Bestiary (68 page)
Authors: Robert Masello
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers
The klaxon burst out again, and the beast lifted its head, roaring. Even through the smoke, Carter could see its bulbous dark eyes battening on the limousine, which lay stranded like a beached whale . . . or perhaps, in the eyes of the gorgon, an adversary.
With renewed purpose, it bounded down the slope, moving around and through the flames with surprising agility. And as Carter and Beth watched, it went straight for the Mercedes, lowering its massive head and butting the hood with such force that the whole car was pushed up onto the broad sidewalk. The klaxon, either damaged or simply finished with this cycle, went dead, and the gorgon raised itself on its stubby hind legs and roared.
Beth began to shiver uncontrollably, and Carter gathered her close. “I know what it is,” he said, and she looked at him with terrified incomprehension.
What it was, Beth thought, was a picture from
The Beasts of Eden,
come to terrible and unbelievable life!
The Beasts of Eden,
come to terrible and unbelievable life!
The creature bellowed again, and then, perhaps smelling the water, used its jaws to rip the iron fence posts up from the ground. With its legs splayed out to either side, it calmly trampled over the wreckage.
Had it seen them, Carter wondered? Had it picked up their scent?
The creature came to the lip of the pool, and instead of lapping at the water, it knew enough to plunge its thick snout well below the debris and drink the less polluted water that lay below.
Champ, still crouching on the hot cement at the lip of the pool, stood up, tail raised, and barked loudly.
Carter prayed the creature, with its head still down in the water, wouldn’t hear. But when it raised it again, Champ let loose with another angry challenge, and the beast swung its ponderous head from one side to the other, taking in everything that lay before it . . . including Carter, Beth, and Joey, still huddled together in the water.
“Stay low,” Carter mumbled to Beth. “Move slowly, toward the deep end.”
Maybe the beast wasn’t a swimmer.
But then it lifted one front paw in the air, laid it on the surface of the water, and lowered it slowly, until clearly it had touched bottom. With its head turned to keep track of Carter and his family, it dropped the other front leg into the water, then, satisfied, plunged its enormous body into the pool like a gigantic crocodile scuttling off a riverbank. The displaced water rose like a tidal wave, carrying Beth and Joey up over the rim and onto the cement, while Carter was thrown against the wall beneath the diving board. The dirty water gushed over his head, and he sputtered for breath. The beast swam toward him—one stroke would bring its fangs within easy reach—and Carter hoisted himself up and out of the pool. He glanced over—Beth was carrying Joey and racing for the poolhouse—and Carter, instead of following, waved his arms and made sure to keep the gorgon’s attention focused on him.
“Here!” he shouted. “Keep looking here!”
The cement was blazing hot, and slick with wet, sizzling cinders, but Carter ran around the rim of the pool, past the gorgon, which immediately changed course, and then onto the fallen railings. He had to dance through them, careful not to snag his foot or break an ankle.
“Catch me!” he hollered, without turning around, then hurried around the sidewalk to the driver’s side of the limo; the car was now perched on all four tires again.
The klaxon went off, nearly shattering his eardrums, as he piled into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind him. The car was so well armored and insulated that the noise, once inside, was tolerable . . . but barely.
And for once he was glad to have the klaxon blaring. It was what must have allowed the gorgon to follow him here in the first place; maybe he could use it now.
He started the car, revved the engine loudly, and waited for the beast to take the bait.
Which, seconds later, it did. Through the side window, Carter saw it planting its broad, clawed feet on top of the iron fence posts and coming for its enemy, the car. Black water was streaming off the creature’s flanks and matted fur, and its long tail lashed back and forth, blowing the smoke and ash away like a fan.
Carter flicked on the headlights and flashers—anything to make himself more of a provocation to the gorgon—and then, when the beast was almost upon him, he let the limo roll down the sidewalk, between the lampposts on one side and the burning hedges on the other. He could see the gorgon in his rearview mirror now, nimbly tracking him.
Carter waited for a spot where the curb was lower, and then jerked the car off the sidewalk; it jounced down onto the littered street, its headlights sweeping across a panorama of burning trees and swirling smoke. All the houses to the east were wrapped in flames, and as he watched, the chimney of one collapsed in a tumble of bricks and dust.
The gorgon had followed him into the street, its baleful glare unwavering, picking its way through the fallen branches and scorched leaves. Carter, though he could barely see through the filthy windshield, sped up . . . wondering all the while, what should he do now?
The klaxon, which had been blissfully off for a minute, blared again, that blue light on the dashboard relentlessly flashing. For all Carter knew, the car was also being tracked by satellite. Jesus, he thought, al-Kalli had probably outfitted it with machine guns, but he had no idea where they were or how to operate them.
All he knew was that he was leading the monster away from his family.
He prayed that the poolhouse would provide a refuge.
But then the gorgon roared again, in answer to the klaxon, and he saw it, in his mirror, scurry forward on its splayed legs. It was angry—did the car’s siren sound like a challenge from some primeval opponent?—and he feared it was about to attack.
He was right.
