Lot Lizards (25 page)

"Hold it," Bill said, putting the lantern on the coffee counter. He removed his jacket with stiff, weak movements and draped it over Jenny's shoulders. "If s even colder out there," he said, nodding toward the exit.
 

Jenny made a sound that might have been meant as a thank you, but in Bill's ringing ears it was nothing more than a grunt. She turned and shouldered her way into the crowd and, as they hurried out, Shawna looked at Bill over her mother's shoulder and, realizing that he wasn't following them, shouted, "Bill! C'mon, come
with
us!"
 

Bill lifted his lantern again and waved at the girl. "I'll be fine."

"No! Mommy, wait for
Bill
!"
 

They disappeared into the crowd.

Bill turned back to the corridor and squinted into the darkness. He could only see shadowy movements, but he could hear enough: horrible slurping and sucking, like pigs in mud. When they were finished, would they be daring enough to follow everyone outside in spite of the threat of sunrise? Were they
that
crazed?
 

Maybe.

He turned and began shouting, "A.J.! Dara! Cece! Jonny!" He walked into the fleeing crowd calling their names over and over. A woman with silver hair bumped into him as she spun around, shouting at everyone who rushed past her, "Stop it! Stop this right
now
!" Her eyes were wide with the look of one who has abandoned her sanity. She waved her fists in the air. "I am the
manager
! I am
responsible
! Stop this right
now
!"
 

"Come on, ma'am," Bill said, taking her arm and trying to turn her toward the front of the building. "You've got to get out of here, if s danger—"
 

She lashed out and caught him hard in the ribs with her forearm, screaming through clenched teeth, "Get your hands
off
of me! I'm the
manager
, Goddammit!"
 

The world tilted and Bill's head struck the edge of a table as he fell. He dropped the lantern and it rolled over the floor away from him. His mouth opened and he tried to cry out in pain, but could not find his voice. He watched through bleary eyes as legs rushed by him; feet kicked him and stepped on his arms and legs and garbled voices faded slowly, as if he were sinking under water.
 

You're dying already
...
 

...
dying already
...
 

...
already...already
...
 

Bill closed his eyes and waited for the final deadly silence and the everlasting sleep of death to descend as...

.. Jon jerked his arm from Doug's grasp and shouted, "Let me go! I'm gonna go back and help Dad!"

They were just a few feet from the entrance, which was clogged with people pushing one another aside to get out. Doug stood between Jon and Dara, holding each by the elbow, while Mom stood in front of them holding Cece's hand. When Jon pulled away and shouted at Doug, Dara and Cece turned to him abruptly.
 

"Dad's here?" Dara asked urgently.

Cece pulled on her mother's arm. "Where's Dad, Mom? Where is he?"

Jon could tell by the sinking expression on Mom's face that she hadn't planned on telling the girls that Dad was around.

Doug took his arm again and said firmly, "He can take care of himself, Jon, now let's—"

"
He's sick
!" Jon screamed, pulling away again and turned to go back into the restaurant.
 

"Whatsamatter with Daddy, Mom?" Cece asked, still tugging her arm as Dara asked simultaneously, "Is Dad really
sick
, Mother?
Is
he?"
 

Doug clutched Jon's shoulders from behind and pulled him out of the way of an enormous fat woman holding a baby and blubbering senselessly as she rushed by, shoving people aside roughly to get to the doors. Doug held him close, wrapping an arm around Jon's chest and half dragging him through the first set of glass doors, growling, "You can all see your dad when we get outside, okay?
Outside
!"
 

Bilious anger burned in Jon's throat and he began kicking back at Doug's shins and digging his elbows into Doug's abdomen to get away; he accidentally kicked an elderly woman whose husband was helping her out of the building, but they didn't stick around for an apology.
 

Jon shouted, "He can't go outside, you sonofabitch! The sun'll
kill
him!" He broke free and spun to face them, his breath coming fast and hard.
 

The girls stared at him in shocked confusion, jerking back and forth as they were bumped and jostled by others hurrying out.

"You can go outside if you want," Jon said, backing into the store, "but I'm gonna see if I can help him."

Dara turned to her mother: "We can't leave him, Mom."

Cece began to bob up and down slightly, as if she had to urinate: "We gotta help Daddy! I wanna see him!
Please
, let' s
help
him!"
 

Jon watched as a long, silent look passed between Mom and Doug, then Doug sighed, "Take the girls outside, Adelle." To Jon: "Let's go."
 

Jon's tight shoulders relaxed with relief so strong that he almost laughed out loud as he turned and headed back toward the restaurant.
 

There were still more people coming out, some of them taking advantage of the chaos and ducking into the store to do a little last minute looting, others lagging behind with children or bags they'd brought in with them. A few lanterns remained scattered around the dark restaurant; the last ones leaving the restaurant were either limping or being helped out, having been injured in the initial panic. A silver haired woman stood in the middle of the darkness pounding her fist on a table and shouting, "You are
all
going to lose your fucking
jobs
, every last
one
of you, and I am not going to be
responsible
, do you
hear
me?" Her voice was raw and hoarse and her body moved in rigid, nervous jerks, her knees nearly buckling now and then as her legs quaked. The last waitress in the room went to her side, murmuring soothingly as she tried to put her arm around the woman's shoulders. The woman jerked away, shouting, "You are
fired
as of
now
, missy, do you under
stand
? Get your things and get
out
of here!" The waitress backed up reluctantly, then hurried out, crying. The woman turned, then, and pointed at the floor to her left: "And
some
body get this
God
damned
drunk
off the floor and
out
of here!"
 

