by Hunter Shea
Don stared at him quizzically.
“Why would I need wood?”
“To batten down the hatches. They say that hurricane might hit the day after tomorrow. I remember you telling me the boards you had from Jacob were pretty much destroyed.”
Gripping the doorknob, Don said, “Wait. What hurricane?”
Sam slapped his forehead. “You’ve been too busy worrying about Gary the past few days. They’ve named this beauty Ramona. She’s slowly making her way north, but if she takes a slight turn west, we’re gonna get it full on.”
“Shit.”
“That’s what I said,” Sam said. “My first wife was named Ramona, and if this storm is even half the bitch, we’re in it deep.”
“If Gary wasn’t on bed rest, I could take him and Barbara to Orlando and ride it out at Disney,” Don said, mostly to himself. Of course, that wasn’t an option because Disney cost a small fortune. They didn’t have a small fortune to spare at the moment.
“You could, at that,” Sam said. “But until you shake hands with Goofy, you’ll need to prepare the house.”
Don shook the cobwebs from his head. This was not a good time for a hurricane. Not that there ever was one. But still.
“Yes, please, if you could pick up some supplies, it would mean a lot. Here, let me get my wallet.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get everything and we’ll figure out the money part later. That is, as long as you help me unload the truck.”
Sam gave him a wink. The seventy year old widower had adopted Don and his family the moment they’d moved to Polo Springs from Port St. Lucie seven years ago. This was Don’s first house. It meant a lot to have Sam around teaching him how to maintain it.
“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Don said.
“That’s what Ramona said to me the day she left. I did pretty damn well, just like you would.”
Don walked him to his truck, a massive Ford that he kept spotless.
As Sam got into the truck, he said, “I walked by that sidewalk this morning where the little guy took a tumble. I think I know what did it.”
“What did what?”
“The concrete. It was pushed up from those damn green iguanas.”
Don laughed, then saw Sam wasn’t laughing with him.
“How is that possible? Those things are too small.”
“Not when there’s a lot of them. I saw a whole bunch pouring out from the dirt under that big slab. They dig tunnels like gophers. I found a few big holes in my lawn today, too. If the city isn’t gonna do anything to get rid of ‘em, we’ll have to do it ourselves.”
Feeling a chill that did not come from the oppressive air outside, Don said, “There’d have to be a crap ton of them to do that kind of damage.”
Sam closed the door and rolled down his window. “There would and there are. Go see for yourself. They’re marching in and out of there like commuters popping out of a New York City subway. Feel free to take a few out and release some aggression.”
The rumbling Ford backed out of the driveway, Sam giving a honk and a wave. Don looked back at the house, hoping Gary was still in bed.
Curiosity got the better of him and he jogged to the broken sidewalk.
It was just like Sam said. Lizard after lizard rose from the ruptured earth like tiny zombies. They darted in every direction, invading the neighborhood.
One of them ran straight at him, making it as far as his shin before Don kicked his leg, flicking the lizard into the air. It hit the hot sidewalk and ran away.
“What the hell was that?”
He’d never had a lizard do that before. They were typically terrified of people.
Did that mean they had some kind of lizard rabies?
He checked his bare leg to make sure there weren’t any cuts or bite marks.
After he called the lawyer, he’d have to look up some exterminators. With so many lizards running about, it was only a matter of time before they got onto his property. He couldn’t afford to have Gary hurt again.
Chapter 7
Ann Hickok sat back in her discount store swivel chair and addressed her staff.
Meaning, she spoke out loud to herself.
“I’m going to have to hold a town hall meeting tomorrow so we can address Hurricane Ramona. Ugh. Panic and pitchforks time.” Her father had shown her the original Frankenstein right after her shocking election so she could get a feel for what it would be like to run a town. When the villagers angrily stormed the castle bearing pitchforks, torches and dogs, her father had turned to her and said, “Some things never change.” Then he pinched her cheek and added, “But you’re way cuter than the monster.”
She looked at the white board on the wall across from her. Bubble script in different colors made it look like it belonged in a kindergarten classroom more than a mayor’s office, even one above a bakery.
“Also on the agenda, our green iguana problem. Ick. That lizard expert better show.” The man hailed from a small company in Boca Raton that promised they could humanely remove many of the green iguanas that seemed to be taking over the town. The little fuckers were doing a number on the town’s infrastructure. Repairs were going to be costly—far more than was currently in the coffers. The money they had gotten from the feds to clean up the beach from that crazy Earth Matters attack on the oil rig was already spent.
Where the hell were all these lizards coming from? There were enough theories bandied about by the old timers who spent their days in the luncheonette to fill a book.
Just yesterday, Ann had watched a bunch of iguanas wriggle out from under the bushes by the luncheonette and terrorize a little boy on his tricycle. His parents had swatted them off the screaming boy like flies. Ann had watched it all stupefied, and very grossed out.
She tossed a magnetic dart at the board, sticking to the word ‘iguana’. “Those two items should be enough to keep everyone busy for a few hours. I’ll email the invites tonight and print out some flyers I can post around first thing in the morning.”
