“What if we can’t, Derek?”
There was silence for a moment, then, “You know why I like you so much, L. C.?” Derek asked.
It was a silly thing to say in a terrible situation, and she couldn’t help but respond.
“Why?”
“Because no matter how bad things get for you, I’ve never once seen you give up. You get scared because of that thing in your head, you run away, but you always come back.”
It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. But of course, Derek didn’t know when to let go. “If I have to be trapped in a locked house with a giant man-eating lizard, I’m just glad it’s with you.”
“Derek! Stop joking! This is crazy!”
“I know…I think I’m feeling a little woozy….” She heard a strange wavering in his usually steady voice. She had to get Derek to a hospital.
It wasn’t the OCD talking, but it was agreeing with everything she said.
Yes! Yes! Derek will die! Count the drawers! Count the cracks in the floor.
No. A hospital. Derek needed a hospital.
She heard him moan as he hefted something, heard glass crack but not splinter, as if his blow had been too weak even to shatter the glass.
“Hmm…window’s pretty strong, too. Or I’m weaker than I thought. But…you know what?” Derek said, voice rallying behind a great boyish idea. “This is a gas stove. I can blow out the pilots, turn on the burners and when the place gets nice and full of gas, hide in the basement and toss in a match. WHOOM! That’ll blow a hole in the wall!”
And Chelsea thought she was nuts. He couldn’t possibly mean it.
“Don’t Derek. Don’t. That’s insane. You’re not thinking right.”
She heard him shifting, imagined he was turning the burners on, and the oven. Imagined that even now the kitchen was filling with gas. Was it real?
“I think it’ll work. There’s a lighter right here. Don’t move. I’ll blow a hole in the wall and go get help.”
“Derek! Stop! Turn the burners off! You shouldn’t breathe that stuff!”
The loud scratching returned, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood, about to give. “Oh crap, he’s at the door again. Gotta go, L. C. See you soon!”
He hung up.
Now she heard the scratching in reality, down below in the hallway that led to the kitchen. It was loud, insistent. She also heard Derek’s voice, muffled, trying to command Koko as if he were a dog. “Get out of here! Go on! Get out!”
Dizzy with fear, she looked down the stairs. The shadows below danced furiously in tune with the scratching. She counted how many times the big tail flashed, how many scratches, how many huge splinters she imagined the claws pulling free, how large in inches she imagined the hole must be getting.
Cold sweat poured down her forehead, like the snow she saw down below, pooling along the lower line of the front door’s icy window. The storm was in full swing. Between that and Hobson Night there probably wasn’t a free police officer, firefighter, or ambulance in all of Bilsford.
She looked around the second floor, down the long cluttered hall, its thin-slatted wood paneling now painted white, at the array of potted plants, at the small end table with the answering machine on it, trying to find—what? A weapon? Another phone? A score of bad monster movies flashed in her mind. Maybe she could fray a lamp cord and try to electrocute Koko. Maybe she could freeze him, get him out into the snow somehow. Maybe she could count him to death.
That idea about the freezing didn’t sound so bad. Koko needed heat. In fact, maybe he wasn’t even hungry anymore. Maybe he just wanted to head back down to his habitat, where his heat lamps were, but he couldn’t because Derek had barred the door. That made sense. Lizards only attacked for food, then they dragged their prey off to eat and digest.
So maybe Derek should just get out of the way?
She hit his number on speed dial.
“Chelsea, if that’s you, I’m kind of busy right now!” he screamed from below.
“Derek, I think Koko just wants to get back to the basement!” she called back.
“Well, too bad for him, then!” Derek shouted.
The scrambling stopped. Koko had heard her voice. Maybe even recognized it, connected her with food and the warm basement. After a few seconds, though, he started scratching again.
Her cell rang. Derek.
“Chelsea, I’m going to let him in. I’m going to let him in and blow him up!” He sounded even weaker than before. The exertion was probably making the venom move faster through his system.
“No, Derek! Don’t!” she screamed, but he hung up.
