(A sample from Crawlspace.)
© 2009 asotir.
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License.
11:02 AM
Otis House
HE HEARD VOICES from somewhere far away. He heard the Professor’s voice. It spoke in the flat dead tones the Professor always used when he talked about Crawlers.
‘Wake it up,’ it said. ‘Wake the damned dirty Thing up.’
A hand came down hard and slapped Tommy’s face. He was seized by the shoulders and shaken.
Tommy came to. They were in the Ford but it wasn’t moving. It was parked on a side street somewhere in Briggsville. Or had they moved on to some other town already?
‘What happened?’ he asked. He felt so odd and far away. It felt dirty and vile and shameful. It was a little like what Trickman sometimes talked about – like a hangover.
He could still taste Miss Quinn’s Jelly on his tongue.
Trickman leaned in from the front seat, huge and hairy like a bear. ‘You passed out, pal. Out cold.’
‘Probably overcome by the gas,’ Styles said. ‘Did you have to have three burritos? Roll down the window at least.’
Tommy looked around. He was in the back seat. The others were staring at him. The Professor looked suspicious. The Kid gaped.
‘Did the pills help, Tommy?’ the Professor asked.
‘Yes, sir. I feel better now.’
Tommy noticed his fist locked tight between his thighs. He unclenched it. In the hollow of his palm, gooey with his sweat, lay the three yellow pills. He stuffed them under the seat.
‘There he goes!’ Styles said.
Through the Ford’s windows Tommy looked up the quiet, shabby suburban street. At the corner was a small white house.
The back door of the house was open. The tall black man Tommy had seen at the play was locking his door.
Styles said softly, ‘Good morning, Principal Otis.’
The Professor pulled Tommy upright. ‘Tommy, do you sense anything about him?’
Tommy looked at the Professor.
‘Is he one of Them?’ the Professor said. ‘How about you, Eddie? Can you get a Flash on something?’
The Kid nodded. ‘Yes. I feel something. It’s awful. A kind of prickling, all over. And hot too – it’s been like this for a while. I think – I think one of the Things is really close!’
Tommy looked at the Kid. Eddie was dutifully searching inside himself. Tommy knew the signs. Tommy wondered what Agnes was doing this morning. She couldn’t have gone to school. He wished he were with her now.
Absently he scratched his hands … under the skin, small bumps were forming … from far away came the sound of screaming—
IN A NARROW ALLEY the metal arms of the garbage truck were screaming as they raised the dumpster aloft. The dumpster lid was falling open – garbage was tumbling out – among it the half-corpse of Angeline – and the screaming carried on—
—Agnes was tossing in bed and screaming. The door was opening and a handsome woman in a cocktail waitress outfit and makeup entered. She was a little too brassy and blonde but the resemblance was there. She must have been Agnes’ mother, Mrs Renfield.
Agnes screamed, ‘Andrewz! Andrewz!’
Mrs Renfield sat on the bed and took her daughter’s shoulders. ‘Agnes, wake up – wake up, honey! It’s all right, it was only a nightmare.’
Agnes opened her eyes. It took her a moment before she woke up all the way. Then she knew Mrs Renfield and hugged her, hugged her and held on tight. ‘Mom. I dreamed – Where’s Andy?’
TOMMY leaned against the side of the Ford. He felt sick. He was sweating and his mouth hung open. He felt the Professor’s eyes on him, watching, studying, evaluating – judging.
Tommy managed to nod and jerk his head down the street. ‘Yeah, Professor,’ he breathed. ‘I can feel it now too.’
The Kid, Eddie, smiled gratefully at him. Tommy wanted to smash his face in.
Principal Otis walked down off his porch to the silver blue Volvo in the drive.
Trickman reached under his seat. ‘I got my Burner right here, Professor.’
‘Way to go, Trickster,’ Styles said.
The Professor turned to the Kid. ‘Eddie – what do you feel?’
‘There’s one of them close. I feel it!’
The Professor turned back to Tommy. ‘Tommy, what do you think? Is Otis the one?’
‘My door’s unlocked and my hand’s on the release,’ Trickman said.
‘Come on, you slime factory,’ Styles said. ‘Come closer, will you?’
Eddie tugged on the Professor’s sleeve. ‘I know it, Professor! I can feel it!’
But the Professor was still watching Tommy. ‘Concentrate, Tommy. You’ve never let us down.’
Tommy leaned back. A new wave of sickness washed over him.
IN THE UPSTAIRS HALL, Agnes was pushing past Mrs Renfield and knocking on Andrew’s bedroom door.
‘Andrew? Andrewz? You ’wake?’
She was pushing the door open. Inside the room was empty, the bed unslept-in.
Mrs Renfield was saying something from her bedroom where she was taking off the waitress uniform. ‘Sorry I missed his big night. I just got home. I suppose he’s still out celebrating?’
Agnes was touching her finger. Andrew’s ring was still there. ‘It’s true, then,’ she whispered. ‘It really is…’
Mrs Renfield came out in the hall, cinching her robe. ‘What is, dear?’
‘Mom. Do you mean they didn’t even tell you yet?’
TRICKMAN’S fist rattled the door handle.
‘Ready to take it,’ he said. ‘Any time now.’
The Professor said, ‘Tommy?’
‘It is!’ the Kid said. ‘I know it! I can feel it!’
Tommy dragged himself back upright. He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It isn’t. He’s not one of Them.’
Principal Otis reached the Volvo and got in.
Trickman asked, ‘Professor?’
The Professor hesitated – looked from Eddie on one side to Tommy on the other. Then he sighed and shook his head. ‘Stand down, Trickman. Let him be for now.’
‘Shit,’ Styles said. ‘Well, there he goes.’
The Volvo drove past them. It stopped at the corner and turned and drove down the side street and out of sight.
The Team watched the Volvo disappear. They seemed to deflate as the tension and excitement of the kill left them. It was funny, Tommy thought. He had never considered the Team as murderers before. But hadn’t they always been?
The Professor reached over past Tommy and unlocked the door. ‘Let’s check out the house.’
