The Skin Show (25 page)

He
looked up at the dark sky. Stars were scattered like twinkling confetti across
the black tarp of the sky. Anytime now, the show would begin.

Miles
patted his pocket to be sure he’d put the keys there. He felt their bumpy shape
through the pocket. Heard their soft jingle. He couldn’t lose these since he’d
already forgotten where he’d left the spare.

Probably
sticking out of the trunk’s lock.

He
quickly walked back there, and poked at the lock. Instead of the small slit of
the keyhole, he felt something hard and jutting. Shaking his head, he pulled
the key out of the trunk.

Almost
screwed up there, big time.

He
could just imagine Hoffman’s reaction when they got back to the car only to
find it had been stolen because he’d left the key stabbed into the lock.

“Smooth
move,” he whispered.

He
slipped the extra key into his back pocket. With the bag’s heavy pull on his
shoulder, he started walking up the center of the road. His shoes made soft
squelching sounds, like treading through a thin blanket of snow. The lack of
background noise was unsettling. Something about the silence, and how claustrophobic
the tightly pressed trees made him feel, tried to kick Miles off balance. It
felt like he had water in his ears. Every step he took seemed amplified and
explosive. Any moment he expected to be caught trying to sneak his way closer.

Then
the sudden blast of heavy metal music in the distance caused him to holler.
Crouching, he put his forearm against his mouth. Damn his jumpiness. Hopefully
nobody was close enough to hear him shout.

Then
he heard other shouts and hoots. People cheering.

As
the song ripped into high speed, Miles stood up. He walked to the edge of the
clearing. A lot full of cars was before him, beyond that was The Skin Show, and
even further were countless acres of woodland. The building was lit up in a
variety of neon colors. He saw the buzzing sign:
The
in yellow,
Skin
in
pink, and
Show
in green.

Stop
wasting time. You’ll stand here all night if you don’t hurry up!

Miles
ran, bending at the waist. He ducked in the center of a cluster of cars that
looked as if they’d been there for a very long time. He sat the bag down, and
crawled forward. Looking through a gap between cars, he saw there was already a
decent-sized crowd gathered out front. The greeter was out there, patrolling
all the idiots wanting to get inside.

I
want to get inside.

He
did, but for reasons not like theirs.

But,
he
couldn’t just walk right up to the door. There would be imps lurking,
probably some other nymphs like the greeter. He’d be nabbed before his hand
touched the door knob. What good would that do if he was captured trying to be
the big hero?

He
realized how much tonight was like last year. Only this time he wasn’t here to
confront his father. This was for Hoffman and Karen. Hoffman had helped him a
lot this  last year, had taken him in. Miles was going to return the favor.

He
would
not
let Hoffman down.

Miles
decided against sneaking through the woods and circling around the backside of
the club. No matter how softly he moved, he was bound to make a lot of racket
crunching through timbers. Even with the loud music, someone would eventually
hear him.

The
only other option was crossing the parking lot.

Out
in the open, even if he was obscured by the cars.

What
choice did he really have? At least this way he wouldn’t have to worry about
stepping on branches and brittle leaves that would shout his location to anyone
within earshot. Thinking about it, he realized he had no other options. It was
crossing the parking lot or nothing.

So,
that was what he did. Moving stiffly and tensed, he made his way across the
parking lot. Zigzagging around cars, the grass whispering under his shoes. He
kept the bag snug against his thigh to stop the guns from clinking and rattling.

A
line of cars was to the right, diagonal from the building. He rushed for those.
His shoulders were hiked up to his jaw, and he held his breath to keep from
panting. He reached the cars and ducked down, not releasing the bag. Letting
the air out through his nose, he strained to keep his breaths short and quiet.
It made him a little dizzy and caused a pinch in his chest, but he got his
breathing under control.

He
spotted a beam of lights raking across the cars, peering brightness through the
dust-caked windows. More people were arriving. The rumble of engines revved and
then died. Car doors bumped.

