Camila’s head was spinning. Harson? The weird parking lot security guard at their old high school. Mr. Harson drove around the school in his rusty Ford Escort giving kids tickets and chasing down skippers. Now he was dead?
“Didn’t you hear? What the hell were you doing last night?” Fer crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.
“I…uh, went to bed.” A cold sweat had broken out across her back. Three murders. What was happening?
Fer tossed a strand of purple hair out of her eyes. “It was all over the news. They’re calling it an “animal attack”, but come on. They found Harson under his bed.” Fer leaned in close and whispered. “Said his throat was ripped out.”
Camila pressed her hands to her ears. “I don’t wanna know,” she said, shaking her head. “But maybe it was an animal.”
“No way. What kind of animal is that big? The cops are just trying to cover it up. First that homeless dude, then the gas station attendant, and now Harson. If you ask me, it’s meth heads. My brother knows a few of them, and they're psycho as hell.” Fer ran her hands under the tap and splashed some water on her neck. “No walking home alone like you did last night unless you want to be famous.”
“Yeah.” Camila's mind was off with Mama who was prone to wander and do impulsive things. And John alone in the forest. Sure, he was big, but what chance did he stand against a bear, or, worse, a serial killer meth head? Her hands trembled as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. Work. She needed to focus on work.
By mid-morning a hazy scrim of clouds hung over the sun. Camila told Fer she was emptying the garbage and headed out to the dumpster. A glance into the shadows told her John wasn't around. Cold prickles ran up her arms as she turned and walked through the dark alley. Couldn’t serial killer meth heads lurk in alleys, too?
She was turning to go back inside when a figure came striding up to Camila, overloaded with half a dozen mismatched canvas shopping bags.
“Mama!” Camila said, her heart pounding.
Her mother whirled and locked her eyes on Camila. She tottered forward on oversized high heels that clomped on the pavement. Her face spread into a delirious smile.
“Camila, I went shopping. I bought you the prettiest dress. It’s blue with a sash.” Mama shook the bags toward Camila. “Try it on.”
Camila stepped out, hoping against hope that no one was close enough to hear. She peered into the bags. Clothes, shoes, and purses bulged from at least six overflowing bags. Camila gripped the bag with white knuckles. “Where did you get the money for all this?”
Mama ignored the question, dropping half her bags and pulling out a blue dress. She pressed it to Camila’s chest. “You look beautiful.”
Camila tugged the dress down and stuffed it in the bag. “Where are the receipts? How much did you spend?”
Mama tugged at Camila's shirt. “Try it on. Try it on. I want to see.”
Camila batted at Mama's hands and dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “You stole them again, didn’t you? That’s why there’s no receipt. Why they’re not in the regular bags. Jesus.” She leaned against the wall, the bricks baking into her back.
Mama’s face fell. She took a clomping step forward, pouting. “I just wanted you to have something nice.”
Camila nodded, feeling the anger deflate like a punctured balloon. Mama was sick. This wasn’t her fault.
“I’d tell you to take the stuff back, but then they’d probably press charges.” Camila gripped Mama’s arm and looked deep into her eyes. “Just please, please, please, stay out of the stores.”
She nodded. “You’re gonna love the blue dress.”
Camila threw her hands up. “Mama!”
“Okay, okay,” she waved her arms in defense. “I see you at home.”
Camila nodded, blowing hair out of her eyes. The sweat-drenched strand didn’t budge. She watched her mother clomp down the street, feeling wrung out. As she turned and walked back into the ice cream shop, a middle-aged woman on a bench was watching her very carefully.
Was she a cop? And how much had she heard?
John
Thursday 12:51 p.m.
John pressed his back to the tree trunk, feeling the rough bark beneath his T-shirt, as he skimmed the headlines fluttering in his hand. Please don't let there be a sketch of my face above the word Wanted. Please.
He peered at the color image on the front page. There, between the columns and bold black headlines, was a picture of his crater and, next to it, two others.
