by Edward Lee
“I don’t need a lecture, Phil,” she said wearily.
“You need something,” he pressed. “As long as you’re running with Natter and his crowd, you aren’t going anywhere but down.”
“Don’t you think I know that!” she almost yelled. “Don’t you think I know what’s happened to me! My whole life has been shit since the day you left town ten years ago!”
“Calm down,” he said. “I just want you to start thinking about things a little more, about what you’re going to do with your life. And you can’t blame me for your problems. Yeah, I left town, that’s true, but I’m not the one who puts coke up your nose and makes you turn tricks at a strip joint.”
“I know,” she said much more quietly.
Phil got off her case and let her collect herself. Then he asked, “So where was Natter last night when all this shit was happening with the three bikers?”
“He was out. Somewhere—don’t know.”
Yeah, well I think I do, Phil felt sure. I think maybe your darling hubby was sending his Creeker boys out for a little party in the woods. Killing Eagle. Trying to kill me. But, of course, he couldn’t tell her anything about that…
He let more silence pass, looking at her. He felt helpless. She wasn’t part of his life anymore; nevertheless he hated to see her like this. He hated what Natter was doing to her. But what could he do to help her?
Nothing, he concluded. The only person who could help her was herself
“Look, I’m really sorry about dumping myself here,” she said. “I didn’t know where else to go. I better leave now.”
“Stay here,” he said. “Sleep on the couch. Get some rest for now. You can figure out what you’re going to do later.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her voice was trailing away. “Thank you…”
Then she was asleep.
Phil turned off the light, drew the shades, then quietly undressed and got into his bed. In minutes, he too was fast asleep.
And dreaming.
— | — | —
Twenty-Five
“Look-it, look-it,” Dawnie urged, hunched behind him and pushing at his shoulders.
Phil’s ten-year-old eye opened wide over the first keyhole. What he saw at first was just a stark, white glare; his eye, going from the hot dark of the third-floor hall to such glaring whiteness, needed time to adjust. But eventually his vision focused, and he could see.
He could see what was inside the room…
It was like a hole in the wall to hell.
In the room lay a sunlit bed. It was big and white. And on the bed lay some weird kind of motion Phil couldn’t figure out at first.
Shapes.
Shapes the color of skin.
One shape was a bearded man with a big hairy belly. He had long hair and was buck-naked.
“Suzie, Suzie,” he was saying.
Then Phil noticed the other shape on the bed. A woman—
“Suzie, Suzie…”
She had hair on her head that was blacker than Phil’s aunt’s fire hearth. Her skin was whiter than their front yard the time last winter when it snowed.
Then Phil realized what she was doing to the fat, bearded man.
Jesus to Pete!
Her head was positioned between the fat man’s legs. It was going up and down, and what she was doing, exactly, was—
Jesus to holy Pete!
—she was sucking the fat man’s thing. Her mouth was going up and down over it, slow at first, then faster, then real fast.
Just like Eagle said they do. She’s trying to suck out his baby-juice!
Then more of the scene came into focus, and Phil almost upchucked when he saw the rest…
The woman had a butt and hair and bubs just like most women. But it was what she didn’t have that hit Phil in the face like someone’s big fist.
She ain’t got no arms or legs!
She had stumps but that was it. The stumps ended where her elbows and knees should be.
“Suzie, Suzie…” Phil jerked his face away from the keyhole.
“Neat-uh, huh?” Dawnie said.
It was not neat. It was gross.
But it all added up. It was just like what he and Eagle had heard Uncle Frank talking about that night they stayed up late to watch The Alfred Hitchcock Show when the lady killed her husband with a frozen leg of lamb and then cooked it for the police.
This was a whorehouse.
A Creeker whorehouse, where men paid to do it with Creeker girls who were all messed up on account of their fathers did it with their sisters and their mothers did it with their brothers and stuff like that.
It messed up their genes.
Dawnie tugged at his Green Hornet shirt, pulling him toward the next door. Phil didn’t want to see stuff like this anymore, but something made him put his eye to that next keyhole anyway. He couldn’t help it. It was like a ghost or something grabbed the back of his head and made him look.
