Day 13
Adelaide's wasn't for tourists. For one thing, it was too small, just a modest four-hundred square foot saloon with three booths, a few tables, and the bar. For another, it was quiet, never a horn player nor juke-box to cause a ruckus. And since it was on the outskirts of the French Quarter it stayed just how Robby liked it: empty. Empty meant he didn't have to worry about a thousand dirty mits touching everything. It was paradise, the tabletops and floor were never sticky, the lights were always low, and Pete the bartender was, well, a neatnik, just like Rob.
Being at Adelaide's almost made him forget. Well, until Pete put a paper down on the table in front of Robby. Pete was just doing what he always did, he couldn't have known what it would mean to Rob. He held his breath, his eyes going to the date even though he told them not to. Friday, June 13th 1957, was there, bold as you please.
Carefully Rob pushed the newspaper away. His mind whispered "twice more" so he gave it two more little scoots. He could still see the date, black and thick like tar. But if he pushed it three more times it would end up on the floor, and that might be worse than just being able to see Friday the 13th.
"Doin' alright there, Robby?" Pete asked while pouring Rob's usual gin and tonic.
"Evening, Pete, I'm alright. How are you?"
"Fine and dandy," Pete said with a wink. He came around the bar holding Robby's cocktail. He held the glass on the bottom with a cocktail napkin between his skin and the drink.
"Good to hear," Rob said relieved when the glass was on the table. Friday the 13th meant trouble. But Adelaide's was his safe place, it was close and clean and he could relax here. He didn't want to think of anything outside this place. But this day?
History would almost certainly repeat itself. Maybe he shouldn't have come here. Maybe he should have gone to one of the jazz joints up on Bourbon Street. He wouldn't mind seeing one of those places go up in smoke.
If he left now, he'd take his bad luck with him, he was sure. He checked his watch, 6:47, that wouldn't work. He had to wait three minutes. Just three minutes. He was simply giving himself the heebie-jeebies. He knew his thoughts were just thoughts.
Just thoughts.
"Kickin' the habit?" Pete asked, nodding at the paper sitting at the edge of the table.
Lifting his glass to take a drink so he wouldn't have to say anything, Rob gave what he hoped was a friendly shake of the head.
"Missing out," Pete said. "There's a story in there about some eggheads over in Bywater loosin' their lab to Betsy. Rumor is, they were doing some strange things with animals. Seems there's been a half dozen ungodly creatures set free in the hurricane.
"Nonsense," Robby tried to laugh.
"Oh, I don't know," Pete gave him a big smile. "Scientists like to play God these days. Seems God gave them a warning, set their experiments free."
"Pete, you can't really believe that there are mad scientists!" Robby laughed, he hoped it sounded incredulous, not nervous.
"Queerer things have happened," the bartender shrugged.
Robby shook his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. In the back of his mind a thousand dark things were stirring. He could hear the scrape of claws the whisper of scales.
"Sounds like nonsense," Rob repeated. The creatures in his head grew horns and fangs. Goosebumps lifted the hair on his arms.
The 13th wouldn't touch his bar. He had to get out. He looked down at his watch. 6:52! Damn! He'd have to wait until seven now. He sucked down another pull of his drink. What if one of the escaped experiments found it's way to Adelaide's?
Unlikely. He told himself. He just needed to relax. Needed to focus his thoughts elsewhere. He couldn't let the dark parts of his thoughts come to the forefront. Dr. Moore told him when they started, he needed to try to refocus.
Valium may be a woman's drug, but it sure did help Rob. He stood and excused himself headed for the can. Mother's little helper was Robby's little helper too. Though he'd never let any of his
buddies know. He'd become an expert at dry swallowing a few pills without anyone being the wiser.
With a few pills in his system, he might just make it through the rest of this cursed day! After all, he'd made it this far! Not a single lick of bad luck had bothered him all day. Maybe Dr. Moore was right, maybe Friday the 13th was nothing but a false perception of luck.
"X doesn't always mark the spot," he reminded himself. He shook his head. He was standing in front of the basin the water was running, but Rob wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there. The Valium was doing it's work.
Yacking to himself in the men's room mirror? Yes sir, it was time to finish up his cocktail and head home. Before fear of the 13th took hold of him again. After he washed his hands, of course. Robby prepared himself for the sight of a kitchen fire. Then told himself that was not likely. He'd have heard the fire bell. So then, he pushed the door open and...
Zippo. Nothing. There was no bear-hog hybrid, no Goatman or Sasquatch escaped from the mad scientists, no fire, or flood or blood. Everything was fine. His fear was unfounded. And a little hysterical, though he hated to admit it.
Adelaide's was still quiet and empty and perfectly clean. Pete was behind the bar, just waiting for someone to come though the door and order their usual. They were all usuals at Adelaide's. Robby sighed, the tight feeling in his chest that lingered, even after Robby's little helper, eased.
But it only lasted a moment. Just one moment, before the door crashed open and a nightmare charged inside. It made a noise that could have been a car horn or the wild bark of a coyote! It was unlike anything Rob had ever seen, massive barrel chest like that of a bull, but it's hind quarters sloped down ending in a bottle brush tail. Horns sprang from the head of a massive dog-like creature. It's fangs snapped the air before it's black eyes found Robby. When it saw him, the creature's jaws fell open and drool spilled out onto the pristine floor. Rob couldn't help but think, "there goes the neighborhood." Just before the creature charged at him.
