Lot Lizards (16 page)

Bill wrapped his bony fingers around the man's thick wrists and squeezed. He felt weak and looked frail—although his face was barely visible to them in the snowy darkness and for that he was thankful—but he had enough strength to freeze the black man and make him tremble with pain as he squeezed the wrist bones hard and harder.
 

"What's your name?" Bill asked.

Through clenched teeth: "By...ron."

"Calm down, Byron. Okay?" Byron stared silently for a moment. "Okay, Byron?"

He nodded slowly at first, then his head bounced up and down like a ball. "Y-yuuhh...o-o-o...yuh-yeah, okay."

Bill's mind raced. He knew he could erase the memory of the last few minutes from the minds of both Byron and A.J., but then he would have no one to help him. He
needed
someone to help him. He smiled a little and spoke softly. "Listen to me, Byron. I need you to help me. You, too, A.J." He turned to her; she was staring at him with a sort of horrified fascination. To Byron again: "I don't want to hurt anybody, Byron. Really. What just happened here—" He gestured to A.J. "—well... it's kind of, um, complicated. She's my ex-wife."
 

Byron nodded quickly, wide-eyed. "I kinda figured."

"Right now, there are a lot of people in danger, Byron. They're snowed in here, there's no power, and there are some people wandering around here who want to hurt them. Do you understand?"
 

"I think I do, yeah.
Now
, I mean, after
that
, yeah."
 

"Well, I think I might be able to keep them from being hurt. But you
have
to believe that I don't want to hurt them. And you'll have to listen to me when I explain this. I mean, you'll have to listen to, um...to some stuff you might not want to believe."
 

Byron nodded.

Bill turned to A.J. "And you have to believe that I'm going to get Jon out of there. And...and that I want you and the kids...and Doug...to get out of here safely."
 

She seemed shocked by his knowledge of Doug, but nodded slowly.

"Okay," Bill whispered, preparing himself. "Okay." As briefly as possible, he told them everything...

CHAPTER 13

Bill talked so quickly that he sometimes stumbled over his words and had to start over. He tried not to look at their faces, afraid that he might see disbelieving eyes and, even worse, mocking smirks. But when he looked at A.J., he saw horror and sadness and confusion. Seeing her again made talking difficult. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, to ask her, and he knew he'd never see her again after tonight.
 

After what that creature had told him, he seriously doubted he would be seeing anyone, anything, after tonight.

Byron listened intently, nodding and making small sounds of shock, but he never showed any signs of disbelief.

When he finished his story, he turned slowly to A.J. He knew he was still no more than a faint silhouette in the dark to her, but the horrified expression on her face suggested that she could see him clearly.
 

"Why... I don't understand why you didn't... call or write," she whispered, as if she hadn't heard his story at all. "You could've written, at least. And...if you'd told me what was wrong...I would've helped you."
 

"What could you have done?"

"I could've tried. I've...well, I...I know I'm the one who left, but... I've missed you. We all have. Jon especially. You're still all he talks about and he's always—" She stopped and her gaze turned to the black Carsey Bros, truck. Her eyes teared up again and her lips quivered.
 

"We're gonna get him out of there," Bill said, as firmly as he could. He reached out to touch her, but she shrunk away convulsively.

"I-I'm...sorry," she whispered, turning away from him.

"You say garlic might help?" Byron asked.

"I think so. At least, with the girls. I'm not sure about that thing in the truck. The queen. That's gonna be tough."

"Well, I know where we can get some garlic. There's a shitload of it in the basement of the kitchen."

"Can you get to it?"

"I'm the janitor. I can get to anything."

Turning to A.J. again, Bill said, "Look, you've got to tell Doug about this. Make sure the girls are with one of you at all times."
 

She nodded.

"And as soon as you can, get out of here."

"We don't have a car. We had a wreck."

"
What
? Why didn't you tell me? Was anyone hurt?"
 

"No, no. We're fine. Except for the car."

He looked at her a long time, then asked, "Is he good to you? This Doug?"

She chuckled coldly. "Sometimes I think he's too good to me. Like you were."

"Then I'm glad. I'm glad." He nodded and turned away from her, resisting the urge to touch her again.

"Look," Byron said, "I hate to wreck your reunion, but whatta you say we go down to the basement."

Bill started to reply, then remembered Claude Carsey. "Shit,
that's
where I put him."
 

"What?" Byron said.

"Carsey. One of the drivers. After I knocked him cold, I put him through a basement window behind the restaurant."

"But it's kept locked."

"It was open a crack."

"Shit. Don't sound good to me."

"Yeah," Bill said. "Let's get in there."

The restaurant was chaos. After the lights went out, a startled murmur passed over the tables and booths in a wave, then someone laughed, someone cursed, a baby shrieked and the auxiliary power clicked on. It sounded to Kevin like the curse came from Jenny. It came again.
 

"
Shit
!" she hissed, brushing by him behind the counter. She spun around and stalked back to his side. "
Look
at this." She waved her arm toward the crowd of diners.
 

There were only three auxiliary lights lined up over the pick-up window facing the dining area and they cast a harsh, shadowed glow over the tables. Each light was powered by its own battery pack—the generator had been stolen over a year ago and never replaced—and lasted only an hour if the batteries had been properly charged. A man shouted, "Shut those damned things off!"
 

"Do you believe that?" Jenny whispered. "He wants
total
darkness. Like this isn't bad enough." She swept a hand over her face, then back through her hair. "Do you know who's working the floor right now? Maybe I can get a cigarette break."
 

