Prey (5 page)

No, not this time. Besides, Eve said she should just stay on the first floor. She was going into that damn kitchen.

You can't! This lizard will…

Gritting her teeth, Chelsea stormed into the kitchen, threw open Koko's refrigerator and pulled out one of the many plastic bags inside. Her nose wrinkled and she turned her head, but she managed to shut the fridge and carry it toward the basement door. As she did, the phone rang.

She froze. Should she get it? No, she had momentum
now, the bag was in her hand, she was halfway done. If someone wanted to reach her, she had her cell. It was obviously for Eve. She did wait, though, at the head of the stairs, counting the rings until the answering machine picked up. Four. It was set to pick up on four rings.

As she heard Eve Mandisa's pleasant, perfect voice recite her phone number, Chelsea opened the basement door. The welcoming light was still on downstairs. By the time she reached the sixth step down, the machine beeped and someone was saying, “Eve, where are you?”

Probably some friend she'd forgotten to tell about the vacation. Maybe Chelsea should pick it up and tell her. No. Lizard first. Time to power through.

She walked downstairs and entered the pleasant room with its toy jungle. The moist heat again took her a little aback, but this time she was ready for it. She figured half her problem last time was probably all the temperature changes.

Still not looking at the bag in her hand, she scanned the temperature and humidity gauges. According to the printed sheet, they were all dead center in the right range. The humidifier thingy was hissing along too. Everything seemed perfectly in order.

She noticed this time that the far side of the Plexiglas enclosure fell shy of the basement wall, probably so someone could get in there for cleaning and maintenance. But how wide was the gap between habitat and cinderblock? One foot? Two?

Now, now, now…the lizard and the food.

Koko was still sitting on that comfortable nest of dead vegetation, mostly buried by it. She thought she saw a tip of his tail or something sticking out from one end of the pile. Most lizards, she recalled reading, are nearly all tail.

This time, though, Koko's big head was sitting lazily on two claws, making it look even more human, more intelligent than it had last time.

“Hi, Koko!” Chelsea said. “It's me. Your sitter.”

Koko raised his head slightly, turned his black eyes toward her and flicked his tongue just once. Could he recognize her already? Maybe he wasn't so cold. Maybe she was just being prejudiced toward mammals.

She took another few seconds to take a good, long look at him, to try to memorize his dark clay color and the broad-snouted shape of the head so she might better compare him to the pictures she'd found online. Right now she was guessing water monitor. Big but
docile. Maybe next time she should bring her digital camera, take a photo. But maybe the flash would bug him?

And how many photos could her camera hold?
32, 33, 34.

No, no, no. Now or never.

Keeping her eyes on Koko, she lowered the bag to the floor and opened it. The edges made a sloshing sound as they came undone. Still not looking down, she picked up the metal claw.

She had to look as she lowered the claw into it, but it really wasn't so bad, just little lumps of fur in a dark pool. She snatched one with the claw, and once satisfied it was attached, again looked away.

Quickly, very quickly, she lifted claw and rat and slid them through the opening, pushing the arm out farther and farther, closer and closer to Koko, until…

SNAP!

She did it. A little smile came to her lips, not unlike the one Koko always seemed to have.

Thrilled at her victory, she quickly loaded the second rat and repeated the process.

THUNK!

The powerful snapping of the jaws was still startling, but she was getting used to it. She chose not to watch
the chewing or the swallowing part.

Wow. One dead rat to go.

This time, she didn't bother to look away, and even used the claw to shake the rat over the bag, removing a bit of the wetness. Koko raised his head in anticipation as it came. Maybe next time she could coax him out of that nest thing and take a really good look at him.

THUNK!

Something was wrong. He'd clamped down on the metal arm. Thinking quickly, she turned it sideways and he let go at once. It'd probably just gotten stuck on his jaw.

Terribly relieved and downright thrilled, she withdrew the claw, put it back on its hook and dumped the wet plastic bag in the trash. It didn't look like Koko had messed his cage yet, so she didn't even have to use the second claw to clear it.

She was done. Totally done. Her body shook a little, but in a good way. Maybe her parents and the doctor were right. Maybe the OCD could just become a helpless little squeaky voice that she would always be free to ignore.

Before she left, she took one last look at Koko. His head had shifted from the brief tussle with the claw,
revealing a bit more of his nest. Among the bit of green leaf and brown twig, there was something else, something under his chin that didn't look like it belonged. Thin and long, shredded at one end, it practically glowed against the clay gray of his skin. Curious, she stepped closer to the Plexiglas for a look.

