the night air and the bugs that seemed determined to follow him around. He flicked on the light switch and faced the large, curtain-covered cage. The thing inside the cage began to thump about, and growl.
“Shut up,” said Peter.
“Like I’m going to do anything you tell me to do,” said the creature. The curtain billowed slightly at his voice. “Now give me some nourishment, you ridiculous old redneck. How long do you think I should have to wait? You’re getting slower and slower in your old age. Your father was much more conscientious than you are. Your grandfather, though, another worthless bit of flesh on two feet. Just like you.”
Peter’s neck flushed as it always did. More than thirty years of hauling this thing around and the insults still stuck in his craw. Still, he had to feed the thing. He couldn’t let it die.
He took the towel off the top of the small wire cage, pulled up the lid, and removed two puppies. They struggled in his grasp, kicking at the air, their little taped mouths wriggling and twitching. They stared at him with confusion and fear in their tiny brown eyes. That confusion would be over soon.
“Here you go, you old freak.” Peter flung back the curtain on the cage and crammed the puppies through the bars. The creature, unable to stop himself, snatched them up from the floor and, one at a time, buried his long, needle-like teeth into their necks and drained their blood. Then he tossed the carcasses back out through the bars. His huge, yellow eyes narrowed. “More.”
“No more,” said Peter. “You know that. I give you more, you get stronger. You get stronger, you can pull some of that shape-shifting shit and get out of here. I’ll give you just enough to keep you breathing, living…well, living’s not quite the word now, is it?”
The creature growled and lashed one hand through the bars just as Peter skipped back.
“You know,” said the creature. “I can smell that young girl on you. Who is she, a little tart you’re fucking?”
Peter blinked then curled his lip. “My daughter.” The moment he said it he knew it was a mistake. “Don’t ever speak of her again.”
“Ah, a daughter. I had a daughter once. Lovely thing. Delicious blood. Drank her dry then threw her carcass out for the vultures.”
“No, I mean it. You speak of her again and I’ll down your rations even more. Or…” He tipped his head in the direction of the plastic lunchbox nailed to the wall on which the words, “Safety Kit,” had been written in white paint, “ … I’ll snuff you out as you sleep. I can do that anytime I want, you know. Easy. No sweat.”
“But you won’t, Peter. You need me. Just like your daddy and your worthless granddaddy needed me. Without me, your show is nothing. Without me, you are nothing.”
“Shut your fucking yam hole, freak.” Peter jerked the curtain back down over the big cage. Then he tossed the towel over the small cage as the kidnapped pets bumped around inside and whined.
“Damn, what I put up with.”
Certain the door and latches were locked and the cash box was stowed in the back of the Suburban, Peter situated himself in the middle seat and pulled his ratty wool blanket up to his chin. He never had a pillow but used a balled up sweatshirt he no longer wore because mice had gotten to it somewhere along the line. It was nearly midnight, and he needed his sleep. What a hell of a day, this traveling with company. He hoped he could survive the interruption, at least until Kelly’s money ran low. Then he would let her off – put her out – in some town where she could call her Mama to come get her. He’d give her a few of her dollars back, of course. She was an okay kid, for a kid.
He flopped over, wriggled around to get comfy.
Happily, at least, Kelly didn’t snore.
-----
It was still dark, but she had to pee. Bad. She sat up in the front seat, her eyes sticky from sleep and her back hurting from being pressed against seatbelt latches
“Shut up,” said Peter.
“Like I’m going to do anything you tell me to do,” said the creature. The curtain billowed slightly at his voice. “Now give me some nourishment, you ridiculous old redneck. How long do you think I should have to wait? You’re getting slower and slower in your old age. Your father was much more conscientious than you are. Your grandfather, though, another worthless bit of flesh on two feet. Just like you.”
Peter’s neck flushed as it always did. More than thirty years of hauling this thing around and the insults still stuck in his craw. Still, he had to feed the thing. He couldn’t let it die.
He took the towel off the top of the small wire cage, pulled up the lid, and removed two puppies. They struggled in his grasp, kicking at the air, their little taped mouths wriggling and twitching. They stared at him with confusion and fear in their tiny brown eyes. That confusion would be over soon.
“Here you go, you old freak.” Peter flung back the curtain on the cage and crammed the puppies through the bars. The creature, unable to stop himself, snatched them up from the floor and, one at a time, buried his long, needle-like teeth into their necks and drained their blood. Then he tossed the carcasses back out through the bars. His huge, yellow eyes narrowed. “More.”
“No more,” said Peter. “You know that. I give you more, you get stronger. You get stronger, you can pull some of that shape-shifting shit and get out of here. I’ll give you just enough to keep you breathing, living…well, living’s not quite the word now, is it?”
The creature growled and lashed one hand through the bars just as Peter skipped back.
“You know,” said the creature. “I can smell that young girl on you. Who is she, a little tart you’re fucking?”
Peter blinked then curled his lip. “My daughter.” The moment he said it he knew it was a mistake. “Don’t ever speak of her again.”
“Ah, a daughter. I had a daughter once. Lovely thing. Delicious blood. Drank her dry then threw her carcass out for the vultures.”
“No, I mean it. You speak of her again and I’ll down your rations even more. Or…” He tipped his head in the direction of the plastic lunchbox nailed to the wall on which the words, “Safety Kit,” had been written in white paint, “ … I’ll snuff you out as you sleep. I can do that anytime I want, you know. Easy. No sweat.”
“But you won’t, Peter. You need me. Just like your daddy and your worthless granddaddy needed me. Without me, your show is nothing. Without me, you are nothing.”
“Shut your fucking yam hole, freak.” Peter jerked the curtain back down over the big cage. Then he tossed the towel over the small cage as the kidnapped pets bumped around inside and whined.
“Damn, what I put up with.”
Certain the door and latches were locked and the cash box was stowed in the back of the Suburban, Peter situated himself in the middle seat and pulled his ratty wool blanket up to his chin. He never had a pillow but used a balled up sweatshirt he no longer wore because mice had gotten to it somewhere along the line. It was nearly midnight, and he needed his sleep. What a hell of a day, this traveling with company. He hoped he could survive the interruption, at least until Kelly’s money ran low. Then he would let her off – put her out – in some town where she could call her Mama to come get her. He’d give her a few of her dollars back, of course. She was an okay kid, for a kid.
He flopped over, wriggled around to get comfy.
Happily, at least, Kelly didn’t snore.
-----
It was still dark, but she had to pee. Bad. She sat up in the front seat, her eyes sticky from sleep and her back hurting from being pressed against seatbelt latches
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