his head frantically.

“I killed him,” he whispered desperately. Greg’s eyes widened.

“What? Who?”

“I killed Jack. I didn’t mean to,” Roger cried. “He cheated me! The bastard took everything from me. This whole time! And now I’m going to hell!”

Before Greg could calm him down to get more information as the train station attendent came out. He must’ve heard the ruckus as he charged over to them to see what was with the commotion.

Greg’s mind was swirling. There was no way Roger was telling the truth.

“What’s going on here?”

“I’m sorry, he seems to be just having a rough night from being at the bar,” Greg mentioned. This was Roger they were talking about.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you’re causing a disturbance and if you don’t stop I’ll call the police,” the train attendant mentioned. Roger looked at him in such frustration.

“You don’t understand I-”

A train whistle blew, causing Roger to jump. All of them looked up. Five minutes before midnight. The train was early.

“I need to get out of here,” Roger cried as he began running down the platform.

A drastic wind rushes through the small tunnel of the outdoor station, a loud grinding on the rails.

Greg makes a run after Roger confused as he hears a train whistle but no train. There’s a bright flash and Greg turns blinded by the light.

To Roger…it was almost like a stop in time.

For a brief moment, the train station disappeared in a bright white flash. Then, it was cold, the station was disturbingly still.

Roger found himself opening his eyes, noticing he was in the exact same spot, but everything was empty. No Greg, no late night passengers, nothing. Just him and this old looking train lined with red and black. It looked ancient and ominous.

The train whistle causes Roger to jump in fright. He turns to see a train conductor step off the train and make their way towards him.

“All aboard Roger. Time to go home.”

Roger flinched as Aidan stepping towards him in the conductor’s uniform. His eyes are pitch black, he grins a feral grin as he grabs the man as he flails.

“Please!” Roger screeched. Aidan grabs him, dragging him on to the train as it whistles its departure, disappearing from the station.

Another flash, and reality settles as the train disappears as if it never existed.

Greg in that very moment, blinked seeing that Roger was no longer on the platform. The train attendant hesitantly walks up to Greg, swallowing hard.

People were looking about the station spooked. They heard a train but saw nothing. Just a whip of the wind and the sounds. It was as if they saw a ghost.

The train attendant then puffed out his chest, giving an authoritative voice.

“Please everyone it was just passing cargo, the next train will arrive in 5 minutes! Not to worry!” he announced as a few people relaxed, going about their subtle and quiet conversations. The whispers echoed along the stone.

Greg looked at the man with some uncertainty.

“Guess it is true,” the attendant whispered to him. “It’s not the first…it won’t be the last. Just be careful who you talk to out here. You don’t want to catch that thing with them.”

“What are you talking about?” Greg asked. The train conductor shook his head.

“Bad people…they get swept up by that ghost train. God knows where they go. But it always comes five minutes before midnight.”

Greg swallowed as the train attendant tipped his hat, his eyes still spooked from the whole endeavor as he left as if to bury it under him. Greg had heard of the train before from local lore, but this was the first he’d seen it for himself.

Now Roger was victim to it due to his broken obsession. Killed a man over a game of cards. Now the train came to take him away, his soul paying the price.

The express train to hell.