by Ray Garton
Jeff had started the car, still halfheartedly intending to drive home and study.
But he couldn't.
When they drove into the darkened rear parking lot of the old burnt-out health club, Jeff turned onto Whitley and parked at the curb, almost, but not quite, glad he'd come.
The lot was surrounded by a fence of tall, thick shrubbery, preventing a view of the lot from the street. The only entrance was in the front on Ventura.
The parking lot was a favorite spot to park, drink, smoke some grass, and make out. Jeff wondered if Mallory had lied to him or if Kevin had lied to her. It seemed pretty obvious that there would be no meeting here about getting club work for Kevin's band.
Whatever they're going to do, he warned himself, you don't want to see it, do you?
He remembered his dream. All those groping hands and bobbing heads…
Do you…?
Jeff got out of the car, quietly closed the door, and headed for the parking lot entrance….
It was difficult to tell how large the room was because of the poor lighting and blackened walls, but it seemed vast. At the foot of the stairs, Mallory looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the shifting glow that came from kerosene lanterns positioned about the room.
"This is the pool room," Mace said. The room's acoustics gave his voice a hollow, empty sound. Pointing with a long index finger, he said, "The pool is over there, and beyond that wall, or what's left of it, is the racquetball court."
Dripping water plinked monotonously.
The still air was cool and damp.
Mace's feet crunched over the littered floor as he led them deeper into the room, saying, "I've got some cushions over here. Let's get comfortable."
As she walked with the others, taking cautious steps, Mallory heard a thick, moist squeak in the darkness and spun around.
Lanterns glowed and shadows oozed over the walls, but she saw nothing more.
Mace led them along the edge of the rectangular swimming pool. Mallory looked into it but couldn't see the bottom; it seemed to drop into a cold darkness so black it might have been tangible. After a moment, she turned away; it frightened her.
"Here," Mace said, putting the candle on a crate beside one of the lanterns. Several fat pillows and cushions were set up in a half circle facing the light. Mace settled on one of the cushions with his back to the crate.
Mallory, Kevin, and the others stood by the cushions uncertainly.
"Go ahead," Mace said genially with a short gesture of his hand, "make yourselves comfortable."
They shuffled around one another until each had found a seat.
Mace held a small pipe to his lips, lit a butane lighter, and held the flame over the bowl. Mallory hadn't seen him take the pipe from a pocket and wondered if he'd held it all along. He inhaled deeply, held it, then blew the smoke out slowly. Its odor was similar to that of marijuana, but sweeter, almost syrupy. He passed the pipe to Mark, who seemed hesitant.
"You've never had shit like this before," Mace said, still exhaling puffs of smoke with his words.
The pipe made its way around the half circle. When Steve handed it to Mallory, she shook her head and passed it on to Kevin.
"No, no, try some," Mace insisted gently.
Mallory wanted to remain alert; she was too uncomfortable in the building to get high and relax.
"I don't think so," she said.
Kevin put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Do some, dammit."
Usually grass made her cough, but this went down smoothly, massaging her throat like honey. By the time Kevin took the pipe from her, Mallory was feeling its effects. She'd only taken in a little, just to please Kevin, but even that little bit was too much. The darkness began to seem pleasant, almost comforting; the glow of candlelight became a balm to her eyes, and the shadows it cast became a visual sound—
I didn't take much, she thought.
—that filled her with a soothing, imperceptible, bone-deep thrum.
Just a little drag, not as much as the others.
When she looked at Mace, she thought he was glowing, but soon she realized it was only the light from the candle and lantern behind him. It framed his dark shape with a soft aura.
"Urn, here's the…" Kevin mumbled, offering the cassette to Mace.
Through the pleasant haze that clung to the inside of her skull, Mallory realized she'd never seen Kevin so ill at ease, so unsure of himself.
Mace took the tape, then watched them for a moment, silently, as if he were waiting for something.
"Oh, yeah," Trevor whispered, half to himself, "I almost forgot." He took a hand-sized tape player from one coat pocket and a small set of headphones from the other, handing them to Mace.
As Mace put on the headphones, Kevin said, "Uh, the songs on that tape were—"
"Let it speak for itself," Mace said, starting the tape.
Mallory could vaguely hear the music, like the whine of a mosquito flying around her ear.
"Hey," Mark whispered, "isn't he gonna tell us what he wants to—"
"Quiet," Kevin snapped.
Even in the darkness, Kevin's glare was strong enough to shut Mark up.
Mace leaned back a bit as he listened.
The others were silent, waiting.
The room was still.
Until Mallory heard another wet, sticky squeak and the gentle whisper of movement in the darkness….
When Jeff got to the parking lot, they were gone.
He stood at the corner of the building and stared at the motorcycle and Toyota parked side by side facing the wall of bushes. Turning to the building, Jeff squinted to see through the night.
They couldn't have gone inside; there were boards over all the windows and chains and locks on all the doors.
All but one.