At the sound of her scream, the lizard stopped again.
Chelsea froze; then an idea hit her. It could recognize faces and voices, right? What voice would be most familiar to Koko?
She turned the volume all the way up on the answering machine and hit PLAY. Eve Mandisa’s voice filled the house, announcing her name and telephone number. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Koko stopped scratching completely.
Chelsea walked back to the top of the stairs, near the closest door and looked down. As messages issued from the machine, the scratching did not resume.
“Eve, where are you? Let me know!”
She saw the lizard’s shadow, cast by the fallen lamp, appear again on the floor at the bottom of the steps. Koko probably figured Eve could help him get back in the basement.
“Eve, I’m at the airport and your flight arrived, but not you. Where are you?”
The shadow got bigger as Koko, somewhere in the living room now, crossed closer in front of the light. Chelsea backed up against a door. The knob turned in her hands. If Koko started climbing up, all she had to do was stay quiet, barricade herself in the room and call Derek, at least talk him into shutting off the gas.
“Eve, the airline says you never even got on the plane! I’m really worried now! Did you take care of Koko like we discussed? No matter what you think of it, it’s an animal, Eve, for pity’s sake! Please, please call.”
When the tip of Koko’s nose appeared at the base of the stairs, Chelsea opened the door and backed inside the room.
“Eve, I’m worried sick. No one seems to know what happened to you.”
It was dark in the room, but the light from the streetlamps, reflecting off the falling snow, bathed it in a soft full-moon blue. Chelsea could make out a bed and bureau, and some suitcases piled against one wall, but nothing else.
“Eve…”
It wasn’t until she pulled the door shut and backed deeper into the room that Chelsea nearly tripped over the half-eaten body of Eve Mandisa.
As she screamed, long and loud, Koko’s feet reached the welcome mat in front of the stairs.
8
Already pushed to its limits, Chelsea’s system overloaded. Every neuron shot bio-electric acid along the length of her body. Her heart, sounding now like a machine gun, could not beat faster. Her adrenals wept so much of their high-octane hormone into her system, she tasted the adrenaline, warm and metallic in her mouth. Panicked energy filled so much of her body that she had nothing left with which to maneuver it into useful action. All she could do was scream and stare at the lifeless thing that once housed the heart and mind of her biology teacher.
Eve Mandisa’s remains lay in the semi-darkness of the room, looking much like a cross between some latex corpse from a Halloween shop and a real-life rotting slab of meat. Sullen light from the window graced the face, which had remained untouched. Eve’s mouth was closed, her eyes open. Her crow’s-feet vanished in death, and she looked younger. She didn’t even look shocked. Maybe a little surprised. Her lips were twisted into a kind of half smile, just like Koko’s. She was either pleased at her death, or it happened so quickly the Egyptian-born woman didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Merciful.
The confident voice that had spoken the word echoed in Chelsea’s head.
Merciful.
Chelsea remembered how once she want
ed to be more like her. She didn’t want to be like her at all now.
A heavy sound from the base of the stairs snapped Chelsea’s attention back to the door. The lizard, the ten-foot Komodo dragon that could take down a full-grown water buffalo, was about to come up.
And she knew exactly how many steps the huge body had to climb to reach the second floor. Fourteen. Fourteen steps. All wooden. All eight inches high.
There were more sounds from outside, very distinctive, and she imagined the image that went with them. For each step, there was a light thud—probably a front foot hitting the step—followed by a lighter scratching noise, his claws scraping the wood as he pulled his body up. Koko sounded almost like a heavy bag of clothes being dragged lazily up the steps, zippers or metal clasps scraping against the stairs as it went.
Of course, she counted the steps.
1, 2. Koko’s coming soon.
The OCD begged her to count everything or else she’d burst into flame. But, for the first time, the nagging, hysterical voice could not possibly make her more afraid.
Chelsea made sure the door was shut tight by slamming her shoulder into it. It was nice and thick and heavy, but then she remembered that the kitchen door was heavy, too, but had nearly splintered. How long would this one hold?
