Taz shook her head and scribbled something in her notepad. “I’m not sure if something like that could affect a reyaqc. Maybe something occurred at a cellular level.”
The two fell back into silence as they rounded another corner. Three tough-looking young men stood huddled together at the next intersection. One of them, a tall black kid with a tombstone tattooed on his left cheek, looked up as Shane rolled past. The tough whistled and waved, attempting to get Shane’s attention, but he, Shane, continued forward. No, he wasn’t in the market for crack, thank you.
Two more passes through these rundown streets, another drug offer, and the sight of a homeless man urinating on a fire hydrant, and Shane was ready to move on to the next neighborhood, the scene of the most recent attack. It wasn’t far, just north on D Street past Owens, then another few blocks, and west into a subdivision.
They were there in four minutes. The neighborhood was old, but not in the state of abject disrepair as had been the previous. The streets were dark, not well lit. Only occasionally did Shane see another car. He slipped a stick of Wrigley into his mouth. “This would be good hunting ground for a rogue,” he said. “Only a few cars. Not much foot traffic.”
Taz nodded in agreement as she worked a sliver of errant nail between her teeth. “A rogue could stalk a pedestrian or just hide in the shadows between houses.”
“Yeah, then
bam
! He strikes!”
“Bam?” she asked with a coquettish grin.
“Well, yeah. You know, uh…bam.”
She giggled at his unease. It was cute.
Though only just past 9:30, it was a very dark night and Shane felt exposed. It was a frivolous fear, he supposed, possibly brought about by the character of the neighborhood he’d just left. But while that place, only a few blocks away, offered known dangers: drug pushers, addicts, random acts of violence, Shane had no such specific concerns here. No, this was more of a feeling. Something just wasn’t right. He told himself that he was being silly, like a child afraid of the dark after seeing a B grade horror film, but he couldn’t rationalize himself out of the feeling.
Something was wrong here. And whatever it was that he sensed, was well hidden, but close, so very close.
And then there was a sound—sharp, quick, shrill.
“Taz, did you hear that?”
“What’d you hear?” A tight grin of anticipation crept across the girl’s face.
“I dunno. A scream, I think. Not right near us. Maybe on the opposite side of the block.” Shane accelerated, scanned the darkened streets, turned left at the end of the block, then left again to go back down the opposite side of the same block. Now he slowed, scanning from side to side. The night was still; there was no obvious movement on either side of the street. Shane and Taz rolled down the car windows in an effort to better hear the exterior sounds. Even in the late evening, the Nevada breeze felt like a blow dryer on Shane’s face. He’d grown accustomed to it over the past three years, but still didn’t care much for triple digit summers.
There were shadows. Everywhere shadows. Most people don’t think about shadows, but they’re with us always. Everything animate and inanimate casts a shadow. Even vapor casts a wavy, pulsating shadow of sorts. Shane found it difficult to see beyond the shadows. This night they seemed all encompassing. How was he to distinguish a figure amongst the shadows of trees and homes? How was he to detect the subtle movements of a stealthy reyaqc from the swaying shadows of palm tree fans in the darkened night?
Shane slowed to less than ten miles per hour. He was certain he’d heard the scream. He knew he had. But it had been so short, just a burst, and then it was gone as if it had never broken the still night air.
Coming to the end of the block, Shane performed a U-turn and proceeded to move back up the same street. He saw the same shadows, heard the same distant sounds of traffic. He slurped the last of his drink through the straw and wished for another.
And then it was there—the rogue.
It stood nearly naked in the street, bathed in his headlights, wearing only an unbuttoned Hawaiian-style shirt. Having just bolted out from between two single story homes, its too-pale flesh was damp with perspiration, causing earth and grass to cling to its clammy skin. The chest heaved from exertion and drool dribbled from the corners of its lips. Its eyes were wide and white, featureless and void.
Adrenaline raced through Shane’s limbs as he simultaneously rolled up the windows and applied the brakes. He sat still, staring at the reyaqc as it stared back at him. They both, each of them in their own manner, peered into the other, searching, seeking some basic understanding. Taz, for her part, grinned widely as she withdrew her cell phone from her pocket, flicked it to the video feature, and began recording the event. Almost unconsciously, it seemed, her free hand moved left, finding Shane’s own hand. Their fingers intertwined. He squeezed. Her smile broadened.
