A hand clapped down on her shoulder.
Erin loosed a scream as she twirled around. Lawrence was jumping back, shielding his face with his camera.
“Jesus Christ!” he shouted.
“Damn it, Lawrence!” Huffing, she put her hands on her hips. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“You scared me! Shouting like that. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t sneak up on me!”
“I didn’t. I walked over and even asked you if you’d hold my camera for a minute.”
Erin took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out. “You did?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “Jesus, Erin. You’re really spooked, huh?”
“I’m not spooked.” She spoke in a way that suggested he was an idiot for even suggesting it. “I’m just…”
Lawrence waited. After a few seconds, his eyebrows rose. “Just what?”
“Spooked, I guess.”
A corner of his mouth arched upward. “No shit.”
Great. Admit that to him, of all people. Now he’ll probably expect to get me on one of those sleeping bags.
She hated to admit it, but sex right now would probably knock the chill out of her. Just not with Lawrence, never with him.
Instead of coyly suggesting they go take advantage of the multiple sleeping bags, Lawrence chuckled. “Never in my life would I have ever thought you’d get scared of anything. And here you are, jumping like a virgin’s thigh being rubbed.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s okay, Erin. It just means you’re human, that’s all.”
“No I’m not. I come from the planet Sparta where we have no fear.”
Lawrence smiled. “You might like to pretend something like that, but it’s fine that you’re not. You’re not weak because you’re human.”
“Lawrence the philosopher, damn.”
He lost his smile. “Whatever. Will you hold my camera or not?”
“Is that what you’re calling it now?”
Now his smile came back. “It does have a retractable lens on it.”
“It’s going to be a no-zoom camera if you don’t watch it, buddy.”
“Ouch.”
“Why do you need me to hold your actual camera?”
“I have to take a piss. Don’t want to leak on the merchandise, you know.”
“Wow.”
“You asked.”
“Fine. Make it quick.”
He handed her the camera. “Don’t take any pictures of me doing it.”
“No worries there.”
Lawrence passed by her and waded into the field.
“You’re going out there?”
“Why not?”
“There’re trees and a whole big house to piss behind.”
“But this is closer.”
“Gross, Lawrence.”
“Plug your ears. Going to sound like dumping out a soda bottle, I’m sure.”
Despite her best efforts, Erin still laughed. She shook her head and turned around.
The sound of Lawrence’s zipper coming down was much closer than she’d expected it to be. How close is he? Sounded like he was right behind her.
She saw him asking her to turn around and take a look at his wide-angle lens.
All that happened was the splash of his pee hitting the ground.
He sighed.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much, thanks for asking.”
Erin smiled.
The pee kept coming. She could hear its pitch change as the ground became wet.
“What the hell…?” he said.
“Oh no,” she said. “Things aren’t working like they’re supposed to?”
“The ground…”
“What?”
“The ground moved.”
Erin laughed. “I bet so. Sounds like a damn ice cap just broke off over there.”
“I’m serious. The weeds are shaking…”
“What?”
Not meaning to, she turned around. In the glimpse she got, she saw Lawrence’s back. He stood with his legs parted, a triangle of space between them. Drawing a line in the center was a streaming yellow trail. The weeds at the bottom were actually shaking as the pee splashed against them.
Then the patch of weeds jumped.
She saw it launch for his crotch.
Right before Lawrence’s screams tore through the tranquility, the streaming sounds of pee stopped. She heard a wet crunch and quick spurts of juicy ripping. Lawrence continued to scream as he reeled back.
“Get it off me!”
His feet slipped on the grass, but he stayed up. Lawrence punched at his crotch as he turned around. Hanging from between his legs was a short bushel of weeds. The size of volleyball, it was wild and frilly, like something that should be in a planter. It dangled there like a loincloth as he pounded it with his fists. Frail, thin legs kicked from under the bushel.
Blood splattered Lawrence’s chest. Some jetted out to the sides, spattering his shoes.
Another deep rip and the weeds dropped off. The bushy patch struck the ground and rolled to a standing position. Twiglike arms stuck out from both sides, the legs vanishing under the reach of the weeds. A dark vacancy cloaked the area where a face should be. Though it was concealed by the shadow, Erin knew a tiny head was buried somewhere inside.
Erin screamed as her head jerked from one horrible image to the other:
Lawrence trying to stop the shooting squirts of blood where his penis used to be.
The tiny weed creature standing at his feet, being doused by the red spray.
Lawrence, hands cupped in front of his crotch, blood spilling over his fingers, dropping to his knees.
The creature running at Erin.
Lawrence dropping onto his stomach.
The creature jumping, shrieking as it neared…
On instinct, Erin swung her arm. The expensive camera broke apart against its head, knocking the teensy thing to the side. She watched it hit the ground and roll.
Erin whirled around.
Run! her mind demanded.
The bushel began pushing itself up—arms sprouting from the weeds, tiny hands flush on the grass and thrusting upward.
Erin put her back to it and dashed in the opposite direction, leaving Lawrence blubbering as his life drained out through the hole between his legs.
