The 2004 Acura TL was cruising down Adrian Street, its worn tires endlessly cycling on the dark asphalt, when the neon lights and enticing sign of Mac’s Carwash appeared in the distance. Maybe I’ll stop in and give her a nice clean, Shawn thought to himself. I have thirty more minutes before I need to be at work, anyways. As he pulled into the entrance, he passed a large rectangular sign on his right that had an image of a pleasant looking man with a huge smile plastered on his face and his thumb sticking out in the air, as if to say “we’re all good here!” It kind of reminded him of the Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken sign, but it was much closer to the ground, almost at eye level. Under the image, large blocky letters read:

MAC’S CARWASH—THE BEST WASH IN TOWN!!

AUTO WASH AND DRY……..$5.00
NORMAL……………..$6.00
SILVER………………..$7.50
GOLD…………………..$9.00
DELUXE………………$10.00

Then, at the bottom of the sign, explanations for what each option would buy you were given:




NORMAL:
Wash





Sealer wax





Power dry



SILVER:





Full service wash





Exterior cleaning





Interior cleaning





Hand towel drying



GOLD:





Full service wash





Clear coat wax





Polish wax





Wheel brite





Undercarriage wash



DELUXE:





Full service wash





Clear coat wax





Triple foam polish





Undercarriage wash





Tire shine





Surface protectant

Under this sign was a second, smaller sign that had all of the additional services that one could purchase:











ADDITIONAL SERVICES



Hand wash……$20.00


Polish…………...$4.00
Spray wax……..$10.00
Wheel Brite…...$4.00












Shawn stared hard at this sign. Should I choose normal, or go for silver? Maybe gold? Well, what about the auto wash and dry? That’s the cheapest choice, and I haven’t got exactly what you’d call full pockets………..dad always said save money……..
As Shawn pondered his choices carefully, like any good son would, chilly rain started pouring down from the sky like soft little bullets, penetrating his car windshield with amiable light-heartedness. Softly in the background, Shawn could hear the news being broadcasted through the little car speakers, static hovering distantly behind each word like soft music in a classy bar:
“Earlier this evening, at around 7 PM, the mangled body of a seventeen year old boy named William Thompson was found lying facedown on the shoulder of Columbia Avenue—
The static picked up stronger now, causing Shawn to miss a few words. He strained his ears and paid full attention so that he wouldn’t miss them when they came back.
“—farther on down, on a grass clearing next to the road, a damaged car that we believe to be his was discovered turned over on its side. The boy’s legs were twisted and his arms were bent at disturbing angles. Forensic investigations tell us that he leaped out of his car, which was going at speeds up to 80 miles an hour, and was killed instantly by the shattering impact that occurred when he hit the ground. He was intoxicated at the time of his death. Our hearts go out to William’s family and friends. More on this story in the next couple of hours.”
God, and I thought I was having it rough. Shawn turned off the radio and maneuvered his car into a spot beside the sign; he felt upset and wanted a minute to gather himself.
And suddenly Shawn felt very strange, as if he didn’t have control over himself. He gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand and shakily removed his glasses so he could wipe the sweat dropping profusely from his brow with the other hand. Trying desperately to reorient his senses, he looked out of the windshield and directed his eyes again at the sign and the image of the jolly man with his thumb suspended in the air.
Except now the man didn’t look so friendly.

