It Lives In The Basement

by Sahara Foley

  Crouched in the high, stifling grass, magnifying glass in his right hand, Alvarez observed, “Ah, just a deer, John, tracks and hair all over. The deer must have slept in this spot recently. And this track no doubt is rabbit. This one is either a skunk or a coon.” Standing upright, sweating and frustrated, he asked, “Damn, John, where did you see the creature?”

  Carter pointed. “As near as I can tell, right there, where you're standing, Pete. It didn't move much, walked out about where you are, sat for an hour or so, did its business, screamed, and left. Right there. I'm positive.”

  Dropping to hands and knees, the short, thin Sergeant almost disappeared as he probed more carefully through the weeds. In a few minutes, Alvarez excitedly yelled, “My case, John! Where is my case?”

  Mark began trudging through the tall grass toward the Sergeant, holding the big, heavy briefcase out in front of him. When he was a few feet away, Alvarez yelled at him, “Do not move! Do not step here, please. Come to me over to my left more.”

  Stopping in mid-stride, Mark glanced down to where the Sergeant pointed, seeing nothing but more weeds, lots of knee-high, green weeds. Moving around as instructed, he handed the suitcase-sized briefcase to the thin man, who opened the case, took out an even larger magnifying glass and some tweezers made of bamboo. The Sergeant went back to hands and knees, as Carter took the case and waited, saying nothing.

  Standing there, sweating in the oppressive heat, flies buzzing all around, Carter could barely stand the stink wafting off the slimy pool. The stench reminded him of overripe, dirty diapers. He tried breathing through his mouth, but he could almost taste the smell. The taste/smell made him want to gag. Glancing over at Mark, he saw Mark was having the same problems. He looked a little green around the gills.

  The weeds shook slightly as Alvarez asked John to locate his microscope and slides in his huge briefcase. Carter took out a brown box and opened it. He removed a microscope, and with it a box of glass slides. He sat them on top of the brown box, and waited again.

  The longer they stood out in the open, the more nervous Carter was becoming. He kept running his eyes over the entire area, and every little noise made him reach for his revolver. After exiting the Blazer, he had tucked in his shirt and unsnapped the safety strap on his holster. He wasn't the only one being cautious. Before Alvarez entered the field, he'd also undone the strap on his shoulder holster.

  Carter mentally shook himself. He was acting like a rookie, scared of his shadow. But the creature they'd seen by this pool in the moonlight had terrified him. At first he thought it was a large rabbit. Then, the creature screamed. He barely stopped himself from jumping up and fleeing to his vehicle for cover. And that high-pitched scream still haunted him. You only needed to hear that kind of inhuman scream once to know you never wanted to hear it again.

  Disturbing Carter's surveillance, Alvarez held up some course, brown hairs, John squeezing the hairs between two glass slides. Then, Alvarez held up what resembled a child's turd, which John also squeezed between a pair of glass slides, being very careful not to touch any of the material.

  Alvarez adjusted his microscope so the small mirror caught the sun, stared into the eyepiece for a few moments, then sat back grinning. “You have done it, John.” He titled his head. “Now, finally, do you believe?”

  Carter didn't answer right away, and when he did, it was a question, “Are you sure, Pete? I could've been wrong, you know? It was dark last night when I saw the animal.”

  “Come on, John,” Mark rebuked. “First night of the full moon, not a cloud in the sky? Hell, the moon was so bright, we even baited our lines by moonlight. And I saw that thing too, like you did, through binoculars.” Sweat running down his reddened face, batting away files and swarming gnats, Mark asked, “Now, will one of you Super Detectives tell me what the hell we saw? Some hybrid rabbit or what?”

  Looking nervously around, Alvarez suggested, “Let us gather our equipment, and leave this area, please.”

  Relieved they were finally vacating the field, John hurriedly packed everything, closing the case, and handing it to Mark to carry. They turned to watch Alvarez, who removed a small bottle from his pocket, and began sprinkling a liquid around the areas they had been standing and searching through. Immediately, Mark turned away, coughing, as Carter's eyes began to burn, his nose looking for elsewhere to be.

  “Jeez!” Mark exclaimed loudly. “What is that stuff? It really stinks.” He was fanning the air in front of his face.

