screaming. She clamped it shut, spitting and retching and clawing the insects away from her face.
She ducked her head and ran blindly toward the door. She smashed into it, bounced hard, then lowered her shoulder and rammed it again, throwing it open. She tripped over the jamb and tumbled out onto the overgrown parking lot as the flies that broke free spiraled up into the sky, leaving her heaving and writhing on the ground.
A pair of hands reached down and seized her under the shoulders. She screamed as hard as she could without opening her mouth and thrashed at the arms that gripped her, running her nails down them and drawing blood.
“Ow! Hey—come on! Cut it out!” It was a man’s voice, soft and gentle. He sounded genuinely wounded.
Mallory opened her eyes and scrambled to her feet. She came more or less face-to-face with a man in a white lab coat—more or less, because Mallory was almost a full head taller than the man, even though she was wearing sneakers. “Geez. Are you okay?” he asked.
Mallory opened her mouth to answer, but another loud, metallic screech cut her off, and a loudspeaker fixed to the roof of the tourism office blared to life. The same woman’s voice pierced the air again:
“Attention, Anomaly Flats: Rain will begin in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Seek shelter immediately. Rain will begin in two minutes and thirty-five seconds.” Then the speaker went dead.
“Whoops,” said the man in the lab coat. “We’d better get you inside.”
“No!” Mallory yelled, throwing her hands up and clawing the air frantically, her eyes wide with fear and disgust. “I’m not going back in there!”
But the man in the lab coat shook his head. “No, not in there. In there. ” He pointed to an old Winnebago that sat idling in the parking lot.
“Oh,” Mallory said. She bit her lip as she considered the welts already springing up on his arms where her nails had raked his skin. “Sorry about…all that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He hurried over to the RV and opened the rear door. “Come on in. Trust me, you don’t want to be out here when the rain starts.”
Mallory shook her head. “No offense, but I have a strict rule about strangers and vans. I’ll take my chance with the rain.” She turned toward the street and started hurrying away.
“Your name’s Mallory, right?” he called out after her.
She stopped cold in her tracks. How did he know that?
“I think I can answer some of the questions I’m sure you have, Mallory.”
Dammit, she thought. Just keep moving, just keep moving… But her brain and her mouth were misfiring, as usual, and without turning around, she hollered back, “What questions?”
He paused for a moment, then he said, “All of them?” as if maybe he wasn’t very sure himself. But he sounded hopeful. “Definitely some of them.”
Mallory turned and crossed her arms. “Go on.”
The man in the lab coat gave a worried little sigh. He checked his watch nervously. “Have you seen any tentacles? I can tell you about those.” He pointed at the Pizza Hut. “And Marcy! I can tell you why Marcy shoots flies out of her mouth.” He frowned up at the darkening sky and shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. “We really don’t want to get caught in the rain.”
Mallory set her lips into a firm line. She was curious about the tentacles, and about the flies, and about a few other things. Like magnetic fields and waffle obsessions and keys and runes and the complete and total absence of Google. And chicken genocide…mostly, she was curious about that. Besides, the man in the lab coat was comically small, and she was pretty sure she could overpower him physically, if it came to that.
And he had a good point about the rain. She hated getting wet.
“All right, fine. I do have tentacle questions. But try anything, and I’ll make sure you shit blood for a week.”
The man gasped. “Well…wait,” he said, holding up a hand.
She ducked her head and ran blindly toward the door. She smashed into it, bounced hard, then lowered her shoulder and rammed it again, throwing it open. She tripped over the jamb and tumbled out onto the overgrown parking lot as the flies that broke free spiraled up into the sky, leaving her heaving and writhing on the ground.
A pair of hands reached down and seized her under the shoulders. She screamed as hard as she could without opening her mouth and thrashed at the arms that gripped her, running her nails down them and drawing blood.
“Ow! Hey—come on! Cut it out!” It was a man’s voice, soft and gentle. He sounded genuinely wounded.
Mallory opened her eyes and scrambled to her feet. She came more or less face-to-face with a man in a white lab coat—more or less, because Mallory was almost a full head taller than the man, even though she was wearing sneakers. “Geez. Are you okay?” he asked.
Mallory opened her mouth to answer, but another loud, metallic screech cut her off, and a loudspeaker fixed to the roof of the tourism office blared to life. The same woman’s voice pierced the air again:
“Attention, Anomaly Flats: Rain will begin in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Seek shelter immediately. Rain will begin in two minutes and thirty-five seconds.” Then the speaker went dead.
“Whoops,” said the man in the lab coat. “We’d better get you inside.”
“No!” Mallory yelled, throwing her hands up and clawing the air frantically, her eyes wide with fear and disgust. “I’m not going back in there!”
But the man in the lab coat shook his head. “No, not in there. In there. ” He pointed to an old Winnebago that sat idling in the parking lot.
“Oh,” Mallory said. She bit her lip as she considered the welts already springing up on his arms where her nails had raked his skin. “Sorry about…all that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He hurried over to the RV and opened the rear door. “Come on in. Trust me, you don’t want to be out here when the rain starts.”
Mallory shook her head. “No offense, but I have a strict rule about strangers and vans. I’ll take my chance with the rain.” She turned toward the street and started hurrying away.
“Your name’s Mallory, right?” he called out after her.
She stopped cold in her tracks. How did he know that?
“I think I can answer some of the questions I’m sure you have, Mallory.”
Dammit, she thought. Just keep moving, just keep moving… But her brain and her mouth were misfiring, as usual, and without turning around, she hollered back, “What questions?”
He paused for a moment, then he said, “All of them?” as if maybe he wasn’t very sure himself. But he sounded hopeful. “Definitely some of them.”
Mallory turned and crossed her arms. “Go on.”
The man in the lab coat gave a worried little sigh. He checked his watch nervously. “Have you seen any tentacles? I can tell you about those.” He pointed at the Pizza Hut. “And Marcy! I can tell you why Marcy shoots flies out of her mouth.” He frowned up at the darkening sky and shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. “We really don’t want to get caught in the rain.”
Mallory set her lips into a firm line. She was curious about the tentacles, and about the flies, and about a few other things. Like magnetic fields and waffle obsessions and keys and runes and the complete and total absence of Google. And chicken genocide…mostly, she was curious about that. Besides, the man in the lab coat was comically small, and she was pretty sure she could overpower him physically, if it came to that.
And he had a good point about the rain. She hated getting wet.
“All right, fine. I do have tentacle questions. But try anything, and I’ll make sure you shit blood for a week.”
The man gasped. “Well…wait,” he said, holding up a hand.
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