CRATER INVESTIGATION CONTINUES AS OFFICIALS SHUT DOWN AUBURN OAKS PARK
July 9th, 2017
After three craters appeared in Auburn Oaks Dog Park and the surrounding forest, officials from Oakland County Parks have shut down the park. The three craters, each measuring over twenty feet in diameter, have appeared over the last three days. Neighbors of the park say they heard loud explosions and saw a comet-like streak in the sky. One resident, Nathaniel Dugget, in the Bailey Ridge subdivision said he saw the third celestial event two nights ago.
“I was standing on my porch when I saw this bright light cut through the sky. The meteor smacked into the trees behind my house. It felt like the whole earth was shaking,” stated Dugget, 54.
Park officials have neither confirmed nor denied the craters are caused by meteor activity, though several eyewitnesses claim to have seen a bright streak in the sky just prior to the discovery of the craters.
Harvey Natchetson, chief parks operator, has closed the park to visitors until they can repair the damage. That effort, however, is being delayed by an investigatory team of the federal agents who arrived yesterday evening. The team of specialists was unavailable for comment, but could be seen inspecting the crater and the surrounding damage. Natchetson is unable to determine when the park will be reopened, but stated it could take weeks.
John let the paper slip into his lap. Three craters. Federal investigations. A cold sweat sprouted along his back. How were there three craters? There’d been his and the one he’d seen when the beast arrived, but now another one? Was it another beast like the one he’d seen in the woods? Oh gods. The dead man in the Quick-E Mart was only the start of what that thing could do. And if there were two? He shuddered.
Or, could it be someone like him? Someone who was normal except for a few powers? John shook his head. Who was he kidding? He was no more normal than the beast, but at least he wasn’t tearing people’s throats out. That was something.
John scanned the paper again for more news about the deaths. There had been the man in the gas station store, Joseph Bordeau, 67. The paper also listed a Mackenzie Fisher, a homeless man who died in similar fashion only twelve hours from the first. And now a school parking lot attendant, Eugene Harson, had been found in his home with his neck torn from jaw to collarbone. They could find no sign of any other disturbance or stolen goods in the home.
John shook his head and dropped the paper. He stared through the tree trunks where, across the road, he could see the faint outline of the ice cream shop. This morning he'd bolted out of Camila's window the moment he'd heard her mother put the key in the front door. He'd spent the morning in the woods, as near as he could be to her. John sighed and slid down to the ground. Eight hours until she got off work. An eternity.
The forest sounds were soothing. Above, birds twittered and insects droned. The breeze stirred the trees. After a while, his head dipped forward. Sleep would help pass the time.
He became aware of a scent that tugged on his brain. Something foreign and animal.
When his nose fully caught the scent, his head snapped up, adrenaline pumping through him. The last time he'd smelled it was in the convenience store. The thing from the crater. John scrambled to his feet. It was close. He stared across the road to the ice cream shop. Images of Camila torn apart just like the clerk sent his heart thumping. He wouldn't let it get anywhere near her.
A raw ferocity built in his gut, pushing down fear. Just the thought of the beast sniffi
ng around Camila drove a rage into his brain that compelled him onto his feet. He’d work the edges of the woods and circle back. He took off running so fast the dry leaves swirled up in his wake.
The wind lashed at his face, forcing tears from his squinted eyes, but John was built for speed. Trees whipped by in green blurs. Birds arrowed out of the branches around him, squawking as they tore away. He hurdled over a fallen tree trunk and landed with barely a sound. His lungs felt like hot air balloons, able to hold endless oxygen. Every sense was heightened, fresh, raw. He smelled a campfire ten miles off, heard the rush of cars on a freeway twenty miles east. He knifed through the greenery, the light and shadow dappling his skin.
John skidded to a stop, his feet digging deep grooves into the pine carpet. He sniffed, catching the scent, something animal and musky. His eyes tracked the shadowed landscape. He turned his head and…there.
It was here. Close.