Something heavy pounded her back. It shoved her forward. She felt it crawling up her back, tiny hands clamping down on her shoulders. Sounds of clacking teeth trying to sink into her flesh filled her ears.
“Nooo!” she howled.
Swatting over her shoulder, she hit something that felt dry and dangly. It rattled like old leaves. She clawed and slapped at the thing clinging to her back.
Teeth caught her hand, sinking into the fleshy arch between her thumb and forefinger. Pain erupted in her hand. It seemed to snatch the strength from her legs. She dropped to the ground, feeling the cold dampness of the soil soaking her pants as her knees skidded across.
The creature crawled over her shoulder, tiny feet digging into her collarbone as it moved around in front. Her face was smothered by dry weeds. Hands gripped her hair.
She couldn’t think. It was all happening so fast. She continued to scream and paw and slap and shove.
A grip like a trap clamped the top of her head. Tiny points stabbed her scalp. Heat burst in her brain. It knocked away the shock that was trying to overtake her. She remembered she had teeth of her own. And the minute body she could feel pressing against her face through the cloak of weeds was right at her mouth.
She gnashed her teeth. They caught rubbery flesh.
Hot fluid trickled over her lips as the taste of copper filled her mouth. Felt like she’d caught it on the side.
She bit down harder, going until both rows of teeth connected. Another shriek tore through her ears. The grip on her scalp, the tugging of her hair relaxed. She shoved her arm up, punching the creature’s knobby rump. It dropped away, tumbled down her side. There was rustling when it landed on the ground.
Not taking the time to inspect what damage, if any, she’d done, she thrust herself up.
And ran.
Legs pumping, arms bent tight by her sides, she ran. Her neck was stiff, holding her head firmly in place. She ignored the burning tug in her scalp, the liquid warmth spilling down, the pain in her hand sending dull jabs into her wrist. Her knees felt tight and a little sore from the fall, but they were working and that was all that mattered.
She dashed alongside the house. Took the corner at a wide angle so she wouldn’t fall.
The van was up ahead.
Yes! Almost there!
She could hear the snarls behind her. Could hear the rapid pads of feet slapping the ground, the rustling of the weeds as it pursued her.
They’re real.
They’re not supposed to be real!
Haunchies. She’d written about them enough to know she was being chased by one. Everything she’d heard was true. It wanted to kill her, just like Lawrence.
Lawrence!
A vast hollowness seemed to spread through her. Her speed decreased as the fight tried to leave her. She snatched it by the tail and pulled it back inside. She couldn’t stop. She had to get away from this terrible place.
Had to live!
Had to get help!
She slammed into the front of the van, spun around and just missed the leaping Haunchy. It smacked the framework between the headlights and bounced off. She heard the snaps of its jaws at her feet. Like a puppy yipping at her heels, it tried to take a chunk of her Achilles tendon. If it succeeded, she was done for.
Hopping, jerking her feet high, she dodged its snipping fangs.
She was close to the door. Reaching over, she gripped the handle and jerked it open. Now she was blocked from getting inside by the door she’d opened to let her in. She whirled around the edge and jumped into the cab. Her head banged the frame before she landed in the seat. The blow sent bright specks across her vision. She ignored them as she grabbed the handle and yanked the door.
It slammed shut.
Right away, she locked the door. She leaned across the transmission hump to get the other door. As she sat up, the creature suddenly appeared at the window, triggering a scream. Then it dropped back down. It jumped right back up again. This time she was expecting it and held the scream in.
The little creature continued to jump, shriek and pound against the door. Felt like somebody was throwing eggs against the van. The impact wasn’t hard, and she didn’t think it could break the glass. Not yet, anyway.
Erin sat in the seat a moment, huffing, her tongue hanging over her bottom lip. Her mouth was dry, her throat raw from screaming. Holding up her hand, she examined the wound. There was a jagged chunk missing from the soft fold of skin next to her thumb. It didn’t look really deep, but she could see the hairline tear extending out to the tip of her hand. If she stretched her hand, her thumb might tear away from the hand entirely.
“Oh God…”
She could see it in her mind, the thumb dangling off to the side. Her breathing intensified as a sobbing spell threatened to take hold.
Was she going to lose her thumb?
How could she type? She’d have to learn again. It would be like starting over!
Lawrence is dead and I’m worrying about having to type differently.
Get out of here!
Erin shot forward, her other hand reaching for the ignition. Expecting to feel the keys, she felt nothing but an empty slot. Damn… She ran her finger along the smooth curve, fingering the tiny slit where the key was supposed to go.
He took the key! Lawrence took the fucking key!
She looked around as if the keys might be sitting in plain sight. Doing as any protagonist in nearly every horror movie she’d seen, she lowered the flap of the sun visor, expecting a ring of keys to gracefully drop down. None did. A small squeal escaped her throat. Checking the glove compartment next, she found nothing but restaurant napkins and the van’s paperwork inside.