Here it was, thought Shane, the rogue. Where had it come from? What drove it? What had it just done? There had been a scream. Where was the victim? Shane studied the thing, tried to memorize all there was to see. This was such a rare opportunity. He didn’t want to do anything to scare it away.
Suddenly, he felt foolishly unprepared. This reyaqc was a killer, a danger. Shane had retraced its previous movements, hoping this would lead him to his quarry. And he’d been successful. But he hadn’t followed through to the next logical step. He was face-to-face with the rogue, but with no means of capturing it. He could attempt to run it down, he supposed. But this was an intelligent being, magnificent in many ways, with every bit as much right to live as he. How could he ever think to plow it down? That would be murder.
Nearly reading his thoughts, Taz whispered, “You did bring a tranquilizer gun, right?”
Shane shook his head.
“A taser?”
Shane shrugged and reddened in embarrassment. The truth was he hadn’t honestly thought he’d find the rogue. Sure, he’d told himself that his logic was sound, that the reyaqc obviously hunted a rather tight geographical area until now, and that logically it would continue to do so. But had he really believed?
The movement caught them both off-guard. The reyaqc charged, leaping onto the hood of Shane’s teal blue Acura. The milky eyes focused through the windshield glass on Shane and then on Taz, then back onto Shane. Taz nearly giggled with nervous delight as she recorded the encounter. “Awesome,” she whispered.
Shane could now see the tiny pinhole pupils directed at him. The reyaqc’s nostrils flared, sniffing, seeking his scent. Its mouth widened in what may have been outrage or mirth, revealing a landscape of broken and missing teeth. The face was not symmetrical. The right cheekbone was high and sharp, while the left was sunken and hollow. The left eye appeared slightly larger than the right. Even the nose seemed to be confused as to which shape to hold, appearing more as a small blob above the lips than anything structured or purposeful. “His face,” said Shane in full voice. There was no longer a need to whisper.
Taz nodded. “I think he’s infused from too many different sources in too short of a period.”
Suddenly, the reyaqc’s fists came down on the windshield. Shane and Taz jumped in their seats, but the glass held. The rogue screamed a high, agonized squeal and hammered the glass again.
“Amazing,” said Taz, still clutching her phone just inches from the glass.
The reyaqc leaned closer, its misshapen nose pressed against the windshield, saliva dribbling down onto the clear surface. It struck the glass again, this time jagged white lines snaked out in each direction. The reyaqc’s hands were bloodied, but still he pounded again, again, creating snowballs of shattered glass with each successive strike. Shane cowered back in his seat. Another blow or two and the glass would shatter.
The reyaqc screamed something—gibberish, unintelligible—as he smashed his right fist down, finally penetrating the windshield, sending shards splaying across the interior of the cab. The hand was bloodied, a large jagged piece of glass protruding from just below the wrist. Shane had no time to think, only to react. He took his own palm and pressed the shard deeper into the reyaqc’s hand, slicing his own in the process.
A howl.
A screech.
The reyaqc jerked its arm back through the glass and scurried over the top of the cab and off the trunk end of the car in a metallic thunder that echoed in Shane’s ears.
“Taz, you okay?” he asked between hurried gulps of air.
Taz nodded. She’d dropped her cell phone and was hunting for it between her feet. “Your hand, how bad is it?”
“Not too bad. The reyaqc got the worst of it.”
“What now?”
“I don’t know. The reyaqc was behind us. Maybe still in the street. Maybe hiding between buildings.”
“We’ve got to find it.” Taz sat upright, her cell phone in her palm.
Shane shook his head. “No. You were right. We need a tranquilizer gun or a taser. Something. We have no way of stopping a rogue.” Shane pulled the gear lever to drive. He’d seen the thing, found it. He could do so again. Only next time he’d come prepared. He’d have a plan. A real plan. Shane took his foot off of the brake pedal, allowed the Acura to roll slowly forward.
Then stopped.