The main rear entrance was unboarded and unchained. He approached slowly, setting his feet down softly, trying to be quiet, although he wasn't quite sure why; it was pretty obvious there was no one around to hear him.
When he tried the door, gently tugging on it, he found it securely locked.
He looked around again, turning a complete circle to see if he might have missed them the first time.
"Mallory?" His voice was little more than a breath.
He stood in the lot a few moments longer, then headed back the way he'd come, thinking it was none of his damned business what Mallory did anyway….
Just the grass, Mallory thought again. Sometimes marijuana made her ears ring. That's all it is.
But there was more movement in the darkness, closer than before.
"Kevin…"
"Shh."
Again. The squeak was louder, closer, but there was another that seemed farther away, and a third that came from behind her.
"Kevin, did you hear—"
"I said shut up!" he hissed.
Mallory closed her eyes tight. Rubbing them hard with her knuckles, she took a deep breath, trying to rise above the effect of the grass.
What if it wasn't grass?
Shaking her head with a jerk, she looked around at the others. They were hunched forward on their cushions watching Mace as if he were a television set, their lips slightly parted.
Mace had not moved. His head was still cocked back, his arms at his sides. The light shimmered brightly through his hair.
The first movement Mallory spotted was on the floor to Mace's left. It was so small that for an instant Mallory thought perhaps she hadn't seen it at all.
Until it happened again.
Mallory stiffened, and her hand found Kevin's thigh.
Something's wrong here, she thought, her mind a little— but not much—clearer. Something's big-time wrong, major wrong, we shouldn't—
Something else moved in the darkness at Mace's right.
—shouldn't be down here, this is uncool, something's—
Two pinpoints of light eased toward Mace. The moment Mallory saw them, blinders seemed to fall from her eyes, and she
saw others, many others; tiny spots of sparkling light shifting in the darkness like fireflies, except they weren't fireflies. She knew exactly what they were.
Jesus Christ my God everywhere they're everywhere and they're—
Eyes.
—moving closer my God why did I come why did I come?
Her hand closed hard over Kevin's thigh, and he jerked his leg away as if annoyed.
She saw the glow of an ember in the pipe's bowl as Perry took another hit without taking his eyes from Mace, who was still sitting up straight, head back, but with his arms held out at his sides a bit more, his left hand only inches away from the nearest pair of glittering eyes, which moved a little closer until the thing was able to climb onto his hand and ease its way up his arm, a fat lump of darkness the size of a loaf of bread. It crawled to his shoulder, where, against the light, it became an indistinguishable hump on Mace's back. As it moved Mallory made out a rough shape: small ears first, then the squat head that slowly turned as it made a sound like a jagged bone being dragged across a chalkboard.
When she saw reflected candlelight flicker on two rows of small pointed teeth, Mallory raised a hand to her mouth and screamed….
Jeff whirled around at the corner of the building.
It sounded like a scream, but it was so faint it could have come from anywhere. He faced the building again, looking at the securely nailed boards and the chains fastened with padlocks.
Only the main entrance was uncovered.
He returned to the door and tried it again. It jiggled slightly but did not open, as if bolted on the other side. That probably meant someone was in the building. He heard the scream again….
"Wh-what are th-they?" Mallory stuttered, closing her eyes. She didn't want to see those eyes anymore.
"Just pets. They're harmless."
Something touched her arm, and Mallory jerked back, opening her eyes. Mace was leaning forward, offering her the pipe.
"Here. Have some more."
"I-I don't th-think so, I…"
The thing was no longer on his shoulder.
Mace pressed the pipe and lighter into her hand, then leaned back. It was curled in his lap, and he stroked it gently.
Mallory turned away from Mace and reluctantly took another hit. It tasted even better this time, and she took a third.
"You have some more, too, Trevor," Mace said. "Don't be shy, there's plenty."
Mallory handed the pipe to Trevor, then sank deeper into her cushion. She closed her eyes, listening to the voices and enjoying the high.
"You're good," Mace said, taking off the headphones. "Very good. I'm impressed. Does the band have a name?"
Kevin said, "Well, we haven't decided yet, but we were thinking about Candy From Strangers…."
"Mmm. And you've never played any local clubs?"
"No."
"No one has heard you play?"
"Well… a couple friends."
"I'd like to—go ahead, Kevin, have some more and pass it around—I'd like to help you. Help you develop an image, get some work, put together some songs. Nothing wrong with what you've got here, nothing at all. But to start, you need something that's going to hit hard, catch them by surprise. And you need a name."
Mace was silent for such a long moment that Mallory opened her eyes.
"Crucifax," he whispered.
The word was softly echoed by the others as they tried it out.
"I'm willing to do everything I can for you," Mace went on, "and I can do quite a lot."
"What'll it cost us?" Kevin asked.
"Not a cent. But it won't be free."
Mallory looked around at all of them. Mace was still talking, mostly to Kevin, but his words became an aural blur as she brought her eyes into focus—
"… some songs I've written… music with power…"
—able to center her attention on no more than one thing at a time.
