Gecko

by Ken Douglas

  “ Here boy,” she said, “I won’t hurt you.”

  Silence.

  She made a clicking sound, encouraging the animal to come forward.

  Silence.

  Her fear contained, her confidence returned, she started toward the car, taking oh-so-slow steps, her hand out, palm down.

  “ Easy, boy. Easy. I won’t hurt you.”

  The animal growled, a deep, raw, throaty sound. She stopped. It didn’t sound like a dog. But what else could it be out here in the middle of nowhere? A coyote, maybe? Unlikely, they stay away from people. Something bigger? A bear? No, there were no bears here. In the mountains maybe, but not here. No, it was a dog, nothing else, nothing to be afraid of.

  She made the clicking sound again.

  “ Come on out, I won’t hurt you.”

  It answered with another growl, a bottomless sound, a train deep in a water well, rumbling out of the dark and the wet. It was a dog, it couldn’t be anything else.

  But it sounded like it might be hurt. Would her magic work on an injured animal. Maybe it was hungry. Hungry and hurt. Maybe it was a wild dog. No, that didn’t make sense. There were no wild dogs out here. Were there? Maybe. There were people, a town, there could be wild dogs. But she had never heard of a wild dog attacking people. No it had to be a watch dog and she could deal with a watch dog.

  She started to call out again, when the animal growl turned into a tiger-like roar. A quiet roar, but a roar nonetheless. It wasn’t a dog. She wanted to move, but couldn’t. Some invisible force was pressing down on her. She was a tree, her feet were roots, betraying her by clawing into the asphalt. She was helpless. Her body shook, she could feel sweat under her arms. She tried to quell her quivering thighs, tried to control her quick shallow breath, but her racing heart was in charge. She wanted to scream, but the invisible force turned her scream into a whimper.

  She heard the scraping again and her eyes were glued to the direction of the sound. They were glued to her father’s fifty-nine Impala. Glued through the dark. The clouds stirred above and again allowed the moonlight to chase away enough of the dark for her to see. There was something under her dad’s car and it wasn’t a dog.

  It slithered forward, till its head was under the front grill. Its bright yellow eyes centered between Power Glide’s headlights. Its reptilian head reminded her of a gecko, till it opened its mouth and she saw scissor-like teeth. Teeth that more rightly belonged in the mouth of a thresher shark. This was a bad thing.

  It was crouching under the car and she knew why. It was waiting for her. As clear as a winter dawn, she knew that this thing was connected some way with the gecko she’d shaken from her foot earlier. Somehow that gecko was a warning, a warning she’d failed to heed. She was being warned away, but from what? Her mind raged and her heart raced. If she knew, if she only knew, she would stay away. Oh God, she would stay away.

  The thing thrust clawed feet in front of itself and pulled its way from under the car, making the scraping sound she’d heard earlier. She watched as it emerged, like a dragon from its den, a giant gecko with shark’s teeth, breathing steam on a hot night, captivating her with its glowing yellow eyes, the yellow moonlight reflecting off its green skin, giving it an iridescent, radioactive glow.

  She was too stunned to scream. Too stunned to run. Her root-like feet refused to obey. The thing inched forward, opening and closing its bear trap jaws, slamming its shark teeth together with a frenzied metallic fury.

  Then it came at her. She could do nothing. She was helpless. She was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Then she heard the sound of tires spinning, smelled the smoke of rubber burning and saw the white Ford Explorer come leaping forward.

  The reptile thing was so close, jaws open wide, the stench of its foul breath stinging her nostrils, its eyes tearing through to her very core, when the Explorer struck it square in the side, sending it flying away from her. It turned, yellow eyes glazed, and let out a roar that ripped through the night and made her flesh crawl.

  “ Get in!” The driver flung the passenger door open and she sprang to life.

  The slimy lizard thing with the hot breath roared again, only momentarily stunned. It started for her, but this time her feet had wings and she dove into the open door and slammed it shut as Jim Monday put his foot to the floor and once again she heard screeching tires as the back end of the Explorer fishtailed out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Ten

  He spun the car to the left, in the direction of the slide, and tightened his hands on the wheel, until the tires bit into the road. He concentrated on the ramp ahead. The speedometer read forty when he entered it, heading toward San Francisco, sixty when they shot out onto the interstate.

  He let the needle climb to seventy-five, thought about passing the semi ahead, then decided against it. He didn’t want to be stopped for speeding. He settled back, slowed to sixty-five and rode in the wake of the big truck.

  Then the girl screamed.

  “ Please stop.” He glanced over at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She screamed louder. She was shaking, hands pushing against the dash for support.

  “ Please!” He raised his voice more than he wanted.

  She stopped. He grabbed another quick look. Sweat ringed her forehand. Small spasms seemed to be running through her body, but the violent shaking had stopped.

  “ You’re safe now. That thing can’t get you here.”

  She was quietly sobbing.

  “ Are you all right?”

  She nodded, wiping a tear from her eye with a bent finger.