3, 4. Bar the door.
What was around? She pulled her foot up, trying to get deeper into the room, but something clung to it. She prayed it was the folds of her teacher’s clothing and not her ravaged body. Not looking, she yanked her foot free, whimpered, and then stepped away and looked around. What could she put against the door? There were suitcases piled on the bed. They couldn’t stop an angry child, let alone a monster lizard.
5, 6. Chelsea needs a new trick.
The bureau drawers were open and empty. That didn’t look right. What had been going on? Her mind flashed to the messages on the machine: “Did you take care of Koko, like we discussed? No matter what you think, it’s an animal, Eve, for pity’s sake!”
She’d assumed the caller was referring to hiring a sitter. The empty bureau made it seem more like Eve had planned on abandoning Koko. But why? Why not just take him to a zoo?
Because it’s not legal to own a Komodo dragon. So what do you do with it?
So she abandoned her home and her career just to avoid a fine? It had to be more. Eve talked about Koko in such glowing terms, about how different he was, how intelligent.
“I just couldn’t give him up no matter how hard I tried.”
There was a bay window on one side of the room. Maybe she could pry the damn bars off and jump. She raced over and tried to open it, but the wooden frame held fast.
Nearby, she spotted what looked like some sort of sculpture. If it was heavy enough, maybe she could prop it up against the door.
7, 8. It’s almost too late.
The sculpture stood five feet, almost as tall as Chelsea. Most of it was a square stone base, but on top was a huge, broad lizard, maybe a crocodile, its tapered snout sticking off the edge, its body nestled comfortably on the flat top. Why would someone have a statue of a lizard in their bedroom?
Was Eve Mandisa worshipping Koko?
“There was this one who stood out as really different, really wonderful.”
She’d heard of a Christian sect that held rattlesnakes during their services, thinking it brought them closer to God. It must have, whenever the things bit. She shook her hands, rubbed them together. No snake. No snake. No snake was here, no snake was coming. Snake fake. Komodo Dragon real. Not God, just lizard.
Where was Koko? Shouldn’t she have heard nine and ten by now? Had Koko’s advance stopped? Maybe he was tired. Maybe being away from the warm cage was starting to get to him. She strained to listen, but heard nothing.
Maybe he was heading back down to Derek. She flipped open her cell to call him when…
9, 10, the sacrificial hen.
Koko was still on his way. But what had happened with Eve? If Koko killed her, he must have gotten free before the first time Chelsea fed him. She said he was smart, sophisticated. Did Koko only pretend to be stuck in his cage? And when Eve Mandisa tried to abandon her pet, did he somehow know?
11, 12, get ready to be shelved.
Where was Derek? Why hadn’t he tried to lure Koko back down? Had he gotten out? Was he getting help?
13, 14, someone call the Marines!
The floor outside the door creaked. She held her breath. He’d probably just pass by, right? But then she saw the door move in the jamb, rattle the lock. She pictured his forked tongue licking at the doorknob, tasting her fear-filled sweat.
She grabbed the statue, thinking for a moment she could shove it against the door. But she couldn’t budge it.
The door rattled, at first just a bit, then more and more. She heard a sound like a thick awl digging deeply into the wood, deeper and deeper, faster, faster.
As the door began to yield, Chelsea grabbed a floor lamp, yanked the cord free from the outlet and swung the heavy base at the bay window. Apparently the adrenaline had increased her strength, because her swing sailed through the thin wood of the frame and sent glass flying. A rush of cold air filled the room, followed by bits of snow.
The door continued to shred.
It’s coming to eat you, Chelsea!
“Shut up! Shut up!” she said aloud as she stuck her head out the window.
The sound of her voice excited the lizard at the door. There was already a long thin line forming, the paint cracking, showing wood.
Stupid! Stupid! Don’t talk out loud to the voices in your head!
The wind was freezing. Jagged glass shards lined the hole she had made. She swung again, but her strength was fading. She stuck her head out through the hole she’d made, into the snow, into the cold. Desperate, she wedged the base of the lamp between the bars and pulled, but the lamp bent in her arms, leaving the window bars intact.
