The Lot

by Snyder, Clayton

  My chest and my throat ached, but I pushed the pain down, and slipped under his grasping arms, hitting the man low in the stomach. Air whooshed out of him with a grunt, and I continued forward, my momentum carrying him to the ground. We hit, and I heard something under me snap, probably his ankle, though he didn't cry out.

  He grabbed for me again, and got a hand on my face, his thumb seeking my eye. I snarled, and grabbed the back of his head, the rage red in my head. I pulled it forward by the sides, and with all the strength I could muster, smashed it down against the floor, once, twice, and a third. There was a deep cracking sound, and the man went limp, all the fight out of him.

  I straddled the body for a moment before slipping off to the side to lay beside him. In the fresh quiet of the room, my breath echoed in my ears. I looked over, and saw in the dim light, something red and thick slipping from the man's mouth. It drooled to the floorboards, and I sat up. I dipped my pinky in, and it went numb.

  "This shit again." I said, to no one in particular, and wiped my hand on my pajamas. After a moment, I stood, and went to call Adam. The phone worked this time. He answered with a sleepy voice, and I explained what had just happened. I hung up and sat by the body, waiting.

  I'd need help moving the body to Jekyll's.

  *

  Adam stood in the living room while I tugged a shirt on over my head. He was wearing a windbreaker and jeans, and his hair was plastered to his head from the rain. He dripped a bit on the carpet.

  "You're lucky, Wulfy. I could've been struck by lightning on the way."

  "And?" I eyed the bolts in his neck. He shrugged. He was grumpy. I'd woken him.

  "How did the man get in?" He looked around the room.

  I pointed at the patio door. "Forgot to put the stick in behind the door. He just jiggled it until it opened, and walked in."

  "You almost die because of jiggle?"

  I frowned. Hadn't thought of it like that. I walked to the bedroom, and Adam followed. He grabbed the bum's legs, I got him under the shoulders, and we duck-walked him out to the car. We tucked the body in the trunk, and shut it.

  The rain had let up to a light patter, and Adam leaned against the back bumper of the car, causing it to sink an inch or three.

  "You come stay with us for a while. Plenty of room."

  I shook my head. "No, I'd just be in the way."

  "More in the way when we need to figure out where to put your corpse."

  He had a point. "Okay, I'll think about it. Let's go."

  We piled in the car, and drove to Jekyll's.

  *

  It wasn't a trip I wanted to make in the middle of the night; at the same time, I didn't want a corpse moldering in my trunk. Besides, I had Adam to back me up. I pulled into the drive of the big old Victorian, and cut the engine. Overhead, the last dregs of the rain pinged against the roof. I looked at Adam.

  "You ready?"

  "Yes. I don't like this, Wulfy. You know how he is when he is Hyde."

  I sighed. "I know. The sooner we get this to him, the better. Besides, I'm counting on Jekyll being in there somewhere. Even as Hyde, he's got one hell of a curiosity."

  "Okay, then. Let's get it out, then."

  We got out, and retrieved the body from the trunk. We walked it to the front door, and I pressed the doorbell. Inside, I could hear the chime, followed by a bellowed curse and pounding. I stepped back from the door just as it was flung open.

  A man, nearly seven foot tall, and bound in muscle, even under his suit, stood in the doorway. Every inch of him was perfectly groomed, from his hair down to the neat chain on the pocket watch tucked away in his vest pocket. He looked like the world's largest banker, if you ignored the homicidal gleam in his eyes.

  He grinned, and I'm pretty sure a child had a nightmare somewhere.

  "Boys. How fortunate. Oh, and you've brought a friend." He eyed the corpse, then leaned out, and picked it up, on his own. "Come in."

  Adam and I looked at each other. Neither of us felt like breaking that threshold, but Hyde was already moving down the hallway. A look passed Adam's face, mischief pushing worry to the side. He held up a fist. I took his cue, and held my own up.

  "One, two, three." We counted in a whisper, and shot.

  Adam's face fell in mock dismay. My rock had beat his scissors. He shrugged, and stepped over the threshold, only wincing a little, and I followed. Behind us, the door closed. Ahead, Hyde was already down the stairs at the end of the hall. We started down.