He
couldn’t stay in one place for too long, but this row of cars offered great
cover. But, it also blocked his view of The Skin Show. That was okay for now,
because he planned to sneak down the line and hang a left. That should bring
him out to the edge of the club, right by the entrance, although he had no idea
what to do at that point.

He
started moving again, about to head around the side of a Mustang when his eyes
were met by the backside of an imp. Miles opened his mouth to scream, but held
it in. He quickly ducked back behind the car’s rear-end.

Damn!
I didn’t see it! I didn’t see it!

But,
it hadn’t seen him, either.

Unless,
it was leading him into a trap by pretending it hadn’t noticed him.

No,
he was certain it didn’t know he was here. The imp would already have him if it
had seen him.

That
meant Miles still had surprise on his side.

But,
he wouldn’t be able to get around the creature, not without being heard or
spotted. Even going back the way he’d come was too much of a risk. Miles would
have to kill it here.

Great…

Miles
sank to a crouch. He set the bag on the ground in front of him without making a
sound. How was he going to do this? Kill this thing in total silence? There
might be more out of sight. If he managed to take this one out, he could be
attacked from all directions.      

And,
again, what choice did he have?

The
machete.

Miles
nearly gasped, remembering he’d packed the machete. It was in the bag, probably
tilted on top of the guns, in its sheath.

He
listened for any sounds. Heard nothing but the low gargles of the creature’s
soft breathing. Pinching the zipper’s tab, he slowly dragged it down. It made
soft clacking sounds as it moved along the teeth. After he had a large enough
opening to reach his hands through, he stopped. Listened. All seemed okay. No imps
pouncing him yet.

Both
hands in the bag, he felt the soft nylon casing. He ran his finger up the
length of the blade, clamped the plastic protector on the tip, and carefully
raised the machete. As he did, he kept a grip on the tip, simultaneously
removing the machete from its sheath and the bag.

The
silver blade glinted in the phosphorescent light.

It
was a heavy weapon that felt even heavier now. He needed both hands to hold it.
Standing up, his legs felt strained and jittery from crouching for so long.
They itched and tingled as blood flowed easily through them once again.

Leaving
the bag on the ground, he slipped back to the edge of the car. The creature,
just on the other side, was close enough to tap on the back. He needed to
dispatch it in one whack. There wouldn’t be a second chance to do it quietly.

This
moment was like every action movie he’d ever seen where the hero was quietly
infiltrating the enemy’s hideout, taking out henchmen one by one. Miles felt a
smile trying to form on his face.

Be
the hero…

“Psst…”
whispered Miles.

The
imp whirled around. Its minuscule eyes gleamed red when it spotted Miles, mouth
stretching open as it started to bend over.

Acting
quickly, Miles thrust the machete, punching the blade under its chin. He
twisted the blade, tunneling a trough inside its elongated skull. Syrupy heat
spilled down his hands, coating them in the murky glop. Spasms rocked the
creature. Its violent shakes and colossal weight made it impossible for Miles
to hold the creature up. He released the hilt and quickly backed away, letting
the imp collapse. It landed on its side with a massive wallop, the hilt
protruding from under its chin like a blocky pendent, a wedge of the blade
poking through the top of its skull. A cloud of dust puffed out from under its
body. The colors inside its skin flickered before burning out. There was a
sound like thin ice cracking before the creature shattered.

The
machete thumped to the ground.

Miles
flung blood off his hands, and wiped the rest on his pants. He grabbed the
machete off the ground, rubbing the imp dust adhered to the blade against his
pants. He hurried back to the bag, grabbed it, and stood up.

He
was ready to move on, but noticed the woman standing between two parked cars
ahead of him. Hip jutting out, her hand rested on its curve. It was hard for
him to see her face with her back against the flashy lights. But, he knew she
wasn’t a customer from how much she resembled the greeter. And, he also knew,
even before she spoke, he was in trouble.