“What?” asked Taz as she scanned the street for signs of the rogue.
“We heard a scream. There must be a victim. There’s someone out there who might be dying.” Once again, Shane cursed himself for his stupidity. If he had had even the slightest forethought he would have brought a weapon. Any weapon. Something!
“The victim’s probably dead,” he rationalized.
“It’s already too late,” agreed Taz.
“It would be crazy to get out of the car after what just happened.”
“We could call the cops.”
“And tell them what?”
“No one would believe us.”
“The victim might die while we’re waiting for the police to arrive.”
“If he’s even still alive now.”
But, he might be alive. Just maybe. An outside chance. But not for long if no one did anything. Not if Shane did nothing.
Closing his eyes with a muttered curse, he took three deep breaths, summoned what little courage he had to command, and threw the door open. Stepping toward the back of the car, he scanned the darkness.
“What are you doing?” whispered Taz, as she climbed out of the car as well.
“Get back in the car,” ordered Shane. “No use both of us risking it.”
“Forget it, buddy. No, ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ crap.”
Shane nodded, but his mind was on the reyaqc. Where had it gone? No lights had come on at the sound of the reyaqc’s shrieks, nor at the pounding on or shattering of the windshield. This was a neighborhood accustomed to crime. Its residents knew better than to intrude where they didn’t belong. Shane turned around, suddenly frightened that the rogue may have circled back to the front of the car. He only now realized how hard he was breathing, how his chest heaved, how his breath stung the back of his throat. How close had he come to death?
How close was he still?
He scanned the darkness again.
Nothing.
But there was something. He knew that much. The reyaqc was close, hiding, waiting. Shane’s mind cleared as his adrenaline levels subsided to sub-nuclear levels. His flashlight. Yes, his flashlight. Shane moved to the trunk.
Taz came to beside him. “You come up with a hot new plan?”
Shane held up one finger, indicating that she wait as he inserted the key into the lock and quickly lifted the lid.
There it was, long and black. He lifted it triumphantly.
“A flashlight? You’re plan is a flashlight?”
Shane shrugged. It did seem ludicrous on the surface. “Hey, we need to see—right? And this thing’s long, solid, it has weight. We might be able to use it like a club, fend off the reyaqc.”
“What about a tire iron?”
Okay, the girl was thinking. Flicking the flashlight on, he gave a quick scan of his trunk. Nearly empty, just a half jug of coolant, a quart of 10W30, and a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee. “No tire iron. It’s probably in a sunken compartment with the little dummy tire. No time to dig around for that now.”
Shane stepped away from the car and pressed the lid shut as he scanned the night. Where was the reyaqc? Where was the victim? Taking a tentative three steps forward, he moved the flashlight beam slowly from left to right, attempting a logical search pattern. He tried to focus his ears on every nuance, every breath of wind, every tiny movement, but mostly what he heard was his own heart beating much faster than he believed to be healthy.
“Which side did the reyaqc first appear from?” asked Shane. He had been driving slowly. The reyaqc appeared as from nowhere. But it had to have come from somewhere.
“The right,” whispered Taz. “It came from the right.”
They were on the driver’s side of the car, so Shane marched slowly around the front of the vehicle and toward the passenger side, still scanning the darkness with the flashlight. This was Vegas, the desert. The yards were small, the landscaping sparse. Many of the homes were xeroscaped, which basically meant stones and cacti—not much watering required. In short, there weren’t many bushes and only occasional trees. The only true hiding place would be the spaces between dwellings.
But all seemed empty.
Had he been mistaken?
Perhaps the scream had not been a victim, but the rogue itself.
Shane took another three tentative steps forward. He was leery about straying too far from the relative safety of the vehicle. Though, with the windshield shattered, that safety was probably more in his mind than in reality.
Another few steps.
Nothing. No sign of a victim.
Shane realized that Taz was no longer beside him. He turned to his left, then to his right. “Taz,” he whisper-yelled. “Taz, where are you?”
“Right here. At the back of the car. There’s blood on the street. I think the rogue came this way.”
“Okay, stay there. I’m coming to you. We need to stick together.”
It was then the reyaqc struck.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN