The Lot

by Snyder, Clayton

  "That's littering, you know." I said.

  She smiled up at me, a half-smirk. "You gonna fine me?"

  "Nope, no." I looked out at the street, and winced inside. I hadn't really thought this conversation through.

  I turned back to her and stuck out my hand. "I'm Peck."

  She took it, and shook it firmly. "I know." She gestured back down the alley, at the entrance to the Church.

  "You don't seem star struck."

  She shrugged. "Should I?"

  "It's just that most of these guys are kind of big fans, and now I sound arrogant. Sorry."

  She waved it away, and I could see her nails were ragged, but clean. "You're not wrong. Look, I go to the meetings, I eat their food, but my head's not shaved, and I'm not drinking their Kool-Aid. Between you and me, it won't be long before they boot me out - washout, you know? Until then, it's any port in a storm, and I'll toe the line until that day comes."

  "You're awfully free with that information. How do you know I won't tell them?"

  She eyed me. "I don't think you would. I get the feeling that as often as you guys actually interact with the nuts down there, you tolerate them, at best."

  I wondered why she was telling me this. Was she hoping for something out of me? She did say any port in a storm. Maybe she genuinely didn't like them. Maybe she hoped when they booted her, I'd lend a hand. I considered the possibility, and wondered how complicated I needed to make my life. I decided to take a shot with her. If it worked out, maybe I could help in some way.

  "Okay, maybe you can help me then."

  She tapped another cigarette from her pack, and lit it. The wind snatched the smoke from her lips and blew it down the street. She looked me up and down again, and blew a breath out.

  "What's in it for me?"

  I had known the question was coming. I considered. I lived alone. I had plenty of room for a roommate, though I didn't know how the rest of the Lot would handle it. As a rule, we tended to avoid outside relationships. Maybe nothing so drastic. Maybe I could just pass her a couple hundred dollars, and let her go. Something about that idea made me uncomfortable, like watching a child swim too far out at sea. I wasn't ready to commit to anything yet, though.

  "A favor." I said.

  She seemed to consider as well. After a moment, she stuck out her hand, and we shook. "Deal. How can I help you?"

  "Brother Timothy. What can you tell me?"

  She shrugged. "He's in charge of the neophytes and the street Brothers. You know, the ones that go out and spread the word. I've only met him once, maybe twice, though he just kind of hurried through the second time. Why? You got a problem with him?"

  "I don't know yet. How do I get in touch with him?"

  "He spends a lot of time in the city, but when he's here, he's usually in the Annex."

  "What's that?"

  She turned toward the wall of the theater to our left, and pointed at the ground, tracing a line underneath it. "It's where they house the Journeymen. Timothy and some of the senior brothers keep their rooms down there, as well. Sometimes they hold special services there for the Brothers."

  "How do I get in?"

  "You don't. Well, not without knowing somebody." She looked me up and down. "They might make an exception for you, but I'd be surprised. They're pretty hush-hush about what goes on down there. Like it's a Masonic Temple, or something."

  She crushed her cigarette out, and tossed it out into the rain. The day was lightening as we talked, and the rain had started to let up. She glanced back over her shoulder, at the door set at the bottom of the stairs.

  "Somewhere to be?" I asked.

  "No. Yes. I have to attend devotionals, and catch up morning chores. They're going to come looking for me before long."

  "Okay, I'll make it quick." I tried to think. "Do they let you into the Annex?"

  "Sometimes. As long as there's a senior Brother there to watch. Like they're afraid the neos are going to loot the rooms." She snorted, and put on a sarcastic tone. "Oh look, just what I always wanted, a car antenna."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, they keep weird shit down there sometimes."

  She glanced up at the sky, and back to the door. "Look, I gotta go. If I think of something, I'll send you a note." She started back down the stairs.

  A thought occurred to me, and I called after her. "Hey. I didn't get your name."

  She glanced back. "It's Cora." Then she was gone, down the stairs and through the door, the latch snapping to behind her and sending a soft echo down the alley.