Jon spotted him. He was sprawled on the floor on his back. And he was holding very, very still.

"Dad!" he shouted, hurrying toward him with Doug beside him.

But the crazy woman was faster, rushing to his side and pulling back her leg to kick him, growling, "Goddamned transient wino!"

Jon sprinted forward and dove, barking, "
No
!" as he tackled her to the floor.
 

The woman landed on the carpet but rolled to the strip of tile floor that ran behind the counter. Stunned, she propped herself up on her side just a few feet from the entrance to a dark corridor as Jon crawled on hands and knees to his dad's side.
 

"My God," Doug breathed as he looked down at him.

Dad looked even worse than he had just a short while ago. His white, flakey skin was shriveled and seemed to be running off his skull like melting wax. His hair had become coarse and his fingernails were darkened slightly. The appearance was not that of age, but of decay, of rot.
 

Jon's heart sank. Tears stung his eyes and blurred the face that no longer resembled his father's.

Doug knelt and touched two fingertips to his throat. "He doesn't have a pulse," he said quietly. "And he's not breathing."

"
Course
not!" Jon sobbed. "He's been
dead
for over a
year
!" Jon grabbed his dad's shoulders and shook him hard. "Dad! Dad, you gotta wake up! We're gonna help you outta here, Dad!
Dad
!"
 

Doug touched Jon's arm and said gently, "Doug, that’s not going to do any good. There's nothing we can—"

"Sun..." The word was spoken in a paper-thin voice through cracked and peeling lips that barely moved.

"Dad?"

"The sun...is coming...up..."

Doug stared at the body, horrified.

Jon leaned close to him. "What should we do, Dad? Tell us what to do!"

Dad's eyelids peeled open slowly and his dulled, sunken eyes tried hard to focus until they found Jon's face. "Jonny..."

"Whatta we do?"

"Girls...safe?"

Jon nodded.

"Mom?"

Again.

When Jon saw that Dad was trying feebly to sit up, he and Doug helped him, one on each side. Dad groaned and squinted as he looked toward the window. Outside, the grey sky had grown just a bit lighter, but darkness still ruled.
 

"Truck," Dad coughed.

"What?"

"Take me...to my truck...where it's...dark..."

"He wants to go to his truck," Jon said.

Doug nodded, his features curled with disgust. "Okay, let's get him—"

"I'm going to report all of you!"

They both tossed a glance at the woman. She was sitting up now, her shoulders slumped, her face sagging and slick with tears. She spoke to no one in particular, just sat there with legs spread before her, stiff arms propping her up, head lolling as she cried.
 

"Report every...damned...one of you..."

"Okay, let's get him up," Doug said.

Jon turned back to Dad, but only for an instant; something had caught his eye and he turned to the woman again. Something moved in the darkness of the corridor behind her. Something white. Several somethings.
 

Arms. Long arms reaching out slowly, silently.

And faces. White, geisha-like faces smeared with...with
something
, each with two deep black holes from which sinister eyes glistened.
 

They moved forward, arms outstretched, slowly at first, and then—

—they pounced. The arms wrapped around the woman and the faces opened sloppy, smeared mouths with fangs that dripped of dark fluids and the woman's face showed only a heartbeat of surprise before—
 

—the arms pulled her into the darkness and all Jon could see were her legs, kicking silently and uselessly, and then—

—the darkness was just darkness again, except for the horrible sucking sounds that began...

"Doug!" Jon shouted.

He'd seen it, too. "Holy
shit
," he barked, lifting Dad clumsily and shouting, "Out! Get outta here!"
 

Faces appeared in the darkness again, moving out of the corridor and into the glare of the hologen lanterns, three of them, looking directly at Jon and—
 

—
smiling
.
 

Doug bundled Dad in his arms as easily as if he were a sack of laundry and Jon followed him out, glancing over his shoulder as the women became fully visible now, their clothes hanging in tatters on their bloody bodies, a white red-splashed breast exposed here, a spattered thigh there.
 

"Hurry," Dad rasped. "God...hurry..."

Doug and Jon broke into a run, slowing for no one and nothing, knocking over a display of greeting cards as they rounded the corner and pushed out the first set of glass doors, then knocking an ashtray over before getting through the second.
 

It was still snowing outside, harder than ever, and people were standing in the parking lot, some speaking in hushed tones and watching the building expectantly, while others huddled together a few feet away and continued singing hymns.
 

"Daddy?" Cece screamed from somewhere in the crowd. "Is that Daddy?
Daddeeee
!"
 

"No!" Mom shouted, her voice thick with emotion. "Stay here, Cece, just wait here." She caught up with them as they ran across the parking lot toward Dad's truck across the street. "My God, what's wrong?" she cried. "What's happening to him?"
 

Jon saw that he was getting worse; his cheeks were more hollow and his arms shook. But even more disturbing was the expression of pain and fear on his face—eyes closed tightly, lips quivering—and the thin whimpering sound he made. When he spoke, his voice was forced and unsteady.
 

"The girls...stay with the girls," Dad said, turning his face toward Mom without opening his eyes.

They stopped beside the truck and Doug said, "He's right, Adelle, go back with the girls. I'll be over in a minute. And get everybody away from the building. Thuh-those-those
things
are in there."
 

She protested at first and tried to talk to Dad, but Doug convinced her and she headed back reluctantly.