His eyes appeared to have the same jovial look as they had before. And his normally shaped ears, pointy nose, and cheery smile were all the same, too.
Then Shawn noticed the eyebrows, and a wave of terror flushed over him and jolted through him with a blaze of heat that could only be explained properly by one who has experienced true fear.
They were too high up on his forehead, and they pointed downwards at a harsh angle, giving him a maniacal, evil look. The look of a man driven insane.
Now that he had noticed the eyebrows, the rest of the man’s features seemed to look evil now, too. The pointy nose flared at him, the ears were red with fury. Shawn looked closer and noticed something that wasn’t there before: two little red dots sitting placidly in the center of each of his pupils, staring at him like the eyes of a conniving rat. He looked perfectly normal just minutes ago. Am I seeing things? I must be.  After all, a sign can’t just change appearance on its own like that.
Shawn did a quick and nervous double take, and was relieved when he saw that the face on the sign was back to normal. Yep, just a harmless little hallucination. A temporary loss of mental proficiency, that’s all there is to it. Stop being a whack-job and just pull around to the car wash stand and tell the employee what you want, for God’s sake.
Shawn began chuckling and shaking his head at the thought that he had just gotten scared over a simple car wash logo. How old is he, six? As his laughter began to pick up, he stole a quick glance back at the sign, and saw through the raindrops that it was still normal. But Shawn still couldn’t get the image of that homicidal man, peering at him with those deadly eyes and that horrible grin, out of his head. Shawn stopped his laughter short; he was scared again. Just the thought of the thing was enough to send his head reeling. He cleaned the sweat off of the top of his lip and leaned his head against the wheel, his heart pounding with every rapid breath that he took. God, what is going on with me? Maybe if I rest my eyes for a minute or two……..
He was slowly falling into a dream-like trance, going deeper and deeper until he found himself standing in the middle of a very busy underground train station. People were bustling this way and that, shoving him and yelling at him to get out of their way. He noticed then that he seemed to be walking in the opposite direction as everyone else. Although he didn’t know exactly what he was walking towards or what he was looking for, he knew that whatever it was, it was important. He then had a very abrupt thought, a thought that he was being followed. He shrugged it off and continued walking. After walking briskly for several minutes, he began to tire. Jeez, this station goes on FOREVER.
He kept going and going for what seemed like twenty-five minutes. As he slipped past a huddled crowd of people, his ticket fell out of his pocket and landed on the tiled floor. He reached down to pick it up, and, since he hadn’t been aware of the ticket until now, he looked curiously at the thin, black letters imprinted on its surface:
Adult—ONE  Start Date—JUN-‘666
       Valid until—JUN-‘666
       Price—It’s free, sucka
       Arrival—Only He knows
       Departure—Now
       Destination—HELL

Shawn frantically looked up from the ticket. No one was in sight. Not one person was walking in the station that, just minutes ago, had been completely and horribly full. Shawn turned around and began to run for the exit of the station, but it never seemed to end. As he ran, he looked ahead, and saw nothing but darkness. The white tiles on the walls spread around him and consumed him, making him feel like a captured fish stuck in an extremely narrow but infinite tank.
After running aimlessly for about ten minutes, he became exhausted and decided to rest. He stopped, bent down, and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from the darkness that lay ahead. Finally! Someone to help me get the heck out of here, he thought with relief. He stood and waited for the person to come to him. Slowly, as the person got closer, he could make out some features. It was a man for sure; his suit, tie, and hat told Shawn that much. The man was getting closer now, and his footsteps became louder and more concrete. Shawn extended his hand out and began to walk towards the man, intent on shaking has hand when they finally met. As he began walking, he noticed that the man had seen him extend his hand, and had even done so himself, making the fact that they’d shake hands upon meeting a mutual understanding. Shawn and this second man, his only company in the station, walked towards each other, each extending one hand as their shoes clicked upon the hard surface of the tiled floor. They looked like exact replicas of each other. But as Shawn drew within fifty yards of the man, he saw that his skin looked parched, and his body looked almost two-dimensional. Nonetheless, Shawn continued walking towards him, because it was worth a shot of getting out of the dreadful station, and just maybe the man coming to meet him knew how.
They were now only twenty yards away from each other. Shawn had an excited expression on his face, and he began preparing what he’d say to this man upon shaking his hand. Barely able to keep himself calm, he looked down at the man’s hand, whose contours were now visible. Then he saw with complete and utter confusion that the man wasn’t extending his hand with the intent of shaking at all. Instead, he seemed to be giving Shawn the “thumbs-up” sign; and this universal sign for “all is well” appeared to be glued at the end of that eerily outstretched arm.
They were now within five feet of each other, and the man stopped walking. Shawn did the same, for he had a queer feeling that the two-dimensional man with the scary eyebrows and shiny red eyes standing directly across from him was definitely in charge.
“How do you do?” the scary man said in a firm but soothing voice.
“Umm, I’m-I’m ok, I guess,” Shawn responded with caution.
“How would you like to take a train ride with me? Just you and me? How about it?”
Shawn hesitated a moment and thought about how to deny this strange man his train ride. “I’m-I’m-I’m alright. No thanks. Maybe some other time.”
The odd two-dimensional thing shot Shawn a sarcastically sympathetic expression. “Look, Shawn. I’m usually a walker, but I feel like ridin’ today. Gives you a sort of powerful feel, doesn’t it? Come on, man. Now or never.”
Shawn looked over the scary man’s shoulder towards the exit that he could now see only about ten yards away. He needed to reach that exit.
“I really have to g-g-go. Sorry.”
The man just stood there and looked at him with that horrifying expression of cheeriness on his face, his “thumbs-up” arm still stretched out in front of him.
“No you don’t. Your ticket says that you are leaving now, and we both know very well where you’re headed.”
Shawn’s eyes bulged with fear and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “Y-y-you know about that?”
Now it seemed to get a cruel glint in its eyes. “Of course I do. I’m the conductor.”
Shawn was terrified, frozen in his place by shock and internal panic. “What? I don’t understand! You—“
A sudden realization hit him like a shock of electricity. “Wait. How did you know my name?” Now his voice rose a bit. “How did you know my name is Shawn?”
The man started moving forwards, his arm still outstretched towards Shawn as if it was coming to embrace him. His smile was larger and more malicious than ever. Very slowly, as if to savor each syllable, it said, “Because He told me.”
Now it was getting very close to Shawn, almost within touching range. Shawn tried to run around it, but found that his feet were stuck to the station floor, either by some sort of gluey substance that could only be found in a dream sequence or by the power of sheer and utter terror. He stood in his spot, and his life flashed before his eyes. He told himself to be calm, not to cry out in his final seconds, to go down like a man. But then he saw the crazed, red eyes searching his soul, and let out an ear-piercing, panicked “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—