In a second, her mind pieced together what it was and seized on the sight with its own reptile jaws.

Under Koko's chin were what looked just like the remains of a pink and silver dog collar.

Shivering, Chelsea stumbled backward, nearly knocking over a garbage pail full of plastic bags soaked in rats' blood. She raced up the stairs, grabbed her jacket and fumbled with the keys, nearly breaking the one that finally set her free.

She heard the door click behind her, vaguely remembering she hadn't bothered to draw back the drapes. But by then she'd tossed her coat over her handle bars, hopped on her bike and started pedaling, as fast as she could, past the yellow-coated woman still shouting “Aristotle! Aristotle!” past the corner shop, and past all the houses, where she counted every window, every door, in the mistaken belief it would make what she'd seen just go away.

She couldn't have really seen it. She couldn't have. Could she?

Yes. It ate the dog.

Though freezing by the time she got home, she didn't even wait for the water to heat up. She leaped into the shower and ran the bar of soap up and down her body in staccato pulses to wash off all the invisible rat and dog blood.

By the time she emerged, an hour later, Chelsea was together enough to lie to her parents about how things went. But they knew. She heard the heated whispers of their exchange. Mother wanted to pry, but Dad insisted they hew to their agreement to let their daughter sort it out herself, with the understanding she would ask for their help when she needed it.

The next day, Chelsea's parents were gone until evening, so they never found out that after they'd said good-bye in the morning, Chelsea didn't come out of her room until dinner.

“What do you mean you can't do your bio midterm right now?”

Eve Mandisa's substitute, a retired elementary schoolteacher named Kreeger, looked up from her
New York Times
crossword puzzle and glared at Chelsea. It was not possible for a human face to look more irritated.

She didn't say it softly. Everyone in the classroom looked up from their work. Those who knew Chelsea shuddered for her. Chelsea, meanwhile, tried to explain. She spoke quietly, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but that only seemed to irritate Mrs. Kreeger all the more.

“OCP? You have OCP? What's that supposed to
be? Some club? These are the midterms, dear. Don't take the test, you fail the class.”

Chelsea made her voice louder, still hoping to keep it low enough so that at least the back rows didn't hear. “Obsessive compulsive disorder. It's in my file. I'm allowed to delay or reschedule the test if I have to. And I have to.”

The older woman strained to make sense of her words. “Allowed? I don't know where your file is. Just sit down, please, until the time is up.”

“Ms. Mandisa keeps our files in the upper right drawer.”

Mrs. Kreeger looked around as if she might actually open the drawer, but apparently decided it was too much trouble to push her chair away from the desk and bend. “Maybe you should just get yourself some water and try again. Everyone gets nervous now and then.”

Chelsea wavered, but held her ground. “This is different.”

As if affronted, Kreeger tossed the
Times
crossword puzzle down on the desk and turned her wide, frumpy body toward Chelsea. “You're not a child anymore. What are you going to do when you have some real pressure in a job?”

Chelsea stared at her. “Get fired, I suppose.”

She didn't say it meanly. Didn't even mean to be rude. Thankfully, something in Kreeger recognized that. She grunted, opened the drawer and asked Chelsea her last name. Chelsea spelled it as she pointed to her file. A summary of the 504 was taped to the front, the important details highlighted in yellow. Chelsea felt a surge of profound love for her bio teacher, even if the woman did have strange tastes in pets.

And her pet had stranger tastes still.

Kreeger blasted air through her nose. “Fine. I guess it's not up to me. You're excused. But I'm not going to be the one sitting here when you retake the test whenever you please.”

Thank God,
Chelsea thought as she nearly ran out of the room.

Kreeger was saying something else at her back, but Chelsea didn't bother to listen, she just raced into the long, empty corridor, rubbing her temples and trying to stop her heart from hammering. When running felt silly, she put her head against the cool tile wall, trapping bits of blonde bangs between it and her skin.

Then she practiced her deep yoga breathing.

She hadn't told a soul about her last visit with Koko, but the image of the pink dog collar sitting
under those big, hand-like claws burned inside her, so hot, it felt like it would sear through her forehead and come dancing out into the air in front of her.

Why had the first question on the test involved a pink line on a bar graph? It was bio, for pity's sake, not math! And why
that
shade of pink? She thought she might get away with the test, but once she saw the color, once her mind pronounced its name, it was all over. Was it the same shade as the leash or had she imagined it?

She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, ignored the message alerts, and considered, for the twentieth time, dialing the local police. She'd looked the number up so many times, she put it on her speed dial. It wasn't a 911 call, after all. It wasn't like they could pull Aristotle back out.