  *

  Hyde was in the little operating theater I had found Jekyll in earlier that day, the homeless man's body laid out on the steel table. He was wearing a green plastic apron and gloves, and cutting away the buttons on the man's shirt one by one, and humming under his breath.

  I stopped outside the room for a minute to make sure the wedge was firmly in place under the door, and glanced over my shoulder. Satisfied there were no shadowy lurkers in the hall behind us, I stepped in. Hyde looked up.

  "Oh. I see you've decided to join me. He shrugged. "It's rare I get the chance to indulge so often. You boys may want to step back. This could get messy." He used the scalpel to flick the now-open shirt to the sides, exposing a hairy chest and a potbelly. The blade glinted in the fluorescent light.

  "What are you doing, boser hund?" Adam said.

  My panic level went up by about two degrees. I spoke enough German to get 'bad dog'. Not a good idea to taunt the scalpel-wielding maniac. I stepped on Adam's foot, and he blushed, his mottled skin turning several different shades of pink.

  "Sorry Wulfy, slipped out." He whispered, sotto voce.

  Hyde snapped the blade down, and made an incision, from the base of the man's neck to his pubis. Without looking up, he said "Wir helfen Ihnen, lückenhaft."

  Adam drew a small breath, and turned a deeper red. I could see one of the thick veins in his neck beating a rhythm, but he kept his temper.

  The body on the table opened like a ripe fruit as Hyde made the incision into a capital I, crossing both the top and the bottom. He peeled the flaps away, and began to scoop out innards. Adam turned away, and after a moment, I did too. Behind us, wet sounds and a small chuckle punctuated the silence in the room.

  "You boys can't look on the work of men? Are you yet children?" Hyde taunted us.

  "No, I'm good, really. Still trying to keep lunch down."

  There was a snort of derision, and the wet sounds stopped.

  "Fine. You may turn."

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw the body had been covered to the chin with a blue sheet, as had the silver bowls on a tray table to the side. Hyde had laid the scalpel down and peeled off his gloves.

  "Interesting thing you've brought me. If you could get me a live specimen, I'd love to see it."

  Adam was still turned away, but I saw his face scrunch as he frowned. Hyde walked around the table, and stopped in front of me. He ran a hand through my hair, looking at my scalp, then grabbed my hand.

  "You've touched it. I should examine you."

  I didn't notice his other hand was behind his back. Lucky for me, Adam had. The big man pushed me back, out of the way of the descending syringe. It missed, and Hyde stumbled forward. Adam began to pull me from the room.

  "You goddamn freak!" Hyde roared.

  He started to get to his feet, and Adam and I ran. As we left, Hyde found his feet, and began to pound after us. I managed to slip to the side, the sound of the giant pounding across linoleum inspiring me to move faster than normal. I lashed out at the wedge under the door, and it moved. The door didn't.

  A hand roughly the size of a Christmas ham grabbed the collar of my shirt. I felt a sharp pinch as the needle slipped into my shoulder, and almost immediately, the world began to swim. From behind me, there was a roar - Adam had reentered the fray, and with a ragefed by being made a monster from birth, he slammed Hyde to the floor, and shoved him back into the room. I managed to close the door just as Adam was running out again, slamming it shut.
>
  The latch clicked into place, and Adam slammed the bolt home. Inside, Hyde pounded on the small window, trying to shatter the glass.

  "Come, Wulfy. We need to go."

  I tried to walk, and the world went sideways. I managed to make it straight for a minute, and then someone turned the lights out.

  Chapter Ten

  I woke some time later in my bed, something cool and damp pressed against my face. When I opened my eyes, I saw Adam sitting next to me, pressing a cloth to my forehead. He had pulled up a chair, and the patches under his eyes looked as dark as they'd ever been. From deeper in the house, someone was knocking around in the kitchen.

  Adam pulled the washcloth back, and leaned back in the chair. "You slept a long time, Wulfy."

