Wendigo
Member
Vik’s Garage wasn’t big, by mechanic standards. Two bays and a small shop, with storage enough in the back for parts found in either common makes and models of vehicles, or the regular crowd, mostly antiques collectors. Some of these people had been coming to Vik for more than a decade, and those kinds of drivers rarely changed their ways.
Vik’s was located on the border between Elliott and West End – the actual neighborhood, not the whole area. Vikram Jindal had a rotating staff of five mechanics who worked different shifts depending on their schedules. He wasn’t afraid to get his own hands dirty, either, and there were a handful of the older customers who didn’t let anyone but Vik get under their cars. Their loyalty was a testament to his ability.
But there were others who wanted a rush job, or who had a deadline, and Vik refused to do rush jobs himself. That’s where his employees, like Todd Fowler, came into play. Todd wasn’t the most reliable of the guys by any means when it came to a regular schedule, but he made up for it by being willing to work after or even before hours. He was up all hours of the day and night anyway – he might as well make it up to Vik by coming back when he had to leave early, or getting here before anyone else.
At any given time, there was usually at least one car in the bays overnight, if not one in each bay for the next day’s work. Today was a two-car day. At four in the morning, Todd was pretty sure he wouldn’t be bothered by any customers as he opened up and got started on the Subaru Legacy Outback he was supposed to be replacing the heating unit for, now that the part was in; the other car was a pickup, he was pretty sure one of those old F-150s, that was waiting for a part.
Duran Duran played very softly over his radio as he parked his Malibu in the lot, the engine cutting through the predawn quiet outside before he cut it. He turned off his headlights, stretched a little, and then sighed before getting out of the car. He’d managed a nap after his shift yesterday, but it wasn’t going to be enough after a long night of chasing more dead ends in the Vasquez case. He needed to rest, but he hoped that turning a wrench a few times would help him clear his head.
He stepped out of the car, and walked up toward the front doors of the garage shop – and paused.
At first, he didn’t understand why he paused. Something was off, sure, and the first thing he did was glance around to see if he was being watched. No, it wasn’t that. A moment later, he pinpointed it. Most of the men who came into the shop smelled like Axe and cigarettes, among other things.
The tea was different, though. He wrinkled his nose, and let himself take several normal breaths to make sure he smelled it. He did, and also got the sense that the cigarettes were newer than yesterday, although the body spray smell was muted, like it belonged to someone who lived with someone who used it.
Without really thinking, Todd moved in quiet steps toward the shop door. The path he’d crossed went away, but it didn’t affect him unless it had to do with something wrong inside the shop. He unlocked the door – with care, however. He didn’t want to startle anyone inside, just in case they were armed. Even if they didn’t smell like metal or gunpowder, pocketknives rarely carried a smell outward.
There was no bell on the door. It didn’t do anyone any good, since most of the time they were out in the garage. The glass door therefore slipped open in silence, and Todd stepped inside with the careful, furtive step of a hunter. He wasn’t even two steps in when he caught the scent of tea, slightly stronger, and caught sight of the window on the far side of the lobby that had been pried open. From here, he thought he might hear sounds coming from the garage bays, but that could’ve been his mind supplying something into the silence.
He stopped where he was, going entirely still as he took in the situation. He looked to the door from the shop to the bays, which it looked like had also been opened with a little more conviction than the old thing deserved. Finally, he let himself begin to tense, eyes on that door. He really didn't want to deal with this tonight, but he’d learned a long time ago to just deal with the hand he was given in the moment, and curse at fate later.
His voice didn’t shake or threaten, but it did carry, as he called, “Hello? Who’s there?”
Vik’s was located on the border between Elliott and West End – the actual neighborhood, not the whole area. Vikram Jindal had a rotating staff of five mechanics who worked different shifts depending on their schedules. He wasn’t afraid to get his own hands dirty, either, and there were a handful of the older customers who didn’t let anyone but Vik get under their cars. Their loyalty was a testament to his ability.
But there were others who wanted a rush job, or who had a deadline, and Vik refused to do rush jobs himself. That’s where his employees, like Todd Fowler, came into play. Todd wasn’t the most reliable of the guys by any means when it came to a regular schedule, but he made up for it by being willing to work after or even before hours. He was up all hours of the day and night anyway – he might as well make it up to Vik by coming back when he had to leave early, or getting here before anyone else.
At any given time, there was usually at least one car in the bays overnight, if not one in each bay for the next day’s work. Today was a two-car day. At four in the morning, Todd was pretty sure he wouldn’t be bothered by any customers as he opened up and got started on the Subaru Legacy Outback he was supposed to be replacing the heating unit for, now that the part was in; the other car was a pickup, he was pretty sure one of those old F-150s, that was waiting for a part.
Duran Duran played very softly over his radio as he parked his Malibu in the lot, the engine cutting through the predawn quiet outside before he cut it. He turned off his headlights, stretched a little, and then sighed before getting out of the car. He’d managed a nap after his shift yesterday, but it wasn’t going to be enough after a long night of chasing more dead ends in the Vasquez case. He needed to rest, but he hoped that turning a wrench a few times would help him clear his head.
He stepped out of the car, and walked up toward the front doors of the garage shop – and paused.
At first, he didn’t understand why he paused. Something was off, sure, and the first thing he did was glance around to see if he was being watched. No, it wasn’t that. A moment later, he pinpointed it. Most of the men who came into the shop smelled like Axe and cigarettes, among other things.
The tea was different, though. He wrinkled his nose, and let himself take several normal breaths to make sure he smelled it. He did, and also got the sense that the cigarettes were newer than yesterday, although the body spray smell was muted, like it belonged to someone who lived with someone who used it.
Without really thinking, Todd moved in quiet steps toward the shop door. The path he’d crossed went away, but it didn’t affect him unless it had to do with something wrong inside the shop. He unlocked the door – with care, however. He didn’t want to startle anyone inside, just in case they were armed. Even if they didn’t smell like metal or gunpowder, pocketknives rarely carried a smell outward.
There was no bell on the door. It didn’t do anyone any good, since most of the time they were out in the garage. The glass door therefore slipped open in silence, and Todd stepped inside with the careful, furtive step of a hunter. He wasn’t even two steps in when he caught the scent of tea, slightly stronger, and caught sight of the window on the far side of the lobby that had been pried open. From here, he thought he might hear sounds coming from the garage bays, but that could’ve been his mind supplying something into the silence.
He stopped where he was, going entirely still as he took in the situation. He looked to the door from the shop to the bays, which it looked like had also been opened with a little more conviction than the old thing deserved. Finally, he let himself begin to tense, eyes on that door. He really didn't want to deal with this tonight, but he’d learned a long time ago to just deal with the hand he was given in the moment, and curse at fate later.
His voice didn’t shake or threaten, but it did carry, as he called, “Hello? Who’s there?”