  “ I’m Jim Monday.” He glanced at her when he said it, saw a flicker of understanding. “You must know who I am. I saw you when you arrived with Washington, the cop from Long Beach. I was hiding in the shrubbery, by the parking lot. I snuck in the car after you went to check in. I needed sleep. Then I saw that thing creeping out from under your car before I had a chance to nod off. How did Washington know where I was?”

  She didn’t answer and he put her out of his mind as he followed the big truck north.

  Ten miles later she said, “You stink.”

  He was covered in wet cow manure. It was in his hair, on his face, neck and arms. It was seeping through his clothes. He was surprised that it didn’t repulse him, surprised that he’d adjusted so quickly.

  “ Compared with that thing back there, a little cow shit is the least of my problems.”

  “ They’ll catch you pretty quick looking and smelling like that.”

  “ Where’s your shoes?” he asked, looking down at her bleeding foot.

  “ I only went to get cigarettes from the car. I should have listened to my father and stayed in the room.”

  “ Washington is your father?”

  “ Yes,” she said. “My name’s Glenna.”

  “ And he brought you along after a killer?”

  “ He doesn’t think you’re a killer. He wants to prove you’re not.”

  “ I am,” he said, knuckles white on the wheel.

  “ No, my dad wouldn’t try to clear you if you were guilty.” She was running her hands through her hair now, pulling it back. Then she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “ I didn’t say I was guilty. I killed two of the ones in the police station. Not the cop.” He relaxed his fingers, now holding the wheel like it was a thing to be caressed.

  “ And the ones at the inn?” she asked.

  “ What are you talking about?” He white-knuckled the wheel again as a chill whipped up his spine, lightning-quick, but glacier-cold.

  “ My Dad went to Edna Lambert’s room to find you. He said the walls were covered in blood.”

  “ And the Lamberts?”

  “ There were no bodies,” she said with a lost little girl voice. She was still very frightened.

  “ That thing killed Roma.”

  “ Who?”

  “ My wife’s sister, her
twin.”

  “ I’m sorry.”

  He nodded and they rode the next ten miles without speaking.

  “ You know,” she said, breaking the silence, “you still stink. Don’t look very pretty either.”

  “ I’m in a hurry.”

  “ For what?”

  “ To get to Tampico.”

  “ You’re convinced Kohler is behind the attempts on your life?”

  “ You know a lot.”

  “ Dad and I talk.”

  “ Yes, I believe Kohler’s trying to kill me.”

  “ Why?”

  “ That’s the question, isn’t it? He already has my wife. She’ll get half my money. So why? It doesn’t make sense. But it’s him. I believe it and if you’d been through what I have, you’d believe it too.”

  “ I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

  “ What about your father?”

  “ He’s trying to prove you’re innocent.” She sat back in the seat, sighed. She sounded more like a woman now, her voice soft and sure. She didn’t seem afraid anymore.

  “ I wish I could believe that,” Monday said, again relaxing his hands on the wheel. Earlier he was afraid she’d go ballistic on him. Scream, rage, maybe go into shock. She was past that now. She’d adjusted quickly. She was stronger than she looked.

  “ It’s true,” she said.

  “ Then I wish him luck.”

  “ So you’re on your way to Tampico to confront Kohler and fight to the death?”

  “ No, yes, I don’t know, something like that, maybe.”

  “ How far do you think you’ll get smelling like that?”

  “ Far enough.”

  “ And when is the last time you had some sleep? You look dead behind the wheel. You’ll never make it another three hundred miles without rest.”

  “ I’ll make it.”

  “ And what about me? What are you going to do with me?”

  “ I’ll let you go at the next city.”

  “ You can’t.”

  “ Why not?”

  “ I could talk. I know where you’re going.”

  “ You said your father is trying to clear me.”

  “ But what if he isn’t? You acted like you didn’t believe me.”

  “ I don’t have any choice. I’m not a kidnapper.”

  “ You didn’t kidnap me, you saved my life. And you do have a choice. You can take me with you.”

  “ No.”

  “ I want to go. Look at it this way, I can tell the police how you saved my life. I’ll be a great character witness. And I can be useful.”

  “ How?”

  “ You can’t rent a motel looking like you do. And you’re going to need one, or you’ll collapse on the road. You will. You’ll fall asleep at the wheel, but if you don’t want to stop to rest, you could sleep while I drive.”

  “ Why?”

  “ My dad is working to prove you’re innocent. I want to help. I love him, but I want to show him that I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  “ Okay, you can stay. I need all the help I can get.”

  “ What was that thing back there?” she asked without thanking him.

  “ I don’t know, some kind of weird animal. It killed Roma,” he repeated.

  “ And you’re running away from it? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “ It’ll be back.”

  “ How do you know?”

  “ You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “ Try me.”

  “ It’s too fantastic, impossible to believe. You’d think I was crazy.”

  “ That giant gecko was impossible, but I believe in it. I’ll believe you. Tell me.”

  “ I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

  “ That’s always the best place to start.”

