Lot Lizards

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"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.
"Inside ... puh-please," Dad hissed and Doug opened the cab and carried him inside as Jon followed. Doug lifted him into the dark
sleeper where he curled into ball and groaned, "The ice ... box ... in the corner..."
Jon was smaller, so he crawled up into the sleeper, squinted in the darkness and found the icebox in the corner at the foot of the bed.
He opened it to find several plastic bags stacked in rows. Each was filled with a thick dark red liquid.
He winced when he realized what it was and just knelt there staring at the bags for a while.
"Juh-Jonny, please..." Dad groaned.
With twitching fingers, he reached into the icebox and removed one of the bags, holding the corner gingerly between thumb and
forefinger as he turned to his father.
Dad snatched the bag from Jon's hand and began to tear at the top clumsily with his teeth, holding it in convulsing hands.
"C'mon, Dad, you don't need that," Jon said quietly, pleadingly. "We'll get you a doctor and he can--"
Dad just waved a hand, dismissing him, as the bag ripped open. He tipped it back and opened its mouth, letting the thick blood ooze
between his swollen, cracked lips. Some of it dribbled down his chin as he gulped loudly, stopping to cough once and lick his lips.
Jon's stomach hitched and he turned away so quickly he almost fell out of the sleeper. He stumbled down into the passenger seat
and leaned forward, holding his face in his hands, feeling sick, hoping that someday he would be able to forget what had happened in
the last night and, most of all, what he had just seen. Doug patted his back helplessly as...
...Bill experienced a faint shadow of the feeling that had once been better than the best sex. He dropped the empty bag and
shuddered, his tongue smacking around the corners of his mouth as he laid back and struggled to feel the blood warming him,
enriching him, filling the rotting, decaying holes that he cold imagine were opening up deep inside him. But the effect was minimal
and short lived. Bill lay in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the muffled whispers of Doug and Jon in the cab.
Full daylight would arrive very soon. He could feel it coming in his bones. In fact, the reason he trembled so was because daylight was
too close. That and, of course, other reasons.
You're dying already ... already ... already...
The creatures hiding in the darkness of the truck stop would retreat to the basement and huddle in some dark corner until the sun was
gone again and they could come out to feed. But they would probably no longer try to hide; now that their queen was gone, they would
no doubt abandon all subtlety and attack their victims ravenously as they had been doing since that creature had crumbled to black
mud in the restaurant.
But until the next night, they would be vulnerable.
Until dusk, they would remain in the truck stop.
Easy targets.
If he waited too long, though, he would be an easy target, too.
"Jon," Bill rasped, his voice a little stronger but not much.
After a moment: "Yeah?"
Sitting up, Bill wiped his bloody face on a blanket. "Come here, please." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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