Live Girls (34 page)

The thing shot downward and, with a loud
slap
, latched on to Vince's chest and tore its teeth into his throat. Vince fell against the dresser; he slapped at the creature as he fell to his knees. Vince said something, but it was lost in a horrible gurgle and blood sprayed from his mouth as he fell to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Beth made a quiet whimpering sound as she rolled over and got to her hands and knees on the bed. She could no longer see Vince, but she heard his struggle, heard the wet rattling sound of his breath being sucked through blood. She crawled over the bed to the night-stand, grabbed the handle of the bottom drawer, and pulled it out so far it clumped to the floor. Her hands were numb with fear and she clumsily wrapped her fingers around the butt of the gun, lifting it from the drawer.

There was a new sound coming from the floor at the foot of the bed, a horrible sound.

Sucking.

The gun was so
heavy
, she couldn't believe how
heavy
it was, she'd never used one before, never even
held
one, and it felt alien as she hefted it between both hands, sat up, and waddled to the foot of the bed on her knees.

Vince's arms were splayed outward limply; his eyes were wide and glassy; his throat was a ragged, bloody hole. The creature was hunched on his chest, its wings spread over his shoulders, its head bowed in the wound.

Beth's chest began to hitch with uncontrollable sobs and she tried to raise the gun but couldn't because her arms were so weak and she was going to throw up, she felt her gorge rising into her throat and her arms collapsed, the gun dropped to the floor, and she screamed because she
needed that gun
and now it was down there and if she reached for it, her hand would be only inches from that thing.

It suddenly lifted its head from Vince's throat, pushed itself up from his body, and made an odd spitting sound. Its ears twitched and it jerked its head from side to side as it crawled backward down Vince's body. At his feet, it flopped onto its side and screeched, its mouth yawning open to its limit, its red eyes squeezing shut. One wing swung upward then slapped onto the floor as the creature cried out again. Falling flat on its belly, it flapped both its wings.

Jesus God it's trying to fly
, she thought, moving backward on the bed, wanting to be as far from the creature as possible.
It's trying to fly and it can't something's wrong with it it can't fly
.

Its bloody mouth opened again and it spit, gasped for breath, then rose from the floor, its wings flapping, heading for the window, but it veered to the left and fell to the bed thrashing. Beth began screaming, pressing herself against the headboard.

The creature's body began to tremble and its head jerked back and forth until its features seemed to be melting together until it had no face, no discernible head, just a mouth and two glistening eyes and its wings pulled together and...

No no no can't be it just can't no Jesus please no!

...it actually began to swell, like a balloon filling with air and a wing pulled away from the shifting mass of leathery flesh and bristling fur, except it
wasn't
a wing, it was an elongating stump that suddenly sprouted five trembling fingers...

Jesus Christ make it stop make it go away make me wake up Christ oh Jesus please!

...and the fingers bunched into a wet, shifting fist and the mouth widened and screamed a frighteningly human scream...

Make it stop stop stop!

...familiar somehow familiar but that couldn't be it just couldn't be and the fist swung down and thumped onto the mattress as the scream dissolved into a long deep retch that sprayed blood from the yawning mouth all over the bed and on Beth's shoes and ankles and she instinctively pulled her feet in and curled her legs beneath her as she screamed and as the thing before her continued to vomit blood onto the bed.

Then it stopped.

It lay motionless for several moments, the vaguely human arm still outstretched before it, the mouth open and wheezing for air, the eyes tightly closed.

They opened.

And looked at her.

Beth's scream crumbled to breathy sobs as she looked into the eyes.

They were no longer red. They were brown. Big and brown and hurting. Sad eyes. Davey's eyes.

“D-D-Davey?” Her voice was thick with tears.

The eyes blinked.

“Jesus Christ,
Davey?"

The mouth closed and the mass began to shift again. The arm pulled in, the creature rolled itself off the side of the bed and fell heavily to the floor.

She couldn't bring herself to look over the edge, didn't want to see whatever was there.

It wasn't Davey couldn't be couldn't possibly be dear God I'm losing my mind I'm fucking losing my miiiind!

She curled into an even tighter ball and huddled against the headboard, her arms crossed protectively over her breasts. She trembled uncontrollably.

Beth heard shuffling on the floor beside the bed and a moment later saw the creature pulling itself across the floor with its wings toward the window. With a quick flutter, it hopped onto the sill and slowly turned its head toward her.

The eyes were red once again, but they were pulled into a sad, scared expression, a lonely look, a look she'd seen earlier that evening. They were puppy-dog eyes. Davey's eyes. They blinked once, and the creature pushed itself out the window with a long, lonesome screech that diminished quickly with the flapping of its wings.

Her sobs began again, but they were filled with relief now. Her head fell back and her eyes closed and she knew that when she opened them again, it would all be gone, the blood, the mess, Vince would be in the next room shouting at her and everything would be as it had been.

But when she opened her eyes, the bed was splashed with blood. Flecks of red speckled the wall by the dresser. The room reeked of sweat and excrement.

