Flesh (31 page)

She wasn’t even out of the parking lot, yet.

She pumped her arms. She flung her legs out. Her bare feet slapped the pavement. She knew she was moving fast. She could feel her hair flying behind her, her shirttails flapping.

She could hear Evan’s shoes pounding behind her.

He had chased her before, always in fun, always catching her easily. But she had never run from him like this. She felt as if she had never run so fast in her life.

Now she heard not only his shoes but his huffing breath.

He’s gaining on me!

Tucking her chin down, she pistoned her arms and tried to hurl out her legs even faster than before.

She made it past the parking lot entrance, onto the road that led to Latham.

Evan was tight on her back.

“Leave me
alone!”
she yelled.

He smashed her between the shoulder blades.

Alison plunged forward in a crazed dance of flinging arms and wild legs. Then she was off her feet. She slammed the pavement, hit it with palms and knees. It knocked away her arms and legs. It punched out her breath. She skidded to a stop. She couldn’t get air and her skin burned, but she started to scurry up again.

Evan kicked an arm out from under her. She landed hard on her side. Evan grabbed the numb arm and pulled.

He lifted her. He swung her over his shoulder, turned around, and headed back across the lot.

Jake sat in his car in the parking lot of Wally’s, his forehead against the steering wheel.

Don’t just sit there, he told himself. Go after her, damn it!

Sure thing. Go where?

Try Evan’s apartment.

He wouldn’t take her there. Not enough privacy for what he has in mind.

Eating her.

God!

Think!

The apartment is out. He’d take her someplace secluded, where he wouldn’t have to worry about neighbors hearing
anything, where he could work on her secretly for a long time. A field, maybe, or an abandoned building.

And which abandoned building would that be, you dumb asshole?

You could’ve been there by now!

Evan’s shoulder bounced against Alison’s belly as he rushed up the restaurant’s porch stairs. He stopped in front of the door. One of his arms went away from Alison, but the other stayed clamped like a tight bar across the backs of her knees, pinning her legs against his body.

He got the door open and carried her inside. The door banged shut. He took a few steps, then bent at the waist to unload her. Alison felt herself start to fall. When she flopped off his shoulder, she reached up fast and clutched the back of his head. For a moment, she held herself up. Then Evan knocked her arm away. He kept her legs pinned until her back slammed the floor. Her head snapped down and hit the hardwood.

Evan bent over her. He tore open her shirt, spread its front, and stepped back. He stared down at her. His mouth hung open. He was panting for air.

Alison lay there, stunned from the blow and straining to breathe. She wanted to close the shirt. She couldn’t lift her arms.

“Beautiful,” he gasped. “Gotcha now, huh? Beautiful deceitful cunt.” He suddenly flinched. Squeezing his eyes shut, he grimaced. His back stiffened and he writhed as if possessed by a terrible ecstasy. He swayed and moaned. Saliva dribbled down his chin. He rubbed his penis through the bulging front of his shorts.

Alison gazed up at him.

He was out of it, caught up in his frenzy.

Now, she thought vaguely. Before he comes out of it. Move!

She found the strength to roll over. She thrust her burning hands and knees against the floor and pushed herself up.

Evan grabbed her ankles. He yanked her legs straight. Her belly slapped the floor. Still holding her ankles, he crossed them and twisted them savagely. Alison flipped onto her back.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere. No party without you.” He took a step backward. He wiped his slick chin with the back of a wrist. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged it from his shoulders and it fluttered to the floor.

He wore a patch of gauze and tape just to the left of his navel. A band of purple skin at the edge of the patch angled across his belly and around his side.

On his belt was a black case. Alison watched his hand move to the case. He popped open its flap. He slid out a folding knife. He pried out the blade. It locked rigid with a metallic click. Staring down at Alison with half-shut eyes, he licked a flat side of the blade. “Do I taste Celia? Yes, I believe I do. A saucy wench, but tender.” He lapped the other side of the blade.

Crouching, he leaned over Alison. The blade was cool and wet on her thigh. He turned it over and wiped the other side on her skin. With a flick of his wrist, he nicked her. She flinched. “Aw, did that hurt? For shame. Poor, poor Alison.” He rubbed her cut. The back of his hand came up smeared red. He licked it and sighed.

Alison felt blood trickle down her inner thigh.

Evan stood up. Twisting at the hips, he threw the knife behind him. It thunked the floor. “Plenty of time later for that,” he said. “Gotta ream you with something else, first.”