The keys must be in Lawrence’s pocket…
Erin groaned. She slammed her fist against the passenger seat over and over again, her groan turning to a growl.
“Damn you, Lawrence!”
He’s killed me! It’s like he knew…he didn’t want to be the only one…!
Forcing her free hand down in her lap, she lowered her hurt hand into her palm. She needed to think rationally, not panic. She would never regain any form of composure if she allowed herself to freak out. That would be the same as surrendering to the little atrocity outside.
Where is it?
She peered out her window. The yard beside the van was vacant.
No way did it leave. There was just no chance. It was out there, somewhere, waiting. It would be patient as Erin figured out her next move.
And she was out of ideas.
Scraping caused her to look out the windshield. Down the slight slope of the hood, she saw teensy fingers curl over the lip of the hood—one hand followed by the other. A stringy form of weeds raised into view. “Go away!”
A foot the size of a prune came up, settling down on the metal slope. It leaned forward, putting pressure downward so it could bring the other up.
“Leave me alone!” shouted Erin.
It rose to standing.
“Fuck off!” she screamed.
She slammed a fist on the steering wheel, blaring the horn. The little creature jumped. It threw both hands into the bushy mound that was its head, as if covering its ears. Grunting, it hopped around the hood as if it was burning its feet.
Erin kept the horn pressed down, screaming along with its loud honk. It was hard not to laugh as the thing leaped from this side to the other, twirled, while the horn assaulted its ears.
Just when a smile was starting to come onto Erin’s face, the creature stopped. Its arms were held out to either side, hands clutched into fists. If the horn was still bothering it, the thing was doing a good job of not showing it.
It shrieked.
As did Erin.
It darted toward the windshield, ran across the glass and jumped at the driver’s side. She watched its arms reach out, heard the scraping of fingernails on the metal as they latched on. Tiny feet swung around to the window next to her. They hit the window, flattening the skin and cracking the glass. Erin, screaming, snatched her hand from the horn and pulled it to her chest.
The Haunchy hung on to the groove that ran above the window as it kicked the glass over and over again. There was a depression in the glass where the cracks sprouted and grew in all directions. Blood from its cut foot began to fill the thin fissures. Any moment, the glass would shatter.
Erin looked around. She reached over the hump between the seats, grabbed on to the cushion on the passenger side and gripped. She pulled while also shoving with her legs. Her knees dropped down on the small dome under the console.
Glass crackled, sounding like thin ice under someone’s feet.
“Oh God…!”
Erin dropped down into the passenger seat. She tugged on the handle, but the door remained closed. Howling, Erin slapped at the door, not understanding why it wouldn’t open.
The glass groaned. A shard tinkled down the door. Any moment now…
“No!”
She slammed her shoulder into the door, yanked the handle until her sweaty hands slid away from it.
It’s locked.
Erin paused, remembering. She’d locked it herself.
Turning in her seat, she gripped the latch, jerking it up as the window exploded behind her
. Glass pelted her back. The shrieks that had been muffled on the other side of the glass filled the interior of the van.
The door was thrown open, spilling Erin out. She fell, landing on her stomach outside. Rolling onto her back, she looked up just as the Haunchy’s head appeared in the gap between the door and frame.
Snap-snap-snap!
Teeth clacking against teeth as its jaws worked. It looked down, saw her and snarled.
Erin grabbed the door and threw it. The door pounded the Haunchy’s head. Its cries were cut off as the door pushed against its neck, wedging it there. Squirming on the ground, Erin swung her hips around and planted her feet on the door. She shoved. Her back scooted across the ground. Rocks jabbed her through her jacket, leaving trails of heat down her back. The Haunchy shook, its head twitching, hands pounding the door as its neck splintered.
The door clicked shut.
And the Haunchy stopped fighting.
Erin lay there, panting. Her back felt like cats had sharpened their claws on her flesh. Trails of blood spread across her. Her hand throbbed with pain.
She lifted her head to see the van. A sheaf of weeds dangled out. It looked as if she’d purchased a plant and accidentally shut part of its branches in the door.
Hard to believe something so small had nearly killed her. Killed Lawrence. Yes, Erin felt terrible about that, but the creature hadn’t gotten her. She’d gotten it.
She was alive.
Sitting up, Erin felt a dull pull in her hips from the fall from the van. She pulled her hurt hand close as she looked around, trying to decide what to do.
Go get the keys.
Good idea. But the thought of seeing Lawrence’s body made her squirm inside. She had to, though, if she wanted to take the van.
Maybe there’s a spare hidden somewhere on the van.
Would take too long looking for it.
Just get the keys and go. Don’t look at what you don’t want to see.
Easier said than done.
Groaning, Erin struggled to her feet. She gave one last look around then started moving. When she reached the backyard, she paused. Her eyes scanned the tall grass. She saw the blood, the shattered remains of the camera.
Lawrence was gone.
Is he alive?
Hope burned inside, but the flame quickly died when she realized there was no way he could have survived that. There was just so much blood, he couldn’t be alive.
The Lurking Season Page 14