  I turned back to the street, where it was still drizzling rain, though not as heavily as before. I wondered if she would keep our conversation to herself, or whether I needed to worry about more midnight visits from your friendly neighborhood psychopath. My gut told me I could trust her, common sense told me to sleep with my pistol close. Better safe than sorry, and all that shit.

  I left the alley, and walked up the main street. I'd need to figure out how to get into the Annex if Cora didn't come through. In the meantime, I was left hanging. My prospects had dried up to the point of being a lone homeless woman with tenuous cult ties, and anything I could glean from walking around. I thought about going into the city, and then remembered my office was a smoking ruin.

  After a minute or two of just walking aimlessly up the street, I decided to check on my friends. I hadn't seen them since they'd fed me bacon and waffles, and I figured I could catch them up on my good fortune so far. Besides, I needed to buy them a new window.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There's a park at the junction of roads that demark the edges of the districts of the Lot. It's kept up by the Church, and occasionally, Adam and Vlad, with a pond in the center that Manny likes to frequent on especially hot days. The sidewalk avoids it for some reason, and it's protected by a screen of trees, so if you didn't know to look for it, you wouldn't know it's there. I imagine it was set up that way to create one illusion or another in the days when the Lot still churned out Hollywood magic. Ever since I'd woken there after a rough night, they'd dubbed it Peck's Park, and sometimes Full Moon Plaza.

  The rain had stopped by the time I made it halfway to the park, and the sun slipped from behind the clouds, warming and drying the day. By noon, it would look like it hadn't even rained. I paused and breathed in the fresh morning air, then moved on. Eventually, I passed the screen of trees, Oak and pine and aspen slipping by to my right. As I did, the sound of laughter and voices drifted from the park green and stopped me.

  I smiled. Adam and Vlad were talking. It was too low to hear, but I caught snatches of laughter that echoed genuine joy between them. Hesitant to interrupt, I waited for a lull in the conversation, and then slipped between the trees to join them. As I came out into the park, they looked up. They were sitting on the grass, with a picnic basket between them. The pond sparkled in the sun, a breeze lifting small whitecaps from the waves.

  Adam had a can of Coke he was sipping from, and there was a bottle of something red at Vlad's knee, and in his wineglass. There were sandwiches on a plate, a bag of chips, and what looked like fresh vegetables. I never ceased to be surprised by the fact that with enough money and an Internet connection, you could get almost anything delivered these days.

  Seeing them there, like that, I wondered what it was that brought them together. I knew Vlad was a voracious omnivore. He had been for centuries, both in diet and practice - just not for human food. He respected strength and a keen mind. I supposed Adam shared those qualities, plus a capacity for compassion that Vlad sometimes lacked, and an easy sense of humor. More than that, I thought maybe they had both been lonely for so long, when they found each other - kindred souls - the rest was natural.

  Adam raised a hand. "Wulfy!"

  "Hi Adam."

  Vlad smiled in greeting, a quiet lifting of the corners of his mouth.

  "Hi Vlad."

  Vlad nodded to me. "How are you?" He asked.

  "Good." I looked up. "You know, des
pite what I know about you, I still worry when I see you out in the sun."

  He shrugged. "I'm fine for an hour or two." He grimaced in mock dismay. "No beach for me, though."

  Adam gestured at the tablecloth, and an empty spot next to them. "Sit, eat."

  I sat, and picked up a sandwich. "You guys keep feeding me; I'm going to weigh about 300 pounds"

  Adam reached over and ruffled my hair. "Fluffy Wulf."

  "Blobby wolf." I said, and took a bite of sandwich. "How are things?"

  Vlad shrugged. "Can't complain. New window on the way, no crazy men crashing into the house."

  "Yeah, about that. I'm pretty sure that was meant for me."

  Adam frowned. "What?"

  I told them about the office fire, and the shooter. When I finished, they were both quiet for a few minutes. I could see the gears turning in their heads. I broke the silence.

  "I've got a lead. There's a woman at the Church, who's going to try to get me a meeting with one of the Brothers. I think I know where this is coming from, though not why."

