by Hunter Shea
“Yes. Yes,” she said, almost too softly to hear.
The giant lizard—to Nicole it looked like an iguana, but on an impossible scale—was well behind them. She prayed it didn’t take note of their retreating car and give chase.
Did iguanas have teeth? Or did they trap things like flies with their tongues and gum them to death?
She wished she’d paid more attention to her brother when they were growing up. Darren was obsessed with all things icky like rats and snakes and lizards. His room was the pet store from hell, shelves lined with tanks of all sizes harboring a host of gross creatures. She’d steered clear of Darren’s room ever since the day she went in to borrow one of his shirts—a Raiders jersey that she liked to sex up by tying it off at the waist and pinning the neckline low—and lost her mind when one of his snakes, out of its tank, slithered over the top of her bare feet.
Darren’s room was off limits from then on, though he never stopped expounding on the gross beasts during family dinner. She’d learned to just tune him out.
“I wish you were here now, Darren,” she said, riding up on the sidewalk to avoid running over a downed street sign.
“What?” Cheryl said, her eyes gone glassy.
“Do you have your phone?”
Cheryl shook her head. “Do you?”
Nicole smacked her hand against the wheel. “Of course not.”
She had no idea where she was supposed to go. Odds are, the lone road out of Polo Springs was washed out, so they were stuck here. Right now, all that mattered is that they were away from that giant lizard.
“Do you think there are others?” Cheryl said, her hands folded in her lap.
Nicole squinted, hoping to see at least five feet in front of the SUV.
“God, I hope not.”
She had to hit the brakes hard when she spotted an enormous tree lying across the road. The seatbelt bit into Nicole’s chest.
The rain had turned to hail. It sounded like hundreds of tiny fists attempting to pound their way into the car. The sound was deafening, which ratcheted up Nicole’s concern. For the moment, they were trapped in the car, essentially blind and deaf. If another lizard was out there, it could be right next to them and they wouldn’t even know it.
Reaching across the console, she grabbed Cheryl’s hand.
“We’re going to be okay,” she reassured her, not feeling half as confident as she sounded.
“We have to get to Main Street,” Cheryl said, staring out of the rain and hail soaked window. “The sheriff should be on duty on a night like this. We have to tell him.”
“That thing is hard to miss. I’m sure other people are flooding him with calls now.”
Cheryl turned to her. “The sheriff’s office also has guns.”
Nicole didn’t need further convincing. Cheryl had grown up in Tennessee, the fourth child of a rural family who loved Jesus, the Republican party and their guns. They had disowned her when she came out of the closet, and she’d given up on religion and politics. But she still loved her guns, though Nicole refused to allow her to keep one in the house.
It was too late to go back on that policy.
Finding an open slot, Nicole squeezed the SUV between two parked cars, skirting the tree along the sidewalk. Normally, the ride into town would only take a couple of minutes, but she had to take it slow. The car was pelted again and again with flying wreckage.
She almost missed the turn onto Main. Luckily, Cheryl pointed it out and jerked the wheel. They clipped a mailbox.
Nicole was trying to steady the fishtailing car when something from above clamped down the roof. The windows popped, metal crunching.
Nicole and Cheryl screamed as the car was lifted off the ground.
Nicole looked down to see a tail swishing right where their car had been a second before.
Up and up they went. The car tilted. The only thing keeping Cheryl from flopping onto Nicole was her strained seatbelt.
Looking out her shattered window, Nicole saw a gargantuan tongue heading their way.
I can’t die like this. I can’t die like this.
Her heart threatened to crash through her ribcage. Cheryl’s cries faded to silence.
The lizard shifted its hold on the SUV. It tumbled further into its maw.
The tongue oozed through the window, raking Nicole’s neck and face.
Everything went mercifully black.
Chapter 15
Using a sodden square of cardboard to cover his head, Frank peered around the corner of the alley and looked out onto Main Street. A loud crunching noise had somehow pierced through the racket the hail and wind were making to catch his attention.
One of the dino-lizards looked as if it were trying to eat a Honda.
“I hope you choke on it,” he said, recalling thinking the same thing when the gators tore off chunks of Tony.
The gators didn’t choke, but one of them had snatched the leg of the guy who’d been holding Frank down, forcing him to watch the horrid spectacle. Boy, had he screamed. His buddy had stopped his laughing to try to pull him from the beast’s iron grip.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Frank ran, never looking back. He could only hope that both those fuckers were the dessert to Tony’s dinner.
Confident the lizard couldn’t see him, he decided to sit back and watch the stupid thing kill itself.
Which was all well and good, until he saw a woman’s face in one of the open windows.
“What the hell are you doing out in this storm?”
He couldn’t hear the woman, but he could see her mouth open wide in a scream.
Leg bouncing with nervous energy, he slipped back into the alley, away from the unfolding madness.
