by Hunter Shea
“Nicole, come look at this.”
Her girlfriend, long, tan legs on full display in booty shorts inappropriate for gardening (but who was Cheryl to complain), gasped when she saw the carnage.
“What the hell?” Nicole said. “Some animal really went to town.”
Getting down on her haunches, Cheryl used her spade to sift through the churned soil, lifting broken stems and leaves out of the way. Actually, her vegetables and herbs were still there. It looked like a half-dozen mini-sinkholes had appeared overnight and swallowed everything up.
“This wasn’t an animal,” Cheryl said. “See, it’s all there . . . at least I think.”
“I’ll get some baskets. Let’s save what we can.” Nicole ran to the little shed they kept in the back corner of the yard.
It was hot as blue blazes out, but the women wanted to do a little light gardening just to feel as if they’d accomplished something. The night before had been all about Netflix and chill, with a lot of chilling that lasted well into the early morning hours. After sleeping in late, Cheryl had wanted to get some fresh veggies from her garden to replenish her spent body.
“We have to save the tomatoes,” Nicole said. “I have sauce to make.” They dug in the loose soil, picking everything they could.
“I guess this marks the end of our growing season,” Cheryl lamented. The roots were all torn up. It was too late to start over.
Nicole plucked a cucumber the size of her forearm, wagging it at Cheryl with a sinful grin. “We don’t have to eat everything, do we?”
Cheryl tossed dirt at her. “You’re such a pervert.”
“And that’s why you love me.”
“That’s why I keep you around. My love goes a little deeper than that.”
“So will this,” Nicole said, pantomiming jerking off the cucumber.
Rolling her eyes, Cheryl plunged her hands deep into the earth, feeling around for anything that could be saved.
Really, what the hell had happened? It’s like the ground just decided to swallow her garden whole.
Nicole tapped her shoulder. “What’s that?”
She pointed at a depression where her lettuce used to be. The soil looked as if it were breathing.
Cheryl clutched her spade as if it were a butcher knife.
“I bet it’s a mole,” she said. “I’ll teach it to destroy my garden.”
Nicole grabbed her arm. “You can’t kill an innocent animal. I mean, you’re not some psycho.”
“Watch me.”
They stared in rapt silence as the mole worked its way to the surface. Cheryl had never killed a mole—or any creature other than flies and the occasional spider before—but she was willing to turn over a new leaf. She’d worked her ass off on that garden.
Although, she had played a lot of whack-a-mole when she was a kid.
“Please, don’t,” Nicole whimpered.
Cheryl looked at her pleading eyes and wasn’t sure she could do anything that would tarnish the way they gazed at her.
The ground suddenly erupted as if it were atop a small volcano. Clods of dirt went into their eyes and mouths. Cheryl dropped the spade to wipe her face.
Nicole was the first to see them. Her scream nearly ruptured Cheryl’s eardrum.
Dozens of lizards sprang from the hole, skittering between their legs in a mad dash to flee. Cheryl and Nicole hopped about, avoiding touching their green little bodies.
The lizards kept on coming. It was like watching a clown car unload.
Dropping her basket of vegetables, Nicole fled for the house, shrieking. Cheryl wasn’t far behind.
Panting and shivering, they watched from the safety of the kitchen window as the lizards poured forth like verdant escapees from hell.
Chapter 4
“Time to wake up, Ms. Mayor.”
Ann Hickok groaned, burrowing deeper into the pillow. Even through her closed lids, she could tell the sun was up, pouring into the windows. The shades had obviously been thrown wide open.
“You have a full schedule and I’ve already gotten three phone calls. Come on, you have plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead.”
Ann pulled the covers over her head. “Mom, do you realize how late I got to sleep last night?”
“That’s not my problem. You knew what was on your calendar today. You have responsibilities.”
With that, her mother left the room.
You have responsibilities.
Sighing, Ann threw the covers back, planting her feet on the cold floor. She shivered. Her father was about a hundred pounds overweight and perpetually hot. He kept the central air right around the meat locker setting, which was fine if you were snuggled underneath a warm comforter.
She stretched, facing the Katy Perry poster tacked on the wall over her vanity. Whenever she felt dead tired or questioned her sanity for running for mayor (and the town’s sanity for electing an eighteen year old), she would play “Roar” and psyche herself up.
Not today. No, right now, she needed some trap music to get her blood circulating in this frozen tundra of a house. Maybe some 2 Chainz would do the trick. She found the playlist on her iPod and shuffled into the bathroom. Her mother had tacked several yellow post-its on the mirror, each one a summary of a call that had come in.
Scanning them, she knew she could boil them all down to one word.
Lizards.
The green iguana problem was worse than ever this year. The expanding lizard population was to Florida what rats were to New York. The one good thing was that people didn’t run for the hills when they saw lizards scampering across their patios and lawns. In fact, they were a natural part of the landscape. A day without a green iguana sighting was surely a sign of the Apocalypse.
The problem this year, however, was the amount of destruction the little critters were wreaking on Polo Springs. They were world-class burrowers, and lately, they’d been doing a number on the town’s infrastructure.
People suspected they were being affected by the massive oil spill from that sabotaged oil rig in the Gulf this past spring. The ecosystem was off its game, and the little critters were in a kind of freakout.
Ann plucked the post-its and tacked them together, putting the neat pile on the corner of the sink. She really had to pee and shower before she could get into the lizard problem.
* * * *
“You want a ride to the office?”
Ann’s father looked up from his paper, his belly pressed against the edge of the kitchen table.
“I’ll walk today,” she said, pouring a glass of skim milk. “It’ll give me time to catch up on email.”
The office was actually a room above the bakery. It was just big enough for a modest-sized desk, two chairs and a pair of file cabinets. Being the mayor of Polo Springs wasn’t exactly flashy.
“Well, you better watch your step,” he said. “Sidewalks are a mess.”
She recalled one of the post-its and the complaint about three sidewalk slabs shifting dangerously overnight.
“Where’s mom?”
“She went to get some groceries. I’m going to work on my new modeling kit. You sure I can’t drive you? It’s a scorcher out there.”
“I’ll be fine. The walk will wake me up.”
Dad and his models. He’d gone from classic cars to the old Aurora monsters and now was mastering tiny ships in bottles. He was a total nerd and she loved him to death.
A bowl of Apple Jacks and an actual apple would suffice for Ann’s breakfast today. While all of her friends had taken a cruise to the Bahamas for the summer break, she had to stay behind and be . . . well, mayoral. Most days, she felt like a little kid pretending to be something she wasn’t. The shock of winning last fall’s election still hadn’t quite worn off. One thing she quickly learned was that it was impossible to make everyone happ
y. No matter what she did, there were always people calling for her to be removed. Being so young didn’t help matters much.
She’d been supposed to go to Fordham University in the Bronx this September, but she’d had to scrap those plans and enroll in the local community college so she could fulfill her obligations as mayor. Fordham had been very understanding in light of her unique situation. The admissions board had assured her she had an open seat the moment she was able to head north. That was a great consolation, but having to go to the community college was a major bummer.
“Says here we might have a hurricane headed our way,” her father said, breaking her out of lamenting her situation.
“A hurricane? Isn’t a little early for that?”
He folded the paper neatly and dropped it on the table. “Maybe you can be the one to solve the global warming crisis.” He gave her a wink and a pinch on the cheek. She hated cheek pinches and he knew it, which is why he did it.
“I’m not sure I can accomplish the impossible from such lofty heights,” she said. “But I guess I will have to keep an eye on the hurricane.”
Living in western Florida, big-ass storms were an unfortunate fact of life. The town already had sound protocols in place for when they came crashing in. She’d naively hoped the storms would somehow skip Polo Springs during her tenure. Real life disasters were unpleasant enough without knowing you had to steer everyone through it and deal with the aftermath.
She finished her Apple Jacks, put the bowl in the dishwasher and grabbed the apple, slipping her backpack over her shoulder.
“See you later, meatball,” she said as she headed out the back door.
“Later, spaghetti,” he called out.
They’d been calling each other that since she was a little kid and her father was thin as a rail.
He was right, it was super hot out, the humidity worse than usual. Maybe that was a sign that the hurricane was headed their way.
Ann opened a bottle of water. Even though the walk was only eight blocks, she had a feeling she’d down half the bottle before she was through. She took a bite of the apple, scanning her emails on her phone, plotting out her to-do list.
She stopped beside a tree that looked like all of the bark was peeling.
That wasn’t it.
The bark was actually the writhing bodies of dozens of lizards. They scuttled over one another’s bodies up and down the tree, making it look as if it were breathing. Careful to make a wide circuit past the tree, she took a picture. That was a hell of a lot of lizards!
This was going to be a long day.
Chapter 5
Frank kept to the shadows during the day, both to avoid the blistering sun and the attention of the townies and anyone passing through. He never knew when a stranger might be someone sent to look for him. If anyone even cared.
No matter. He couldn’t take a chance.
According to the sign when you entered town, Polo Springs had a population of 317 and was incorporated in 1898. He was less than happy that it abutted a swamp, but he liked the fact that there was only one road in or out. Wise guys had a habit of avoiding tight spaces with only one exit. That’s what made it a perfect hideout . . . for now.
He spent the better part of the day under a tree beside a picnic table. The little park on the outskirts of town was picture-perfect. A place like this in Queens on a Saturday would be filled with families of every nationality firing up barbecues, playing music and games, tents erected for the babies and older adults to lounge in the shade.
Down here, where it was hotter than the ass end of a volcano, the park was empty.
The breeze coming off the gulf was like the hot air expelled from a pizza oven. The humidity had his clothes so damp, it was if he’d just stepped out of a piss-warm pool.
There were very few people out, and just as few cars on the road. It was almost nightfall and this town seemed to go to bed at nine. He liked the tranquility and seclusion, which is why he’d stayed here after his mad dash from Naples where all of the bad stuff had gone down. Sooner or later, he’d have to scrape up enough money to get him somewhere with a more agreeable climate, but for now, it was best to stay way, way under the radar.
They’re probably looking for me in New York, he thought, pulling his grimy, soaked collar from his neck. God, I hope they don’t do anything to Tina.
He’d only been seeing the redheaded Brazilian stripper for a couple of months before he came down to Naples on a job with Tony. They’d kept their affair on the QT, but strippers always talked. He’d hoped to call her just to hear the sound of her voice and assure himself that she was okay. There were only two problems. Her number was in his cell phone and his cell phone was at the bottom of that godforsaken swamp. He barely remembered his own phone number, much less Tina’s.
Second, there were no pay phones in Polo Springs or any of the other Podunk towns he’d passed through.
So, all he could do was hope she was working the pole right now.
“What do we have here?”
With the sun about to dip below the horizon, Frank came upon a boarded-up house. The house wasn’t important. Places like that called out for teens to come inside. The last thing he wanted was to be stumbled upon by a band of stoners or horny coeds.
What did catch his eye was the enormous ditch on the side of the house. It looked like the entrance to a cave.
“Wonder if this’ll take me to the Land of the Lost,” he chuckled, remembering his favorite show as a kid. But no, they didn’t get lost down a cave. They went down the rapids and a waterfall. Marshall, Will and Holly lived in a cave.
Well, he could live in one, too.
Cautiously walking the perimeter of the ditch, Frank’s nose crinkled.
“Something finally smells worse than me.”
He’d been talking aloud a lot the past couple of days. He made sure to only do it at night when no one was around. Maybe he really was turning into a crazy homeless person. He worried that if he acted the part too long, there’d be no going back to his previous life, which, although it wasn’t champagne wishes and caviar dreams, did have its moments.
Like mornings with Tina after she’d gotten all hot and bothered giving lap dances all night. He was ready, willing and able for her to take all her pent up passion out on him.
The stench emanating from the ditch was hard to describe. It kind of reminded him of his friend’s pet store in the Bronx, especially when it was time to clean all the cages and tanks.
And what the heck was this hole dug for? He couldn’t even see where it bottomed out. Was someone going to dig under the foundation and tear the house down? Did they run out of money and just leave this massive hole?
No matter. Bad smell or no bad smell, he was going to hunker down and get some shuteye.
There was a gradual decline that made it easy for him to descend into the ditch. It was blessedly cooler inside the hole, the yin to the malodorous yang.
He was about to settle in when something scampered across his legs. In the dying sunset, he saw one of those lizards make its way out of the ditch, slipping into the dusk.
“Of course. Can’t go anywhere in this freaking town without you disgusting fucks.”
He wished he had a flashlight. The thought of more of those lizards down in the hole with him gave him the willies.
It would be wise to leave and find a new place, but constant hunger and the unrelenting heat and humidity made him weak and tired. It was here or nothing.
Pulling his legs to his chest so he was in a sitting fetal position, he closed his eyes.
“Good night, moon,” he muttered, chuckling.
Yeah, he really was losing it.
Something shuffled in the darkness.
Lots of somethings.
Frank tried to ignore it. He was flat out exhausted.
“Go aw
ay, you pissant dinosaurs.”
It was impossible to ignore the light touches across the tops of his feet.
Tip-tap-tip-tap-tip-tap.
Over and over and over.
He opened one eye.
A conga line of lizards ran over his feet, making their way out of the ditch.
When he gasped, the line stopped, hundreds of reptilian eyes boring into him.
Their twitchy bodies gathered round him, as if waiting for some kind of command.
Instead, he screamed.
Chapter 6
Gary was released from the hospital three days later. By that time, Don and Barbara were exhausted from taking shifts sleeping in uncomfortable chairs in his room.
To his credit, the boy took everything in stride. That was the beauty of being six. You didn’t sit around lamenting your situation or worrying about the future. He had surgery, and in turn, he got spoiled by his parents and the nurses who absolutely fell in love with him.
Gary giggled in his room watching cartoons, enjoying a bowl of ice cream. Barbara was in the office, her first day back at work since the accident. Don perused his email, prioritizing the freelance copywriting gigs that had come in over the past few days.
That done, he looked up local lawyers, checking various websites to see if they had any ratings or reviews. Unfortunately, there weren’t all that many lawyers in their area and reviews were scant. The thought of going all the way up to Tampa was less than appealing.
After Don’s angry calls to city hall, orange cones and caution tape had been placed around the broken sidewalk. Don had made sure to take plenty of pictures before the call in case they fixed it overnight in an effort to make him look crazy or like a crank.
The bell rang just as he was about to call a lawyer who, judging by the address on Google Maps, worked out of his house.
His neighbor Sam was at the door, stroking his salt and pepper beard and smiling, as usual.
“I’m heading over to Home Depot,” Sam said. “I know you’ve gotta watch the little one, so I was wondering if you want me to pick you up any wood and supplies.”