A big naked man was tying a girl up on the bed with rope, stretching her out. Then he began to crack a leather whip across her thighs and belly.
Crack! crack! crack! went the whip.
It left marks on the girl’s skin that were so red. Almost like she was bleeding…
She was crying and shivering.
Then the man’s thing went up…
And when the girl lifted her head to look at him, Phil saw that her head was huge.
It was big as a watermelon!
“Here, here-uh,” Dawnie said next. She was pulling him to a door on the other side of the hall.
“No, Dawnie, I don’t wanna look no more,” Phil begged her.
But Dawnie didn’t seem to care what Phil said, and she was strong, stronger than most girls. She pulled him over and slammed him back down to his knees before the next door.
“Look-it.”
Phil’s head was hurting bad, and he was sweating so much his Green Hornet T-shirt was fully wet but still he felt cold and shivery. His stomach felt bad too, worse than the times in the past when he’d eaten his aunt’s stuffed peppers. His head felt lighter than a birthday balloon.
“Look-it…”
Inside the room another man had his face between a girl’s legs. She had a big black plot of hair there, and the man looked like he was licking at it. Phil couldn’t understand why anyone would want to put their mouth on the same place a person goes to the bathroom, but this man was doing it sure as hell and making more noise than heifers eating. The girl’s white legs went up into the air. Phil could see her feet. She had what looked like ten toes on each! And her hands were the same way, more fingers on ’em than two people, and they were running in and out of the man’s wiry hair.
Then Phil noticed her legs…
He couldn’t do anything but stare.
One leg was surely a foot shorter than the other, and it didn’t have no knee. But the other longer leg looked kind of like it was coiling in the air, and Phil soon saw why.
The longer leg had three knees.
The girl was laughing. She seemed to like the man putting his mouth on the place where she went to the bathroom.
And then the man’s face came away.
Phil looked into the sprawl of hair…
“She’s got two baby-holes! “ he shrieked.
“Shhh! Shhh! “ Dawnie panicked. “ I’ll’se get whupped if they’se know we’se lookin’! Nanc’ll let that there fella do all that ta me-uh if she’s knowed I seed!”
But it was too late. Phil’s face trembled as his eye remained over the keyhole.
“What was that?” the naked man asked, jerking his head toward the door.
“Oooo, Dawnie must-uh be lookin’ at us,” the girl on the bed said. She was grinning, leaning up to look right at the keyhole.
And when she leaned up, Phil saw something else.
He couldn’t help it…
“Dawnie! She’s got six bubs!”
And she sure’s bullpoop did. Six of ’em, three on each side, and
each bub had a big nipple on it the size of the top of a can of beans, only they were stickin’ out real far and were real pink. Dang! She’s got herself six bubs! he repeated in thought.
But when he looked up at Dawnie, she didn’t look too good. She looked like real scared all of a sudden, and then Phil noticed that the front of that crummy dress she wore turned dark in the front.
She done peed herself, he realized.
And Phil knew that people only peed themselves when they were real scared…
The door swung open.
Phil shrieked, and Dawnie was crying real hard, blubbering like and stepping back.
Phil couldn’t move.
“What we got here, huh?” the naked man asked. He grabbed Phil by the hair and lifted him up, chuckling. “You part of the deal, boy?”
Phil wailed.
“You wanna come on in with me an’ Nanc?”
The man’s breath smelled like his aunt’s when she’d been drinking, and his belly jiggled when he laughed. “Maybe a good cornholin’ would teach ya not ta look in on folks.”
Phil tried to jerk away but couldn’t. The naked man just grabbed his hair tighter and kept on laughing.
It was a whole lot of madness going on in the same moment: the naked man cackling, Phil wailing, Dawnie blubbering and peeing herself.
Phil barely noticed the sound of bedsprings.
Then another sound:
thah-THUMP, thah-THUMP thah-THUMP…
It was the whore-girl.