  I shielded my eyes from the light that was streaming between the curtains and sat up. Someone had stripped me down to my boxers, a fact I almost failed to register. Spend enough nights as a wolf, you tend to get used to waking up naked.

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "Thursday." He said.

  Holy shit. I'd skipped a whole day. I nodded toward the noise in the back of the house. "Vlad?"

  "Ja. He decided to cook. Expect waffles."

  I could smell them cooking already, along with the first whiff of what smelled like bacon. My stomach growled with a vengeance. I shot a grin at Adam.

  "Let me find my pants, and I'll be right out."

  "Okay, Wulfy. Move slow."

  He got up and left the room, lumbering out on his way, and ducking to keep from banging his head into the doorjamb. When he was gone, I threw the covers back, and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. For a moment, the room swam, and I grabbed the mattress, thinking I was going ass over teakettle. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them, the room had righted. I stood and threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt and padded out to the kitchen.

  Adam and Vlad were waiting at the small table set at the edge of the linoleum that marked the kitchen. I pulled out a chair and sat down, my mouth watering at the plate in front of me. Waffles, stacked five high, a pile of scrambled eggs, and what looked like a rasher of bacon. I tucked in, and Adam joined me. I offered Vlad a waffle out of curiosity more than anything else. I wondered if he could even eat solid food.

  He looked at it, and quirked an eyebrow. "No, thanks."

  I pushed the syrup at him, and he shook his head.

  "I never drink...syrup."

  I snorted a laugh, and tried not to shoot waffle out of my nose. He smiled back.

  After a while, the sounds of chewing subsided, and I leaned back in my chair. I ran a hand over my swollen belly, and tried to think of what to do next.

  "How's Jekyll?"

  Adam shrugged. "Vlad went to check on him. He didn't answer the door."

  I looked over at Vlad. "Brave man. I'm sure he'll be okay. If he didn't break down the door, I'm positive his rational side hid a key somewhere in that room." I sighed. "But that shoots any scientific help I might've had in the butt."

  "So what now?" Vlad asked.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just slipping into noon. Thursday was one of my office days. I still had enough time to get to town, pick up mail, and sit around for a few hours. Maybe the downtime would knock something free in my brain.

  "Going to town. You two need anything?"

  They both declined, so I thanked them for the meal, and walked them out. I watched them walk down the street a ways before Adam slipped his hand into Vlad's. I stayed outside a bit longer, the warm sun good on my face. When they were just small in the distance, I went inside, and got cleaned up for the city.

  Chapter Eleven

  The city was the city. I know that's semantically redundant, but sometimes words don't quite fit into the definition you're looking for. It was hot, at least ten degrees hotter than the Lot, and hazy, the layer of smog that never seemed to lift lazing about the air like a bad houseguest. Men and women moved through the air with a laid-back attitude you can only get in constant warmth, carrying a quality that seemed to tell the rest of the world that it was okay to get where you were going without sweating everything else.

  My office was in a less beautiful part of town, where the stucco and palms both seemed a bit faded, and the smiles on people, like the windows on the buildings, were a little less than bright. Most of what you see on TV - the white buildings, gleaming glass windows, and beautiful people were not a part of my day-to-day. Rodeo Drive and Beverly Hills and Hollywood are a pipe dream for most, with the difference being that it's the only dream you can reach out and touch.

  I pulled into the lot of the three-story stucco building and locked the car behind me. On the way in, I passed a balding man standing with an armful of leaflets, calling out to the occasional passerby as they trundled along the sidewalk. Most passed by, but a few, shabbier than the others, stopped and listened, and took a pamphlet. For the most part, I tuned him out, and entered the building. If you listen to every nut on a street corner in the city, you're not going to have time for the therapy you should be getting.

  The mailboxes were just inside the door. I stopped long enough to check mine - junk, junk, bill, and then headed up to the office. Up a flight of stairs and at the end of the hall, my door stood silent, the room behind it dark. I unlocked it, and went inside, flipping switches as I went. I tossed the mail on my desk, and flopped into the chair behind it with a sigh.

  I leaned back, then swiveled, and tried to make my brain work. Someone was out to get me, and possibly my friends, and they were using the local homeless population to make it happen. Some sort of drug was involved that turned their brains to mush and made them susceptible to influence, I assumed.

