"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "Get up here."
Noel clicked the flashlight off and stuck it in his pocket. Jumping, he hoisted himself alongside Aaron. As his eyes cleared the top of the fence, he suddenly wanted very badly to go home. "I gotta piss," he muttered, unblinking.
Jasper’s dog, a brawny retriever, was in the process of being hollowed out and stripped to the bone. The creatures swarmed over the fallen dog, tiny jaws rabidly nipping out juicy chunks of meat. As before, two of the things stood guard, heads cocking and swiveling in all directions.
Aaron stared in bewilderment at the pale-skinned creatures. While they still moved too fast for him to make out any real detail, he was close enough this time to see the fleshy quills that sprouted from their backs, running from between their bulging black eyes to the tips of their thick, plated tails. Thin antennae – like those of a cockroach – whiplashed above their heads. Aaron thought he could see some sort of filament surrounding their mouths, filtering each bit of the dog as they greedily devoured it.
"What do you think they are?" Noel whispered.
Aaron tensed at the sound of Noel’s voice, ready to beat feet, but the creatures didn’t seem to have heard – or weren’t interested. "We’ve been gettin’ a lot of rain," he said quietly. "That doesn’t happen much around here. I heard about these little crab things, their eggs can sit in the dirt for like, a hundred years, then when it rains, they hatch out. Kinda like Sea Monkeys."
"Except they don’t drive cars," Noel pointed out.
"Sea Monkeys don’t drive cars."
"I saw an ad in a comic book where they were drivin’ a little convertible."
"Man, that’s just for the rubes," Aaron said. "Sea Monkeys are some kind of shrimp – they don’t do shit."
Noel was about to argue the point when he slipped, his
foot banging loudly against the fence.
Their pellet-like eyes locking on Aaron and Noel, the
two creatures on guard instantly sent up the alarm, chittering horribly.
"Run like hell," Aaron said, dropping to the ground.
Noel clung to the fence, staring stupidly as the things swept from the dog’s corpse and scurried towards him. His nose bounced off the fence as Aaron yanked him to the ground.
"I said run!"
Aaron and Noel high-tailed it down the alley. The creatures thudded into the fence like ham-sized hailstones, scuffling against the barrier as they attempted to clamber up and out. Some of them began gnawing at the wood.
This time, Aaron held his keys in a white-knuckled grip as he pulled them from his pocket.
"They’re out, they’re out!" Noel screeched, gawking over his shoulder.
Aaron glanced back. Sure as hell, the things were pouring through a hole at the base of the fence and running after them.
Then his foot sank into something gooey and he did a face-plant in the pavement, flinging his keys away as he hit. Moving too fast to avoid it, Noel drove a foot into Aaron’s crotch, launching himself over his pal and coming
down hard.
Wincing at the agonizing pain centered in his groin, Aaron rolled onto his ass and sat up. One of his shoes was buttered with thick gore. He’d tripped over Lucas’s corpse.
"For cryin’ out loud," Aaron griped.
The creatures were about twenty yards away and moving fast, ready to dive into the sumptuous feast laid before them.
Aaron let out an exasperated sigh. If he just hadn’t eaten those fucking Doritos.
Noel propped himself up on hands and knees and screamed girlishly. Whipping towards his friend, Aaron noticed the flashlight tucked into Noel’s pocket.
Hmm.
Aaron looked back at the creatures, imagining them licking their freakish little chops. As Noel scrambled to his feet, Aaron tackled him, yanking the flashlight from his pocket.
"What the fuck, man?" Noel shrieked.
"I thought of something Sea Monkeys do," Aaron said. He sat up again, aimed the flashlight towards the creatures. Flicked it on.
And illuminated the swarm, to no effect – other than that he could now see very clearly what was about to dine on his guts.
"I just wanna thank you for waking my ass up so I could be a part of this," Noel said.
Aaron swung the flashlight beam away from the creatures, putting a circle of light on the wall. Making a sudden right turn, the creatures darted toward the light – and away from Aaron and Noel.
Aaron grinned.
Playing the light across the pavement, Aaron led the swarm of flesh-eaters on a winding chase back and forth in the alley. The things had seemingly forgotten their prey, intent only on capturing that dot of light.
Noel watched the creatures zip about, his mouth hanging open.
"Who do we know has a basement?" Aaron asked.
Twenty minutes later, Aaron and Noel were walking up the drive to Phil Gomez’s place with a shitload of nasty critters in tow. The things hadn’t veered from their stubborn pursuit of the flashlight beam during the entire walk to Phil’s.
As they reached the front door, Aaron played the light around in the field, keeping the creatures occupied while Noel knocked.