She had climbed off the bed, and now—
Phil’s stomach shrank.
—she was walking toward the doorway.
Only she wasn’t really walking; she was kind of hopshuffling. The foot on her short leg dragged while the one on her long, three-kneed leg kind of lifted real quick, then snapped forward—THUMP!—and landed on the floor. Her black hair tossed in swaying strands; her head bobbed. Phil could see those blazing red eyes of hers get brighter as she approached.
thah-THUMP, thah-THUMP, thah-THUMP…
Her shoulders pitched back and forth, and each time she took another noisy crutchlike step, all six of her bubs bounced around fierce on her chest.
The naked man cackled. The whore-girl thumped forward.
Then it was Phil who peed his pants.
Her red eyes felt like spikes sticking into his face. “Hey-uh, boy. What’cha peein’ yerself fer, huh? Scairt?”
Phil wanted to scream, but his throat felt locked shut. “Yeah, he’s a’scairt, ain’t he-uh, Eddie?”
“Shore is. Little fella peein’ away like a reg-lar racehorse,” the naked man who held Phil by the hair said and cackled some more.
Then the whore-girl cackled, too, worse than the man. The cackle sounded like a flock of big catbirds picking at a dead possum in the road.
“Ay-uh, an’yer’s real cute, boy. Wannas come in an’ let Nanc suck yer thang? That like ya think, boy?”
Phil was shivering like he was buck-naked in the dead of winter. Then the girl’s weird ten-fingered hand slowly reached out—
“No!” Phil cried, head shaking and eyes pinched shut.
—and trailed tickling down his face. It felt like a bunch of big beetles crawling there on his cheek.
Phil thought he might die…
But then the whore-girl turned real fast and clopped out into the hall.
Toward Dawnie.
thah-THUNK, thah-THUNK, thah-THUNK…
“No-uh, Nanc, pull-eeese!” Dawnie cried.
“What-choo doin’ bringin’ boys in hee-uh!” the girl yelled, pitching forward. Her hand swept up and—
ka-Crack!
—smacked Dawnie in the face so hard she fell down. The girl’s hand flailed up and down, then, smacking away at Dawnie’s head like it was a tetherball.
“Nev-uh, nev-uh! Girl so dumb you! Nev-uh bring no one up hee-uh!”
ka-CRACK, ka-CRACK, ka-CRACK
“Yer daddy gonna so bad whup ya, but ain’t’s be gonna much left of ya after I’se through…”
It was horrible. Now the girl was not only slapping Dawnie, she sat right on her stomach, pinning her to the floor, and was punching and choking her. “ Bringin’ boys up hee-uh—crazy you? Bet you’s fuckin’ him, were yas? Girl-huh, were yas?”
“Stop it! Leave her alone!” Phil shouted. “She didn’t do nothin’!”
Then Phil peed some more in his pants, peed till there was nothing left in his insides.
Other naked Creeker girls on the floor, who must’ve heard all the noise, one by one opened their doors to look out. A girl with a bunch of belly buttons, a girl with a humped back and arms hanging down almost to her feet, a girl with no neck and no mouth. Also the girls he’d already seen through the keyholes: the one with the big watermelon head and whipmarks on her thighs and stomach. And the girl whose arms and legs were just stumps that ended where her knees and elbows should be. She edged out into the hall on all four stumps and jabbered something…
And at once the hall was full of sounds: mish-mash words, cackling and laughter, and dogs barking.
All that sound seemed to press against Phil’s head. He’d never been so terrified in his whole life…
The whore-girl climbed off of Dawnie and clopped toward Phil, and then that big weird ten-fingered hand of hers reached out and snatched him by the collar of his Green Hornet T-shirt.
“Get you-uh outta hee-uh, boy,” she said.
Then, in a split second, she opened her mouth and bared her teeth at him.
Big crooked fang-like teeth, like a dog’s.
Phil screamed high and hard, pulled away till his shirt tore to ribbons, then ran for the stairs faster than he’d ever run in his life…
— | — | —
Twenty-Six
The after-image remained:
The teeth.