  "This is bad news, Peck." Vlad said. "If someone's after you, and if they killed the boy, this might be the start of something bigger. Has anyone else been attacked? Manny? Jekyll or Henry?"

  I shook my head. "No, and I'd like to keep it that way. You should probably keep your distance until I figure out what's going on here. I don't need anyone else getting hurt on my account. My first obligation is to you guys, of course, but I still need to find out who hurt that kid, and deal with it."

  "What about the girl?" Vlad asked.

  "I'm worried, but she seemed set on it." I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair. "If something happens to her, I don't know what I'll do, but God help whoever gets in my way."

  Adam and Vlad looked at each other, then back to me. Vlad cleared his throat, and seemed about to speak, when Adam interrupted. "What about you, Wulfy? Are you okay? There is a moon coming up soon."

  I waved it off. "I'm fine."

  Their expressions didn't change.

  "I'm fine. If you're really worried, I'll stay in that night, and drink myself into a stupor. Maybe watch something stupid on TV."

  Their expressions softened, and they nodded, almost in unison.

  "Good enough." Vlad said.

  I finished my sandwich, and stood. "Okay. I need to go do a thing. I'll let you know when it's safe to peek above the water when I'm done."

  I shook Vlad's hand, and Adam pulled me down for a hug. I turned and left the way I had come. Behind me, I could hear them speaking in low tones. I thought again about my next move, and decided to go back to the lake. I thought maybe I could talk to Manny, and check the area for anything I might have missed. I walked on, trying to clear my head.

  *

  The long grass of the field leading up to Manny's lake waved in the warm breeze slipped in from the Pacific. It brushed my pant legs as I walked, shedding the last few drops of the morning's rain on my cuffs. The lake shared the same small whitecaps as the park's pond, soft waves lapping at the shore. Out toward the middle, bubbles rose to the surface in lazy twos and threes. They were hard to see, but there still, if you knew where to look. I figured Manny must be taking a nap.

  I took a tack that led me around the beach and the water, scanning the brush and sand for clues. Trapped here and there was the refuse of civilization; a chip bag, used napkins, an old Coke can where the 'C' was nearly rusted over. I could see Manny's footprints, still fresh in the sand, disappearing into the water. Along the edges, cattails and reeds grew, and I could hear frogs calling from all sides.

  I came to a crushed area of grass and reeds, where the stalks had been broken, and the sand beneath disturbed enough that the rain still hadn't settled it. I knelt, and ran my fingers over the ground. They came away damp and tinged with a red residue. Almost immediately, the tips of my fingers started to tingle, and I wiped them off on my jeans. On my knees, I could see where the grass had been bent and broken in a pattern leading away from the water, forming a path that led further into the field, and toward the cliff beyond.

  I stood, and with my head down, followed the path. After about a hundred yards, it narrowed out, and after another fifty, dwindled to almost nothing. I turned in a circle, looking for more signs of passage, but saw nothing. In frustration, I started to walk slow circles through the grass, pushing it aside, and checking the ground. In another four feet, I found what I'd been looking for, by almost falling in it.

  I pushed the grass aside to reveal a small access panel, or maybe air exchange. It was a grate, two feet wide by two, the bars rusted a deep orange. I could see more of the red residue on the bars of the grate, drying in the sun. I thought it must've been pretty thick, to still be there after two rains. Hell, all of it had to be. Or a bit waterproof.

  I wondered what it was that could fit through a two-by-two grate (a giant slug?) or if maybe the grate was downhill from the lake and acted as a runoff point. Either way, it didn't matter from where I stood. I had one more clue, and one less clue as to what to do with it. I walked back to the lake, thinking I'd wake Manny and ask him a few questions.

  I stopped at the edge of the water, and grabbed a nice, flat rock. I figured the only way to wake him up would be to skip something at him. Don't judge me. It's not like the guy has an alarm clock down there. I hauled my arm back to throw, when something caught my eye, a flash of color in the sun. I lowered my arm, and squinted. Something red and thick coated the surface of the water in a scum.