  Alvarez threw the one-ounce, empty bottle into the slimy pool, then waded through the tall weeds to join them. “You said you have cold beer, John? Ah, good, then let us go have some.” He looked at Mark, and smiling, answered, “Yes, that was shit, Mr. Sagano. Human shit mixed with horse shit, and some human and horse urine. A good cover for our smells, no?”

  Alvarez took off across the field, John pacing him in the tall weeds. Mark stood there, holding the big briefcase, watching their retreating backs, then to the smelly pool. He quickly followed.

  All the way back around the lake to the campground, Mark sat quietly in the rear, amid a jumble of cardboard boxes, and bags of plastic and canvas. Peering around, he saw an old fishing pole, two long cases that resembled rifle cases, and a heavy tripod which took up almost one side of the rear seat. What the hell was going on? Why did Alvarez bring rifles? Why was his buddy so spooked over some weird-looking animal? He looked at John and Alvarez, neither of whom was speaking, frowns prominent on their faces. Mark sighed. As a prosecutor for the DA, he was used to waiting until the initial investigation was over before commencing with questions. Well, he wasn't waiting much longer. He needed to know what was going on.

  Back at the graveled visitor parking lot, they sat in the hot Blazer for a few minutes before Carter finally spoke. “Pete, leave your truck here. Mark, you and I have to get the girls packed and headed for home. Whatever happens out here tonight, I'd feel a lot better knowing they're both safe at home.”

  Alvarez nodded his approval, as Mark asked, “Why? You think that thing, whatever it was, will come back? What's going on here, John?”

  Alvarez nodded again, answering softly, “Yes of course, Mr. Sagano. Whether there are clouds, or even if the weather is raining, they can only perform when the moon is full. They must perform, they are driven by instinct. So, for two or three nights each month, these creatures must return to their chosen places and perform. Our greatest good fortune is John found one of these creatures.”

  Mark's face wrinkled in puzzlement. “To perform? Uh, excuse me, Sergeant Alvarez, ah, John, what the hell is going on? What was that thing we saw? I think it's time you leveled with me, buddy.”

  Looking first at Alvarez, Carter turned to face Mark. “That thing is an ancient beast, animal, whatever you want to call it. And I mean ancient, Mark. That beast was genetically created by one of the old gods, long, long ago, when men were still evolving. The creature was created by what the people back then called a god named Conquite. Conquite considered the experiment a failure. He threw all his failures into a slimy pool, a cesspool, and somehow this thing adapted, survived, and mutated into what we saw last night. That creature is called a Tescara, and I'm afraid there are many of the damn things all over the world.

  “We think, well, I guess we know, one killed my old partner, Mike Flynn. Pete here is our only local expert, and he says all Tescara are males. What our visitor was doing in the field last night was masturbating into that old, open cesspool. They also masturbate into toilets. Whatever open body of polluted water they can find. Somehow, their sperm lives in the sewer systems until it finds the right genetic host, and then, they're born.” Feeling uncomfortable, Carter turned to Alvarez, “Pete, you can explain this better.”

  Wiping the sweat from his face on his sleeve, Alvarez asked, “Mr. Sagano, have you ever felt something touch you on your anal or genital area as you sat on a toilet?”

  Looking from John back to Alvarez, Mark answered hesitantly, “Yeah, I g
uess I've felt that before. I would think everyone has at one time or another.”

  Alvarez continued, “Like most people, you probably convinced yourself you imagined the feeling, but you did not. That sensation was Tescara sperm, Mr. Sagano, and the sperm was searching for the right genetic combination for a host. When the sperm finds the proper host, it enters the body to grow to birth size, then the unborn Tescara eats its way out of the body through the anal/genital area. Always the birth process is the same. The host dies horribly, in excruciating pain, as the unborn Tescara eats its way from the body to its birth.”

  Squirming on the rear seat, Mark exclaimed loudly, “Christ! How come I knew you were going to say that? But this is nuts, John. I mean, well, you know what I mean. Don't you? I mean, hell, just thinking about this could make me want to get a colostomy bag, for Christ's sake. You guys are bullshitting me, aren't you? Please, say you are.”