He opened his belt buckle. He unbuttoned the waist of his white shorts and lowered the zipper. The shorts dropped around his ankles. He was wearing tight, red briefs. The front jutted with the push of his erection. He slid his thumbs under the elastic at his hips.

Alison lashed out with her foot, catching his left shin. Evan staggered backward, arms waving, feet tangling in the shorts. He started to fall.

Alison flung herself over. She shoved at the floor, got to her hands and knees and scurried up, staggering. In front of her was the bar. She threw her hands against its edge to catch herself. She spun around. Evan had freed himself of the shorts. He was crouched. He sprang at her.

Alison lunged to the right. Straight ahead was the main dining area. Straight ahead, at the end of a long stretch of bare floor, was a window. Crash through it?
That
might kill her. But better the window than Evan. Too far, anyway. Evan was already too close behind her, shoes thudding the floor, breath hissing.

She dodged around the corner.

Had a moment to see the clutter on the floor: cans, rags, toolbox, vacuum cleaner, ladder. A moment to wonder if she could leap clear.

Evan hit her.

His head pounded her rump. His arms wrapped her thighs. His diving tackle drove her forward and down.

She cried out as her body crashed to the floor. Cans overturned. One stayed under her hip. Another pushed at her belly. The edges of the open toolbox dug into her chest. Her left breast was inside the toolbox, pressing cold steel.

Evan squirmed off her. He pulled her by the ankles. As the edge of the toolbox scraped the underside of her breast, she hooked her left arm around the box. It skidded along the floor.

Evan stopped dragging her. He clutched her hips. Growling with effort or rage, he lifted her off the toolbox, swung her sideways, and dropped her. Falling, Alison hugged her belly and turned her face away from the floor. The impact wasn’t as bad as she expected.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Alison lay there, gasping.

Evan was nearby, but out of sight as long as she didn’t turn her face the other way.

She heard him move closer.

A hand curled over her right shoulder. Another hand hooked her right hip. He tugged at her. She rolled onto her side, rolled onto her back. And kept rolling, opening the arms folded across her belly as she came up onto her left side, facing Evan who crouched on the floor naked, who was staring at her breasts and not at her right hand, not at the screwdriver she’d taken from the toolbox.

She rammed it into him.

It hit him just under the sternum and punched in deep. The force of the blow sent him tumbling backward. Knees in the air, he stared bug-eyed at the ceiling. His mouth was a rictus of agony. He made whiny sucking noises struggling to breathe. A palsied hand pulled at the screwdriver. Its blade started to slide out, but was still deep inside him when his hand gave a spastic jerk, wrenching the screwdriver sideways. His body lurched, heels driving against the floor, thrusting his pelvis high and higher as he yanked the blade the rest of the way out.

Alison had begun to get up while she watched his contortions. She was still on the floor, turning his way, braced on a stiff arm, drawing in her legs, when Evan freed the screwdriver and hurled himself over, twisting, trying for her. She lurched back. Even’s arm swung down as his side struck the floor. The tip of the screwdriver buried itself in the wood an inch from her hip.

Alison scooted farther away. Turning over, she crawled toward the toolbox. She watched over her shoulder and saw Evan yank the screwdriver from the floor. He was flat on his belly, writhing.

She took a claw hammer out of the box.

Evan still squirmed on the floor.

She crawled back to him. His twitching arms and legs shuddered against the floor as if he were trying to push himself up.

“Stay down,” Alison gasped. She raised the hammer overhead. “Stay down or I’ll bash your fucking skull.”

She stared at the bruise that curled around from his side to his back. The discolored skin over his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck, bulged out almost an inch.

It’s that
thing,
Alison thought.

She remembered Jake’s warnings.

If Evan dies, the thing will come out.

And come after me.

Well, he’s not dead yet.

The screwdriver dropped from his hand. He tried to pick it up again, but his jumpy fingers flicked it and sent it rolling.

Alison got to her feet. She was trembling badly and her legs threatened to give out. Ready to fall, she staggered backward to the ladder, dropped the hammer, and grabbed one of the upper rungs to hold herself up.

Evan still writhed on the floor, but not so much anymore.

She would need to go around his body to reach the front door. He was in no shape to stop her, now. She let go of the ladder, took a single step and flinched rigid as blood exploded from the nape of Evan’s neck.

The creature surged up through the red spray, sliding out of Evan, darting across his shoulder blade, dropping to the floor, streaking toward Alison’s feet.