It took Phil a few minutes to answer. He was righteously pissed. "What the hell is this all about?" he wheezed, brushing his thickly-pomaded hair out of its sleepy ‘do.
"Take a look," Aaron said, gesturing towards the flashlight beam.
Phil squinted. "What’re those, squirrels?"
Noel started to speak, but Aaron cut him off. "Yeah. We need to store ‘em in your basement."
"What the hell for?"
"They’re, uh – they’re rabid. Bit some folks. Gotta keep ‘em penned up until Animal Control can get here."
"Shit," Phil said.
He backed into the house, allowing Aaron and Noel to enter. While Noel ran to open the basement door, Aaron led the creatures inside. Phil bent to stare at the things as they skittered past his feet.
"Don’t get too close," Aaron cautioned.
"Those ain’t squirrels," Phil said.
"Radioactive," Aaron explained.
Phil hissed through his teeth, getting it.
Aaron moved into the kitchen and stepped aside. The
things obediently followed the flashlight beam through the basement door and down the stairs. When the last one passed, Noel slammed the door shut and threw the bolt.
With the hypnotic effect of the light gone, the creatures instantly went berserk, slamming into the door and banging around the basement like a truckload of civet cats with a hose turned on them.
"I suggest we nail some cookie sheets or somethin’ over the door so they can’t chew through," Aaron said, listening to the gnawing sounds emanating from below.
A week later, Aaron sat on the taped-together swivel stool at Freddy’s All-Nite, his feet propped up on the counter and the portable TV tuned to a rerun of Jenny Jones. In an effort to help out Freddy’s widow, Aaron had taken over the graveyard shift at the All-Nite, relinquishing his paperboy duties. The new paperboy wasn’t as regular a customer at the store as Aaron had been; most nights Aaron’s only customer was himself. Gave him lots of time to snack and watch the tube.
He looked up from the TV as the electric eye chimed. Noel strode towards the counter, dripping wet and feeling the gentle buzz of a few after-work beers.
"D’you hear about Phil?" he asked, grabbing a Kit Kat and tearing the wrapper open.
"Aw shit," Aaron said, worried. So far, nobody’d been able to figure out what the creatures were or where they came from – or whether there were more.
"No, no, nothin’ bad – he’s still got all those damn scientists over at his place doin’ their research thing on the little bastards. But he’s stirrin’ up trouble."
"How so?"
"He won’t let ‘em take the things away – says they’re in his basement, they belong to him. He wants to open some kinda monster museum, put ‘em on display and charge admission. Thinks he’s gon
na put Charlton on the map."
Aaron considered it for a second. "Damn, if I’d thought of that, I’da put the things in my own basement."
"You don’t have a basement," Noel said, starting for the door.
"You gotta pay for that," Aaron said, indicating the candy bar.
Noel grinned and walked out, setting off the chime again.
Aaron stared after his friend for a long moment, gazing out into the rainy night. Probably wouldn’t be another customer the whole shift.
Abruptly, he left the counter, threw a chicken sandwich into the microwave and went to the door, where he began the process of lowering the electric eye to radioactive-squirrel level.
The author, with gun and chicken leg.
Illustration by Andy Kuhn
About the author
In addition to his previous careers (installing gas pumps, bussing tables, painting apartments, cleaning toilets, delivering pizza and running his own video store) Scott Phillips has written in almost every capacity imaginable: films, TV, comic books and even dialogue for talking dolls. He's also the author of the novel Friday the 13th: Church of the Divine Psychopath and his film reviews have been collected in the aptly titled Unsafe On Any Screen.
Scott has worked in many capacities in the movie industry, including writing and directing his own incredibly low-budget films, Gimme Skelter ($5000) and The Stink of Flesh ($3000). He wrote the screenplay for the cult action flick Drive and wrote several episodes of the Saturday morning TV show Kamen Rider Dragon Knight. He has worked in sound editing, make-up FX, cheeseburger-fetching and even marched around the New Mexico hills in the classic flick Red Dawn. Perhaps most importantly, he once performed as stand-in for the legendary Lemmy in a Motorhead video.
To avoid confusion, Scott Phillips has promised similarly named author Scott Phillips (The Ice Harvest) that he would always utilize his middle initial whenever he writes a book. At least on the cover.
Scott can be found online at www.cheese-magnet.com, where he writes about movies and monsters and anything else he thinks is cool.
Table of Contents
Cover
front matter
introduction
foreword
Stedman Eats It
Uncertain Times At Uncle Fatty's
The Apartment Of The Last Neanderthal
Six Girls And A Dozen Donuts
To The Editors Of Teen People
All The Freaky Live Things
They Don't Drive Cars
About the author
Tales of Misery and Imagination Page 8