He peered into the semi-darkness. Here the pines and maples were ancient columns thrust halfway to the moon. Little light made its way down. His heartbeat picked up.
In the distance he spotted something foreign nestled between tree trunks—a large white structure half as big as Camila's trailer, dotted with rust and vines. As he stepped closer, careful to stay downwind, he could make out a seventies-style R.V. trailer. Rectangular windows, their glass long since shattered and littering the forest floor, looked into a dark interior. The tires were strips of flattened leather circling bent hubcaps. A ladder missing several rungs ran up the back and over the top. One step closer and he could see a large olive green V.W. emblem peeking through the vines. The R.V. was likely a hunter's hangout, long forgotten. The whole thing looked like it hadn't been touched in years.
But it has, John thought. This is where that thing's been staying. His breath caught in his throat at the thought. It could be in there right now, all teeth and claws. He'd be torn to pieces.
The monster was obviously hunting, but for what reason. Did it hate humans, wish them ill? Or was it just hungry? Either way, John’s gut clenched.
Camila. This thing had been within minutes of her workplace. What was to stop it from going back for her? He stalked closer, not even breathing. He was probably the only person strong enough to stop it. He had to try, or how would he sleep at night?
John stepped to the open doorway and peered in. A rancid smell greeted him: animal odors, decay and rust. His eyes zeroed in. Near the front, warped cabinet doors dangled on their battered hinges. The floor was littered with trash, dirt and— What were those white things? Bones? Small animal bones were scattered throughout the entryway and snaked back into the darkness. A skull with a matted hunk of fur on it looked up from the floor. A dead raccoon or dog? John swallowed hard. He had to stop this thing before it killed again. In his mind he saw the clerk with his throat ripped open. But, what if that happened to—
Movement inside the trailer. John tensed, scanning the blackness. Was that a shape in the back? Was it in there? Fear bounded in his chest. Willing himself forward, he took one step.
“Hello?”
It tore out of the darkness.
The thing slammed into him like a freight train. John fell backward, out of the trailer, all his breath knocked away. Leaves and dirt flew up around him. His head smacked the ground hard enough to send a burst of stars shooting across his vision.
A brown blur sailed over him. He caught a glimpse of one foot, each toe armed with three inch claws.
He tried to stand, scrambling up, sucking in air. His head spun, but he didn't have time to recover. He had to fight now.
Only… The beast was gone.
Camila
Thursday 5:45 p.m.
“Lizzy called and when she heard we hadn't had a customer in an hour, she told me to cut back to one.” Travis looked over his shoulder at the empty order window. “Guess everybody’s home with their doors locked.”
Camila swallowed hard. Just another reason she should be home. Who knew if Mama had the sense to lock the doors and not answer for strangers?
“No problem. I’ll go.” Camila said, pushing off the counter.
Camila nodded, grabbed her stuff from the cubby, and headed out the door. She got to the back when she felt a hand on her arm. She whirled around.
Travis dropped his hand, a blush blossoming in his cheeks. “Hey, I…uh…Who’s gonna walk you home? You shouldn’t go by yourself. I mean, not with that mountain lion on the loose.” He pushed a hand through this dark blond hair.
She put her hand on his arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s broad daylight, and my house is only a five-minute walk from here.”
Travis twisted the hairs on his chin beard. “Still, though.”
A voice answered behind them. “I’ll walk her.”
In the alleyway, halfway between the dumpster and the front door, John waited. In the bright sunshine, Camila thought he looked like a bronzed statue, all tan and muscles and sun-kissed hair. His cheeks were flushed as if he’d been running and there was a twig in his hair. Where had he been all day? She smiled at him. Travis took a step forward.
“Who’re you?” He crossed his arms over his narrow chest and stood to his full height.
“John.” He stepped forward and offered his hand to shake.
Travis stared at it. “John who? Camila, you know this dude?”
Camila nodded. “Travis, this is my…uh…cousin. John’s from out of town. Just got in yesterday from Lansing.”
