Zyloux would return to this realm to hunt and destroy the humans who now possessed the stolen elixir.
12
J
ay moved his bedding out of the other bedroom so he could watch Lonny who was sleeping peacefully on the couch. Jay stretched out in the uncomfortable recliner and placed his silencer-equipped gun on his lap beneath the sheet. He chuckled as he imagined the water’s effects on Lonny. The worst-case scenario would be Lonny’s regressing into a pain-in-the-ass, zit-faced teenager who was on the prowl for a lay. He checked on Lonny once more, and then read The Tampa Tribune .
Jay stayed awake until two. An hour earlier, he had phoned his terrorist cell commander from the front porch and reported his discovery in the gold chest. His contact ordered him to do nothing more with the strange water until he received further instructions. By the time Jay returned to the recliner, his eyelids were ten-pound weights, and he finally collapsed. He fell into a shallow sleep, waking every thirty minutes or so to listen to Lonny’s rhythmic snoring.
At four-thirty, a piercing scream shattered Jay’s restless slumber. His eyes snapped open, his muscles tensed, and his fingers closed on his gun. A quick glance to the sofa told him that Lonny was missing. Shit! Here we go.
Another bloodcurdling scream shattered the stillness. Blossom! Jay struggled out of the recliner, rushed to her room, and flicked on the lights. Stunned, he fell back a step. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
That poor guinea pig, Lonny, had been transformed into an ugly, hairless creature less than five feet tall. Its elongated skull was too damned large for its pallid, emaciated body. Pointed ears displaced Lonny’s pierced ones. But it was Lonny’s new black, spiky teeth that unnerved Jay the most. The little bastard turned, curled its lips, and snarled. It glared out of the corners of its green elliptical eyes at Jay as its lethal mouth closed on Blossom’s quivering throat.
“Lonny!” he shouted.
The vicious creature pivoted and snarled, his graveyard pupils completely focused on the intruder. That was the effect Jay hoped for.
Jay raised the gun barrel and fired twice, splattering Lonny’s head with the first muted shot and exploding his hideous chest with the second. Blossom shrieked again as Lonny’s long nails dug into her shoulder as he slid to the floor.
Juan arrived with gun in hand and ready to fire. “Sweet Mother of Mary!” he muttered and crossed himself. He glanced at the bloody remains and then at Jay. “Lonny?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Just from drinking a little bit of wine from that old-fashioned thermos?”
“Not wine, amigo,” he replied, as he unlocked Blossom’s cuffs and held the sobbing woman in his arms.
“Then what?”
“Water from the fountain of youth.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
He shook his head. “It’s true.”
Blossom gradually regained her composure before going to the bathroom to wash the bloody spray off her face and arms.
“What do we do with . . . him?” Juan asked with a shudder.
“It’s still dark, so I say we throw the body into the back of the car, and you drive him out into the country and dump him,” Jay said.
Juan frowned. “Alone?”
Jay stood and nudged Lonny’s sunken chest with his hand. “Look, he’s dead, amigo. No heart.” He pointed at the blood-drenched wall where grayish bits of Lonny’s brain were still trickling toward the tile floor. “And his brains are wallpaper.”
“I still don’t like it, but what the hell. Like you said, the little shit’s dead.”
“C’mon, let’s get this done.”
They wrapped the corpse in a thin flannel blanket and carried it outside to the Explorer. The countryside surrounding the isolated, ramshackle bungalow was blanketed in fog and eerily quiet except for a cricket chorus and belching tree frogs. After heaving the body into the back, Jay tossed Juan the car keys.
“Be careful. Drive the speed limit. We don’t need
12
J
ay moved his bedding out of the other bedroom so he could watch Lonny who was sleeping peacefully on the couch. Jay stretched out in the uncomfortable recliner and placed his silencer-equipped gun on his lap beneath the sheet. He chuckled as he imagined the water’s effects on Lonny. The worst-case scenario would be Lonny’s regressing into a pain-in-the-ass, zit-faced teenager who was on the prowl for a lay. He checked on Lonny once more, and then read The Tampa Tribune .
Jay stayed awake until two. An hour earlier, he had phoned his terrorist cell commander from the front porch and reported his discovery in the gold chest. His contact ordered him to do nothing more with the strange water until he received further instructions. By the time Jay returned to the recliner, his eyelids were ten-pound weights, and he finally collapsed. He fell into a shallow sleep, waking every thirty minutes or so to listen to Lonny’s rhythmic snoring.
At four-thirty, a piercing scream shattered Jay’s restless slumber. His eyes snapped open, his muscles tensed, and his fingers closed on his gun. A quick glance to the sofa told him that Lonny was missing. Shit! Here we go.
Another bloodcurdling scream shattered the stillness. Blossom! Jay struggled out of the recliner, rushed to her room, and flicked on the lights. Stunned, he fell back a step. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
That poor guinea pig, Lonny, had been transformed into an ugly, hairless creature less than five feet tall. Its elongated skull was too damned large for its pallid, emaciated body. Pointed ears displaced Lonny’s pierced ones. But it was Lonny’s new black, spiky teeth that unnerved Jay the most. The little bastard turned, curled its lips, and snarled. It glared out of the corners of its green elliptical eyes at Jay as its lethal mouth closed on Blossom’s quivering throat.
“Lonny!” he shouted.
The vicious creature pivoted and snarled, his graveyard pupils completely focused on the intruder. That was the effect Jay hoped for.
Jay raised the gun barrel and fired twice, splattering Lonny’s head with the first muted shot and exploding his hideous chest with the second. Blossom shrieked again as Lonny’s long nails dug into her shoulder as he slid to the floor.
Juan arrived with gun in hand and ready to fire. “Sweet Mother of Mary!” he muttered and crossed himself. He glanced at the bloody remains and then at Jay. “Lonny?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Just from drinking a little bit of wine from that old-fashioned thermos?”
“Not wine, amigo,” he replied, as he unlocked Blossom’s cuffs and held the sobbing woman in his arms.
“Then what?”
“Water from the fountain of youth.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
He shook his head. “It’s true.”
Blossom gradually regained her composure before going to the bathroom to wash the bloody spray off her face and arms.
“What do we do with . . . him?” Juan asked with a shudder.
“It’s still dark, so I say we throw the body into the back of the car, and you drive him out into the country and dump him,” Jay said.
Juan frowned. “Alone?”
Jay stood and nudged Lonny’s sunken chest with his hand. “Look, he’s dead, amigo. No heart.” He pointed at the blood-drenched wall where grayish bits of Lonny’s brain were still trickling toward the tile floor. “And his brains are wallpaper.”
“I still don’t like it, but what the hell. Like you said, the little shit’s dead.”
“C’mon, let’s get this done.”
They wrapped the corpse in a thin flannel blanket and carried it outside to the Explorer. The countryside surrounding the isolated, ramshackle bungalow was blanketed in fog and eerily quiet except for a cricket chorus and belching tree frogs. After heaving the body into the back, Jay tossed Juan the car keys.
“Be careful. Drive the speed limit. We don’t need
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