She lurched backward. Bumped the ladder. Got a heel onto its first rung. Grabbed the side rails behind her with both hands and climbed. The ladder wobbled. She was only two steps up by the time the creature reached the foot of the ladder. Gazing down at the monstrosity, she moved one rung higher, then clung there, gasping.

The creature slowly circled into a coil.

It resembled a snake, but with its slimy undulating flesh, to Alison the thing looked more like a two-foot length of intestine. Where Evan’s blood had rubbed off, it was pale yellow and webbed with veins.

One end of the thing rose from the center of the coil. Not a head so much as an opening. A garden hose with teeth.
The opening flattened shut, and Alison saw the dull gray globs of its eyes.

The eyes seemed to gaze up at her, seemed to
desire
her.

Alison’s skin crawled. She glanced at herself. The open shirt hung off one shoulder. She had never felt so naked, so exposed, so vulnerable. She ached to close the shirt and clamp a hand between her legs but stood frozen, clutching the sides of the ladder.

The creature stretched upward, uncoiling, and half its length dropped onto the ladder’s bottom rung. Its lower end squirmed and flipped. In an instant, the entire length of the creature was stretched along the aluminum step.

Whimpering, Alison climbed higher.

As Jake’s car shot over the crest of the road, he saw the Oakwood parking lot. A blue car was parked near the restaurant’s front door.

Let me be in time! Please!

His car flew and dropped, pounding the downgrade.

Let me be in time! his mind shrieked.
Please.

It had taken so damn long. He’d driven as fast as he could, sped through intersections without regard for red lights or stop signs, twice barely avoiding collisions. But it had taken so long!

Five minutes? Closer to ten.

Oh, God, please. Let her be all right!

The thing kept coming. It kept
coming.

Alison climbed higher, but so did it. And it seemed to get better at swinging itself from one rung to the next.

Alison sat on the head step, at the ladder’s peak, and clutched its edges and stared down between her knees.

She was sobbing. The thing was a vile, jaundiced blur through her tears.

It flopped onto the next rung.

With a whine of despair, Alison carefully let go of the
edges and stood up. She climbed backward, arms out for balance. One step, then one more. Then she was standing on the very top of the ladder. She teetered as it wobbled from side to side. When the motion eased, she spread her feet apart and bent her knees just slightly to keep herself steady.

Peering down, she watched the creature mount the rung where her feet had been only seconds earlier. One more, and it would be on the step below the top. From there…

Alison heard the roar of a car engine.

A car! It was coming here! It had to be!

Somehow, Jake had figured out…God, I hope it’s Jake! He’ll burst through the door in the nick of the time and blast the fucker to hell.

Brakes squealed.

The corner of the wall blocked her view of the front door.

“Help!”
she yelled.

Then she looked down.

The creature was already on the next step. The ring of its mouth flattened shut and its gray phlegm eyes seemed to peer up between her legs as its head rose.

Alison leaped.

She kicked her right leg far out, shoved off with her left foot hoping to knock the ladder over, and dropped. She fell for a long time. Fell toward Evan’s sprawled body. Her feet hit the floor. Her knees folded. She tumbled forward, outflung hands slapping Evan’s back. Her left hand slipped on the blood. As she smashed down on him, something slopped onto her back.

Something long and squirmy.

Rushing up the porch stairs, Jake heard a wild scream.

He threw open the door.

The restaurant seemed dark after the brilliant afternoon sunlight. He snapped his head from side to side. He saw no
one, just a knife standing upright, blade embedded in the floor near his feet. But he heard someone sobbing. Then quick footfalls.

He whirled to the left, swinging up his revolver. Alison charged around the corner. Her face was twisted with panic. She clawed the air with one hand as if reaching for Jake. Her other arm was up, elbow high beside her head, hand behind her back. Her open shirt followed her like a fluttering cape as she ran.

Jake lunged sideways to get a clear shot past Alison, but nobody chased her around the corner.

“It’s on me!” she cried out. “
In
me!”

She twirled around in front of Jake. The thick, yellowish thing at the small of her back whipped from side to side like a grotesque, misplaced tail.

Jake dropped his gun. He clutched Alison’s shoulder to hold her still. With his left hand, he caught the flipping creature and tugged. His hand slipped off its slimy, yielding flesh. He caught it again. Wrapping his hand around it, he felt it moving deeper into Alison. He clenched it in his fist and yanked. Alison shrieked in agony and staggered backward. The creature didn’t come off.

“No!”
Jake shouted.

He threw Alison to the floor. He jerked the shirt from her shoulders and flung it aside, then dropped onto her writhing body. Sitting on her buttocks, he tore the knife from the floor.