Four Corners Dark: Horror Stories Read Online Free

change and his ticket and said, “Safe travels sir.”
    He turned and walked towards a glimmering streamliner. In fifty hours he would be back on the West Coast and with any luck, have recovered some or all of his money. It all depended on how events had changed in this new life. When he jumped he entered another possible path in the life of Frank Reynolds. This time it was a path where he had excelled at school, attended church and never run into the Black Hand Gang.
    He handed his ticket to the blue-suited conductor and climbed aboard the train.
    “Have a safe journey sir,” the man said.
    “Thanks pal,” Frank replied.
    The trip to San Francisco was uneventful. He slept and read for the greater part of it and smoked on the observation deck when no one else was around. On the second day, he walked the aisles of the train cars and studied the passengers along the way, businessmen in suits, old women travelling to visit family and soldiers on leave.
    He had met many people over the years but didn’t have much use for them. They were passing scenery. His first jump in ’37 had changed and disconnected him. He lived a disposable life in a disposable world. The whistle blew and the train began to slow as it approached the San Francisco station. A few minutes later, Frank hotwired a grey Ford and drove out of the station parking lot towards the point.
    When he arrived he pulled the Ford to a stop in the same spot as the Buick, months earlier.
    A section of the rock wall had crumbled into the sea. He was able to hike down and reach the hiding spot, but his bags were gone.
    “Son of a bitch,” Frank yelled.
    He lit a cigarette and stared at the ocean.
    “Should have buried it,” he muttered.
    He finished the cigarette and stamped it out in the dirt. He got into the car, put the column shifter in gear and gunned the accelerator leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    T he drive through Pacific Heights had an odd feel and all of his old haunts were gone. Tommy’s Tavern was shuttered up and the building that held the Seville Club was gone completely, only an empty lot remained. Frank’s stomach began to knot up when he approached his old neighborhood. He pulled up and parked in front of his house. The white trim of the hundred-year-old Queen Anne mansion stood against familiar blue paint but the grounds looked different. The oak tree was gone replaced by a swatch of ivy and a marble fountain.
    A woman opened the front door of the house, stepped onto the front porch and left two empty bottles in a metal milk box. He pulled out a cigarette, crumbled the empty package and threw it into the back seat. After waiting a few minutes, he got out of the car and walked around the house to the back garden. He saw the woman through the kitchen window. She was young and pretty and looked to be in her mid-twenties. The kitchen was painted a different color and the house had windows where there hadn’t been any before.
    He peered over a wrought iron fence then opened a gate into the back gardens. The gate hinges made a low groan as it swung inwards. He walked into the yard and stopped in front of a glass greenhouse. The building was two stories high and attached to the back of the house. A mass of plants grew behind the translucent walls. The building had been built over the spot where Frank had hidden the key to his safety deposit box.
    “Dammit,” Frank said and threw down the remains of his cigarette.
    He returned to the Ford and drove towards the ocean to consider his options. He was good for cash at the moment but needed a new plan. The key would not be under the greenhouse. The money, the safety deposit box or even the bank itself might not exist on this new path. He got a room at the Regal Hotel and then went outside to get some air. He saw a familiar face, Stewey Johnson, a grifter he had hired on occasion. Stewey was standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.
    “Stewey, is that you?” Frank said