Lot Lizards (21 page)

They were going back to his house so he could pick up some things to take with him. Then, as soon as the freeways cleared up, they were going...wherever. As he enjoyed the touch of her hands, he thought of all the places they might go, the things they might do, when—
 

—Amy stiffened beside him, her fingers dug into his thigh and she made a strangled sound in her throat.

"Whatsamatter?" Kevin asked.

She closed her eyes and clutched her head between her hands, hissing.

"Amy? What's wrong?" He pulled the pick-up over to the side of the road, slowing to a stop.

"Nuh-
no
," she barked. "Kuh-keep going!"
 

"But what's—"

"Just keep guh-
going
! Some-something wrong...with her...something huh-happening..."
 

"Something's wrong with
who
?"
 

Amy slammed her head against the dashboard and screamed, "
Just get me away from her noowww
!" as...
 

...Bill said to the patrons in the restaurant, "Okay, nobody has to panic, because we're
ahead
of these things! We've got the upper
hand
!" But they
were
starting to panic. Truckers at the coffee counter were starting to talk loudly, exchanging stories they'd heard from other truckers from around the country who'd had strange experiences with the lot lizards; families and couples were starting to rise from their tables to leave, moving quickly. "No,
no
!" Bill shouted. "You can't leave! We
can't
go outside!" Bill turned to Byron for help, but he was at the counter talking quietly with the trucker who had the load of garlic.
 

Byron turned to Bill suddenly and said, "Okay, c'mon, we gotta go out and get that stuff."

Bill held up a hand and started to speak again, hoping to impress upon the crowd that it was important not to leave the building, to stay inside, but he heard something. Everyone else heard it, too, and became silent, listening.
 

It was a scream. A horrible, piercing scream that was growing closer and closer, until—

—the silence was broken when an enormously obese woman stood at her table, knocking her chair over, and pointed at the window, screaming. Every head turned toward the window and more screams rose from the crowd.
 

At first, Bill thought it was a large bird, but that thought was so silly he nearly laughed out loud, realizing he should know better, and he dropped to his knees screaming, "
Everybody get down
!"
 

There was a clatter of plates and chairs as the crowd sought cover and the scream became louder and louder until an explosion of glass made it unbearable. With his arms over his head, Bill looked up.
 

The creature's mouth was yawning open, its eyes were bulging and it held a bundle in her arms. The bundle was screaming, too. It was a child...a little girl.
 

Screams rang out from the crowd and glass continued to shatter as the creature slammed into the lights hanging from the ceiling; shards of broken bulbs fell like rain.
 

And the creature continued to scream, flying in circles, broad wings creating a wind that smelled of rotting meat as the little girl in its arms cried like an infant.
 

"My
baby
!" a voice rang out.
 

Bill looked in the direction of the cry and saw the waitress who had stopped him and Byron on their way to the basement, her arms outstretched toward the creature, eyes wide with panic.
 

"My
babyyy
! Dear
God
, that's my little
giirrll
!" Ignoring the danger, the waitress dashed forward as the creature's wings faltered and it dipped toward the floor, still screeching hideously. "
Shaww-na! Shaww-na!
" she cried hoarsely.
 

Byron dove from his hunched position on the floor and wrapped his arms around the waitress's legs, knocking her down and holding her, covering her with his body as she fought to get up again. "Shawna! My baby! Please don't hurt my
baby
!" the waitress cried, as...
 

… Jon ran through the snowy night, the running footsteps behind him gaining rapidly. He tried to run faster, but the experience in the trailer had drained him, exhausted him, and he'd already pushed himself too far. His lungs were burning and his abdomen ached with the biting stitches of overexertion. He'd already started stumbling when he was tackled from behind; the second he hit the icy pavement with two arms wrapped around his knees, two more slammed against his back and held him down. He was gasping for air, but the two girls didn't take a single breath.
 

"Okay," one of them said, "whatta we do with him?"

"Don't know. Just...just, um...oh, shit, I'm not feelin'—"

"Yeah, me neither. What's...what the hell's happening?"

"I don't...know. She's...there must be...something wrong with...her."

The two girls began to groan and hiss. The hands lifted from Jon's back and his legs were freed. So exhausted that he couldn't continue running, he looked over his shoulder at them.
 

They were both on their knees holding their heads between their hands, their lips curled back to reveal their fangs. Their bodies convulsed as they pulled at their hair. The ski cap fell from one girl's head while the blonde clawed her own face with her nails, as...
 

...the creature swooped suddenly and clumsily, oblivious to the pleas of the child's mother. It slammed into a table that had been vacated only seconds before, knocking the table over and scattering its plates and glasses and utensils over the floor. The massive leathery wings lost their rhythm and, although the creature made a desperate attempt to stay in the air, it dropped the child to the floor and collapsed on the truckers' coffee counter, sliding a few feet, knocking aside napkin dispensers and coffee mugs and containers of sugar and cream. The wings continued to make feeble attempts at flight as the creature lay on its stomach kicking its legs and flailing its arms. It craned its head back, opened its muzzle-like mouth, exposing its glistening fangs and black, quivering tongue, and its eyes bulged as it released a long gurgling scream.
 

Byron was on his knees in an instant, holding his .38 between both hands as he shouted to be heard above the screams of the panicking crowd, "Everybody
down
, dammit!" Then he emptied the gun into the creature as it writhed on the counter.
 

When the gunshots stopped, the crowd became still and every eye watched the motionless creature. Slowly, it turned its trembling head to Byron, bared its fangs and made a painful snarling sound, merely angered by the bullets.
 