“You can’t just let it eat her.”
Frank pulled on the whiskers on his chin, a habit he’d developed since he hadn’t been able to shave.
“What the fuck can I do? I don’t have any weapons. I don’t even have enough food in my stomach to take a shit. That thing’ll kill me with just a look.”
Sure, he wasn’t what society would call a good guy. He ran some numbers, did odd jobs for shady people, never held down a nine-to-five and consorted, happily, with strippers.
But he’d never killed a person. And he sure as hell didn’t want to watch a woman die before his eyes.
You didn’t hurt women, and you sure as hell didn’t sit idly by and let them get hurt.
“I know you’re looking down at me, Ma. Maybe today, I can finally make you a little proud.”
Chapter 16
Even as a teen, Don Hendricks had never been a reckless driver. He’d managed to make it to the ripe old age of thirty-five without a single moving violation.
If the police were out on patrol tonight, he’d have more than enough to make up for lost time.
“Fuck me,” he moaned, jamming the brakes. The car started to swerve and he quickly turned into it before they ended up wrapped around a bent palm tree.
He instinctively flinched, admonishing himself for cursing in front of Gary.
Barbara had put the seatbelt over them both, her arms protecting their son from hitting into the dashboard as they stopped short.
Barbara looked to him with tears in her eyes. “No.”
“I should have known.”
The narrow strip of road into and out of town was completely underwater, the muck of the Saw Mill Swamp rising dangerously from the storm. Grinding the steering wheel, Don wondered briefly if they could make it across. There was no telling how high the water really was. If it was only half a foot or so, it wouldn’t be a problem.
If he was wrong and the car died in the swamped out road, they would be sitting ducks. And not just for the giant lizards. The Saw Mill was rife with alligators, who were probably very agitated thanks to Ramona.
&nbs
p; “Where do we go now?” Barbara said.
The engine idled while Don considered their options. There was no high ground in Polo Springs. He couldn’t think of a house strong enough to stand up to one of those monsters tromping all over it. On the other side of the town was the beach.
We could steal a boat, he thought. Once the storm passes, it shouldn’t be all that hard to sail the hell out of here.
Not that he had ever been behind the wheel of a boat. Or stolen anything for that matter. For once, being a good, law-abiding citizen had put him at a disadvantage.
“Guns,” he said.
“What do you mean, guns?”
Gary looked up from his mother’s breast. The boy was terrified, but there was something in his eyes that said he would go along with whatever his father decided to do. It gave Don a sliver of confidence.
“The sheriff has guns. I mean, what else is going to stop them?”
Barbara nodded.
“And I think I overheard one of the old timers at the luncheonette say there were some cells underneath the jail. That they would make a great bomb shelter if the North Koreans could ever figure out how to act as big as they talk.”
“I’m sure you’re not the only one thinking that,” she replied, her mascara running down her face. “His office is probably packed to the gills.”
Don made a three-point turn and headed toward town. “Maybe not. Have you see anyone else on the road?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
And even if the sheriff’s was packed, he was sure they’d take Barbara and Gary inside. He could stay out with the other men and figure out how to deal with this insane situation.
They hurtled toward the center of town, fewer and fewer bits of flying garbage, lawn ornaments and shattered branches grazing the car as Ramona’s worst was hopefully behind them. Even the rain was lessening up a bit, to the point where Don had some degree of comfortable visibility.
Don decided to take the route that would pass their house, just to see if it was still standing.
It was, though Sam’s had been reduced to matchsticks.
A cold fist slammed his gut.
Sam.
He’d forgotten to get Sam out of there.
But he’d needed to save his family first.
He blinked back tears. Later, there would be plenty of time for guilt and therapy. The task of saving his family was far from done.
“Look out!” Barbra screamed, pointing dead ahead.
Another lizard, this one slightly smaller than the one that had demolished their neighbor’s house and eaten her, raced across the street, knocking over Peter Jensen’s Jeep in the process as if it were a Hot Wheels toy.
The lizard didn’t look their way, which was a very big blessing. Instead, it crashed right through Jensen’s house, shattering the front façade to flying fragments.
Somehow, Peter, his wife Gay and their teenage daughter made it out alive, running out of the attached garage like their hair was on fire.
“You have to let them in,” Barbara said.
Don was already unbuckling, jumping out of the car to open the back door.
“Over here!” Don shouted above Ramona’s dying din.
Gay saw him first, grabbing her daughter by the arm and leading them toward his waiting car.
The lizard was busy rooting through the house’s wreckage, but its swishing tail whipped to the side, cutting the fleeing family in half. Blood and viscera mingled with the rain as the top halves of the Jensens disappeared into the gloom. Their legs continued to run for a few steps before collapsing like stunted pickup sticks.
Don froze, staring at the spot where his neighbors used to be. Already, the rain was washing their bloody remains into the street, where it was caught in the roiling current flowing inexorably to the sewer.
