“One.” Perhaps the beast was not outside.
“Two.” If it was a slave creature, it wasn’t dangerous at all.
“Three!” He did not move.
Howard repeated the process of counting, over and over, each time measuring the fear in his heart against the danger that lurked outside. Finally, disgusted with his own cowardliness, he threw the door open, and bolted into the dark.
17
BILLY
Billy Winston was on the final stretch of the nightly audit at the Rooms-R-Us Motel. His fingers danced across the calculator like a spastic Fred Astaire. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could log onto the computer and become Roxanne. Only thirty-seven of the motel’s one hundred rooms were rented tonight, so he was going to finish early. He couldn’t wait. He needed Roxanne’s ego boost after being ditched by The Breeze the night before.
He hit the total button with a flourish, as if he had just played the final note of a piano concerto, then wrote the figure into the ledger and slammed the book.
Billy was alone in the motel. The only sound was the hum of the fluorescent lights. From the windows by his desk he had a 180-degree view of the highway and the parking lot, but there was nothing to see. At that time of night a car or two passed every half hour or so. Just as well. He didn’t like distractions while he was being Roxanne.
Billy pushed a stool up to the front counter behind the computer. He typed in his access code and logged on.
WITKSAS: HOW’S YOUR DOG, SWEETIE? SEND: PNCVCAL
The Rooms-R-Us Motel chain maintained a computer network for making reservations at their motels all over the world. From any location a desk clerk could contact any of the two hundred motels in the chain by simply entering a seven-letter code. Billy had just sent a message to the night auditor in Wichita, Kansas. He started at the green phosphorescent screen, waiting for an answer.
PNCVCAL: ROXANNE! MY DOG IS LONELY. HELP ME, BABY. WITKSAS
Wichita was on line. Billy punched up a reply.
WITKSAS: MAYBE HE NEEDS A LITTLE DISCIPLINE. I COULD SMOTHER HIM IF YOU WANT. SEND: PNCVCAL
There was a pause while Billy waited.
PNCVCAL: YOU WANT TO HOLD HIS POOR FUZZY FACE BETWEEN YOUR MELONS UNTIL HE BEGS? IS THAT IT? WITKSAS
Billy thought for a moment. This was why they loved him. He couldn’t just throw them an answer they could get from any sleazebeast. Roxanne was a goddess.
WITKSAS: YES. AND BEAT HIM SOFTLY ON THE EARS. BAD DOG. BAD DOG. SEND: PNCVCAL
Again Billy waited for the response. A message appeared on the screen.
WHERE ARE YOU DARLING? I MISS YOU. TULSOKL.
It was his lover from Tulsa. Roxanne could handle two or three at once, but she wasn’t in the mood for it right now. She was feeling a little crampy. Billy adjusted his crotch, his panties were riding up a bit. He typed two messages.
WITKSAS: GO PET YOUR DOGGIE FOR A WHILE. AUNTIE ROXANNE WILL CHECK ON YOU IN A WHILE. SEND: PNCVCAL
TULSOKL: TOOK AN EVENING OFF TO SHOP FOR SOMETHING LACY TO WEAR FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU DON’T FIND IT TOO SHOCKING. SEND: PNCVCAL
While he was waiting for a response from Oklahoma, Billy dug into his gym bag for his red high heels. He liked to hook the stiletto heels into the rungs of the stool while he talked to his lovers. When he glanced up, he thought he saw something moving out in the parking lot. Probably just a guest getting something from the car.
PNCVCAL: YOU SWEET LITTLE THING, YOU COULD NEVER SHOCK ME. TELL ME WHAT YOU BOUGHT. TULSOKL
Billy started to type in a modest description of a lace teddy he had seen in a catalog.
To the guy in Tulsa, Roxanne was a shy little flower; to Wichita she was a dominatrix. The desk clerk in Seattle saw her as a leather-clad biker chick. The old man in Arizona thought she was a struggling single mother of two, barely making it on a desk clerk’s salary. He always wanted to send her money. There were ten of them in all. Roxanne gave them what they needed. They loved her.
Billy heard the double doors of the lobby open, but he did not look up. He finished typing his message and pressed the SEND button. “Can I help you,” he said mechanically, still not looking up.
“You betcha,” a voice said. Two huge reptilian hands clacked down on the counter about four feet on each side of Billy. He looked up into the open mouth of the demon coming at his face. Billy pushed back from the keyboard. His heel caught in the rung of the stool and he went over backward as the giant maw snapped shut above him. Billy let loose a long, sirenlike scream and began scrambling on his hands and knees behind the counter toward the back office. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the demon crawling over the counter after him.
Once in the office, Billy leapt to his feet and slammed the door. As he turned to run out the back door, he heard the door fly open and slam against the wall.
The back door of the office led into a long corridor of rooms. Billy pounded on the doors as he passed. No one opened a door, but there were angry shouts from inside the rooms.
Billy turned and saw the demon filling the far end of the corridor. It was in a crouch, moving down the corridor on all fours, crawling awkward and batlike in the confined space. Billy dug in his pocket for his pass key, found it, and ran down the hallway and around the corner. Making the corner, he twisted his ankle. White pain shot up his leg, and he cried out. He limped to the closest door. The images of women in horror movies who twisted their ankles and feebly fell into the clutches of the monster raced through his head. Damn high heels.
He fumbled the key into the lock while looking back down the hallway. The door opened and Billy fell into the room just as the monster rounded the corner behind him.
He kicked the stiletto heel off his good foot, vaulted up and hopped across the empty room to the sliding glass door. The safety bar was set. He fell to his knees and began clawing at it. The only light in the room was coming from the hallway, and suddenly that was eclipsed. The monster was working its way through the doorway.
“What the fuck are you!” Billy screamed.
The monster stopped just inside the room. Even crouching over, its shoulders hit the ceiling. Billy cowered by the sliding door, still clawing under the curtains at the safety bar. The monster looked around the room, its huge head turning back and forth like a searchlight. To Billy’s amazement, it reached around and turned on the lights. It seemed to be studying the bed.
“Does that have Magic Fingers?” it said.
“What!” Billy said. It came out a scream.
“That bed has Magic Fingers, right?”
Billy pulled the safety bar loose and hurled it at the monster. The heavy steel bar hit the monster in the face and rattled to the floor. The monster showed no reaction. Billy reached for the latch on the door and started to pull it open.
The monster scuttled forward, reached over Billy’s head, and pushed the door shut with one clawed finger. Billy yanked on the door but it was held fast. He collapsed under the monster with a long, agonizing wail.
“Give me a quarter,” the monster said.
Billy looked up into the huge lizard face. The monster’s grin was nearly two feet wide. “Give me a quarter!” it repeated.
Billy dug into his pocket, came out with a handful of change, and timidly held it up to the monster.
Still holding the door shut with one hand, the monster reached down with the other and plucked a quarter from Billy’s hand with two claws, using them like chopsticks.
“Thanks,” it said. “I love Magic Fingers.”
The demon let go of the door. “You can go now,” it said.
Before he could think about it, Billy threw the door open and dove through. He was climbing to his feet when something caught him by the leg from behind and dragged him back into the room.