(A sample from Crawlspace.)
© 2009 asotir.
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License.
3:12 PM
Bright Dayz Motel
IN THE MOTEL PARKING LOT Styles was waxing the Ford. He stepped back and admired the job he’d done. He took the rag and went into room No. 8.
Inside Room No. 8 Trickman squatted over the pieces of Tommy’s Burner. He popped M&M’s and scowled.
‘You fix that piece of crap yet?’ Styles asked.
Trickman grunted. ‘Go back and clean the ash trays.’
‘Just make sure that this works next time. I don’t want Tommy getting gutted just because your paint gun won’t paint.’
‘Was that some kind of a crack?’
Next door in Room No. 9, a fly was trapped in the corner of the window. Tommy watched it. Out the window stretched a grassy lot with a bent tree and the Interstate below. Lazy daytime traffic passed.
Tommy looked over his shoulder. Behind him the TV showed a basketball playoff game. ‘Professor? What town are we in?’
‘Hm. Briggsville, it says.’
‘Oh.’
‘Just another town.’
‘Professor, is what we’re doing right? I mean – I know the Crawlers are bad, and all. And what they do. There’s no excuse for it. But why do we have to be the ones to, you know.’
‘You mean, why don’t we just let the local police handle them?’
‘Yeah, I guess so. Yeah.’
The Professor set aside his journal. An ant traversed the desk. The Professor glanced at it.
‘Tommy, sometimes this job can get to you. A few years ago I had doubts, too. It isn’t easy. Seeing the things we see, doing what we do. Knowing – what we know. What do you think would happen if they published what we know? If it became public?’
Papers said, ‘Puh, panic. Worldwide panic.’
The Professor nodded. ‘Tommy, there’s no telling how many of the Things are out there. Or how they breed. There’s so much we don’t know yet about them, don’t understand. But one thing is clear. It’s war, Tommy. Us against them. And they keep on coming.’
‘But, why can’t the government tell everybody? If everybody knew…’
‘If they knew their neighbors, their bosses, their librarians, their waitresses, weren’t like us? If instead they were secretly, monstrously, different?’
Tommy looked out the window into the sunlight. The day seemed so normal there.
‘How long would it be, do you think, before the suspicions ground the world’s economies to a standstill? How long before vigilante mobs swarmed those fields out there? If they knew the truth?’
Tommy shook his head. He tried to imagine it. It was like something out of a horror movie. ‘I guess you’re right, Professor.’
The ant trailed across the desk. The Professor looked at it mildly. ‘It isn’t easy killing. The few Teams across the country – and across the world – we’ve been chosen to bear the burden of this darkness. It’s heavy, Tommy, I know. But remember this. The Things we burn, though they may wear the faces of men and women, are really no more human than this ant.’
The Professor squashed the ant and held up his thumb.
‘You see? No remorse. No regrets. Just a job that’s got to be done. Until the last of them are exterminated.’
‘Ex, extinguished,’ Papers said.
‘Extinct. Sometimes, Tommy, lying is the best way the government can tell the truth.’
A knock sounded at the door and Trickman came in.
‘Professor, I don’t find nothing wrong with Tommy’s gun. Tommy, are you sure it jammed?’
‘I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.’ He lied with his very best lying voice, which wasn’t very good. It made him feel awful to lie to Trickman. The big hairy slob was just about the nicest guy in the whole Team. But what else could Tommy say? He wasn’t going to admit he was squeamish or soft. Especially after what the Professor just said.
The Professor watched Tommy. He knew Tommy was lying; Tommy could see it on his face. But all he said was, ‘All right, Trickman. Just make sure the gun is working.’
‘Okay, Professor.’
Trickman noticed an open can of Coke by the TV. He picked it up, swirled it in his big hand. Trickman swigged it and left.
The Professor opened his little zippered case. ‘Tommy, time for your pills.’ He held out a glass of milk and three yellow pills.
‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes. It’s the only antidote we’ve got for the Jelly. You know that.’
The Professor was giving him a suspicious kind of look. Tommy swallowed the pills and milk. He felt his guts bunch up. ‘Can I go out with Styles and Trickman tonight?’