Shawn picked his head up from the steering wheel and looked right at the sign. Again, perfectly normal. No red eyes, no weird eyebrows, and certainly no creepy grin. I must be overtired. Maybe I should just leave this carwash, call in sick, and go home. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
Just as he was about to pull out of the spot and drive away, a hard, white knuckle rapped loudly on the window. Shawn gave a little jolt. He turned his head and looked out to see who knocked, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. His alarmed expression changed instantly into one of friendliness when he saw that it was just the car wash attendant.
“Hello!” Shawn greeted the man.
The man gave him a confused look, cupped his hands over his ears, and tapped the window again.
Shawn realized what the man meant and hit the button to operate the window. It slid slowly down with a quiet, sort of robotic sound.
“Hello!” Shawn greeted a second time.
“Hi there!” the man said. He wore a weathered old navy blue cap and his breath smelled like tobacco. “What can I get for you tonight?”
“I’ll have the silver, please.”
“Coming right up!” the man began to walk away from the car, but then he turned around and approached the window again. “You want to put that window back up, sir.” Then he smiled nicely and laughed. “Wouldn’t want to get all soaked over, would ya?”
Shawn laughed a hearty laugh. “That’s a good point.”
They both laughed together. In this short exchange, Shawn felt a strange sensation, a sort of tingling, prickly feeling. Pondering it afterwards, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what that meant. What he didn’t realize was that this sensation came from the fact that Shawn had a kind of subconscious connection with this carwash attendant, as if he’d known him before, in another lifetime. Shawn paid the man his due, and, as the man walked away to begin operating the car wash, Shawn felt the need to ask him for his name.
“Hey!” Shawn called to him.
The man turned around and faced Shawn, his hands on his hips and his fat belly protruding outwards. “What can I do for ya?”
Shawn rested his arm on the windowsill. “I’ve never met an employee as nice and friendly as you before. Since I’ll be coming back here more often, I’d love to know your name. I’m Shawn McNaeli.”
“And I’m Mac!” the man replied with pride and joy.
Shawn felt that wave of terror again, only for a millisecond, and shook it off as quickly as it came. His mouth gaped in friendly disbelief. “You are Mac? The man on that sign over there? Jeez, I shoulda known!”
Mac laughed, his chin resting on his chest. He spread his legs, gave a wide cheeky grin, and outstretched his arm right towards Shawn, giving him the “thumbs-up” sign. “Believe me now?” he said with a chortle.
The impersonation was flawless. Mac looked just like the sign looked now. Shawn became very scared again. Why am I so scared? It was just a hallucination, just a moment of delirium, just a dream. Get yourself together, man. You’re fine. Shawn grinned with Mac. “Oh, definitely!” Shawn laughed, rolled the window back up, and gave Mac a wave, as if to say “I’m ready for my wash now.”
Mac returned Shawn’s laugh and walked away, but Shawn wasn’t watching him anymore. As his car began to roll forwards on the car wash track, he directed his eyes back to the sign, which was now behind him. He just wanted to see. Just in case. And sure enough, the sign was just as he’d seen it the last few times. Friendly old two-dimensional Mac was looking out at him, that jovial smile on his face, those good-humored eyes sparkling with affection, that thumb sticking out towards him, telling him that “we’re all good here!” Shawn relaxed his hands on the wheel and smiled at himself in the rearview mirror. He felt totally secure for the first time since entering the car wash. Taking a deep breath, he turned on some tunes and headed towards the washing station.