No! No! I don’t want to die!
Then count or wash your hands!
There was a hole in the door. She could see the tips of the claws working, like some remorseless backhoe at a construction site.
Getting a second wind, Chelsea slammed the base of the lamp against the bars, again and again. She could see the screws that held them in place start to give at one corner, but it would take time and more strength for her efforts to make any difference.
And even if she’d had the strength, her time was up. Koko’s head and front legs were wedged through the door, his claws on either side of his face as he tried to pull his body through. Long, sharp shards of wood flew or fell as the lizard made its way.
“Help!” Chelsea screamed out the window, but her voice was muffled by the snow and it didn’t look like anyone was on the street. They were all at Hobson Night, drinking vodka from a giant ice sluice, where she should have been, where Derek should have been.
She thought briefly she might climb out and wedge herself between the window and the bars, but that would just leave her cornered, make her an easier morsel to chew.
Skin growing numb with cold, she pulled herself back inside.
“Derek!” she screamed.
Koko hissed at her as he pulled the rest of himself inside.
Close up now, with only the bed between them, Koko looked all muscle and sharp claw, covered by thick gray hide, too big, too hungry. It was death on four legs, more terrifying than bursting into flames or being bitten by a rattler or poisoned by touching rabbit food, or even being raped and cut up. It was more horrid than anything her OCD ever could have conjured.
And it was coming toward her.
Pulling away from the window, the lamp still in her hand, she used it as a brace and climbed atop the lizard statue. Balancing against the wall, she managed to stand on its back, her sneakers a full five feet above the ground.
Koko thudded up to the statue’s base and looked up. Snow from the window flecked his clay-gray face. The little specks of crystal ice melted on his body. The black eyes stared at h
er, recognizing her, boring into her soul, as if they saw exactly who she was and what she was worth—just a piece of meat, just dinner.
Chelsea was hyperventilating, each breath matching her heartbeat. Maybe she was safe up here. Maybe, even though he could climb stairs, he couldn’t get up this statue.
But of course he could. Koko raised his back, forked tongue flicking from his grinning lips. His front claws grabbed either side of the stone base. His long back stretched as he pulled himself up. He snapped his jaw at the air, revealing again the two long rows of venom-dripping teeth that worked on the skin of his prey like a saw. All he had to do was bite her once and wait.
The head rose, coming closer and closer to her foot. Snow and cold wind flew across his body. The reptile pulled back, about to snap, when…
WHUNK!
She brought the base of the lamp down against the side of his jaw. Koko seemed surprised, but not even annoyed. He snapped again, and again she swung, this time catching him on the side of the head, near his eye.
That, he didn’t like at all. He bit, lightning quick, taking almost the whole base of the lamp into his mouth. His jaws had unhinged, making swallowing the whole thing easy. Chelsea choked, realizing the heavy base of the lamp was just about as wide as her shoulders. She could fit inside easily too.
Not wanting to lose her only weapon, she pulled, but the mouth, which could rip a horse apart, held on fast. Koko pulled back, just once, and she almost lost her grip. This part of the battle would only last a second more. She knew she was no match for his strength, having felt it, hard and heavy, through the metal feeding claw.
Unless…why fight it?
Rather than pull, she pushed, for all she was worth, driving the lamp deep down the lizard’s throat. Koko made a pained huffing noise and yanked himself back off the statue. He snapped his head back and forth a few times, slamming the lampshade against the bed and the base of the statue, trying to loosen the thing in his throat.
For a few seconds, Chelsea hoped he might choke to death on the thing, suffocate right in front of her, but instead, he put his front legs on the pole and yanked. She could see the muscles of his throat working backward, pushing as his claws pulled. With a sickening rush, the base of the lamp popped out of his mouth, onto the floor, covered with thick mucous and a small chunk of cloth that looked like a piece of Dr. Gambinetti’s Snoopy tie.
Prey Page 9