Kevin glanced at the clock. "I don't know, but I'm taking mine."

"What? You're getting a break in all
this
?"
 

"Hey, I asked for an early break about half an hour ago and he said yes. I'm gonna hold him to it."

She looked at him curiously, cocking her head slightly, as if there were something odd about Kevin. "You all right? You seem different."
 

Still thinking of Amy, Kevin smiled and nodded and said, "I'm fine," then headed down the corridor, punching out and grabbing the basement keys on his way. As he opened the door, he heard voices and froze. Had someone gone down there and found Amy? He'd be up shit creek if it was Craig. He quickly stepped through the door, closed it and peered down the stairs into the dark.
 

Amy was kneeling on the floor between the legs of a man slumped against a stack of crates beneath the window.

"Amy?" Kevin whispered.

She looked over her shoulder so quickly that her hair parachuted around her head. In the dark it was hard to tell, but it looked to Kevin like she was smiling. Grinning, actually. And there seemed to be something—two small things—hanging from her upper lip. Two small sharp things glistening with dark fluids.
 

She laughed.

"God, Amy, what...what're you..."

She stood and rushed toward him so quickly that he flinched. "Kevin!" she hissed. "You're back!" She wrapped her arms around him and held her face close to his. There was a wet, coppery smell to her breath that made him grimace. She seemed happy, giddy as a child. "I have so much to
tell
you!"
 

Kevin stiffened, backed away, but she grabbed his arms and pulled him toward her, whispering, "What's the matter? I thought you wanted to come down here so we could get
close
." She pressed her breasts against him and ran her hands over his chest lightly.
 

Kevin looked down at the man sprawled on the floor and a cold clutching feeling in his chest told him that something was
very
wrong here, so wrong that he wasn't going to be able to ignore it or walk away from it or keep anyone else from finding out.
 

The man stirred, his head lolled to one side and a booted foot scraped over the concrete floor.

"What's happened?" Kevin rasped. "Whuh-what've you done? Who's that man?"

"Someone who wanted to hurt me. Someone who's been hurting me for a long time. You wouldn't want someone to hurt me, would you, Kevin?"
 

Her satiny voice seemed distant and Kevin wanted nothing more than to get away from her, but he couldn't take his eyes off the man on the floor and that sharp odor he was smelling was beginning to make him feel a little queasy... and Amy was moving her hand down to his belt...then below his belt to his fly, where her fingers moved with purpose, pulling the zipper down with a hiss.
 

"Look at me, Kevin."

He did.

"You don't want to stay around here forever, do you?" she whispered, easing her hand into his pants. "You want to go away and see other places, right?" She began to stroke him gently. "You want to make lots of money, don't you? And you'd like to be with
me
...wouldn't you?"
 

In a heartbeat, the man on the floor was forgotten...

Mrs. Tipton touched a match to the last of three kerosene lanterns, casting a hazy orange glow over the dark room. "It's just the snow," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "Come over here by the fire and keep warm, honey."
 

Shawna moved to the fireplace, but kept looking over her shoulder at the front window. Mrs. Tipton had closed the drapes again and only a half inch or so of night-black space remained between them.
 

"What do you say we turn on the radio and see if we can find out what happened to the power, okay?" Mrs. Tipton turned on the small AM/FM radio on the lamptable beside her rocking chair. Turning the dial slowly, she stopped at each station and listened for a moment with a frown before passing onto the next in search of some news. A sound from the kitchen startled her and Mrs. Tipton jerked her head toward the hallway, then looked at Shawna and smiled through the murky flickering dimness.
 

"It's just the cat, honey," she said with quiet reassurance.

There was another sound, louder this time, a clatter, and Mrs. Tipton's hand jerked away from the radio. She turned to Shawna, her smile gone, mouth curled into a wrinkled little O.
 

Something welled up in Shawna's chest, a terrible thickness that made it difficult to breathe and she clutched her hands together. "Let's go, Mrs. Tipton!" she hissed. "Let's get out of the house!
Now
!"
 

The woman's mouth trembled into a hesitant smile. "Oh, sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. It's just Tug." She started to get up. "He's probably up on the counter making a mess and looking for foo—"
 

An even louder clatter was followed by footsteps.

Mrs. Tipton froze in a hunched, half-standing position, all confidence gone from her face. Shadows deepened her wrinkles and the lantern flames glistened in her eyes.
 

"
Puh-please
, Mrs. Tipton, we have to
go
!" Shawna whispered. "It's something
bad
, just like I
said
something
bad
!" She backed toward the window, chest heaving as she stared at the black hallway that led to the kitchen. The darkness oozed and Shawna threw herself at Mrs. Tipton, clutching her hand and screaming, "
Now
Mrs. Tipton
now
we have to—"
 

They were in the living room in an instant, as if they had melted out of the darkness, two young women—girls, really— with skin like ivory, sunken cheeks and thin necks with muscle cords pulled taut. And they were smiling.
 

Mrs. Tipton screamed and clutched Shawna close to her side.

The girls moved toward them smoothly, confidently. One had blond hair and wore a long, tattered wool coat; the other wore a blue ski cap and a grey down jacket. The blond whispered, "Hi, little girl. What’s your name?"
 

"You leave her alone!" Mrs. Tipton shrieked, stepping in front of Shawna.

The blond stopped, nodded and said, "Okay. What's
your
name, old lady?"