by Hunter Shea
“No. Why?”
“If our house was demolished, we’d feel the storm rushing in.”
She felt Nicole’s hand on her shoulder. “Maybe one of the boards came loose and smashed against the house.”
“Maybe.”
Cheryl doubted it. Not the way it shook the house. The boards were plywood, not nearly heavy enough to make that kind of impact.
The house was far from quiet. The wind battered their home, the wood and joists popping and creaking like some old seafaring ship. It was a little cooler downstairs, but the air was getting stale and damp. If the storm didn’t blow the hell out of here soon so they could open some windows, the house would be turned into an oven.
They swept their lights around the downstairs, inspecting the kitchen and mudroom. All of the windows were still boarded up tight. Everything was exactly as they had left it. Cheryl’s grandfather clock ticked away in the corner of the living room. Nicole’s magazines were spread haphazardly on the coffee table.
“What the hell,” Nicole said.
“We didn’t imagine it,” Cheryl said. “If it was just the noise, I’d say we heard something happening to one of the neighbors. But Jesus, it rocked the bed.”
Nicole giggled. “That’s exactly what I was planning to do after you said yes.”
Cheryl looked down at her empty ring finger. The jolt of fear had swept Nicole’s proposal straight out of her mind. She brushed her fingers across Nicole’s cheeks and gave her a light kiss on the lips. “I’ll hold you to that. But . . . “
“I know, you can’t relax until you find out what made that noise.”
“Exactly”
She may not have had clinical OCD, but Cheryl had to have things in a certain order at all times. If something was out of place or there was a question lingering over her head, she couldn’t move on until the issue was resolved.
She thanked God Nicole never begrudged her her quirks.
“I have to check outside,” Cheryl said.
“Not now, you don’t. The storm’s right on top of us.”
“But what if there’s something wrong that needs to be fixed before it gets worse?”
Nicole shook her head. “It’s not like you’re going to get anything fixed outside in the middle of a hurricane. You are not going out there.”
Cheryl smiled. “Okay, how about we go out there. Let me just see what it is.”
“We could get killed. Who knows what’s flying around out there?”
“We won’t get killed.”
A blast of wind hit the house so hard, it felt as if it would tip it over. They staggered for a moment, holding on to one another’s hands.
“See!” Nicole said.
But Cheryl was determined. “I’ll just peek outside the door.”
“You’ll be lucky if the door doesn’t get ripped off its hinges.”
“Just ten seconds. That’s all I ask.”
Cheryl could feel Nicole’s eye roll. “I can’t wait to have you obsess over what we’ll have to do if you find anything.”
She squeezed her hand. “I’m sure you can find a way to take my mind off it.”
They crept toward the door as if there were a dangerous criminal on the other side and they didn’t want him to hear their approach. The door rattled in its frame. Cheryl wrapped her hand around the knob, pressing as tight as she could. She hoped the wind wouldn’t take hold and yank her shoulder out of its socket. She’d dislocated her shoulder once playing field hockey and had no wish to revisit that pain.
She looked to Nicole, who was biting her lip. “Ready?”
“No.”
Cheryl undid the lock and turned the knob. Sure enough, the wind grabbed the door, pulling her out of the house. Nicole had fastened her fingers inside the waistband of her shorts and was pulled along with her. Her shoulder didn’t pop out, but the door did slam into the wall, sending painful vibrations up her arm and straight to her skull.
The rain came down sideways. The day had gone slate gray, the sky a tumult of boiling clouds. Ramona was as loud as a freight train.
“See, nothing’s wrong,” Nicole had to shout.
Cheryl fought against the wind, inching up the patio to look at the side of the house with Nicole in tow.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The tree by the front of the house was gone. There was no sign of it. Not even a root appeared to have been left behind.
It had only been fifteen feet high and skinny as a pole. But the hole left in its extraction was enormous.
She pointed it out to Nicole.
“I guess the tree came up, hit the house and blew away,” Nicole said.
“But look at the hole it left!”
It was more like the foundation of a big in-ground swimming pool, like the kind Hugh Hefner would build to cram as many naked hedonists into as possible.
Nicole tapped her on the top of her head.
“Look.”
Cheryl’s mouth dropped open, filling with rain.
The siding in the front of the house was smashed in. It looked like it had been bashed by something long and heavy, tapering toward the end.
It couldn’t have been the tree.
A wind gust almost took them off their feet.
“What did that?” Nicole asked.
“I don’t know.”
She truly didn’t. It was as if the house had been sideswiped by a giant whip, one that would be wielded by the not-so-Jolly Green Giant.
“Come on, we better get back inside,” Nicole said, tugging on her shorts.
The ground shook and it wasn’t the wind.
“Come on!” Nicole screamed.
Wet soil exploded from the hole in the ground, raining down on them. Cheryl tried to block the mud pies with a raised hand but it didn’t help.
Something large and green appeared at the surface of the hole.
