Mandibles (5 page)

*-CHAPTER EIGHT-*
Stanley "Hack" Jacobs loved guns. He loved holding them, he loved pointing them at people, and he loved shooting them. Of course, he couldn't just go around blowing folks away at random, and in his lifetime he'd only killed four people, though he'd told his partner it was seventeen. He'd shot two people during gang fights, one old woman in the back of the head execution-style after stealing her social security check, and one guy who was out on a canoe, just for the hell of it.
Nobody was supposed to die today, but that was okay. The other people in the convenience store -- a kid working the cash register, some tall guy in a flannel shirt, and a mother with her teenage son -- were all terrified, and scaring the shit out of them was almost as much fun as killing them.
Dave "Slash" Bungen, Hack's best friend for the past two months, pressed his revolver between the cashier's eyes. "Maybe you wanna think about opening that register, huh?"
The kid pressed a key and the register drawer popped open. The kid took a step back, holding up his hands to prove that they were empty. "Take whatever you want."
"Smart boy," said Slash, walking around behind the counter. "Must be college educated. They teach you how to handle a robbery in college, or is that special convenience store training?"
"Just take the money, okay? There won't be any problems."
"You hear that, Hack? He says there won't be any problems." Slash shoved the cashier against the wall. "I think that's my decision. If I want there to be problems, you damn well better believe that there are gonna be problems, college boy."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I don't care how you meant it."
Hack flicked the barrel of his own revolver against the nose of the guy who'd tried to leave the convenience store. "I bet you don't approve of my friend's attitude, do you?"
The man didn't respond.
"What's your name?"
"Dustin."
"Can I call you Dusty, Dustin?"
"Whatever."
"You don't sound very smart, Dusty. What do you do for a living?"
"I'm an entomologist."
"What's that? You unclog toilets or something?"
Slash cackled at that.
"I study insects."
"I see." Hack nodded thoughtfully. "I shoot insects. Would you like me to shoot you, Dusty?"
"No."
Hack turned to the mother and her son, who were cowering in the candy aisle. The mother was wearing a blue skirt and looked pretty hot, although she was probably a pain in the ass. "What about you two? You want me to shoot ol' Dusty here?"
"No, please," said the mother.
"How about I just punch him in the stomach. How about that, Dusty? May I punch you in the stomach?"
Dustin didn't say anything, so Hack punched him in the gut so hard that the insect man doubled over and then dropped to his knees. Hack bashed his elbow against the back of Dustin's neck, hard, just for good measure.
"Good one!" cried Slash, stuffing his pockets with money. "You da man, Hack!"
"No, _you_ da man, Slash!" Hack poked at Dustin with his foot. "Hey, Dusty, I was giving some consideration to kicking you in the head. Tell me, what do you think of that?"
"I say, do it!" said Slash.
"Thank you for your support. I believe I shall."
Suddenly Hack realized that the cashier had grabbed a gun of his own, and before his partner could react the weapon was pointed at Slash's neck. "Drop your gun!" the cashier shouted.
Without hesitation, Hack stepped into the candy aisle and pulled the mother to her feet. "_You_ drop the gun or this kid's mom gets it through the brain," he said.
When the cashier didn't move, Hack dragged the woman over to the counter, kicking Dustin out of the way. "You want her blood on you? Do you? Drop that gun or she dies and I leave you a blind cripple."
"Just take the money and go," the cashier said, arms trembling. "The cops will be here any second."
"Well then, let's not force them to clean up a bloodbath, okay? Put the gun down, then I'll put my gun down, then my buddy Slash will put his gun down, and we'll take our money and go."
Slowly, the cashier lowered his gun.
"I didn't say lower it, I said drop it," Hack told him.
The cashier hesitated for a moment, and then Hack heard a _thump_ as the gun hit the floor. "Good boy."
Hack shoved the mother back into the candy aisle. Slash grabbed the last handful of cash out of the register and came out from behind the counter. "You were lucky this time," Slash told the cashier. "But you better hope I don't find out where you live."
The cashier was silent. Hack pointed his revolver at him. "Actually, you weren't _that_ lucky," he said, firing three shots into his chest.
The kid flew back against the rack of cigarettes, and then slid to the floor. Hack peeked over the counter and smiled at the abundance of blood.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Slash screamed.
"Target practice."
"This isn't a joke! There was no reason to kill him!"
"He might still be alive. Maybe the bug doctor can save him."
Slash slammed his fist against the counter. "Let's get out of here."
* * * *

The gunshots were still ringing in Dustin's ears as he lay on the floor, expecting one of the guns to be fired at him at any moment. These guys weren't just convenience store robbers; they were complete psychopaths. Overly aggressive fire ants no longer seemed like such a bad problem.

