Part 5 (2/2)

At first he didn't mind the drugs. He used pot recreationally and he especially loved getting stoned before they made love. With Stacy it was electrified twofold. They fit each other's bodies snugly. s.e.x with her was so f.u.c.king incredible that he felt like he could die making love to her.

It was most likely the intoxication of her s.e.xual prowess that blinded him for the first three months. The mental part of their relations.h.i.+p that had always been so absent began to make its presence known gradually, until it began overpowering him within the last few days. Little by little, her mental aberrations picked at his brain until he paused and took a real good look at the woman he had moved in with. The woman he told the guys down at the mill that he loved.

Everyday...waking up at noon...the pot...the booze...afternoon soaps...hanging out at Jack's Sugar Shack on Highway 98 some ten miles north, which was the area's lone adult video store (why hang out at a place frequented by men who were looking for a quick release of l.u.s.t unless she was providing it?)...a tab of acid every couple of days...more pot...sporadic shopping splurges...more pot...heavy s.e.x (the more time pa.s.sed, the more he suspected that he wasn't the only guy playing hide the salami with her)...and then on to the next day to do the whole thing over again. It was at that point Kirk realized that Stacy was a major nut case.

Kirk sighed and pulled the last long necked Bud out of the bag. He twisted off the cap and drank deep. G.o.dd.a.m.n, what a f.u.c.king mess. He loved her, and wanted to help her. She needed counseling, AA, psychiatric treatment, rehab, Jesus Christ-anything! She was slowly spiraling into her sea of misery and if he didn't pull her out, she'd drown in it. He needed to get her away from this p.i.s.sant little town, which was where the source of her pain lay. Make a better life for both of them.

Get her away from her broken past.

A shuffling sound approaching his backside spurned him to look over his shoulder. Stacy was approaching him from the parking lot, a weathered smile on her face. Her magenta hair blew in her face, which was touched up lightly with makeup. Kirk's heart broke when he saw her. She was so beautiful she didn't need makeup. ”Hi, baby.” Her voice was soft, childlike.

Kirk rose and they embraced. Stacy huddled into him, her check pressed into the leather of his jacket. He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her forehead. She tilted her face up to his and they kissed. He broke it before it could get any further.

”Stacy, we need to talk,” Kirk said. He turned and walked away, his back to her. He could sense her behind him, her demeanor becoming confused but knowing what was coming. He turned back to face her, doing his best to keep his feature's stern, yet gentle. Understanding.

Loving.

”What do we need to talk about?” Stacy asked. Her voice lowered to a shaky whisper.

”Several things.” Kirk paced the sand in front of her. She watched as he walked on. ”I love you very much, Stacy. And I want to help you. I want to protect you, and I want to make things better for you.” He stopped and turned to her. ”But G.o.ddammit, you make it awfully hard when you don't give a s.h.i.+t about yourself. All I see you do is sit at home all day, getting drunk, getting stoned, taking G.o.d knows how much acid-”

”What I chose to do with my body is n.o.body's business but mine.” Stacy nearly spit it out through gritted teeth. She seemed locked into a silent, screaming rage that threatened to break through at any moment.

”What you do with your body is my business.” Kirk approached her, jabbing his finger at her. ”Because if you continue to f.u.c.k up your body, it destroys any chance we have of continuing this relations.h.i.+p.”

”Why are you doing this?” Stacy screamed, burying her face in her hands. ”Why are you doing this to me, why-” Her face was turning red and her eyes were beginning to leak. She choked the words out in sobs that snapped Kirk into action.

He grasped her shoulders and shook her. ”I'm doing this because I care about you! I'm trying to make you-”

Stacy brushed his hands away and stepped back, crying openly now. She held her hands up to her ears as if to stop the barrage of criticism aimed at her. ”Stop it, I don't want to hear it-”

”-understand, that you need help, you need to see a professional about-”

”WILL YOU STOP IT!”

Kirk stopped as if he suddenly slammed into a brick wall. Stacy stood her ground, her face red and wet with tears. Her breath fast and heavy, as if she'd just run a marathon. Kirk caught himself before he launched off into another tactical error. He had to bring it all up; the drinking, the drugs, the suspicion of her having affairs behind his back. He would have to proceed slowly and not hit her with everything at once. It was already getting out of hand; he knew she was going to be in some kind of denial, but not like this.