“What the fuck?” Cheryl said.
She didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
The head of an iguana . . . not just any iguana, but one that would have been more at home amongst the dinosaurs than in a modern Florida town, popped out of the massive hole. Its long tongue darted out as a cold, dark eye glanced over them. The rain sluiced thick, black ichor from its head.
They screamed as it pulled itself free. Its body must have been twenty feet long, the spines on its back looking like they could skewer a full-grown man.
It turned away from them, its long tail whipping into Mr. Franklin’s Prius, knocking it over. They watched in mute horror as it walked on all fours slowly down the street, its tail slipping out of view as it turned the corner.
Cheryl looked back at the damage to the house.
It was in the shape of that thing’s enormous tail.
She didn’t remember when she started crying, Nicole dragging her back inside and pulling her face to her chest.
The house rattled again. Nicole hugged her tighter. It was impossible to tell if it was the hurricane or that creature returning. Or maybe it was another one!
“We’re not safe here,” Cheryl said between sobs. Why was she breaking down like this? In their relationship, Nicole was the touchy-feely half while Cheryl was the strong one who planned out their days weeks in advance.
Then again, Cheryl had never come face to face with a real life dinosaur.
Nicole tilted her head so they were eye to eye.
She said, “We have to get the hell out of here, right now!”
Chapter 12
Like all little boys, Frank Ferrante had been fascinated by dinosaurs. His parents had taken him to the Museum of Natural History every summer so he could marvel at the mammoth dinosaurs on display, wishing they would come to life and roam the streets of Flushing.
He now wished he could go back in time an
d slap that wish right out of his young head.
It could have been sleep deprivation and starvation that conjured the giant lizard making its way down Main Street.
Christ it was fucking huge!
His eyes bugged out of his head as he watched it stroll past his hiding place in the alley. It had a low-hanging wattle and looked for all the world like Godzilla on four legs. Frank had never been good with size estimations (aside from an uncanny knack for knowing women’s bra sizes), but he figured the beast had to be at least thirty feet long from its scaled snout to the tip of its lashing tail.
Said tail crashed into the front window of the barbershop across the street, reducing it to shiny pebbles. The lizard didn’t seem to take notice.
Frank rubbed his eyes with his filthy, wet knuckles, willing the monster image to go away.
It didn’t.
The lizard stepped on top of a car, the tires exploding, metal crunching under its weight, windows exploding outward. It stayed on top of the car, head moving back and forth as if surveying the land.
“I’m not hallucinating,” he said with certain dread.
This . . . this didn’t make any sense at all.
Where had it come from?
Where was it going?
How could it get so damn big?
Worst of all—was it hungry?
“Just stay cool. It can’t get you in here. It’s too big.”
Then he remembered why he was at this end of the alley.
The little lizards riding the surging water like evil surfers had been gunning for him.
He turned just in time for them to swarm him like a horde of gnats on a hot summer night.
They clung to his legs, climbing up to his chest, twining their gross little legs in his hair, tongues flicking his cheeks and ears.
Frank desperately wanted to scream. He willed his mouth to stay shut. The last thing he wanted to do was let Godzilla know he was here, a tasty morsel waiting to be plucked out of the alley.
He silently fought the baby lizards, ripping them from his clothes, flesh and hair and tossing them angrily at the wall. Some fell below the water, stunned, hopefully dead. Others skirted the water and went right back onto him.
Feeling a gaggle of lizards squirming on the back of his head, he reared back, smacking his noggin on the wall. There was a satisfying squish, followed by the patter of falling bodies against his neck.
There was no time to celebrate the victory. A—his ears were ringing from the blow he’d just delivered. B—a lizard had made its way into his mouth.
Without thinking, he bit down, cutting the lizard in two. The bottom half plunged into the water. The front half still squiggled in his mouth, foul juices sluicing down his throat. Frank immediately vomited, covering the gathering creatures at his feet in his frothy bile.
A hair-raising roar cut through the wailing of the storm.
The lizards suddenly stopped assaulting Frank. Answering the call of Godzilla, they flitted off his body, diving into the water, the horde of bastards stampeding out of the alley.
Frank didn’t bother watching where they went. All that mattered was that they were gone.
He dropped to his rump, cradling his head.
When the next giant lizard stomped by the alley, he thought there were two walking side-by-side. Only when he closed one eye did he realize he was seeing double. He must have given himself a concussion.
Single. Double. What was the difference?
Either way, he was screwed.
Chapter 13
Gary screamed, “Daddy!”
The Candyland board swept off the table, along with the lantern and their drinks.
In an instant, the house was on a thirty degree angle.
Pots, pans and glasses crashed in the kitchen.
Don’s first thought was one of his greatest fears.
Sinkhole!
They’d been an issue in the county, though none had appeared in Polo Springs.
Until now.
Scooping Gary into his arms, he reached out for Barbara. “We have to get out of here,” he blurted over the dangerous moaning of the house.
Some of the boards on the windows had popped free and he glimpsed the viciousness of the storm.
Barbara remained impossibly calm. “Here, take Gary,” he said. “I have to find my car keys.”
They struggled to their feet, the floor creaking and cracking.
Gary cried, shutting his eyes.
Don had to get his family out of the house.
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” he muttered, walking unsteadily to the tilted front door. Barbara slipped on a throw rug that had bunched up against an end table that had fallen on its side.
It was a struggle to get the door open. The frame had warped when the house started to collapse. He put his shoulder into it, pushing with all of his weight.
“It won’t open,” he hissed between gritted teeth.
“Let me help you,” Barbara said, setting Gary down. Their son clung to her leg and she threw herself against the door.
It didn’t move an inch.
“The window,” Don said, leading them to the exposed bay window. An uprooted bush skittered across their lawn like an oversized tumbleweed. It was too dark to see much further, but he didn’t need a panoramic view to know how dangerous it was out there.
If the house hurtled into a sinkhole, they’d be in even bigger trouble.
Don grabbed the Tiffany lamp Barbara’s mother had given them as an anniversary present and hurled it through the window. The second it landed outside, the wind scooped it up and whisked it away.
“Keys,” he said.
He went back to the crooked foyer. The bowl where they kept their keys was on the floor. He got on his hands and knees, searching for his car keys.
“Hurry,” Barbara said. Just at that moment, the house dipped a little further. Gary wailed.
“Where the hell are they?” Don lamented. Everything was in a broken jumble. The house they had spent years building into a home had been reduced to a trash heap in seconds. He fought back his anger, realizing it was useless to rail against an act of nature.
Sliding against the wall where all of their shoes and Gary’s toys had amassed, he thrust his hands into the pile of detritus, feeling around for his keys. He nearly wept when his familiar key fob plunked into his hand.
“Got ‘em!”
He stumbled to Barbara and Gary. Using his foot, he kicked out the remaining glass. “You and Gary go out first. I’ll help you out. Stay right next to the house.”
He helped lower them outside, the strange angle disorienting him.
Jumping out after them, his feet squished in the muddy yard.
Their car was still in the driveway and in one piece.
He wrapped his arm around Barbara’s waist, clutching the fabric of her shirt so they wouldn’t be separated by the storm. They ran to the car, an old Subaru he had refused to part with because it was indestructible.
Foreign objects zipped in the air around them. Don was pelted by something in the back of his neck that opened up a gash. Hot blood pooled at his collar. Doing his best to use his body to shield his wife and son, he pressed the button to unlock the car, hustling them inside. He gave them a quick once over. They were soaked, windblown and scared, but they didn’t appear to be hurt.
“Get in, get in, get in,” Barbara said, clutching Gary on her lap.
Don slid over the hood of the Subaru, ducking as a tree branch came at him like the errant blade of a guillotine.
Shaking, he got into the driver’s seat, fumbling to insert the key in the ignition.
The car started and he smashed the accelerator, fishtailing backwards out of the driveway. Barbara shouted something about being careful, but they were way past tha
t.
Now he could see the full extent of the damage. Their house was ruined. The east end of the house sank further into the ground, windows rupturing, the roof buckling.
“Oh dear Jesus,” Barbara said, shielding Gary from the destruction.
“We have to tell Sam,” Don said. “There’s no telling how much the sinkhole will grow.”
He figured he’d park a few houses down and brave the storm to Sam’s house.
There was a tremendous crack, like being at ground zero of a lightning strike. Don and Barbara watched as their home split in two, the top floor tumbling down.
Don turned the car away from the death of his house. He didn’t think he could watch much more.
Gunning it to what he hoped was a safe distance, a large shape lashed out from the darkness, swiping the car. Thick clots of black poured off its gargantuan body. Don fought the wheel, keeping it from spinning out of control.
Car idling, he turned the wipers on their highest speed, peering out the window to see what they’d hit.
When the massive iguana, standing taller than his house had before it crumpled to its grave, turned to face them, Don’s heart stopped beating for a dangerously long time.
He and Barbara watched as it scampered up the Bensons’ lawn, plowing into the house like a wrecking ball. It dipped its massive head in the wreckage. When it reemerged, its mouth was working on chewing something.
“Sharon!” Barbara gasped.
Don thought he saw a woman’s bloody leg before it was swallowed whole.
Chapter 14
Nicole weaved the SUV down their street, swerving to avoid the copious heaping of debris that had been kicked up by the hurricane. A small tree branch sailed into the windshield, leaving a small crack in its wake as it tumbled with a loud bang over the roof of the car.
With the rain coming down in thick sheets, the wipers were having a tough time giving her a clear view. Nicole’s knuckles already ached from the death grip she had on the steering wheel.
She shot a look at Cheryl, whose eyes were wide and unblinking. “Put your seatbelt on!”
Her sharp command snapped her girlfriend out of her trance.