  Carter explained to Sagano. “I know this sounds crazy, Mark, but you have to believe us. I saw a host parent for one of these Tescara a few years ago, and the mutilation to the host body isn't something you ever forget. Even Pete doesn't know what constitutes the right genetic combination for a host, but he thinks the combination has to do with blood types. But there's more to finding a proper host than that, because these Tescara sperm will enter a human female with the right genetic combination, but never be born. The Tescara can only be born from a male host, and there has never been a male parent that survived the birthing process. If you'd seen that Mexican kid's body, you would've been an instant believer. Honest to God!”

  Sagano's brow furrowed. “Wait. Are you talking about that kid over on 18th street a few years back? That's the same place Flynn disappeared from too, wasn't it? Oh my God, are you saying one of those little animals we saw was born in Flynn? And that's what killed him?”

  Alvarez answered before Carter could. “No. Lieutenant Flynn was not a host parent, Mr. Sagano. He was a meal for a full-grown one. They are voracious eaters, and if they have a chance, they will eat a human being in a matter of seconds. Oh, there are reports, one I read myself, they will eat anything with blood, but I believe they prefer human beings to other animals.”

  Sagano stared at them dubiously, then said, “Okay, ah, well, I'm not saying I believe any of this shit you guys are feeding me. Yeah, I saw that animal last night, but hell; it could have been a big rabbit without rabbit ears. And now you're trying to tell me that little animal can take on a man and eat him? Sorry, John, but I find that kinda hard to believe. Okay, so what are you two planning to do now?”

  “Oh, how I wish I didn't believe in the bastards either,” Carter said with a sigh. “Well, the first thing is to get Cathy and Sharon out of here. I'd like to give the girls an explanation that won't scare the hell out of them. When I realized that animal was a Tescara we saw last night, my first thought was these little bastards eat people, and here we are at a crowded campground on a long holiday weekend, with nothing between us and that carnivorous bastard but our tent. The possibility of being eaten by one, I can tell you, scares the hell out of me, Mark.

  “And I'll tell you something else. We don't know if these Tescara can be killed. As near as Pete can tell from his studies and reports, the Tescara have been around as long as Man, and he thinks the original ones are still alive. If that's true, then they're immortal beings. And if they're immortal, are they also invulnerable? I see that thought doesn't sit well with you either. But think about it. If the Tescara was created by genetic manipulation, then it's possible they will live forever, and they can't be killed. Flynn was no fool Mark, and he was armed. But a Tescara got him anyway.

  “I think tonight we're going to try to either tranquilize the bastard or kill it. We have to find one, Mark, but I don't want anyone to know about our plan yet. Pete has some video cameras, and we'll try to get everything on film, so if we can't kill the beast or capture it, at least we'll have proof to show we're not a couple of crazy cops. Behind the seat is a cage Pete constructed, for if he ever had a chance to catch one. Well, now may be the time. You want to stay with us, or go with the women?”

  Mark peered over the seat at the canvas lump. He lifted part of the canvas to reveal a collapsed, heavy, metal cage. The bars were shiny stainless-steel, about an inch thick. The cage looked as if it could hold an elephant.

  Mark shook his head. “You're serious, aren't you, John? The damn cage looks as if it was made for a gorilla, not for that small animal we saw. Christ on a crutch, how am I supposed to believe any of this? Hell yes, I'm staying. If for nothing else then to watch you two make fools of yourselves over some goddamn rabbit.”

  “Good enough, Mark. Now, let's get the girls packed and moving. If we're successful tonight, we're going to make national headlines.” Carter said softly with resignation.

  Alvarez nodded, adding, “And if we are not successful, we will probably end up dead.”

  Sagano's eyes widened. “Jeez, John. Is he always like this? I still don't see how you think the little animal we saw could hurt a full-grown man.”

  The temperature in the Blazer had to be well over one hundred and twenty degrees as Alvarez opened his door. “And I pray tonight you will not get to see that happen either. Shall we go have a cold beer, please?”

  Their women were not cooperative. From the moment Carter told them they had to leave, they became stubborn. Although their wives were not told by their husbands what was going on, they knew it was something dangerous, and they didn't want to leave their men.

