Noctuidae by Scott Nicolay

after she left them? Did you ever suck his cock? I doubt it. I know how he acts, what he’d do in this situation.
    But did Ron have a chance? Or did that thing outside snap him up before he knew what got him? Slow streams of tears oozed down each of her cheeks. Perhaps their argument had no purpose other than to make her cry. She knew Ron was dead, despite all her hopes. She didn’t know if Pete could see her crying, but she didn’t dare look away. That might be a giveaway as to her emotional state, and if he saw her as vulnerable he might take it as another opportunity to advance. She knew now how fast he could move. He was in excellent shape.
    She fought her tears back till she thought she could speak clearly and returned to their conversation. —Look, Pete, let’s not fight. It’s not helping.
    —No shit.
    —Yeah, well I agree with you we’ve got to work together. We should talk about how we’re going to get out of here.
    —We’re not going anywhere as long as that thing’s outside. At least I’m not. You can do whatever you want I guess, but personally I’d prefer to have a witness when I tell this story to the police or the FBI or whoever. It’s going to be way worse if I come back alone.
    He had a point there. She imagined herself the sole survivor, telling the story to some detective in a gray room with a two-way mirror. Mental hospital, jail for life—that’s how a lone survivor would likely end up. She considered again the possibility that Pete somehow sacrificed Ron to the monster. If he’d thought out the aftermath it would explain why he left her alive. One explanation anyway. Was it even the kind of monster that accepted sacrifices? And if it did, would that make it a god? She wondered what wishes or prayers it granted in response to a successful sacrifice. Wasn’t Pete already looking for a pot of gold? Was this his plan to get it?
    All this sacrifice stuff was pretty far out though. It was hard to picture Pete as any kind of priest or wizard. And what did she know about monsters anyway? Probably Pete’s original story was true, how he’d gone to the cave mouth looking for Ron and spotted the gigantic night-obscuring thing instead. In that case she maybe should be grateful it hadn’t been her—she might’ve rushed up there shouting Ron’s name and that would’ve been the end for her and Pete as well. Disintegrated like the bat. Or maybe worse. Who knew what the unseen parts of this enormity might do, what claws and jaws were hidden in its shadow?
    —Hey. Pete spoke in a stage whisper. —Hey.
    —Hey what?
    —Why don’t you come away from the entrance. You’re going to attract that thing’s attention. I don’t think it even knows we’re here so far. You don’t need to be that close to the edge.
    When she didn’t respond he added —I’ll stay right here. I promise I won’t touch you.
    —Yeah right.
    —Honestly. Cross my heart and hope to die.
    —Maybe you shouldn’t hope that out loud.
    —Whatever. Come away from the edge. It’s not safe for either of us, you being there.
    So far Pete’s advice, his grasp of the situation, had actually been good. Except for the attempted rape and all. But he seemed to understand the monster situation. His plan to wait till morning made sense. If the thing didn’t fade away with sunrise, they’d at least get some better sense of its dimensions, maybe spot some escape route or weakness. The ranchers might even report them missing if they didn’t return to their truck by the end of the day. Or not—she pictured the hired hand using a backhoe to bury their truck in a trench. Next to a dozen others, all the way back to Model T’s. . .
    —Oh shit. Don’t move.
    Damn. What was Pete pulling now?
    —Wha—?
    —Shhh! Don’t say anything, and don’t turn around . There’s something behind you.
    Seriously? Just when she was ready to grant him a smidge of credence, he had to go and spring the oldest trick in the book? Yet he spoke