Murmuring softly, comfortingly, to herself, Beth slowly lowered her feet over the edge of the bed. She went to the closet and got her coat. Below the clothes on the floor of the closet was a small overnight case in which Vince kept what he called his “desperate dollars,” spending money that he used only when absolutely necessary. She pulled the case out, lifted it, and put it on the edge of the bed. Opening it, she found some tens and twenties bound together with rubber bands. She didn't care how much there was; she simply stuffed the money into her coat pocket, then went to the closet and grabbed a few of her clothes and put them in the case. She closed it, latched it, and went into the bathroom. She put her toothbrush, some toothpaste, and a hairbrush into her pockets, gently placed the case on the back of the toilet, leaned forward, and vomited until her eyes stung.

Beth slowly moved to the sink and rinsed out her mouth, trying not to think, trying to ignore the trembling of her hands. She took the case from the back of the toilet, left the bathroom, walked slowly and steadily through the living room and out the door. She didn't bother to lock it.

On her way down the stairs, she was overwhelmed with dizziness. She sat on a step and held her head in her hands. When she saw the blood that had spattered onto her shoes, she closed her eyes and cried softly.

She had no idea where she was going. She had no idea what had just happened.

Nothing
, she thought. A sudden calm fell over her like a chilly breeze.
Nothing happened. I'm just leaving. Away. I'm going away
.

Beth stood carefully, went down the stairs, out onto the sidewalk. She began walking, still trying not to think about anything except getting a bus or a cab and taking it...

Away. That was all. Away. Maybe to a motel. Maybe an airport. It didn't matter.

Just away.

Casey was huddled behind the window, exhausted, enjoying the fulfilling warmth that was passing through her body.

The panel was closed, the man in the booth had pulled himself from the hole, and she could hear his breathing on the other side, the rattling of his belt buckle as he fastened his pants, the hiss of his fly as he zipped up. The sounds came to her through the soft buzzing in her ears.

Casey's eyes were closed and she was running her tongue back and forth slowly over her lips, savoring the coppery aftertaste.

She'd done exactly as Shideh had told her. She'd moved slowly at the glass for a while, maintaining eye contact with the man in the booth. She couldn't remember what he'd looked like; all she remembered were his eyes. He'd given her some money and she'd begun touching him. When he eased his erection through the hole, Casey had taken it in her hand and, for a moment, had thought she would be unable to go through with it. Her mind changed, however, when she found the vein, felt the pulsing flow of blood beneath the skin.

She'd fed to the sound of the man's grunts and moans.

A hand touched Casey's face and she opened her eyes to see Shideh bending toward her.

“Feel better?” the woman asked.

Casey nodded her head, even smiled a little.

Shideh took her hand and helped her to her feet, then gave her a thin gray robe. Casey put it on.

“Come lie down,” Shideh said softly. “You can do it again later when you need to."

Casey felt strong and sturdy, light on her feet as she went back to the room with Shideh and lowered herself smoothly onto the cushion.

She lay silent for a long time, enjoying the darkness.

Davey was slumped against the trunk of a tree in the park, retching, naked, and sweating. His arms were pulled together tightly over his stomach and he hugged himself protectively, his muscles tensing against the searing burn that swept through him again and again.

There are things you have to look for
...

After several minutes of rocking forward and back against the tree trunk, the shaking began to subside. Davey began to relax.

There are chemicals that can be very damaging
...

Something had gone wrong. He'd eaten something bad, something dangerous.

His hands dropped in his lap limply for a moment, then he raised his left hand toward his face, frowning.

His fingers were curled under, clawed, the joints were knotted. He could not straighten them out. Clenching his teeth, Davey used his right hand to try and pry the fingers back. They wouldn't budge.

Their blood can hurt you
...

He let the hand drop again and leaned his head back, taking in a deep breath of the cold night air.

There are things you have to look for
...

On top of the pain he'd gone through, the hunger was gnawing at his insides. He had to feed, he had to try again.

He remembered the Rolodex card smeared with blood. In his mind's eye, he saw the address in bold type, the name in caps: SCHUMAN, STELLA

Davey slid himself away from the tree and lay down on the damp grass, wanting to rest, if only for a little while.

But he felt that if he did not feed soon, he would wither up like a leaf in autumn.

He didn't have a little while.

Merv Griffin had turned a bright lime green and was wobbling all over the screen. Stella Schuman stood in front of her television adjusting the fine tuning, but with no results. She adjusted the color, the vertical and horizontal holds, but nothing helped.

“Damn,” she muttered, stepping away from the television and returning to her sofa where a large bowl of caramel corn awaited her. She wore a billowy red bathrobe with black trim and black and silver slippers that Chad had bought for her several months ago.

She lowered her bulk to the sofa with a heavy sigh and put the bowl in her lap.

"Look
at that,” she said to herself, watching Merv Griffin undulate as he changed color. She swore under her breath again.

Her cat, Tubbs, hopped onto the sofa beside her and meowed loudly.

“What's matter, Tubbs?” she cooed through a mouthful of caramel corn.

The big gray cat meowed again, pacing the length of the sofa.

Stella Schuman stroked the cat's fur with a fleshy hand. Merv was interviewing a sex therapist whose explicit terminology was getting a lot of laughs from the studio audience.

She turned to the cat and frowned. Tubbs was usually a lethargic, quiet cat. She'd never seen him act so nervous. He paced over the sofa cushions a few more times, then hopped off the sofa and padded across the living room, meowing again and again.