“You
are the boy we’ve been waiting for,” she said.

Miles
took a deep breath, hoping to calm his pounding heart. He exhaled in a fluttery
gust. “I am?”

“What’s
your name, kid?”

“What’s
yours?”

“Monica.”

Before
she’d finished pronouncing her name, Miles charged. He swung the machete, saw
the blade heading right for her neck, but there was no impact. The machete
continued to soar, twirling him around as if missing a baseball pitch.

Monica
stood in front of him still, but now she was where Miles had been before he’d ran
at her.

“Oh…shit…”

It
was as if she’d evaporated and rematerialized behind him. Could they do that?
Hoffman had never said so.

Monica
laughed. “It’s okay, baby-cakes. I won’t hold that against you. Come on inside.
Your friends are waiting.”

“Have
you hurt them?”

“Not
at all. They’re part of the show tonight, and before it’s over, they will join
us.” Another wicked laugh.

“I
don’t think so.”

“Such
strong bravery in such a small body.” Monica took a step closer. The shadows
slipped away, revealing a pretty face, sweet and almost innocent. “Allow me to
be your first.”

Miles
felt an involuntary tingle in his penis. He wanted to punch himself in the
balls to keep it from reacting to her sardonic flirtation.

He
felt a smile forming. “You wouldn’t be my first. I’ve killed a lot of you
already.”

Monica’s
face dropped into a sneer. “You wretched little heathen! I will flay the skin
from your bones and watch as insects feast on the meat!”

“I’ve
had people take my lunch money scare me more than you do!”     

Monica
snarled. Miles raised the machete, ready to strike. Then she bent over, keeping
her feet flat, and putting her hands on the ground. Her head dropped low, her
dark hair draping her face like a curtain.

Her
skin began to pop and crinkle as moist whispers rippled her shirt.

If
anyone had noticed Karen and Hoffman were tied to their chairs with itchy rope,
they’d given no indication. The room was quickly filling with a fresh batch of
nymph fodder. For the first half hour, Karen had tried warning them. She’d
screamed what the place really was, and what would happen to them if they
stayed. Finally, Hoffman had stopped her.

“It’s
no use,” he’d said. “I don’t think it matters to them anymore. They want this.”

At
first, Karen was stunned by Hoffman’s statement. After she’d given it some
thought, she’d come to agree with him. Deep down, the people here had probably
always known. Just like Danny and Rosco. Even knowing the risk involved, they’d
still come. She thought even she and Andy had known, too.

“Why
not just kill us?”

Hoffman
looked at her. “They want us to surrender ourselves to them.”

“It
didn’t work before, why do they think it will now.”

“Because
they’ll make it work.”

Karen
had no idea what that would entail, but she wouldn’t give in. “Where do you
think they’re keeping Andy?”

“I
told you already, it’s pointless…”

“Don’t
give me that
pointless
bullshit. Where is he?”

“Probably
somewhere in the lair.”

“Isn’t
this the lair?”

“No.
It’s—”

“Underground.”

“Yes.”

“The
caves?”

“The
burrows, but yes. You know how a slug leaves a slimy trail behind it?”

“I
hate slugs.”

“The
queen leaves a trail of slime behind her underground. It hardens into a sparkly
substance.”

“Like
the imps?”

“Very
similar, yes. If we could get free, we might have a shot at finding him through
one of those tunnels.”

“But,
you have no idea which one.”

“I
wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Karen
studied Hoffman. She saw something in him that wasn’t there before. In the
short time she’d known the man, she was already convinced she’d
never
see
it in him. And, yet, there it was. It had taken his posture from him, the verve
from his eye. The comforting strength that had seemed to radiate from him.

Defeat.
Hoffman had lost all hope.

“Have
you given up on Miles?” she asked.

“I
would never give up on Miles. But, I’m afraid he might not have been able to
overcome whatever obstacle was put in his way.”