Jesus God…
Jagged fangs, just like a dog’s or a wolf’s.
Phil kicked the sheets off his bed. He leaned up in the dark and sighed heavily. Another dream, he thought. They’re wearing me out…
This was an understatement. The dreams drained him. He felt hungover and exhausted now, mentally sapped and as physically devitalized as if he’d just dug ditches for six hours.
The dreams were boring into his mind, piece by piece unearthing what had happened that day twenty-five years ago. And there was one thing he was sure of—
There were still a few more pieces.
Why couldn’t he remember?
Do I even want to remember?
Phil didn’t think he did.
Vicki was still asleep on the couch, tossing fitfully. Her red hair lay across her face like a crimson drape, and she seemed to mumble things in her slumber. The room was stiflingly hot; sweat shined evenly as lacquer on the V of skin that her blouse exposed. Phil slipped into the bathroom and took a quick, cold shower, but as soon as he stepped out, he was burning up again. With a towel about his waist, he went to his dresser, was about to reach for some shorts, when
“Nuh-nuh-no!”
Phil turned and looked quizzically at Vicki. Her eyes squeezed shut against her sleep, and, evidently, against a nightmare. At least I’m not the only one who has them, Phil considered.
“No, pleeeeeeeease…”
Indeed, Vicki was dreaming up a storm, tossing and turning in the torment of her own mind. Phil wondered what she was dreaming about, but then he thought he had a pretty good idea, considering what had happened to her last night.
“Ona… Ona,” she murmured on.
Phil’s eyes narrowed.
“Skeet…inner…”
He peered at her.
“Ona…prey…bee.”
What?
Phil leaned closer, studying her.
Then, very clearly, and with her eyes shut so tight her face distorted, she whispered:
“Mannona.”
Dream jibberish? Phil wondered. But…
The word sounded familiar, and now that he thought of it, so had the other
words she’d mumbled.
Onn. Ona.
Skeet-inner
Ona-prey-bee.
And, especially:
“Mannona,” the whisper came off his lips.
Phil felt momentarily adrift.
Then it dawned on him. Last night. The ambush at Blackjack’s. Now he remembered. That last Creeker kid, he’d said the same words, right before I blew him away.
Yes…
Phil felt sure of it.
What did the words mean? Or did they mean anything? Was it part of the Creekers’ sublanguage? Most were clearly deficient in verbal skills—
“Mannona,” Vicki again whispered in her sleep.
Then she sprang bolt upright and screamed.
“Jesus Christ, Vicki!” He rushed to her, to try and settle her down. The scream had rung out like a siren, and shocked her awake. Phil leaned over, gently jostling her by the shoulders.
“Vicki, Vicki, are you okay?”
Her eyes were frozen open, bloodshot. She shivered where she sat and just stared…
“Vicki?”
“Oh…oh, God,” she muttered and finally came out of it. She numbly pushed her hair back, her eyes fluttering. Phil could actually see a vein in her neck beating manically.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah. I—”
“You must have had yourself one hell of a nightmare.”
She paused, catching her breath. Her hand came shakily to her bosom. “I did. It was…awful.”
“I guess so. You screamed so loud you probably woke up every stiff in Beall Cemetery.”
“Sorry,” she wavered. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes. “I have nightmares like that all the time.”
“What was it about?” Phil asked.
“Nothing, nothing—”
But Phil wasn’t even thinking. He should’ve been.
Because a moment later the door swung open—
“Phil, are you all right?” a worried voice rushed. “I heard someone scr—”
Susan stood in the open doorway.
Awwwwwww, shit, was the only thing Phil could think, standing there agape with just a towel around his waist.
The next two or three seconds seemed like two or three years. Plenty of time for Phil to curse himself up and down. Goddamn it! How could I be so goddamn STUPID! How could I have left the goddamn door UNLOCKED! Meanwhile, Susan just stood there. The expression on her face showed worry, confusion, and disbelief, all percolating at once. Then the expression hardened. She glanced at Phil, then at Vicki, and then at Phil again.