  Carter finally relented and told a half-truth. “Cathy, just listen for a minute. There's something living across the lake, either in the field, or up where those new houses are under construction. The creature is the same kind I know killed Flynn, and I plan on capturing it tonight. Don't argue, honey. We want you two out of here where we know you're both safe. Capturing the creature will require all of our attention. If you and Sharon stay here, we'll be distracted worrying about your safety, as well as our own. Please, just throw some things together, and take the car home. Either stay at Sharon's house, or she can stay with you, but for crying out loud, honey, get going. We have to make plans and get some sleep before nightfall. How about it, Cathy?”

  After forty years of marriage, thirty-two of them being a cop's wife, Cathy gave in. She knew John was right. They would make the situation worse, if they stayed.

  But Sharon wasn't a cop's wife, and she protested, loudly. “Damn you, Mark Sagano. You're not a cop. What business do you have being out here, if it's something dangerous?”

  Mark hugged her, whispering, “Listen, Sharon, I'm sure it's not dangerous, and when this all over, we'll be laughing our heads off at these two super-cops. You watch and see. But meanwhile, go with Cathy, please. When they get done with their game, I'll call, and you can come back out. Okay?”

  Looking pleadingly into his eyes, she asked, “You promise you'll be careful with whatever the hell you three are up to?”

  He crossed his heart, smiling. “Promise, honey. How could I be any safer then with these two? They have the guns, remember?”

  Sharon Sagano stared at Alvarez and said sternly, “Sergeant, if you let anything happen to my husband, you had better be damn sure you're someplace where I can't find you.” She turned on John. “That goes for you too, brother. If I'd have wanted a cop for a husband, I would've married one. But I didn't, I married this chubby, lazy man right here, and by God, I want to keep him. Do you hear me, John?”

  Carter nodded, doing the shushing motion with his hands. “Yeah, Sis, I hear you. Hell, they probably heard you on the other side of the lake. Don't worry about Mark. I'll take good care of him.”

  Twenty minutes later, once their wives had left, Mark Sagano was passed out on his recliner lawn chair, snoring loudly. Carter and Alvarez were sitting at the picnic table under the hot sun, staring at Sagano sleeping in the only shady spot in their area.

  Carter stated quietly, “I sort of wish he'd gone with the women, Pete. I don't
want to be responsible for him tonight. He still doesn't believe our story, not that I blame him, but that could get him hurt. We know, and we're scared to death of those things, he isn't.”

  Alvarez nodded, reaching in the cooler for more beers. “We can use him, John. He is an Assistant DA, and his testimony could be invaluable. We will let him run the camera while we operate the rifles. He will be safe.” Pointing across the narrow lake to the weedy field where the sunlight glinted off the slimy pool, he asked, “Tell me everything you can remember from last night, so we can figure out the best place to set up our gear.”

  Carter opened his beer, took a cold drink then pointed. “I first saw movement over there while I was looking up toward those new houses. The moonlight was so bright; I could see everything pretty clearly. I didn't know what the animal was at first, just thought maybe a deer coming down the hill. The creature walked funny, with short movements, stopping for a few minutes, then walking again, always slowly, as if it was checking the area out before advancing. I'm not sure of the time when I first saw the animal, but according to Mark, it was about ten after eleven.”

  Alvarez interrupted, “How did he arrive at that time, John?”

  Carter took another long, cold drink, finishing his beer, taking two more out of the cooler before he answered. “He knew the time because of the bites we were getting on our lines. Mark checks his watch every time we get a bite, or catch a fish. Checking the time is a habit of his, and I'd just lost a fish, so he knew within a few minutes what the time was. I had just thrown my line back out when I noticed some movement and pointed it out to Mark.

  “As I said before, I thought we'd get to see a deer, but it wasn't. The animal proceeded down the hill, keeping to those bigger clumps of bushes, and didn't walk in a straight line. Looking through the binoculars, scanning from bush to bush, was the only way I was able to track the creature. Tracking through binoculars is tough to do, no matter how bright the moon, but I found it. That's when I let Mark look, to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought I was seeing. Mark described what he saw, which matched what I saw, so I knew what it was. A Tescara.”