Several women screamed, including Jenny Lake who scurried over the floor toward her daughter, sobbing as she huddled protectively over the still little girl.
 

Byron got to his feet and staggered backward as he fumbled with the box of bullets in his jacket pocket, gawking in horror at the creature as it struggled off the counter, fell over the stools to the floor and began to crawl toward him.
 

The screaming grew louder; grown men cried out like little boys and children huddled under tables, their feet crunching over broken glass on the floor.
 

"Son of a
bitch
!" Byron shouted, spilling bullets from the small box. "Oohh momma sonofa
bitch
!"
 

Bill stood as Byron neared him and watched the thing on the floor. Something was happening. In the harsh glow of the auxiliary lights, the creature was
changing
.
 

Byron dropped the box of bullets and it split open, sending its contents rolling over the carpet. "
Shit
, oh
shit
!" he shouted, backing into Bill, who clutched his arm and hissed, "
Look
!"
 

The creature's entire body was quivering like gelatin as it pulled itself over the floor, gagging and spitting as it dragged its wilted wings behind it. Its claws tore into the carpet and its fangs clacked together as it snapped at Byron. Beneath a sheen of fine greyish hair, the creature's pale skin was darkening and shriveling like the skin of a raisin; it seemed to thicken as it curled and wrinkled into a callous-like coating over the boney body and the creature's face became skull-like, resembling the head of a long-dead dog, its bulging eyes sinking rapidly into deepening sockets, its cheeks becoming caverns that flanked a thinning muzzle of fangs that yellowed and began to fall out, first one at a time, then several at a time, until the thin, black lips were pulling back over pathetic, shriveled gums. Sores blossomed like flowers over the creature's body and dribbled viscous fluids to the floor. The sounds it made became thinner and scratchier as it reached a trembling stick-like arm toward Byron, who took a few more steps backward and then—
 

—the creature's tortured eyes moved from Byron to Bill. It froze for a moment, its arm outstretched, fingers splayed; then it closed a fist, moving its arm slowly and pointing a long, knife-like index finger at Bill. It remained that way for a long moment as its body continued to decay, its wings curling into long strips of burnt paper, the hair falling away to form a grey pool around its body; the creature's lips moved around its smile as if it were about to speak, then, weakening, it settled for a simple quiet laugh as its eyes melted from their sockets and dribbled down the creature's cheeks like milky tears and its smile disappeared as its jaw dropped to the floor, leaving behind half a face. In spite of the crowd's loud panic, Bill heard the soft, wet crunch of the creature's neck severing as its head dropped away from its shoulders, hit the floor and rolled for a few inches, stopping near Bill's feet, its empty sockets staring blindly at him. Its arms snapped at the joints and the shriveling, glistening body began to collapse like a deflating balloon, releasing vile odors that made a few people retch. Its blackened skin became flakes that left behind bones which quickly crumbled like chalk into countless small dry pieces which crumbled further until nothing was left but dust in a puddle of bodily fluids surrounded by grey hairs that blew in the icy wind that came in through the broken window.
 

The room fell silent except for a few sobs and the sounds of sickness. Then the crowd began to talk among themselves, their voices rising slowly, the panic of a few moments before replaced now with confusion and fear.
 

"What the hell happened?" Bill whispered.

"I don't give a damn," Byron gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I'm just glad it
did
, is all."
 

"Oh God, somebody help my baby!" Jenny Lake cried, kneeling beside her daughter. "She's
bleeding
! She's been
hurt
! Oh God, I think she's been—"
 

Jenny was interrupted mid-sentence by a sound from outside. It began faintly, then grew louder as it became more identifiable: a high-pitched shriek. All eyes turned from the heap of moist, blackened ashes to the broken window through which gusts of snow still blew. The shriek was joined by another, and another, until the night was singing with a chorus of bone-chilling, not-quite-human screams. And among them, so faint that it was almost buried, was a voice that made Bill's heart skip a beat; it was crying, "
Daaaad! Daaaad
!"
 

A.J. hurried into the restaurant, her voice weak as she stammered, "Bill? Was thuh-that him? Wuh-was that our Juh-Jonny?"

Bill turned to Byron and snapped, "Bring some garlic," as he headed past A.J. and out of the restaurant.

Byron vaulted over the coffee counter to one of the remaining crates of garlic, put down his gun for a moment and began stuffing fistfuls of it into his pockets. He stuffed his gun under his belt, picked up the crate and said to the trucker who'd said he was hauling garlic, "Grab one of these and follow me." Then, to the crowd: "We're gonna need all the help we can get! Anybody interested in all of us staying alive, come out and give a hand." Then he followed Bill at a jog, as...
 

.. Jon crawled frantically over the snow, trying to get away from the two girls who were now wailing like a couple of tortured animals, dragging their nails over their own skin and opening bloodless cuts in their faces. One of them, the blonde, looked at Jon with eyes stretched open so wide he was surprised her eyeballs didn't pop from their sockets and, like a stalking cat about to pounce, she crawled over the snow toward him, her mouth gaping, fangs glistening with saliva as she hissed and snarled, spittle dribbling from her lips, while the girl behind her clawed at her own eyes until her fingers were wet with viscous fluids and her sockets were gushing holes, and—
 

—Jon stumbled to his feet, screaming for his dad again, as screams of agony rose in the dark around him, female voices wailing as if their flesh were being burned off, and—
 

—there were male voices, too, crying out in fear and pain, and—

—women began to fall from the cabs of the trucks in the parking lot and run, screaming, through the snow all around him, running as if pursued by their worst nightmares, their arms outstretched, some of them naked or only half dressed, with garments hanging from their bodies as if they had suddenly gone mad in the act of undressing, and—