Looming ahead, Shawn could see the swishing tubes and loopy tendrils hanging from the ceiling of the washing station. The car inched on and on, led by the conveyor belt underneath it, and Shawn felt good. He turned up the radio’s volume, and the song that came on was Stuck in the Middle with You by the Steve Miller Band. Shawn sang on with the lyrics and pretended that his steering wheel was a drum set.

   Well I don't know why I came here tonight,
I got the feelin' that somethin' ain't right,
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I'm wonderin' how I'll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Joker's to the right,
Here I am stuck in the middle with you,
Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you……

Shawn closed his eyes and thumped the steering wheel, nodding his head up and down and shaking it from side to side with the beat.

Well I don’t know why I came here tonight.
I got the feelin’ that somethin’ ain’t right.

Shawn opened his eyes and looked at the rapidly swishing wrap-around washers and the mop-like scrubbers, an industrial carnival. He felt surrounded by them, and they looked like strange aliens from another planet to him.

Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right
Here I am stuck in the middle with you
Yes I’m stuck in the middle with you

The song kept going and Shawn closed his eyes again. He thumped the wheel and shook his head back and forth. Soon his entire body was jerking from side to side and Shawn was lost in another world. The music world. All he had just been through—the weird sign, the freaky dream, Mac the employee—was forgotten.
Shawn was still unconsciously lurching from side to side when the song went through its third verse. But, oddly enough, Shawn couldn’t get his mind off of those two portentous lines:

Well I don’t know why I came here tonight,
I got the feelin’ that somethin’ ain’t right.

The car continued on its way through the car wash, but Shawn didn’t know where he was anymore. He was in a deep and unshakeable trance.
Reaching his right arm towards the door, he pulled the handle and the latch clicked, spreading the door open wide.
Shawn hung out of the car and was instantly pulled by one of the mop-like scrubbers. His limp yet conscious body was tossed from the scrubbers to the tendrils and then to one of the big, strong wrap-around washers. He was flipped and turned and dominated by the merciless washers, and he felt himself being cut and stabbed at. He began to realize what was happening, but it was too late. He tried to fight, writhing and convulsing this way and that to try and escape the washers. Soap was getting in his eyes, and the water, which seemed to be coming from every direction in forceful gales, as in a storm, was attacking him. His last sight, as he was rolling round and round the washer at a speed that he couldn’t quite estimate, blood pouring out of his eyes, ears, and mouth like water from a gutter, was that of his car slowly and innocently continuing on its way down the tracks, nearing the exit of the car wash. The door was closed now, probably slammed shut by one of the washers. But he could still hear the song going.

I got the feelin’ that somethin’ ain’t right.

Shawn was spinning round and round, and the car wash was like a never-ending rollercoaster of doom. Where is Mac? Shawn wondered lightly. I need Mac.

Mac was heading out to the exit of the car wash so that he could say farewell to Shawn once the wash ended. He stood with his arms to his sides, his belly stuck out in front him, and a smile on his warm face. He waited smugly.
Finally, he could see the car’s logo slowly protruding from the car wash station, and then the dark windshield, and eventually the entire car was out of the car wash. He could hear a song playing faintly and somewhat ominously through the car’s speakers. Sounded like Stuck in the Middle with You by the Steve Miller Band. He shrugged, walked over to the driver’s side of the car, and casually shined a flashlight through the driver’s side window.
But Shawn wasn’t there.
Mac went into the operator’s room. He turned off the car wash, and all of its scrubbers and swishing cleaners ceased to function. He rushed into the car wash station and searched for Shawn. He shined his flashlight in every washer, cleaner, scrubber, tendril, and corner as he slowly went along the track.
As he finally came near the end of the station, he shined his light in one of the wrap-around cleaners and caught a glimpse of a hand. A hand coming out from under the cleaner. As he came closer to the hand, shining his flashlight as he leaned down, he saw that the hand had no arm to accompany it. He turned to leave, but halted halfway down the track. He couldn’t just leave the hand there. He had to find the rest of him.
He shined the light back on the hand, reached into the cleaner, and came out with an arm. He dropped it immediately and shied away, backing up quickly. His boot came down on a leg, and what followed was an unsatisfying crunch. He leaped into the air with a screech, and when his feet hit the ground his legs collapsed from under him. He fell to the ground with a grunt. He closed his eyes and lay there for a minute in shock, trying to regain control of himself and remember his duty. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the top half of a bloody, nail-less finger. He had had enough; stumbling upon a dismembered head just would have been too much. Besides, it didn’t matter: he could leave it to the authorities to clean up the mess. As long as nothing seemed suspicious…………..
He quickly returned to his feet and ran out of the carwash. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1.