“Lansing, huh?” Travis narrowed his eyes. He still didn’t reach to shake John’s hand. “He’s been in town two days? Weird.”
Camila pressed on a smile. “I've known John since I was a little kid. I’ll be fine. Really.”
Travis furrowed his brow but took a step back into the ice cream shop. “If you’re sure. I mean, I could always run you home.”
“And shut up shop? Nah, it’s fine. John will walk me. Like I said, it’s five minutes.”
“Alright then.” He gave John one last suspicious look. “Later, Joe.”
John just nodded. When Travis was gone, his eyes fell on Camila.
She looked into his sun-kissed face, smiling. “How did you know when I’d get off?”
John shrugged, his broad shoulders tightening the T-shirt she'd given him. “I didn’t. I’ve been waiting in the alley for a while.”
Camila widened her eyes. “You have? Why?”
John shrugged, a blush forming on his cheeks. “Thought I’d make sure you were safe.”
Her mind told her she should be wary, yet her body pulsed with a strange, rhythmic heat and she wondered what fantastic shade of red she was turning.
“What?” he asked, studying her. “Did I do something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. Somehow you do everything right.”
Now it was his turn to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. “So, can I walk you?”
Camila nodded. They walked past Lizzy’s to the little strip mall next door. Most windows were already dark, odd for six on a Thursday. They rounded onto Sisson Street and passed the Shell Gas Station with the droopy pumps and the ragged-looking man behind the cash register. Camila locked eyes with him through the window and dropped her gaze. He reminded her too much of the story about the dead clerk.
“It’s like a ghost town around here,” John said, his eyes tracing up and down the four-lane road. A few cars zipped past, going way over the posted speed limit. Everyone wanted to get where they were going and lock themselves in. Camila thought of Mama and walked a little faster.
They passed a coffee shop, nearly empty but for a few employees, and a closed ladies’ retail store. Camila shook her head. “What’s it going to take for them to catch whoever or whatever is doing this?”
John swallowed. “It won’t be easy.”
Camila looked up at John, a shiver running over her arms. There was something in his voice.
They walked through a weedy parking lot and down an embankment that stank of animal waste and sou
r liquor. The dry two-foot-high grass lashed at their legs. They dodged faded beer cans, broken bottles and candy bar wrappers fluttering in the breeze. From here they could see her trailer park, saggy rectangles in a multitude of stained colors.
As they entered the trailer park, the air hung hot and heavy. The empty playground swings moaned in the breeze. No one trusted their children out today. They were cramped inside on musty carpets while their mothers watched Judge Judy.
They stopped in front of her trailer. No way to tell if Mama was home from the driveway.
“Wait here, please,” she said to John, who tucked his large frame into a folding chair between two stacks of boxes. She opened the front door and stepped inside.
The smell of cleaning chemicals had abated and the powerful aroma of decaying synthetic material and stale air was back. From the entryway she could see new shopping bags resting next to the ones from yesterday. Garage sale finds by the look of it. More flip-flops, CDs, and knick-knacks.
Camila walked in and peered over the couch. Empty. A look to the kitchen showed it unoccupied. She walked down to the bathroom and pushed that door open. Mama must’ve washed some of her clothes in the bathtub—wet socks, T-shirts, shorts, and bras were slung over every available surface to dry.
The only place left to look was her room. Dread surged up as she pushed into her bedroom.
Mama was splayed across her bed, still in her clothes. One high heel lay on the ground discarded. The other dangled from Mama’s foot extending off the edge of the bed. Lipstick was smeared on Camila's pillowcase.
Mama was home safe. And judging by the way she was snoring, she’d be out for a while. She probably hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours.
Camila found John sitting with his hands in his lap right where she'd left him. His eyes met hers as she stood over him.
“Is she here?” he asked.
“She’s asleep. Probably will be all night.”
20 Shades of Shifters_A Paranormal Romance Collection Page 156