things to oblivion. That was disgusting, too. You could hear them go crunch and feel them turn wet. When you went to brush a body off your skin, it rolled like a booger. Sometimes, it stuck to your finger and you had a hard time flicking it off.
Anyway, I kept busy destroying the spider population while the search went on. Except for the sounds I made, the only other noise came from the helicopter. There were probably plenty of other noises, but nothing you could hear. The chopper’s roar would fade out, then grow and grow until it shook everything. Sometimes, I thought the damn thing was about to land on me. But then it would fade out again.
It was circling.
Circling and circling and circling. I couldn’t see it with my eyes, but in my head I sure could. I saw it circling and circling, the whole time shining its big white beam down at the hillside and the wilds at the bottom of the slope and the back yards and side yards of every house around.
Looking for me, just for me.
The noise alone was enough to drive you crazy.
By now, everybody in the neighborhood was probably wide awake and staring out their windows. They might’ve slept through the sirens, but you can’t sleep through a cop chopper, not unless you’re drunk or deaf. Not when it stays and stays, circling and roaring like that.
If you’re a regular person, you’re pissed because it woke you up. More than pissed, though, you’re worried. Because you know it’s up there for a reason. You know it’s hunting a bad guy.
Which means a bad guy’s running around somewhere near your house.
You look out your window. Just how close is that chopper? Just how close is that bad guy? You pretty much expect to spot somebody running across your yard and you just hope he doesn’t try to come in your house.
It sure gives you the creeps.
But hell, you oughta be the guy the chopper is looking for.
When you’re the one it’s after, it stops being anything as normal as a police helicopter. It’s more like some kind of monster-machine, like maybe a UFO getting jockeyed around by a team of bozos from outer space that are so mean they’d make your basic Gestapo psychos look like Mary Poppins—and they know right where the fuck you’re hiding.
Even tucked away in my snug little nook on top of the cabinet where the spotlight had no chance at all of finding me, the chopper made me want to shrivel up and disappear every time it came close.
You won’t get away from me! You can’t get away from me!
Man!
Anyway, it was kind of freaking me out up there. So sue me. I’d had a hard night.
When all of a sudden a light beam flicked across the ceiling, I thought for a second that the chopper’d found me.
I thought, How’d it get in here?
I almost screamed.
Then someone said, “Think he’s in the freezer?”
“Would you hide in a freezer?” the other guy asked.
“Yeah. A night this hot? You bet.”
One of them opened the freezer. I heard it.
The guy who’d said, “You bet,” said, “Hey, look. They’ve got Dove Bars.”
“No kidding.” This one sounded like he didn’t give a hot hoot for Dove Bars.
The chopper was off at a far end of its circle, so I could hear the noises that cops make when they walk. Jostling, squeaking, rattling noises. Their gunbelts are just loaded with every kind of shit imaginable. A walking cop sounds more like a saddle horse than a person.
“Do you want one?” asks the Dove Bar guy.
“No. And neither do you.”
“I want one. They’re a lot better than Eskimo ... Nobody’s gonna hide in a washing machine, Pat.”
“No?” I heard a lid squeak open.
“See? Told you.”
“The way that freezer’s lighting you up, you’d better hope this lizard doesn’t try to cap you.”
“He’s not armed. He woulda used it on the kids.”
“You never know. Just shut it, okay?”
“You sure you don’t want a Dove Bar?”
I heard a quiet grunt. “Not in the dryer.”
“I could’ve told you that.”
“Oh, you
Anyway, I kept busy destroying the spider population while the search went on. Except for the sounds I made, the only other noise came from the helicopter. There were probably plenty of other noises, but nothing you could hear. The chopper’s roar would fade out, then grow and grow until it shook everything. Sometimes, I thought the damn thing was about to land on me. But then it would fade out again.
It was circling.
Circling and circling and circling. I couldn’t see it with my eyes, but in my head I sure could. I saw it circling and circling, the whole time shining its big white beam down at the hillside and the wilds at the bottom of the slope and the back yards and side yards of every house around.
Looking for me, just for me.
The noise alone was enough to drive you crazy.
By now, everybody in the neighborhood was probably wide awake and staring out their windows. They might’ve slept through the sirens, but you can’t sleep through a cop chopper, not unless you’re drunk or deaf. Not when it stays and stays, circling and roaring like that.
If you’re a regular person, you’re pissed because it woke you up. More than pissed, though, you’re worried. Because you know it’s up there for a reason. You know it’s hunting a bad guy.
Which means a bad guy’s running around somewhere near your house.
You look out your window. Just how close is that chopper? Just how close is that bad guy? You pretty much expect to spot somebody running across your yard and you just hope he doesn’t try to come in your house.
It sure gives you the creeps.
But hell, you oughta be the guy the chopper is looking for.
When you’re the one it’s after, it stops being anything as normal as a police helicopter. It’s more like some kind of monster-machine, like maybe a UFO getting jockeyed around by a team of bozos from outer space that are so mean they’d make your basic Gestapo psychos look like Mary Poppins—and they know right where the fuck you’re hiding.
Even tucked away in my snug little nook on top of the cabinet where the spotlight had no chance at all of finding me, the chopper made me want to shrivel up and disappear every time it came close.
You won’t get away from me! You can’t get away from me!
Man!
Anyway, it was kind of freaking me out up there. So sue me. I’d had a hard night.
When all of a sudden a light beam flicked across the ceiling, I thought for a second that the chopper’d found me.
I thought, How’d it get in here?
I almost screamed.
Then someone said, “Think he’s in the freezer?”
“Would you hide in a freezer?” the other guy asked.
“Yeah. A night this hot? You bet.”
One of them opened the freezer. I heard it.
The guy who’d said, “You bet,” said, “Hey, look. They’ve got Dove Bars.”
“No kidding.” This one sounded like he didn’t give a hot hoot for Dove Bars.
The chopper was off at a far end of its circle, so I could hear the noises that cops make when they walk. Jostling, squeaking, rattling noises. Their gunbelts are just loaded with every kind of shit imaginable. A walking cop sounds more like a saddle horse than a person.
“Do you want one?” asks the Dove Bar guy.
“No. And neither do you.”
“I want one. They’re a lot better than Eskimo ... Nobody’s gonna hide in a washing machine, Pat.”
“No?” I heard a lid squeak open.
“See? Told you.”
“The way that freezer’s lighting you up, you’d better hope this lizard doesn’t try to cap you.”
“He’s not armed. He woulda used it on the kids.”
“You never know. Just shut it, okay?”
“You sure you don’t want a Dove Bar?”
I heard a quiet grunt. “Not in the dryer.”
“I could’ve told you that.”
“Oh, you
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