Plague by Graham Masterton Page B

wouldn’t happen to have one of those cans of beer going
spare, would you?’ Marowitz asked.
    Edgar stared at
him. Marowitz said, grinning, ‘It gets kind of dry, patrolling around all
evening.’
    Edgar reached
into the refrigerator and took out a six-pack of Old Milwaukee. He handed it
over, and said flatly, ‘That’s one dollar and eighty-five cents. You can pay at
the desk.’
    Marowitz took
the pack without a word. He muttered to Trent, ‘Come on, we got more friendly
places to visit,’ and walked out. Just by the cash desk, he banged his money
down in front of Gerry, and called out loudly, ‘Support your local police
department!’
    Edgar watched
them drive away, and then went out into the car park to fetch the rest of his
canned peaches. The night was growing cooler now, and there was a soft wind
from the east. A couple of trucks bellowed past on their way to Jersey City,
and one or two cars, but mostly the roads were empty and silent.
    He didn’t
realize what had happened at first. But when he reached into the back of the
car, he noticed how low down it seemed to be. He frowned, and looked around the
side. All four tires had been slashed into black ribbons, and the Mercury was
resting on its wheel hubs.
    Edgar stood
there for a while, feeling utter frustration and despair. Then he slammed the
tailgate angrily shut, locked it, and walked back to the supermarket.
    Gerry was just
counting up the day’s takings. ‘What’s wrong, Mr. Paston?’ he asked.
    ‘Someone
slashed my tires. I’ll have to take the pick-up. Let’s get this place closed
down for the night, and leave it at that.’
    ‘Do you think
it was Shark McManus?’
    ‘Is that what
they call him? Shark?’
    ‘I guess it was
after Jaws. He’s a kind of a wild kid.’
    Edgar almost
laughed. ‘Wild? He’s a goddamned maniac. I mean, what kind of a person goes
around stealing beer and slashing tires? What the hell’s it all for?’
    Gerry shrugged.
‘I don’t know, Mr. Paston. I guess they get kind of frustrated.’
    ‘Oh yeah? Well, I wish they wouldn’t take their half-baked
frustrations out on me.’
    He went to
check the cold shelves and the meat, to make sure that everything was kept at
the right temperature for overnight storage. Then he swept up the rubbish,
while Gerry restocked some of the canned goods. He did everything quickly and
superficially, because he wanted to get home. He could always get up early and
dean the place more thoroughly tomorrow.
    He was almost
finished when he thought he heard a tap on the store window. He looked up,
frowning. There was another tap, louder. Then, right in front of his eyes, the
huge plate-glass window smashed, and half-a-hundred-weight of glass dropped to
the sidewalk with a shattering, pealing sound.
    Edgar ran to
the front of the store and stared out into the night. It was silent, and dark.
The wind blew fitfully into the store, making price tags flap on the shelves.
He crunched across the sea of broken glass, still staring, still searching.
    In the
distance, he thought he heard someone laugh. It could have been a dog barking,
or a car starting up. But the sound of it was enough to make him shiver.
     
     

THREE
    M iami was always quiet in the small hours of the morning, but
tonight that silence seemed to be sultry and threatening. As Dr. Leonard Petrie
drove through echoing and deserted streets, he sensed in the air the beginning
of something new and frightening and strange. Two or three cars and an
ambulance passed him as he drove downtown. Out on the expressway, lines of
traffic still shuttled backwards and forwards from the airport, and trucks and
cars still traveled up and down US, heading north for Fort Lauderdale or south
for the Keys. It could have been any night of any year in Miami. The radio was
playing country music from Nashville, and the hotels along the Beach glittered
with light.
    Dr. Petrie
swung the Lincoln left on West Flagler and 17th. For the first time, he saw