Christ, the cashier probably wasn't even twenty-two years old. Dustin wanted nothing more than to get up and beat the crap out of those maniacs, but he wasn't about to leave his spot on the floor, and even if he'd had the courage, his stomach was hurting so badly that he might not even be able to manage it. He could hear the woman crying.
"Later, Dusty," said the skinny robber who'd punched him and shot the cashier (Hack, the other one had called him), stepping on Dustin's hand as he pushed open the door.
But instead of stepping outside, the robbers rushed back into the aisle with the woman and her son. "You stupid idiot!" screamed Slash.
"You're the one who wasted time getting the money!"
"You're the one who murdered the kid! Oh, man, we are so screwed!"
Dustin saw what they were talking about as a pair of police cars pulled up in the convenience store's parking lot. Not wanting to get caught in a crossfire, Dustin dragged himself into the first aisle.
Hack and Slash emerged from the candy aisle, Hack holding the mother in front of him as a shield, and Slash doing the same with her teenaged son. They moved across the store and ducked down behind the counter.
* * * *

The mother let out a whimper at the sight of the dead cashier. Hack liked hearing it, and roughly twisted her head to force her to look at it more closely.

"Pretty gross, huh?" he asked.
She was too busy crying to reply.
"That could be you, you know," Hack said. "All dead and bloody and gross. You probably wouldn't like that much, would you? What if your son went first? Would that make you feel better about the whole situation?"
"Shut up!" Slash barked at him.
"Oh, relax and have some fun once in a while," said Hack. "What do you say?" he asked the woman. "Ready to greet our adoring public?"
He stood up and yanked her to her feet. Four cops were already outside, so he made sure that they couldn't possibly miss seeing the gun that was pressed against the side of the woman's head.
"Just stay calm and we'll see how this all works out," he said. "If we're lucky, nobody else will die. But my guess is that we're gonna see a little more blood before this situation is resolved."