“Aspen police department, what is your emergency?”
Mac spoke frantically and excitedly into the speaker. “Uh, yes! I-I-I don’t know what happened! He j-j-just”—now Mac’s hands began to shake uncontrollably, so he paused to steady himself—“he’s dead. I don’t know what to do, and—“
“Where are you located?” the policeman interrupted.
“Mac’s Carwash, on Adrian Street.”
“Ok, we’ll send help right away.”
By now, Mac was sobbing into the phone. He slowly pulled it away from his ear and hung up.
A few minutes later, police cars pulled into the car wash, their sirens wailing ominously and their lights flashing the bright colors of the American flag. Mac hurried over to them.
Pointing hysterically over his shoulder towards the station, Mac tried to explain to the policemen exactly what had happened: “He-he-he was in his car when he went in, but when the car came rolling out, he was gone.” Mac wiped sweat hurriedly off of his brow. “I don’t know what happened in there, and I don’t think I want to know anyways.”
One of the policemen stepped closer and said, “Were the doors of the car closed when the car came out, or was one of them open?”
“See, that’s the weird thing. You’d think if he fell out of the car, the door would be open. But they were all closed, sir. No doubt about that.”
“That certainly is strange. We’re going to seal off the place and follow some protocol actions, all right? Why don’t you go on home for now?”
“Do you think you’re going to figure this out, sir?”
The policeman scratched his bald head. “This sure seems odd, and we’ve never had a case like this before. So I can’t be sure of anything right at the moment. We’re going to do the best that we can.”
Mac nodded his head quickly, and looked sadly at the policemen. “Thank you so much, officers.” He turned away from the policemen, looking dejected. Before turning to leave the station, he stole one last glance at the tendrils and wrap-around cleaners hanging inside the washing station, like carnival rides put to rest for the night, and saw the hand again, coming out from under one of the cleaners, unmoving. He thought he saw something strange about it, so he shined his light on it once again, this time from about fifteen yards away. He noticed that the fingers formed the shape of a “thumbs-up” sign.
Good, Mac thought, we got him.
He turned to leave the station, heading for the exit of the car wash premises. As he passed the sign, the sign that was a two-dimensional version of himself, he stopped and faced it, arms to his sides. Its eyes were blood red, its eyebrows were high and slanted, and its mouth was curled upwards in a sickening smile of anticipation and glee.
Not sickening to Mac, though.
“Well?” it said, in that soothing voice.
“It’s done, sir. We got him.” Mac replied.
“Good.”
Then Mac said what he couldn’t resist saying, maybe because of how awed he was: “Trance, huh?” he said, amazed at the ingenuity of it all. “You sent that kid into delirium.”
“Maybe so. Do they suspect anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“Good. I’ll be on my way, then.”
Suddenly, the slanted eyebrows, freakish grin, and red eyes were gone. The face morphed back into jolly old Mac again, with his twinkling eyes, happy grin, and beckoning thumb sticking out in the air, as if to say “we’re all good here!” It became just another normal car wash sign again.
And then it was still.
Mac knew what that meant. The devil (or whatever it was) inside the sign had left this spot, but it’d pop up every now and then in different places. And in the future, whenever he would see a story on the news about a “freak accident” or an “act of god,” he would know that it had come back.

But as for Mac himself, he was done for now. He was just a tool that the Devil used to tantalize (maybe recruit is a better word) Shawn to his side: the dark side. The aged side. The side of hardened realism that knew the real truth: that innocence must be dealt with.
Mac winked at it and said, “just might have been your best work yet.” He gave the sign a thumbs-up, tipped his cap, and sauntered past it towards the road.
He would walk home tonight.

The Devil, who had spent the last thirty or so minutes inside the sign of Mac’s carwash, left the premises; not just the premises of the carwash, but the premises of the universe as we know it. It was done for the night. Shawn was with it now; rather, Shawn was with the two-dimensional walking man that was one of the thousands of reflections of it that exist in this world. He had finally met it and acquainted himself with it: evil.

The Devil had power. He had numbers. He had minions that he had worked hard to recruit. He was ready to take over, to take control. His potential for domination was laid out in front of him like food on a platter.

And he was ravenous.

As Mac left the station and turned the corner, heading home to his wife and kids, the policemen were still investigating. A finger here, an eyeball there. Maybe even an ear lodged somewhere inside the wrap-around cleaner.

And, watching all of this like some sort of mourner standing vigil for a loved one, the car sat idling outside the car wash, its headlights glaring into the deepened mist and its music blaring into the night.

Well I don’t know why I came here tonight,
I got the feelin’ that somethin’ ain’t right.
Stuck in the middle with you…………….