****

 Miles
stared in wide-eyed fright as Monica’s shirt split up the middle of her back. The
skin came through the tattered garment, hardened into bumpy ridges. Pink moss budded
from the uneven peaks. Where her rump had been, two points ripped through her
shorts. The back of her head cracked in half, parting the black hair like a
book being opened. Points protruded from both sides. Gooey red strings
connected the sharp tips together.

A
mouth! The back of Monica’s head had parted like the snappers of a Venus
flytrap.        

Her
legs bent, as did the arms that were now being handled as another pair of legs.
Miles realized what she was about to do right before it happened.

She
sprang.

Dropping
to the ground, Miles barely avoided the bound. He hopped to the bag, keeping
the machete angled out. Monica landed with a galloping thump. She skidded in
the dirt and spun around. She was already coming back before Miles could grab
the bag.

“Crap!”

He
hurled himself out of the way, hitting the ground with his chest first. Monica
crashed into the Mustang’s door. Before she could grab him, he scooted
underneath the car. It was a tight fit.

Monica
lowered her backwards head and slammed against the lower section of the car,
trying to cram her head through the small gap between the undercarriage and
ground.

Miles
could hear the constant snap of her jaws, like two planks of wood clapping together.

With
no other plans coming to mind, Miles screamed.

****

 “He’s
a tough kid,” said Karen. “I think he’ll surprise us.”

“I’m
sure he will.” Hoffman sighed. “Sometimes I regret getting him into this mess.
But, I have enjoyed his company.”

“And,
I’m sure he’s enjoyed yours. You’re a good team.”

“I
suppose we are,” said Hoffman, smiling.

“Can
I ask you something?”

Hoffman
nodded. “Sure.”

“Why
the car?”

“What?”

“You
could have picked something a little less conspicuous, couldn’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then
why
that
car?”

“My
Chevelle?”

“Yes.
Seems like if you were going to be hunting down monsters you’d want something
big and menacing, like a tank.”

Hoffman
smiled. “I could have gone the bigger route, like an SUV. But, the reason I
chose a Chevelle is very simple, but the most important of all.”

“And
that is…?”

“It
looks cool.”

Karen
laughed. Five minutes ago she couldn’t have been convinced she’d ever find
humor again, but she guffawed until her side cramped.

The
laughter died when she spotted Alexia approaching. She’d shed the plaid pants
and was in her work clothes—nude. Karen prepared herself for Alexia and was
surprised when she bypassed their table on her way to the stage. She stepped up
onto the platform, and got behind the chrome body microphone stand.

“Hello
sinners!”

The
crowd hooted and cheered.

“You
have come on a very special night. Before we kick things into gear, we will
start things off with a pre-show! See these two sitting right here in the
front?” A few grunts of answers. “They would rather The Skin Show be shut
down!”

Boos
filled the room. Karen felt somebody’s drink splash against her back. She
tensed at the cold booze dripping down her.

“Now,
now, be nice,” said Alexia. “We’re not here to hate them; we’re here to change
their minds!”

The
entire crowd didn’t cheer, but there was definitely more approval than not.

Alexia
pointed at Hoffman. “This man here has been destroying Skin Shows all over.
Just like Saul was to the Christians, he is to us. But, just like Jesus, we
forgive him and we will convert him. He will become one of us, and will serve
us, just like all of you! I told you tonight’s a special night. Victoria will
make a rare appearance for our first show of the evening. She will guide this
lost man to the pleasures that only we can offer. Yes, he will fight, oh will
he ever fight. But, his resistance will only succeed in wasting his strength.
Tonight, you will watch this non-believer, this hater of us, come to accept us,
to love us just like each of you!”

The
crowd erupted in hollers and whistles, claps and stomping feet. Karen feared
they might break into a riot. Alexia watched them from the stage, a proud smirk
on her face. She grabbed her breasts, squeezing them.

The
crowd went nuts.