Before he could maneuver around the trunk of a flaming palm tree, the gorgon had suddenly scrambled forward, and with strength Carter could never have imagined, launched its massive body into the air. The roof of the limo was suddenly crushed by its bulk—the interior light exploding, the windows shattering into a rain of glistening shards, even the sound of the klaxon, though still going off, muffled and shrill. In any other car, Carter thought, he’d be dead by now, but the reinforced chassis still held together well enough for him to scrunch down in the seat, his head grazing the roof and his damp hands gripping the wheel. The creature was on top of the car, and had already batted one massive paw through the missing window on the passenger side. Its claws, as big and yellow as ancient ivory tusks, sliced at the leather upholstery, feeling, no doubt, for its adversary’s innards. A creature like this was used to disemboweling its prey, and then waiting patiently for the blood loss to render it defenseless. If the victim was still clinging to life while the gorgon began eating it, that was all to the good; a gorgon liked its meat to be as fresh as possible.
But Carter knew something else about it, too: It would cling to its prey no matter what. It would never loosen its hold, or relinquish its kill to some other predator.
And in that he might have found the answer he was looking for.
The road dipped ahead, and Carter could see there the turnoff he’d been looking for, the path back down the hill and out of the development. But now he drove past it—he could hear the gorgon above his head, growling with rage and hunger, only a few inches of armored steel keeping it from crushing him—and gradually began the ascent toward the other end of Via Vista.
A wall of flame descended the eastern hillside, but the western side, at least up here, was not yet burning; the canyon was dark and deep and, though covered with a haze of smoke, it had not yet caught fire. Carter increased his speed, the gorgon still managing to envelop the limousine in its deadly embrace, its tail dragging like a heavy chain on the pavement. It slowed the car, but not so much that Carter, switching gears, couldn’t pick up steam as he drove toward his goal—the cul-de-sac, just like the one at his end of the street, that lay ahead.
He suddenly felt the sleeve of his shirt rip, and he saw a long, hooked talon making another swipe at his arm. The roof of the car crumpled even more—the gorgon must have shifted its weight—and the driver’s-side door groaned and then popped out onto the pavement, clanging and clattering as it fell away down the street. Carter glanced up and out, and at that moment the monster lowered its head to try to peer inside.
Its mouth was open, revealing rows of serrated teeth, interrupted only by two saberlike fangs that hung down from the upper jaw; they were gleaming with saliva, and one was broken off at the tip. The unblinking eyes were so large and convex Carter imagined he could see himself reflected in them.
But what did the gorgon, a ruthless predator nominally extinct for 250 million years, make of all this? Clinging to the crushed chassis of a limousine, with a human—Carter had no doubt the creature could smell his flesh and the blood pounding in his veins—harbored inside? Was it really able to think at all—or was it just acting on instinct, driven like a shark to kill and eat, to flee from the danger of a raging fire, to attack and devour all enemies?
Carter certainly hoped that last one was true—that the gorgon would do anything to make sure this gleaming black beast would die in its grasp. The klaxon sounded again, more subdued by the mutilated metal, and the gorgon bellowed—exultantly, it seemed, to Carter. It thought the enemy was dying, that the fight would soon be over.
But not too soon, Carter thought—not too soon!
He gunned the engine again, enough to pick up even more speed, but not enough to shake the gorgon loose. He wanted to keep the beast right where it was, enjoying the death throes of its prey. He raced up the hill, the siren blaring, the gorgon roaring, and headed for the crest of Summit View, the cul-de-sac where everything stopped; beyond it, below it, lay nothing but the canyon.
Twice he had to swerve around fallen debris, and once around the smoldering wreck of a sports car, but the monster’s tail seemed to serve as a kind of rudder, keeping the beast on board and the limo on track. The roof strained and squealed, then burst its rivets and caved in another few inches. Carter, nearly horizontal in the broken seat, could barely operate the steering wheel and gas pedal. But the end of the street was fast approaching; he could see the last lampposts lighting the way.
Carter leaned toward the left, planted his foot on the floor where the missing door had been, and as he saw the black, empty crest ahead, he pressed on the gas pedal, then braced himself for what might be his last act on earth: Head low, arms tight, he threw himself out of the racing car, flying into a pile of burning brush, then tumbling and turning and falling through the smoke and ash and glass. He felt a shoulder pop from its socket, heard a bone crack, but even as he rolled away he was able to catch a glimpse of the Mercedes, its red taillights glowing, as it shot toward the cliff with the gorgon ripping at the steel and its head raised in triumph.
As Carter banged up against something hard, the breath was knocked from his lungs; he saw the car plow through the low metal barrier at the top of the street, and then sail off the edge of the cliff. The gorgon’s tail swung high in the smoky air as the creature—and its doomed prey—plummeted into the canyon below.
Then, before he could even catch another breath of the scorched air, everything went hazy, dim, and finally . . . black.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
BETH PULLED THE curtain back and took a peek into the garden.
Agnes Critchley was out there, just as she’d expected, pruning her roses.
She let the curtain fall back, and sighed. She felt guilty about trying to avoid her—after all, the Critchleys had been nice enough to take them all in after their rented house in Summit View had gone up in flames—but she just wasn’t up to another chat about gardening and pest control right now. Living in the Critchleys’ guesthouse was a blessing, but it did have its price.
Other books
Wild Child: A Skull Kings MC Novella by Sage L. Morgan
The Mill House by Susan Lewis
In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9] by Betty Sullivan La Pierre
Touching Evil by Rob Knight
Children of Enchantment by Anne Kelleher Bush
Prince of Spies by Bianca D'Arc
Lady Luck (Lucky You Book 2 1) by Claire, Avery
Darksong Rising by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.
Right Hand of Evil by John Saul
Marry Me by Jo Goodman