  He looked ahead, keeping his eyes glued between the semi’s taillights, forcing his mind back to yesterday morning. God, was that all the time that had passed? One day and it seemed like forever. The story was hard to tell, but he told her. Everything, starting from when the voice in his head told him to jump back, till he saw the shark-like teeth drag Roma among the cattle.

  That was the hardest part to relive. He tried to get to her. He slid back under the fence, swallowing dirt and cow shit. He screamed. Something struck him on the head. He was nauseous. He fought to stay conscious, but he must have blacked out. He woke about an hour later, according to his watch, and vomited. Then he cried.

  “ Stop it. You have to move. It’ll come back. It’s after me.” Donna had thought.

  In his grief, he tried to ignore her.

  “ Don’t shut me out. Talk to me.”

  “ She’s dead,” Jim had thought. His grief weighed him down, like he was covered in lead.

  “ And I’m sorry, but you’re alive, and I’m kind of alive, and if we don’t move out of here we won’t be.”

  “ I’m not sure I want to live.”

  “ Well I do, so move it!” She forced her will on him. Made him get up. Made him walk back to the car.

  “ I don’t know what to do now,” he’d thought.

  “ You go on with your life till we figure how to get me back.”

  “ Back where?”

  “ Back where I belong and out of your head.”

  He started for his room.

  “ No! Don’t go back up there,” she’d thought.

  “ Why not?”

  “ Let’s not get any other friends killed.”

  “ I don’t understand?” He’d thought.

  “ That thing is after me. I know it. It will do anything to keep me from getting back, kill anyone that will assist me. It killed Roma. It will kill the Lamberts if we let it. And it will kill you. It wants you most of all, because you have me.”

  “ Then why didn’t it kill me back there?”

  “ It has to feed on its kill before it can go after another.”

  “ Oh God, Roma.”

  “ Don’t go up there, get out of here.”

  “ I need rest. So tired.”

  “ Then get in the car. Rest a few minutes, then we go, we have to,” she’d thought.

  Listening to himself tell it made him realize just how insane it sounded.

  “ That’s when I saw you,” he said, finishing the story. “You know the rest.”

  Glenna had been silent for the twenty miles it took him to tell the story and now he sat back, eyes ahead, still on the semi’s taillights, waiting for her to denounce him as crazy.

  “ You slept with your wife’s twin sister? How could you?”

  “ It wasn’t like that.”

  “ Don’t you have any control?”

  “ I loved her.”

  “ Look out.”

  He tightened his grip, brought the car back under control.

  “ You almost drove us off the road,” she said.

  “ I’ll be okay.”

  “ I’m sorry. I’m not one to judge. I’ve never had a lover.”

  “ You mean-”

  “ No, I’m not a virgin. I was raped when I was sixteen. My one sexual experience.” She told him about the rape and what her father had done. “I’ve learned to live with it. I’m not afraid of sex or anything like that, I’m just waiting for Mr. Right to come along.”

  “ Why tell me?”

  “ You told me something that must have been hard to tell. A deep secret. I thought I’d tell you one. Fair is fair. Besides, I needed to tell someone.”

  “ Why hasn’t she asked about me?”

  “ Why haven’t you asked about Donna, the voice in my head?”

  “ Do you want to know, or is that her asking?”

  “ It’s her asking, but I’d like to know too.”

  “ Because I believe you. You don’t seem crazy. There’s plenty of things out there I don’t understand-that lizard thing back there, God, Satan, war, famine, why we can’t all get along, what makes an airplane stay up. Donna in your head is just one more.”

  “ Then I sh
ould send you back to your father, before that thing comes back.” He glanced over at her. She was too young to be caught up in something like this. She belonged on a quiet college campus somewhere, enjoying life as only college kids know how, not here, with him, running from who-knows-what in the middle of the night. She didn’t need this and he shouldn’t involve her.

  “ I won’t go. I’m staying with you. My dad would never respect me if I walked away.”

  “ But?”

  “ Ask her if we can kill it.”

  “ Burn it,” Donna thought.

  “ She says to burn it.”

  “ Then that’s what we’ll do.” Glenna crossed her arms. “You’re almost out of gas.”

  “ Five miles to the next town.” He checked the gauge. “We’ll get gas there. You’ll have to do it. I can’t be seen like this.” He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He thought about his wife and Kohler. Whoever said life was fair? His thoughts pierced his heart.

  “ There it is, slow down,” she said.

  He tapped the brakes, slowed the car as he took the off ramp on the right. He was sorry to lose the steadying comfort of the big truck that had been leading him through the night. He turned right at the top of the ramp and drove by an all night gas station. It was one of those places where you went inside, paid, then pumped your gas. Nobody trusted anybody anymore.

  There was one car at the pumps, a brand new looking yellow Porsche Boxter, and a young teenager pumping gas into it. He saw a girl in the car. Must be bringing her back from a date. She probably had to be in by midnight. Christ, where did a boy take a girl out here? Necking somewhere, probably.

  He pulled over and parked in the dark, a little past the station.

  “ I’ll pull in when they leave. You’ll have to go in and pay, then pump the gas. I’ll stay in the car.” He handed her two twenties.