*-CHAPTER NINE-*
Agnes wrung her hands together as she peered out the glass door. There were at least twice as many ants on the sidewalk and parking lot as there had been when Roberta led the old woman to safety ten minutes ago. It was hard to tell because they were constantly moving, but there seemed to be about one of those ants in every square foot, running around like they were insane. Maybe this was a sign of something ... a hurricane, perhaps?
Dr. Ruiz's wife hadn't noticed anything unusual around their house way up in the north end of Tampa, but she'd told Agnes to "let that overly dedicated dentist know that his precious grandkids are anxiously waiting for him to come home." Agnes had conveyed the message, remaining professional enough not to scream that if she didn't get out of here soon she'd go absolutely bonkers. That sense of professionalism wasn't going to last much longer.
She returned to the room where Dr. Ruiz and Roberta were working on Mr. Davidson. The poor guy had come in here with an excruciating toothache, and she could understand why it was necessary to complete the procedure (you couldn't just let somebody walk out of the office with a big chunk missing from his tooth), but she mentally pleaded with them to finish as quickly as possible.
"Yes, Agnes?" asked Dr. Ruiz, looking up from the temporary filling he was putting in.
"There are more of them," Agnes said. "A lot more."
"Anything on the news?"
"Not yet, not that I've heard. Could I please go home now?"
Dr. Ruiz shook his head. "We should all go together, make sure we get out safely."
"Yes, you're right, I'm sorry, I just have this ... thing about ants."
"We'll go soon. I promise."
Agnes returned to the waiting room and looked outside again. So many of them.
_The training wheels just came off Monday, and Agnes has been riding almost constantly all week. When Derek grabs her by the arm and pulls her off, she's more concerned about her bicycle getting damaged than the pain in her arm_.
"_Leave me alone!" she screams_.
_Derek drags her off the sidewalk and onto their lawn. "I told you if you ever touched my stuff again, I was gonna make you eat dog crap," he says_.
"_I didn't touch anything!" she insists, struggling to pull herself free_.
"_A pack of my bottle rockets is gone._"
"_I didn't take it!_"
"_You did so!_"
_He drags her around for nearly a minute, while his mean friend Marcus laughs and laughs. But they can't find any dog poop, because Dad spent all morning cleaning the yard._
"_I'm letting you go for now," Derek says, "but the next time Digger takes a dump your face is going right in it!_"
"_No, don't let her go," says Marcus. "I've got a better idea. When we were over by your swings I saw a really big anthill..._"
Agnes turned away from the door. Her hands were quivering and she felt like she was going to burst into tears. How long did it take to fix one lousy tooth?
"_Let me go, Derek! Let me go! I'll tell!_"
"_Okay, Marcus, you can let go of her arms, she's learned her lesson._"
"_No, no, not yet._"
"_Derek, please ... they're getting in my mouth!_"
"_Then stop screaming, you little brat!_"
"_Shut up, Marcus! Let her go._"
"_No!_"
"_She's my sister! I said let her go!_"
"_They're stinging me!_"
"_Let her go!_"
"_They're stinging my face!_"
"_Marcus, stop it! We'll get in trouble!_"
"_Quit hitting me! She's just being a baby._"
"_Derek please it hurts it hurts it HURTS!_"
Screw Dr. Ruiz, screw Roberta, and screw Zachary Davidson and his poor little toothache. She was getting out of here right now, before it was too late.
She dug her car keys out of her pocket, looped the ring around her right index finger so she could still work the trigger of the fire extinguisher, picked up the extinguisher, threw open the door, and rushed outside.
The ants immediately started coming for her. God, there were thousands of them. She sprayed the extinguisher in front of her as she sped across the parking lot toward her boxy but ant-proof brown sedan, crushing several of the horrible things under her feet.
She reached the car and sprayed the door, knocking off the ants that were crawling all over it. She sprayed the ground in a circle around her feet, then lowered the fire extinguisher and slammed her car key into the keyhole. At least she tried to. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took several attempts to get the key in, but finally she did it.
Something stung her ankle.
"_My face, they're all over my face! Derek, please, make him stop!_"
"_Quit screaming, you brat!_"
"_They're gonna sting me to death!_"
Agnes stomped on the ant as hard as she could, violently grinding her foot against the pavement. She reached for the key, but there was already a new ant crawling along the door handle.
She put her right hand back on the trigger of the fire extinguisher and sprayed away more of the ants coming toward her feet. Then she raised the stream toward the car door ... but it quickly died, spitting out only a few useless spurts of the yellow foam.
Another ant scurried over to the door handle. Agnes tried to brush it away, but her hand froze before it could touch the insect. Instead, she used the bottom of the fire extinguisher to knock it off the car door.
_Ants all over her face, crawling up her nose, digging deep into her ears, stinging and stinging and stinging..._
Another ant stung the side of her leg.
"_Let her go or I'll kill you!_"
"_I'm just messing around!_"
An ant stung her wrist as she tried to turn the key.
_Suddenly her arms and legs start jerking around by themselves. She doesn't know what's going on. She can barely even hear Derek and Marcus anymore, although she thinks that her brother pulled Marcus off her. She can't even feel the stinging anymore. There's nothing but absolute, raw panic_.
Barely able to hear her own screams, Agnes began slamming the fire extinguisher into the car door, again and again, splattering as many ants as she could. She was dimly aware that she might be damaging the door to a point where she couldn't open it, but the only thing that mattered was killing these nightmare ants.
_Is she running? She can't feel her legs, or hear her own voice, but she can see that she's running. Derek has Marcus on the ground, punching his face with both hands. She hopes he gets a bloody nose_.
Agnes dropped the fire extinguisher and ran from the car, running to safety, running to anyplace without the ants.
_The front door opens. Mom steps outside. She looks mad at first, but she looks frightened as soon as she sees Agnes. Agnes rushes into her mother's arms, not sure if either of them are crying or not_.
The garbage dumpster.
It was safe. It had to be.
There were fewer ants over this way. She'd made the right choice. She raised the lid with one hand, then with agility she didn't even know she had she quickly climbed inside, letting the lid drop as she fell onto several bags of garbage.
The smell was horrific, but no ants could get inside.
There was a narrow stream of light coming from the lid. That was good. Total darkness would have been too scary. She didn't like the dark.
Wasn't a stream of light bad, though?
Didn't it mean that there was a gap?
Why was the garbage moving?
Something blocked part of the stream of light.
Then something else.
Lots of things were moving underneath her.
Where was Derek?
The light was flickering, like the light from a movie projector.
Things were crawling on her.
The smell was making it hard to breathe.
She needed Mom to rescue her.
The movie projector light was getting dimmer.
She could barely see anything.
But she could feel things all over her.
They were hurting her.
She bit down on one.
She tried to wipe them out of her eyes, but they were on her fingers, too.
She was covered with them.
There was no need to be a brave girl.
When would they stop hurting her?
The movie projector went dark.