The new homeless guy spotted around town was also a grumbling concern, but he hadn’t done anything wrong yet. Ann didn’t see any reason to stoke the flames on that one. The citizens of Polo Springs were less than warm to outsiders. He’d get the hint soon and move on. There were plenty of nicer places to be, anyway.
Ann had already had two town hall meetings and nearly pooped herself at the start of each. Public speaking was not her forte. And if you asked the right people, they’d say neither was being a politician.
She may not have had the polish of a career politico, but she did care a lot about the community, and before she left, she was going to make a lasting impact.
Maybe ridding the town of the green iguanas would be her legacy.
“God, I hope not.” She didn’t enter this to become the Pied Piper.
The old air conditioner started making funny noises, as it always did after being on for a few hours straight. That was her cue to go home. She’d need her rest to take on the people of Polo Springs.
Locking up, she walked down the narrow staircase that still smelled of fresh baked bread and cookies. Her office may not have been much to look at, but the aroma was divine.
She checked the time on her phone, realizing she had an hour to kill before dinner. Her mother had promised fettuccini carbonara, one of her favorites.
The weather was stifling. That bitch of a hurricane was definitely going to hit them. When the humidity ratcheted up this high, there was no way to avoid it. Within seconds, Ann’s hair wilted and her clothes dampened.
There was no other way to walk home but slowly. She was the only person out and about, not in a comfy, air-conditioned car. A couple of horns honked and she gave a perfunctory wave. Of course, the honkers could be haters, but she didn’t care. Her skin grew thicker by the day.
> She called her friend Avery, hoping for some company on the walk.
“Hey there, stranger,” Avery said in her Texas drawl. Her family had moved from Amarillo to Polo Springs four years ago. Ann and Avery had met at freshman orientation and had been inseparable ever since.
“Did I miss a date?” Ann said, knowing Avery’s tone when she’d fucked up. “I did, didn’t I?”
Avery sighed. “Only a dip for iced coffees and gossip.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to get everything together for this town hall. I kinda lost track of time.”
“That’s all right, Ms. Mayor. I’ll let it slide, but only if you make me your lieutenant governor in the future.”
Ann laughed. “Oh yeah, no problem. I can only imagine what a headache it is to run an entire state.”
“It can’t be too hard. I mean, a Bush did it and we didn’t fall into the ocean.”
They both giggled.
“Hey, as future lieutenant governor, you want to help me get the word out about tomorrow’s meeting?”
“Only if you treat me to iced coffee.”
“That’s what I like about you, Ave. You come cheap.”
“Can I get in trouble for calling the mayor a whore?”
“Guess we’ll have to see.”
Ann recognized Mrs. Bernard driving by in her big red Caddie. She smiled and waved. Mrs. Bernard gave her a quick toot.
See, not everyone is out to get you.
“How about I come by your house tonight and we can get started?” Avery said.
“Deal. If you want to come early, my mother’s making her fettuccini carbonara.”
Ann ducked when something pelted her head. “Yeagh!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think this tree doesn’t like me.”
“What?”
Ann froze when she felt something moving across her head. The scratch of tiny nails raked the flesh of her scalp.
“Hold on a second,” she said.
Holding out the phone, she hit the icon to turn the image to her as if she were going to take a selfie.
She stifled back a scream as she watched the five inch long iguana get tangled in her hair.
Putting the phone on speaker, she said, “There’s a freaking lizard in my hair! I’m afraid to touch it!”
Avery, barely holding back a laugh, replied, “Just shake your head. It’ll fall on its own.”
“Are you sure?”
The lizard’s tail brushed past her ear. She yelped.
“Just try it, fraidy cat,” Avery said, amused by her horror.
“Don’t hang up.”
“I’m right here with you, lizard girl.”
“You’re not funny.”
Tilting her head forward, hoping gravity would grab hold of the lizard, Ann started banging her head the way she had at last summer’s Slipknot concert.
After a few seconds, she checked again. It was still there.
“Not working,” she said to Avery.
“Then make it work, girl. Pretend we’re in a Motionless in White circle pit.”
Ann went for broke, whipping her hair back and forth until her neck hurt. When she looked again, there were even more lizards in her hair. She jumped when another fell from the tree, tangling in her roots.
“Oh my God!” she screeched for all the world to hear.
“What’s going on?” Avery said, concern creeping into her voice.
“They’re . . . .they’re everywhere!”
Ann ran, the lizards squirming though her hair, getting their tails and claws tangled the more they struggled.
Sprinting down the sidewalk, she saw green iguanas falling from every tree like leaves in October. Sidestepping to avoid having more hitch a ride on her head, she darted into the street.
She thrust her hands into her hair. A lizard nipped her finger. Another climbed aboard her hand, digging its claws in so she couldn’t flick it off.
Ann ran helter skelter, screaming until her throat burned, hoping someone would hear and come out to save her.