And what would happen if she did call? What would happen if she told some world-weary desk clerk that the monitor lizard she was taking care of had eaten a dog? Could she sound sincere or sane enough to get them to pay attention? And if someone met her at the house and she brought them down to that basement room, and it was all true, what would happen to Ms. Mandisa? Was it legal to keep a six-foot, dog-eating lizard?

Beyond that, what if it wasn't true? What if the lizard hadn't really eaten the dog? It didn't make sense, after all, and the lack of sense was a major warning sign that the OCD was in charge, yanking her crank. That she really was crazy.

With all the windows barred, Aristotle couldn't have gotten into the house, let alone the cage, and with all that thick Plexiglas, Koko couldn't have gotten out. So was it really a leash she saw? It was entirely possible, calm and happy as she'd been at that moment, that she'd imagined it, that the light from the heating bulbs caught a stick or leaf in just such a way that her mind contrived the rest.

That had to be it. Aristotle was probably safe at home right now this very minute in the arms of his fashion-challenged owner. Had to be.

Sigh. It was the same damn conversation she'd been having with herself since yesterday, the same talking points, over and over, only instead of counting the books on her shelves, or the Cheerios floating in her milk, now she was counting the tiles on the Bilsford High School walls.

The reason she kept going around with it wasn't her condition. It was the conclusion. It was always the same, and it was the one thing she longed to avoid
most of all. If she couldn't be certain of what she'd seen, she had to go back and figure out whether it had really happened or not. She had to take another look, and maybe even use the claw to pull out the thing that looked like a leash, to make sure it wasn't.

An image flashed, pieces of Ming—of Aristotle—still attached to the collar, coming out from under Koko as she pulled. Koko grabbing the metal arm and pulling Chelsea through the small hole, so that he, with his lazy Kermit grin, could more easily feed on her.

124, 125, 126 tiles.

She wasn't stupid. She wasn't going back by herself. She had to bring someone with her, just in case it was true. Someone who didn't think she was crazy. Someone who would just help.

Someone who wouldn't tell anyone else if I asked.

Derek.

He was at school this morning, but Chelsea didn't know which test he was taking. She did know, like she knew the length of the back of her hand, that inevitably he'd head to the cafeteria for a snack. There were no classes. The school was only open for the midterms, so she was free to head there at will.

A powerful smell of cleaning fluid and sour milk
blasted her face as she opened the double doors to the huge cafeteria. That and the fact that the huge room took up most of the basement reminded her of Koko's habitat. Keeping herself under control, she scanned the sparsely populated tables and didn't spot him anywhere.

It could be hours before he showed, but was she in a hurry? Should she be in a hurry? If Chelsea was wrong, it didn't matter at all. And even if she was right, did it matter
when
Tess Sullivan found out her pet was dead?

Two of her closer friends, Tony and Darlene, a couple for six months, sat at a corner table, so Chelsea walked up to join them. Unfortunately, they were sitting with Penny Denning, a junior who made no secret of the fact that she wanted Derek. Penny's gray sweater picked up the girl's black hair and smoky blue eyes. She looked positively predatory, even had a half grin on her face.

The three were chatting excitedly until Chelsea walked up. Then, all of a sudden, on seeing her, they clammed up.

She rolled her eyes. “You heard I had to leave the bio test, huh?”

They all looked puzzled.

“No,” Tony said.

“You had to leave the bio test? Are you okay?” Darlene said. Darlene had become horribly sympathetic to the pain of others now that she had her own boyfriend. When she was single, if she was on her cell phone, she'd walk right past you if you were bleeding to death.

“Eep,” Chelsea said as she sat down. “Guess I didn't have to mention
that
then, huh?”

“Guess not,” Penny said.

“But are you okay?” Darlene repeated.

One of the ways OCD kept victims in its grip was by getting them to keep secrets, to lie and say they were fine when they weren't. Her parents and Dr. Gambinetti had worked with her for ages, getting her to talk about it as much as she could, keep it all out in the open. Still, Chelsea didn't feel like announcing her insanity to any group bigger than one, and certainly not to Penny.

“I'm fine. Just having a bad day. Bad weekend. I'll take the test Thursday. The sub was a royal bitch,” Chelsea said. She twisted her head sideways. “So what
were
you guys talking about when I walked over?”

“Nothing,” Tony said. He was a crappy liar, too.

