You and Me against the World: The Creepers Saga Book 1 by Raymond Esposito Page A

with pad and pen in hand. He glared at Kevin as if Kevin were in some way responsible for the noisy vehicle. Kevin raised both hands to demonstrate his innocence. The old Kevin, the guy not-so-Christian, surfaced for a moment and considered flipping the old man off, or punching him in the face.
    The Buick continued on its new course, toward Jenks. Kevin called out for the old man to move, but the engine’s noise drowned out his warning. The front tire hit the curb and pulled the Buick into a deeper turn. Jenks’s pristine white mailbox disappeared under the Buick’s large grill. A burst of laughter escaped Kevin before he could stop it. The mailbox caught on the bumper and then shot off the end of the post and tumbled and bounced down the street. The wood post scraped the bottom of the Buick and punctured the car’s oil pan. The oil left a large black smudge as the car turned and spun on the lawn. The oil reserve expended, the engine whined loudly as the car continued its reckless spin. The tires threw up the dark green sod, and a large chunk hit Jenks’s legs as he descended his stairs. The flying sod knocked him to his butt; he rolled off the stairs into his flower garden, and the pad of paper shot into the air. The fall saved him. The Buick continued its spin until the back quarter panel and tire slammed into the short set of cement stairs where Jenks had stood a few seconds earlier.
    The old man was up and on his feet with alarming speed. The engine gave a final high-pitched whine and then sputtered in an ear-piercing metallic death. The old man screamed at the driver. It was a terrible sound, more high-pitched than the final whine of the Buick’s engine.
    Kevin ran to assist but faltered when he saw two young boys exit in a panic from the car. They wore similar expressions of pure terror whose source seemed to be something other than their out-of-control joy ride. They scrambled away from the Buick, and Kevin noticed that they took special care not to turn their backs to the car.
    Jenks yelled, screamed, and tried to grab hold of the driver. The kid was no more than fifteen, and he was quick. He dodged the old man’s hand and pointed at the car. Kevin’s paralysis broke and he ran into Jenks’s yard.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked the second kid. The boy didn’t look a day over fourteen. The kid looked at him, but his eyes were distant and unfocused.
    “They’re on the drugs, that’s what the matter is!” Jenks yelled. “Look at them. Go call the police.”
    “Yeah, hang on a minute. Something is wrong here,” Kevin said and looked at the car. The sunlight on the windows shielded the interior.
    “Wrong? Damn right. They destroyed my property, and they’re going to jail,” Jenks yelled.
    Kevin turned to the driver, who still backed away from the car. He reached the kid in three short strides and gently grabbed the boy’s shoulder.
    “Son, what’s the matter? What’s in the car?”
    “M-m-my m-mother … sh … she’s … I … I …” The boy trailed off.
    “Well, goddamn it, another crack mama letting her kids destroy the world.” Jenks’s voice had risen a couple of octaves, and he sounded like a teen girl. He stomped toward the dead Buick.
    “Don’t do it!” Kevin yelled. He didn’t understand why, but the Buick gave him a deep sense of dread.
    Jenks looked at him as if he was also “on the drugs.”
    “Stay out of this, Bradley. This is Association business now,” he said and pulled open the back door.
    Something leapt through the open door and drove Jenks to the ground. It was a woman, and she spit a thick, black fluid onto the old man’s face. Mr. Jenks screamed in pain. The woman bit his face and tore away a large piece of Jenks’s cheek. Mr. Jenks screamed louder.
    “Mommy?” the boy said in a small voice and took a step forward.
    She looked up; pieces of flesh and the black goo hung from her teeth. She hissed at them and then got to her feet.
    Kevin Bradley grabbed