saw visions of a gnarled child, with blackened skin and long needle teeth, climbing her from calf to thigh to middle. The creature had three eyes, though one of them hung useless from its melted face, an orb that blinked milky white blankness. The thing ripped open her thin robe and bent with its yellow dagger teeth to suck from her breast.
“Momma,” it growled. “Hungry.”
In her mind Angela cried at the pain and the warm spray of blood that dappled the sheets and ran in tiny rivers down her ribs. “Not me,” she moaned. “Not me.”
C HAPTER S EVENTEEN
David slapped some more black goop down in the cracks of Aunt Elsie’s driveway. The July sun was out in furnace fury, and he could feel his back turning red. Still, he left the shirt on the front porch. Cancer warnings be damned; he intended to come back from this summer break both in shape, and deeply tanned. Maybe there wasn’t really time for girls in an athlete’s life during the on-season…but he wanted to at least provoke the opportunity to say no. Or yes. Who said he wouldn’t break the rules?
He used the dandelion-pulling tool his aunt had kept in the shed to dredge some more weeds out of the furrow that ran and branched across the bottom half of the drive. David liked to see results fast, so he’d gouge out a section, take a breath, and then fill it with tar before moving on to the next area for weeding. He guessed the exercise was going to take the entire afternoon. Elsie had a short driveway, but it sure had a lot of cracks.
Again his mind slipped back to the girl with the pink hair. Brenda. And the visit from the cop. At first he’d assumed Brenda had ditched him, but over the past couple days he’d realized that something else had happened. Something far more sinister.
After the cop had left, he’d called the number Brenda had given him, and on the fourth ring, it switched over to voice mail.
“Hey,” a bored-sounding girl’s voice drawled. “You got the Bean. But the Bean’s out bopping somewhere else. Or more likely, I’m asleep. So leave me yer action and I’ll get back to you after the dream is over. Or not. Girl’s prerogative, right?”
The phone clicked and David left his message, just saying he was the guy she’d helped walk it off the other night, and to give him a call.
When he hung up, he had, inexplicably, felt like crying.
Now as he scooped gunk from the bucket and filled up the cracks, he again saw Brenda’s semi-obscene T-shirt, and the spark in her eyes as she poked fun at the bartender, and him.
“Where did you go, Brenda?” he whispered. Maybe it was the fumes of the tar, or the heat of the sun, but at that moment, David vowed that he was going to find out.
It was early at the Clam Shack, and a Wednesday to boot, but there were already a few cars in the lot as David chained his bike to a water pipe on the outside of the bar. Some kids were trail-biking in the lot behind the bar, and their laughter echoed across the night. David felt a surge of melancholy in his heart as he watched them use the hills to accelerate on their way to a plywood ramp at the base of the trail.
He remembered when riding had just been for fun. He’d spent hours every day on trails like those, jumping ramps, nearly breaking arms and legs in bad landings. He’d ridden for miles on empty asphalt and taken to mountain biking for a change in adventure. But somewhere along the line, biking had become competition and work, not so much fun.
“Cool it, jag-off,” he chided himself. “You’re just trying to get out of riding tomorrow. And tomorrow, it’s time to get back on the ridge.”
Tonight, however, he intended to try to get some answers about what had happened the other night.
The screen door slammed shut behind him, and Joe looked up from behind the bar, an instant look of annoyance on his face. Then his features relaxed. “Oh, it’s you again,” he said, wiping a place clear at the bar with a dirty-looking white rag.
“Momma,” it growled. “Hungry.”
In her mind Angela cried at the pain and the warm spray of blood that dappled the sheets and ran in tiny rivers down her ribs. “Not me,” she moaned. “Not me.”
C HAPTER S EVENTEEN
David slapped some more black goop down in the cracks of Aunt Elsie’s driveway. The July sun was out in furnace fury, and he could feel his back turning red. Still, he left the shirt on the front porch. Cancer warnings be damned; he intended to come back from this summer break both in shape, and deeply tanned. Maybe there wasn’t really time for girls in an athlete’s life during the on-season…but he wanted to at least provoke the opportunity to say no. Or yes. Who said he wouldn’t break the rules?
He used the dandelion-pulling tool his aunt had kept in the shed to dredge some more weeds out of the furrow that ran and branched across the bottom half of the drive. David liked to see results fast, so he’d gouge out a section, take a breath, and then fill it with tar before moving on to the next area for weeding. He guessed the exercise was going to take the entire afternoon. Elsie had a short driveway, but it sure had a lot of cracks.
Again his mind slipped back to the girl with the pink hair. Brenda. And the visit from the cop. At first he’d assumed Brenda had ditched him, but over the past couple days he’d realized that something else had happened. Something far more sinister.
After the cop had left, he’d called the number Brenda had given him, and on the fourth ring, it switched over to voice mail.
“Hey,” a bored-sounding girl’s voice drawled. “You got the Bean. But the Bean’s out bopping somewhere else. Or more likely, I’m asleep. So leave me yer action and I’ll get back to you after the dream is over. Or not. Girl’s prerogative, right?”
The phone clicked and David left his message, just saying he was the guy she’d helped walk it off the other night, and to give him a call.
When he hung up, he had, inexplicably, felt like crying.
Now as he scooped gunk from the bucket and filled up the cracks, he again saw Brenda’s semi-obscene T-shirt, and the spark in her eyes as she poked fun at the bartender, and him.
“Where did you go, Brenda?” he whispered. Maybe it was the fumes of the tar, or the heat of the sun, but at that moment, David vowed that he was going to find out.
It was early at the Clam Shack, and a Wednesday to boot, but there were already a few cars in the lot as David chained his bike to a water pipe on the outside of the bar. Some kids were trail-biking in the lot behind the bar, and their laughter echoed across the night. David felt a surge of melancholy in his heart as he watched them use the hills to accelerate on their way to a plywood ramp at the base of the trail.
He remembered when riding had just been for fun. He’d spent hours every day on trails like those, jumping ramps, nearly breaking arms and legs in bad landings. He’d ridden for miles on empty asphalt and taken to mountain biking for a change in adventure. But somewhere along the line, biking had become competition and work, not so much fun.
“Cool it, jag-off,” he chided himself. “You’re just trying to get out of riding tomorrow. And tomorrow, it’s time to get back on the ridge.”
Tonight, however, he intended to try to get some answers about what had happened the other night.
The screen door slammed shut behind him, and Joe looked up from behind the bar, an instant look of annoyance on his face. Then his features relaxed. “Oh, it’s you again,” he said, wiping a place clear at the bar with a dirty-looking white rag.
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