But Penny spoke up immediately. “We're all going
to Hobson Night at nine. Some of the college kids have made a sluice out of carved ice and they pour vodka down from the top. You sit on a chair at the bottom and drink as it comes down.”

“Penny!” Darlene protested.

Penny shrugged. “She asked. She's a big girl. Am I supposed to lie?”

Darlene rolled her eyes and offered Chelsea a soupy grin. “We didn't want you to feel bad, because, you know…”

“Because my OCD won't let me go, right? It's okay, Darlene. I'm fine. Who else is going?”

Darlene fumbled, but Penny picked up the ball. “Everyone. It's like a celebration for finishing midterms.”

“Not Derek, though,” Tony said.

“Right, not Derek. I tried to talk him into going,” Penny said.

I'll bet you did.

She looked at Chelsea. “But he wouldn't. Not without you.”

Chelsea couldn't help but smile a little.

“You think that's cool, don't you? You shouldn't be so selfish. Just because you can't bring yourself to go because you're too afraid of being raped and mutilated
doesn't mean you should hold him back. Is that fair?” Penny said.

“Penny!” Darlene said again.

Chelsea winced, not just because the words brought the image to mind, but also because Penny was right. Derek was dying to go, but he wouldn't go without her.

Just as Chelsea was achieving a whole new level of feeling bad, Derek walked up. “L. C.!” he said. “I've been emailing, IM'ing, text messaging, and calling your cell. I was thinking of actually writing you a letter. Why've you been blowing me off? You leaving me for the lizard?”

She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a big kiss. From somewhere behind her, she could hear Penny huff in disapproval.

Derek smiled. His eyes actually wobbled a bit from pleasure. “Okay, I forgive you.” But as he focused on her face, he knitted his brow. “You okay?”

“Can I talk to you in private?” Chelsea whispered.

He nodded, so she led him off to a quiet corner of the cafeteria.

At first she spoke in halting tones, but then, as she told him everything she'd been through, she spoke faster and faster, until finally she was making one very
long sentence connected occasionally by the word
and
.

When she got to what he considered the most interesting part, he couldn't keep from bursting into a grin.

“So you think it actually ate a dog? Wicked!”

“Shh!” she said. “This is
so
serious! How can you laugh? It's horrible!”

But the fact was, she wished she could laugh too. Then she might be able to do something about it herself. Maybe that was why she stayed with Derek. So many things that seemed awful to her struck him as laughable. It was a strength.

“Come on, L. C., it
is
funny! It's probably just a twig or something, like you said.”

She sighed. “I have to go back to see, to make sure. Come with?”

He didn't hesitate. “You bet! I'm done with my tests and my car is outside. We can go right now.”

At first she thought he was just being an amazing boyfriend, but then she realized he was really excited about seeing the cool lizard that ate the dog.

 

As Derek pulled up, Chelsea noticed that the trees lining the street all had posters on them. She knew
what they were for before she even got out of the car to look, but she felt compelled to see for herself. In big black letters, above a color photo of a Chinese crested, it said:
HAVE YOU SEEN MY DOG?

Not a good sign. Aristotle wasn't safe at home as she'd hoped.

The temperature had dipped yet again and the cold made her cheeks ache as she stared at the picture of the little dog. She glanced at Tess Sullivan's house, saw her at the window looking out, but didn't dare turn to face her. Instead she tried counting the branches on the tree.

“It's groomed to make it look like a little horse,” Derek said coming up behind her. “Freaky.” He was munching on some chips from the open bag he'd found in the backseat of his car. She heard them crunch between his teeth as she turned again to the picture of the dog.
Crunch. Crunch.

Like Koko's jaws, moving.

It was true. It had to be. She felt as if she was going to tumble into an abyss inside her own mind, fall forever. But when she shivered, Derek put his hand on her shoulder and brought her back to the world.

“Come on,” he said, clacking his tongue against the inside of his mouth. “Let's check out Koko.”

On the porch she fumbled with the ancient keys. Derek stood there in his thin jacket, slapping his hands against his legs. He was trying not to hurry her, but he was clearly freezing. She stopped for a second and turned to him, “I'm sorry about Hobson Night. Maybe you should go without me. I know Penny wants you to.”

He looked up at the gray sky. “Penny? Nah. They say it's going to snow tonight anyway. Maybe you can come over to the house and we can watch a DVD or something.”

She smiled a little, knowing what “something” translated to in his hard-wired male brain. Finally, she managed to push the right key into the lock. They stepped in, Derek strutting ahead as if he owned the place. The first thing she noticed was that with the drapes open, it was lighter but drafty.