She never noticed the deep, fresh hole that had sprouted from beside a tree. Her foot found it, ankle snapping with a hideous crack.
Ann fell, the pain instantly blinding her so she no longer noticed the lizards wriggling to extricate themselves from her hair.
Chapter 8
Frank Ferrante found the morning edition of the local paper in a trash bin. The headline read : BATTENING DOWN FOR RAMONA!
Just great. How the hell was he supposed to ride out a hurricane when he didn’t have a place to batten down?
They didn’t have this kind of crap in Queens. Even Sandy was a superstorm, not a full blown hurricane.
There was that abandoned house. Of course, it was right beside that goddamn lizard pit. They had probably overtaken the place by now.
Despite the oppressive heat, Frank shivered just thinking about all those lizards as they’d swarmed over him. He’d run from the ditch, batting them off his arms, legs and chest as if he were patting down rising flames.
Thankfully, no one had heard him screaming like a girl.
Once the last lizard had been swatted off, he’d gone back to the shore to sleep amongst the itchy beach grass. At least there were only a few lizards there and not an escaping horde.
The wind had been picking up steadily all day, but it was all hot air.
He had to find a safe place to hole up. Someplace where no one would see him, start asking questions or try to help.
“Jesus, Tony, I told you we should have said no to an all-expenses paid trip to Florida.” He scratched at his crotch. The only bathing he’d done had been quick dips in the Gulf. Crusts of salt were in his pubic hair and other regions that begged for fresh water and soap. He was itchy all the time now.
“Nothing good ever comes out of Florida, unless it’s a Cuban pitcher for the Yanks. No, we should have known something was wrong. But I know, it was your cousin. How were we to know he’d been the one to rat us out? Heh, at least they fed him to the gators, too. I wish you’d been alive to hear him scream.”
Frank shut his mouth and looked around. Good, no one was near. Not that they wouldn’t have just thought he was a crazy homeless dude. Which he now officially was.
He was about to talk to dead Tony some more when he heard quiet sniffling.
Turning the corner that led to the beach parking lot, he spotted a little girl sitting in the sand, crying. She couldn’t have been more than four or five. She wore a Hello Kitty one-piece and had inflatable water wings on her upper arms.
He was a good twenty yards away from her, pausing beside a black Subaru.
The girl looked up, saw him and continued crying. Frank didn’t see any adults in the area. There had to be a mother or father or babysitter close by. You didn’t just leave a kid on her own at the beach.
Unless she was lost.
Instead of shuffling on, he waited for someone, anyone close to an adult, to appear. After five minutes of escalating tears, he stifled the voice telling him to remain invisible and disappear and approached the girl.
Her blond hair covered her face. He saw a nasty gash on one of her legs, blood dripping down to her ankle.
“Hey little girl,” he said in his most soothing voice, realizing he just sounded like a slightly tamed down Joe Pesci. “Are you okay? Why the tears?”
She looked up at him and wasn’t horrified.
“I can’t find my mommy.”
She was too adorable for words. Frank had never had kids of his own, but he’d doted on his sister’s daughters. This one even reminded him of Josephine.
“It’s going to be all right. I’ll help you.”
She sniffled back what sounded like a gallon of snot. “You will?”
“Sure. I�
�m a mommy finding expert.”
A tentative smile crossed her face.
“What happened to your leg, there?”
She looked down at the gash. “The bad lizard did it.”
Fucking lizards. What was it with the lizards in this town? They sure weren’t afraid of people.
He knelt down to inspect the wound. “Well, it looks like it’s just a scratch. You’ll be dancing in no time.”
“I do hip-hop dancing on Saturdays with my sister,” she said, now beaming.
“Hip-hop dancing. I didn’t know that was a thing.”
Frank looked around for any sign of a worried woman.
“Yep, I’ve been taking classes since I was a little kid and my instructor says I’m the best in the class.”
He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “Good for you. Maybe you can be in a J-Lo video someday.”
“What’s a J-Lo?”
“Never mind.”
Hand in hand, they walked along the beach. The little girl explained that her mother had sat down in her chair to get some sun. When the girl was digging in the sand, a meanie lizard had come by and scratched her leg with its front feet. She’d chased it with her plastic shovel, realizing too late she’d gotten lost.
I gotta hand it to her, the kid’s got guts. Bet she wanted to brain that son of a bitch for scratching her.
It didn’t take long for the little girl to shout, “Mommy!” and dash to the plump woman who was out like a light on her beach chair. The woman’s hair was matted to her face when she picked her head up at the sound of her child’s excited voice.
Frank was quick to slip behind the obscurity of a sand dune before she could see him. The girl may not have flinched at his appearance, but he was pretty sure the zaftig mommy would see things differently. She might even blame him for the marks on her leg. That was something he couldn’t afford.
Anxious to leave the beach, he headed for the street only to come face to face with a line of little lizards blocking his path. There must have been fifty of them, forming a tiny green wall, tongues flicking inside and out, tails swishing.