She sat with the engine idling, her forehead against the steering wheel. When her breathing steadied, she looked in the rearview mirror. No creature there, though a thin trail of liquid marked its crossing of the road. Tamara got out of the car and went to the trail. Two black curves of thin rubber showed where the car’s tires had skidded.
“I’m not listening to you,” she said. She looked in the weeds on the far side of the road. A stretch of barbed wire bounded a hay field. Though the growth was low, the creature could easily get lost in the grass. Maybe it had been infected with rabies.
She’d heard of the “thousand-yard stare” that rabid animals had, the way they’d look at you as if you were a hated thing. At the same time, they were gazing at a point miles away. But Tamara had never heard of a disease that made a creature leak mucus the way a car with a busted pan leaked oil. And she’d definitely never heard of a disease that caused an animal to bombard you with a telepathic message.
She knelt and studied the glistening trail, which had already dried on the sun-warmed asphalt. She was about to touch the flaking material, then decided against it. If the animal had been infected, then its saliva or droppings were best left alone. As she watched, the flakes grew smaller and more transparent, then lifted on the breeze in a cluster of pale motes.
A truck approached and the driver slowed. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out, his face red from an early seasonal sunburn. The back of the truck was piled with worn furniture, a boxy television, rugs, and stuffed garbage bags.
“You broke down, lady?”
“No, I’m fine. I just thought I saw something.”
The man looked at her with narrowed, sick-looking eyes. “Was it something that was there or something that wasn’t there?”
“What do you mean?”
He gazed at the sky. “Been seeing birds, myself. Except they can’t keep up with their own shadows. And green rain. Seen some green rain that wasn’t there.”
Tamara eased closer to the Toyota, wondering if she should make a run for it.
“It’s up on Bear Claw,” he said. He turned on his windshield wipers, though the sky was nearly clear.
“I have to go,” Tamara said.
“What’s your name?”
Tamara regained her composure. Maybe the man was mildly schizophrenic and his medicine wasn’t working today. She, of all people, should know that brain chemistry could go out of balance through no fault of the brain’s host. Suffering a mental illness was no cause to treat the man like an ax murderer.
“Tamara,” she said, peering into the cab just in case the man happened to be carrying an ax.
“Tamara,” he echoed. “That’s what I figured.”
“Why is that?” Seven miles from nowhere in every direction and she had no way to protect herself. She eased two steps away from the truck.
“Didn’t you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“You ought to listen better.”
She looked around. No vehicles were approaching. She was about to ask if the man had seen any other strange animals when he waved toward the forest that climbed the slope of the mountain.
“The trees, ” he said. “They’re saying things that ain’t right.”
“Excuse me?”
“They’re liars.”
He rolled up his window and headed down the road, the truck’s exhaust lingering in her nostrils. Tamara looked up the face of Bear Claw, wondering what sort of “it” the man had imagined there.
The alien aspirated, drawing air through the plants it had converted, and absorbing the energy of the animals that had become part of its own flesh. As it expanded and its roots probed deeper, more symbols collected in the heart-brain center. The symbols brought pain, but pain was necessary, because pain was survival. If the creature was going to become part of this planet, the planet must join in return, a symbiosis that was thicker than blood and sap.
The symbol pierced its fungal walls and lodged in its center, where the other symbols were stirred in the confused soup of sleep.
Tah-mah-raa.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jimmy had rounded up Peggy’s first official customer.
Howard Pennifield entered the trailer behind Jimmy, his shoulders sloped like a gorilla's. He blinked stupidly and looked around at the clutter, trying not to stare at Peggy sitting splay legged on the couch with a drink in her hand. She eyed him, trying to size him up. She knew him from Little League, because his kid was on Little Mack's baseball team. She wondered if Howard could wield a bat better than his slow-witted kid could.
Peggy had spent almost an hour deciding how to dress. She wasn't sure if she should go for the sophisticated look, with fake fur and that kind of stuff, or just act naturally. She didn’t think men wanted to pay for "natural," they could get "natural" from their wives, bruised-looking eyes and hair in curlers and wrinkles backfilled with foundation.
She didn't have a whole lot of accessories. Maybe she would make Jimmy invest in some of those see-through garments and thin-strapped lingerie they sold in that Frederick's of Hollywood catalog that kept showing up in the mail.
In the end, she had chosen her Kmart negligee that was a shimmering pink with ruffles along the bustline. She had skipped the panties. May as well give them an eyeful. It wasn't like she was going to be standing on a street corner or anything. She gave the two men the provocative look she had been practicing in the mirror. She noted with amusement that Jimmy licked his lips like a weasel.
"We parked behind the woods, Peg, and walked in around the back way," Jimmy said. "May as well keep a low profile, at least here at first."
Howard nodded as if his head were a sack of feed.
"Then what are you doing here, Jimmy?” Peggy said. “You going to hold it for him?"
A shadow crossed Jimmy's face, then he said, "This here's Howard. Don't know if you know him or not."
"We've met. Hello, Howard." She gave him a painted smile. He nodded again. She hoped the bulge in his wallet was as big as the bulge at the front of his pants.
"Well, let's get this show on the road," she said, dragging at her cigarette and taking a painful pull of cheap whiskey. Jimmy, looking a little uncomfortable, leaned down to whisper to her.
"I was wondering if, you know, you and me first? Just for old time's sake. Plus-" he leaned right to her ear-"He wants to watch."
"What's half of fifty? That’ll be twenty-five bucks, Jimmy."
"Damn you, girl, it's supposed to be like before. Us being in love and shit."
She let the negligee ride up a little more, until the soft down of her love nest showed. Jimmy licked his lips again.
“Twenty-five bucks,” she said. “Take it or leave it.”
Peggy enjoyed this new feeling of power. Maybe this little enterprise had more advantages than just bringing in some cash. She stood and walked to the bedroom, curling her feet a little so that her rear wiggled under the hem of the negligee.
Howard spoke for the first time. "You said seventy-five, and she said fifty. What's the deal, Jimmy?"
"Hush up, you peckerhead. You ask for extras, you got to pay for extras."
The men followed her into the room where she lay in the sagging curve of the bare mattress. Jimmy dropped a pile of green bills on the bedside table and began shucking off his boots and shirt. Howard nodded at her. She winked and stared at the ceiling, imagining a prince swooping from the clouds on a winged white horse.
Reggie Speerhorn parked his Camaro behind the GasNGo. He walked through the kudzu-draped jack pines where he and Jimmy had smoked bushels of dope together, then hopped over the oily little stream that bordered the trailer park. He had found that afternoons were a perfect time to get a piece off Junior's mom, before the bus dropped off Junior's dipshit brother. And Junior was probably drooling and puking right now, his guts ripped by moonshine. Reggie hoped Peggy's boot-brained redneck lover hadn't beaten him to the punch again.