‘Tommy, are you feeling all right these days? Do you feel hot spells? Dizzy?’
‘You mean from the injections?’
‘I’m concerned. We need you, Tommy.’
‘I’m okay. The pills help. I’m just sorry about – you know, my gun didn’t jam.’
‘It didn’t?’
He had just blurted it out and now he had to go and tell the rest. Why couldn’t he ever stick to a lie? ‘Uh-uh. The truth is, I looked at him – at the Crawler – and I couldn’t shoot. I just froze up. I guess I’m a coward.’
‘Tommy, the bravest men were once the most afraid. They learned how to overcome it. That’s all.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. I’ll teach you.’
‘I’ll try, Professor. I’ll learn how to face them.’
‘Good boy, Tommy. Now go take a walk. The sun’s the best medicine. But take care. There were bad reports in this town. I think there may be quite a nest of the things in Briggsville.’
‘Okay, Professor.’ He went to the door and looked out. He felt the outside air wash over his face. He had to get out now, all of a sudden, even though he didn’t know why.
‘Don’t stay out after dark.’
‘Okay, Professor.’
The Professor watched Tommy leave. Tommy looked back into the room as he made his way past the cars. He saw the Professor turn off the TV and make the whole room dark.
A TALL, gaunt, crooked tree stood waiting on the bank over the Interstate. Tommy touched the bark – then pulled back his hand.
Hundreds of ants and beetles were coursing over and under the bark. Tommy was staring at them. The sound of a scream make him look away.
Past the Motel, on the other side from the Interstate, several kids were playing basketball on an outdoor court on a schoolyard. They laughed and screamed and raced off. The basketball, round and green, rolled to a stop behind them.
Tommy climbed the fence and picked up the ball. The yard was empty now. Tommy’s shadow was long on the cracked asphalt. He dribbled the ball – shot – it went through. He got the ball and put it back in play.
Tommy made out like he was the announcer on the TV. ‘ “Wow, he’s really hungry today, Jim!” “He’s hot, too, Bob! The Rookie’s hands are on fire!” “Swish – and it’s another jumper for the Rookie!” ’
A girl’s voice shouted out, ‘Yay! Go, Rookie!’
Tommy stopped dead. A girl was watching. She looked about his age, in ripped jeans and sweatshirt.
Tommy bounced the ball and looked at her. ‘Who are you?’
‘Me? I’m Little Aggie, of course!’
She took the ball, dribbled past, laid it up. ‘ “Little Aggie is in – driving hard – and it’s another big one for the little hotshot, Jim!” ’
Tommy in-bounded the ball.
The girl moved to defend. ‘ “Little Aggie on defense now – good use of the hands, Bob!” ’
Tommy scoffed. ‘ “No way, Jim, that was a foul!” ’
The girl giggled. ‘ “What the refs don’t see doesn’t even count – it’s getting more intense down there now, Bob. The seconds tick down–” ’
Tommy stumbled. The girl stole the ball and went in.
‘ “Swish! Score! The buzzer sounds! Little Aggie’s done it again!” ’
But Tommy hardly heard her. He was bending over, staring down. Out of the cracks in the asphalt was a mound of sand – an ant hill.
The girl dribbled up behind him. ‘Hey – what’s up with you?’
‘I have these – nothing – leave it. Attacks sometimes. The Professor says I have to watch myself.’
A woman’s voice said, ‘Perhaps I can help.’
Tommy looked up. In the same spot the girl appeared in, in the same pose, stood a woman. She must’ve been at least 27. Hair bound back, squarish glasses, gray suit. Which didn’t hide the fact that she was beautiful, and very desirable.
The girl went over to her. ‘Miss Quinn, help!’
Tommy waved them off. ‘I’m all right.’
But the woman leaned over him. ‘Do you feel hot? What’s your name?’
She laid her cool, smooth palm on Tommy’s brow. He could smell her perfume. There was something odd about it. Something familiar. Under the wild melange of scents lurked something dangerous and potent.