  I started to step back, thinking this might not be the best place to stand, when something big, dark, and scaly erupted from the water and slammed into me. It knocked me back, and sent me sprawling, my ribs crying out in protest as they took the force of the blow. I tried to somersault backwards, but I'm an out of shape werewolf, not a gymnast.

  I saw Manny advancing on me, and I scuttled backward, like a crab. His eyes were threaded with red, and his mouth was open in a snarl, baring the solid ridges of white that passed for his teeth. He jumped, and I managed to roll out of the way just as his knee came down where I was crouched.

  "Manny!" I shouted, which in hindsight, was a poor strategic decision. He was on me in a second, wrapping his arms around me, and bringing his not inconsiderable strength to bear. I heard ribs creak, and then something in me snapped. In my head, the Beast gibbered.

  I struggled, though white-hot pain was radiating up my side, forcing me to choose between staying awake and fighting. Manny squeezed again, and black spots danced in front of my eyes. I heard myself wheeze, and then I heard another rib go, snap, like a twig. The pain was blinding this time, and I heard someone snarl.

  In my head, the cage snapped with my second rib. The Beast shrieked and howled, and I felt the Change come on, hard and fast. Smooth flesh became fur. Teeth became fangs, and fingers claws. I could feel muscle rippling beneath my skin, and I could feel the healing power of the Change as my ribs knit themselves back together. Then, all thought left, and all I could see was a red haze.

  *

  It was dark when I woke. I was sore everywhere. I looked around for the truck that hit me, but it was just me and the frogs on the pond, calling out. I crawled to my feet, my clothing in shreds. Just enough had survived to keep all of the embarrassing bits covered, though it was a fact that only registered vaguely in the back of my mind.

  At the edge of the water, a body lay, savaged and torn. I approached it slowly, my stomach clenching and unclenching, ready to spill the sandwich I had eaten earlier. Manny lay in a mangled heap at the foot of the water. The Beast had ripped him open, torn him to pieces. A ragged hole lay where his throat once was; his midsection had been ripped wide. I turned away, and was sick in the reeds.

  When I thought I could stomach it, I found a wider expanse of beach, and began to dig with my hands. I dug until blisters formed, and my nails first caked with dirt, then split. I dug until my fingers bled. When I was finished, and the lake had begun to seep into the hole, I pulled Manny's corp
se and laid him in as best as I could. Then I filled it up. Someone was sobbing. I think it might have been me.

  When it was done, I sat next to the grave, and watched the sun come up. I wondered what the others would do, what they would think. Would they put me down like a rabid dog? Would they shun me? Would it matter that I was defending myself? No resident had ever killed another in the Lot. We all knew the potential for violence in each of us, though it had never risen to the surface before. How would it go?

  Blackness settled on my heart, and I trudged home in the near-dark, praying I wouldn't meet anyone I knew.

  *

  The shower was a welcome respite from memory, and I turned the water as hot as it would go, and let the scalding distract me for a while. The bed was just as welcome, and I lay in it, letting the contrast of the cool sheets from the heat of the shower soothe me. I tried to think my way through the thing that had just happened, but a part of my mind refused to examine it.

  Sleep can fall in any one of a hundred different ways. Whether it's the hard fall from a hard day, a gentle drift that comes with satisfaction, or the stuttering wakefulness that fights you and is filled with worry, it eventually slips in. It is inevitable and stealthy, and when it comes, it sweeps the day away and brings with it another world.

  My head touched the pillow, and I fell.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Summer in the Ardennes. The air was close and thick with humidity. Sweat rolled under the collars and inside the uniforms of the men of the Legion who were drafted for the action. Despite their best efforts, the underbrush broke and crackled as they walked, the trod of heavy feet in boots unavoidable from so many who hadn't been born there.

  They knew the Germans were ahead somewhere, probably a small force trying to make inroads through the forest in order to slip behind the French lines. Their job was to intercept and stop them, and if possible, make their own path behind the German lines.