“Don!”
Something grabbed the back of his collar. His feet went out from under him and he hit the ground just in time to see the tail come back around, swishing right over where he’d been standing. Barbara panted, stretched across the front seat, her hand still clutching his shirt.
“Get in!” she said.
He pushed himself to a sitting position. The lizard was backing out of the Jensens’ house. It must have been looking for something . . . someone . . . to eat. Not realizing it had unwittingly dispatched its meal, it was time to look for more.
Struggling to get his legs working, Don stumbled into the car, his numb right foot mashing the accelerator as he shot down Wakeman Street before the lizard’s tail came back around again.
Too shocked to understand what his wife was saying, Gary’s sobbing louder than ever, Don made a sharp turn onto Buena Vista Avenue.
It looked as if a bomb had gone off. The houses on both sides of the street were flattened. There wasn’t a soul to be seen.
There did seem to be fewer cars parked on the street.
Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe . . . hopefully . . . some had gotten away.
But if there were more giant lizards, how much longer would it take until everyone, trapped as they were in Polo Springs, ended up just like the Jensens?
Chapter 17
For a mayor, Ann Hickok felt awfully displaced. Not only was the electricity down. The landlines and even her cell phone were as good as useless. The storm must have done something to the cell towers as well.
She felt she should be out there, doing something to help people. It sounded like the storm was coming to an end.
“I’m going to check outside,” she said, anxious to leave the chess game her mother had started. Ann hated chess, but her mother loved to play and she could never say no.
“Maybe it’s best to wait ten, fifteen more minutes,” her father said, busy with his new ship in a bottle kit. He’d gathered five big candles around him so he could see. “I don’t want you to get brained by anything flying around out there. Could be downed power lines, too.”
“All the more reason why I need to see.”
Perhaps for the first time since she’d taken office, Ann felt truly protective of her town. She knew Ramona had been stronger than anyone expected. People might be hurt. Or scared. Or wondering what to do.
She had to get out there.
“Your father’s right,” her mother said, contemplating her next move. She was an agonizingly slow chess player. Ann preferred video games, especially first person shooter games like Sniper and Wolfenstein. Before she became mayor, she used to play with a lot of the guys in school and loved kicking their asses. After the election, it no longer seemed cool to engage the mayor in FPS games. God, she missed it.
Ann got up, took her car keys off the peg on the kitchen wall and said, “I’m going out. I have to see the damage the storm did to the town. I have to check on people.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “You really want to go?”
“I have to.” She looked down at the keys in her palm, tossing them a couple times. “I want to.”
Putting down his magnifying glass, her father smiled and said, “Careful. You might start thinking of your reelection campaign if you keep this up.” Knees popping, he got up and ambled to the door. “Let me take a quick look-see first. You may be the mayor, but you’re still my daughter and I won’t let you get hurt.”
He pinched her cheek, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
Ann could only smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“If it still looks bad, you’re going to have to wait, or try to go through me. I don’t think you can do the latter,” he said with a wink. It was true. His bulk took up most of the doorframe.
“You’re be surprised what I can do,” she said.
“Actually, I wouldn’t.”
The lock turned, sounding like the report of a low caliber gun in the dark and silent
house. He opened the door a crack and peeked outside. Ann tried to look around him but the way was completely blocked.
She saw his back stiffen and thought she heard him mumble something with a tremulous gasp.
“What is it?” With her hands on the back of his shoulders, she felt his muscles tighten into steel cords.
“Honey?” her mother said from the living room with more curiosity than concern.
He slammed the door shut. When he turned to Ann, his eyes were different. The crazed look in them didn’t belong to the calm man who preferred ice cream to beer.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
His chest rose and fell rapidly, his neck and face flushed.
“Get to the panic room,” he finally said, though his back was still pressed against the door.
Ann’s stomach dropped. “What did you see? How bad is the damage? Is there another front coming in?”
When they’d bought the house a decade ago, Ann’s father and mother were shocked to find it had a panic room installed behind the pantry. Lined with impenetrable steel walls, they often wondered why anyone would feel the need to install such a thing in Polo Springs. They had used it to store all junk, never thinking there would come a moment when they would even contemplate hiding in it.
Her father shook his head, unable to speak. Her mother had come over to see what was wrong. When she reached out to take his hand, he pulled away, storming toward the cellar door.
“We don’t have time to waste,” he said, his tone frantic, scared.
“You have to calm down, honey.”
“We have to get in the panic room right away. Grab some food and water and go.”
“You’re scaring me,” Ann’s mother said.
In reply, he could only swallow hard.
Ann’s fear escalated. She’d never seen her father like this. Hundreds of icy feet marched up her spine, prickled her scalp.
What had him so freaked out?
She had to see.
The second her hand touched the doorknob, her father shouted, “No! Get away from the goddamn door!”