‘Tommy Q. I should go – the Professor—’
‘Nonsense, my car’s right here. You come too, Agnes.’
TOGETHER, the woman and the girl got Tommy into an Alfa Romeo Spyder. Tommy and the girl crushed together in the bucket seat. Miss Quinn had said the girl’s name was Agnes. Agnes. Tommy rolled the word around in his head.
‘We’re at the Bright Dayz Motel,’ Tommy said. But the deep, full-bodied roar of the engine made it hard to be heard. ‘Ask for the Professor—’
Miss Quinn laughed. She gunned them down the street.
THE SPYDER braked to a hard stop. Tommy, crushed beside Agnes, all too aware of her body squirming against his, and still dizzy from sitting in the front seat and driving so fast and tight around the curves, could barely stand up to get out. Plus there was a knot in his pants and he was having a hard time hiding it.
‘I’ll wait here,’ Miss Quinn said.
‘We won’t be long, Miss Quinn,’ said Agnes. ‘Can you walk okay, Tommy?’
‘Uh-huh. I’m better now.’
They left the car, started across the lot.
‘Sunset – my time. The Witching hour. What’s your time, Tommy?’
‘I don’t know. Dawn, I guess.’
‘Why dawn?’
‘It feels safer when the night ends.’
They reached the tree over the Interstate.
‘What a great tree!’
She jumped onto one of the roots and grabbed a branch. She leaned back and her eyes filled with dark leaves.
She hummed and began to recite, in a sing-song voice.
They told her how, upon St. Agnes’ Eve,
Young virgins might have visions of delight,
And soft adorings from their loves receive,
Upon the honey’d middle of the night.
Tommy looked at her blankly.
The girl dropped from the branch and shrugged off her backpack. ‘That’s Keats. The Eve Of St. Agnes. See?’
She pulled a worn book out of her backpack.
Tommy read the cover page. The Eve of St. Agnes. By John Keats.
The girl leaned over his shoulder. Why did she always have to stand so close? He was having a harder and harder time hiding his condition. He twisted his hips, trying to shift his jeans and make a little more room.
‘Ever read it?’ she asked. She was just about breathing the words in his ear.
‘No, I don’t read poetry.’
‘You’re missing a lot.’
‘I guess I should be getting back.’
In the sky the blood-red sun drifted down. On the Interstate the trucks floated down the lanes. The branches turned in the wind.
‘Tommy,’ Agnes said.
Tommy looked at her. She was watching the Interstate. Her profile was red in the sunlight. Slowly her head turned and her eyes took him in, all dreamy. Tommy could see the truck lights moving in her eyes. Her eyes seemed like mirrors for every light and wonderful thing in the world.
She smiled. ‘I liked playing against you.’
‘Yeah.’
‘What’s your birthday?’
‘May 13.’
‘That’s tomorrow!’
‘I guess so.’
‘You guess so? How old?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘We’ll have to have a party. That’s it – after the play. What cake do you like? How come we never met before? Do you think my name is weird?’
‘I’m not even sure what it is.’ It was true. He thought he remembered now that Miss Quinn had called her something. But he couldn’t remember. She was fogging up his brain.
She leaned close to him again. Their lips were even closer.
‘Agnes.’
Tommy remembered now. ‘Agn—’
She kissed him before he could say it all. Then she broke it and went on.
‘Yeah, Agnes. After the saint. I used to hate that name, it’s so dorky, but now I like it. It’s kind of cool, you know?’
She kissed him again, longer. Tommy kissed back this time. He felt her tongue trying to get in between his lips and let it. Her tongue slid over his and wow was it slippery. The knot in his pants felt like it was just about to bust. It was almost as bad as the prickling the Things made him feel.
Agnes broke off the kiss, sucked in air, and smiled. What a great smile, Tommy thought. ‘After all, how many Agnesses do you know?’
‘You’re the first—’
They kissed again. Tommy’s arms went around her waist. But his forearms were Changing. The skin was rippling with bumps – tentacles were erupting – plunging into Agnes’ body – her eyes went wide – blood filled her mouth—