The guys were all leaning toward Mace, watching him intensely as he spoke—
"… of our group like a brotherhood…"
—their hands in their laps, moving slowly back and forth, back and forth, and at first—
"… requires loyalty and devotion and trust…"
—she thought they were masturbating, but that was silly, so silly she almost giggled. But they weren't doing that, they were stroking, all right, but they were stroking—
"… think of this place as your home…"
—black lumps that were curled up in their laps and when she turned to Kevin—
"… of me as your friend…"
—she blinked again and again, hoping she was not actually seeing the thing that seemed to be hunched on his shoulder facing her—
"… and I promise you…"
—with fierce golden eyes and two small tusks protruding from its lower jaw—
"… we…"
—and she sucked in a deep breath, wanting desperately, more than she'd ever wanted anything before, to scream—
"… will own…"
—but the breath left her lungs without a sound and when she tried to stand, to move away from Kevin, she couldn't her body would not obey her mind, and she closed her eyes over burning tears, folded her arms across her stomach and leaned forward into a ball, a sniffling, rocking ball.
"… this valley."
Jeff found a gap between two boards nailed over a window and peered through it, cupping his hands to his eyes. He saw dim light; someone was in there.
He looked around the parking lot again just to make sure he was not being watched, then curled his fingers around the board and pulled hard.
The nails creaked, strained.
He pulled again and again until one end of the board came free and then the other.
The board clattered to the pavement, and the sound ricocheted through the night like a bullet, making him wince.
Jeff put his face to the opening left by the board. He listened for voices, another scream, anything. But what he heard was not human.
Something scuttled over the floor beneath the window and made a belchlike squeaking noise.
Rats? he thought.
He gripped the next board and began pulling, but the noise inside increased, and he stopped to listen.
More of them.
He pulled the second board away and eased it to the ground, catching a whiff of the stuffy air inside, almost backing away, almost leaving.
Instead, Jeff leaned his head into the window.
"Mallory."
She felt his hand on her neck, his wrist on her shoulder, and lifted her eyes to him.
Mace was standing beside her, bending down slightly and smiling.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm…" She looked at the others in the dark, holding those things, petting them as if they were puppies. Kevin even seemed to be smiling, enjoying himself. Maybe not; it was dark. "I'm scared."
"Mmm, too much smokes."
"I want to go. Now."
"Where? Home?"
She nodded.
"You like it at home?"
The words were whispered so quietly, Mallory knew only she could hear them. She slowly looked up at him again but didn't reply.
"You don't seem to me to be a very happy girl," he went on. "I'd guess home isn't such a cool place to be."
Mallory didn't reply. She didn't feel the need to say anything; his golden eyes seemed to know everything she might tell him.
The room was alive with guttural squeaks that sounded somehow content.
"Parents giving you a rash of shit?"
She shrugged. "Just my mother," she said, her voice faint. "Dad's gone. Two years now. And Mom and I…" She shrugged again.
"What else?" He rested his big hand gently on the crown of her skull.
"My… brother. He's so… I don't know, he's as bad as her, but in a different way. She doesn't… doesn't seem to care what I do. He cares too much. He doesn't want me to see Kevin… always asks where I'm going, what I'm doing. I love him, but…"
Mace's smile stretched into a grin.
"Protective of his little sister, isn't he?"
Little sister? she thought. How does he… But the thought faded, outweighed by the comfort she found in Mace's eyes. They were the color of melted butter, at once warm and smooth, cool and comforting.
They snapped shut suddenly; his grin dropped away. He raised his head a bit and said in a breath, "Someone's here…."
When Jeff saw the eyes in the corner, he knew they'd seen him first. There were four of them, unmoving, unblinking, but definitely eyes glinting in the dark.
Okay, he thought, gulping, I'm outta here, I'm—
Something moved just beneath the window. When he looked down, it pounced up at him in a flash of sharp teeth and small, snatching claws, making a deep, chitinous sound as it shot out of the dark. Jeff threw himself back from the window, his arms flailing before him, his feet stumbling backwards as he made a staccato nuh-nuh-nuh in his throat. The pavement came up and hit him in the back, knocking the wind from his lungs, making him gasp desperately for breath as he crawled backward; watching the window, he saw small claws pulling a dark shape through the gap in the boards, a shape with glistening black lips that pulled back over sharp teeth and two lower tusks that curled upward about an inch and a half, gnashing the air as the creature pulled itself over the sill and down the wall dragging a long, flesh-pink tail behind it. Another came through the window, then another.
The first creature hit the pavement and began skittering toward Jeff, its nose aimed directly between his legs.
Jeff rolled over, crawled on his hands and knees for a few feet, then clambered to his feet and broke into a lurching run toward the shrubbery that ran along Whitley.
Throwing himself into the bushes, Jeff felt the sharp branches scraping over his face and neck, cutting his hands as he clawed his way through, spitting leaves from his mouth; he tore through the thick web of shrubbery until his arms were caught, trapped like a spider's prey.