  Worse yet, they had killed a boy, and I had botched things so badly I might not be able to recover his body, though if it came to it, I could lie through my teeth about that. I had no real leads, aside from wait and see, and no real idea where to go next. The bottle of whiskey in my desk drawer was looking better by the minute.

  I spun the chair, and watched the room zip by, then did it again. Now I was just wasting time. On my third spin, the phone on my desk rang, and I stuck my foot out, jolting to a stop. It took a minute for the room to stop floating by, and the phone was getting impatient. I picked up the receiver.

  "'Ello?"

  "Mr. Peckinpah?"

  It was the kid's dad. My stomach dropped like a rock. I cleared my throat.

  "Yes?"

  "How's the investigation? You've had a couple of days."

  In the back of my mind, I ran through the scenarios where I had to pay this man's money back, tell him the truth, or dodge him when he showed up with a temper and a gun.

  "To be honest, it's going a bit slow. Leads are hard to dig up out there, so I'm moving closer to town, trying to retrace his steps." Sure, that sounded professional.

  There was silence on the other end of the line, and I could feel my shoulders tense.

  "Okay. Well, thank you, Mr. Peckinpah. I know you're doing your best. You have my number if anything comes up."

  I assured him I did, and we said our goodbyes and hung up. I sat in the silence of the office, and stared at the phone. Bad timing, right? Had to be. He couldn't know what went on in the Lot. Most people didn't even know the place existed. But he had had photos. It wasn't beyond the pale to think he might have hired someone to skulk around, make sure I was doing my job. He seemed like the type with that kind of money.

  I rubbed my hands over my face, and turned to the calendar tacked on the wall behind me, more out of habit than anything else. The full moon was three nights away, not that it mattered these days. I'd had the Beast under control for some time, though there were days when it rattled its cage a bit louder, growled a bit deeper than the others.

  Taming the Beast was the hardest thing I'd ever done, my version of AA. There was a certain power, a seductive allure to it. Imagine being able to run unfettered, to power through obstacles, to feel the wind in yo
ur hair and the scents of life in your head. To run as one of Pan's or Diana's children. To live.

  I shook my head, clearing the memory. It was like that - the longer I kept it locked up, the smarter the Beast seemed to get. I stood, and stretched, and walked to the front of the office, tracing my finger over the frosted glass. It was warm, and I frowned to myself.

  I cracked the door, the knob also warm in my hand, and smoke poured into the room. "Oh, come on!"

  I pushed the door the rest of the way, and the rest of the world came into focus. The walls were already smoking, and as I watched, flames made their way up the carpet runner of the hall. I slammed the door in a panic, and stepped back. In the hall, the crackling intensified, and I knew the fire had broken through the walls. It would only be a matter of minutes before the entire hall was ablaze. I had to make a decision.

  Chances were, the first floor was already ablaze. Even as I thought it, the building shuddered, as though it had been gravely wounded. I wondered how the fire had spread so far and fast without any alarms going off, and then remembered the super hadn't been by to check them in just short of forever. I backed to the window overlooking the parking lot, and shoved it open.

  The room was growing hotter by the second, and the smoke I had let in was gathering at the ceiling, mirroring the smog outside. I stepped out of the window with a look back. The door was burning now, sending off black streamers as the paint peeled and the glass blackened. I stepped onto the iron landing outside the window, and thanked God for fire escapes.

  In a minute, I was working my way down the iron stairs even as smoke began to billow from my window. The building gave another lurch, and I ducked as a piece of cornice cracked from the roof and came plummeting down at my suddenly-feeling-squishy skull. I took the stairs two at a time. Somewhere to my left, a piece of metal made a spang sound. I paused only for a second as it came again, only closer.

  Someone was shooting at me. I was in the open, and had left the revolver at home, so I did what any normal person would do in that situation - I jumped from a floor up, and hit the ground with a roll. My shoulder protested the sudden impact, but it held, and I found a dumpster to hide behind as the sound of bullet impacting brick followed me.