”Listen,” Kirk said, his voice soothing. He held his hands up, palms outward. ”Let's talk this thing out.”

”No, we're not going to talk this out.” Stacy's tone was charged with emotion. She glared at Kirk, her chest rising and falling. ”I want you out of my house.”

”Jesus, Stacy-”

”I said I want you out of my house!”

A glimmer of movement caught Kirk's eye as he leaned into the argument. He looked past Stacy's shoulder out at the white sands of the beach. Stacy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. ”Did you hear me? I said-”

Kirk held his hand up, still looking past Stacy's shoulder. His eyes widened.

Stacy whirled toward the beach. Her scream lodged in her throat in a wretched gasp. ”Oh my G.o.d!”

The creatures were only twenty feet from them. To Kirk they looked like giant crabs from one of those shlocky B-movies. Nuclear Crabs on the Rampage, directed by Roger Corman, based on the novel by Guy N. Smith. Kirk had lived his whole life on the Maine coastline and had never seen crabs like this before. They were as big as a f.u.c.king St. Bernard.

Kirk grabbed Stacy, who stood rooted in shock. The creatures were advancing quickly and he could hear the clicking as their claws clacked together. He made to spin Stacy around and push her into a run toward the parking lot. ”Run!” He shouted. ”Jesus, Stacy, run!”

Stacy went apes.h.i.+t. She fought against his grasp, screaming at him hoa.r.s.ely. She slapped at his hands, at his chest as he tried to get her to run. ”Get the f.u.c.k away from me, get away from me-”

She was in panic mode and if he didn't get her out of here they would both be attacked. The creatures were scuttling rapidly toward them, gaining momentum. Getting closer.

Still clutching Stacy's shoulder's, he made to move her forward in his flight to escape. He could hear the hiss of the creatures lunging at them and the clattering of their claws and then suddenly Stacy turned, twisting out of his grip. Kirk teetered on the brink of falling backward, then she pushed him and he did fall, flat on his back into the sand. He scrambled on the ground in his haste to escape. Stacy was already running pen-mell toward the parking lot to her Trans-Am. Kirk rose to his knees, stood up to run but was dragged down to the ground from behind. He ate a mouthful of sand as his face hit the beach and then something sharp pierced his ankle.

He had never felt pain so great. It ricocheted up his leg and rocked into his skull. His mind seemed to keel over and his vision blurred for a moment. When it cleared, a pair of stalked eyes were glaring down at him, tiny jaws clicking. And then the agony blossomed as that great, terrible claw came down again and tore a chunk out of his hip.

Kirk yelled and this time he did move. He hobbled forward in a slithering motion and ate sand again. There was the pressure of a tremendous weight on his back as a creature climbed on top of him, poised for attack. Kirk squirmed like a rat caught in a trap. Only pure adrenaline kept him going, surging through his bloodstream rapidly and pouring out of him via the hole in his leg.

The creature at his side seemed too hungry to even immobilize its prey. It dipped its claws into Kirk's back, ripping chunks of flesh and stuffing them into its mandibles. Kirk screamed, squirming beneath the weight of the creature on his back. His eyes gla.s.sed over and his mind was drifting. He clawed frantically at the sand.

The last thing Kirk Fischer saw was Stacy's Trans-Am rapidly diminis.h.i.+ng in the horizon with the squeal of spinning tires. The rest of the creatures grouped around him and joined their brethren. A few jabs of their segmented tails later, and Kirk was reduced to a bubbling ma.s.s of sizzling flesh which they ate their fill of.

Fifteen minutes later the creatures moved inland, leaving the tattered remains of a black leather jacket and an empty six pack of long necked Budweiser-hardly enough to acknowledge Kirk had never left the beach.

Chapter Seven.

It was too bad Melissa hadn't been able to stick around, but Rick did have a ton of ch.o.r.es to get through before starting on his next novel. Still, her absence weighed on him as he eagerly explored his house. He had hoped she would have traipsed through with him, sharing his enthusiasm and surprise as he uncovered the dwelling's many features. But he would have to do without her for now. It was time to unpack and settle in.

It was a modest, one-story farmhouse. There was a living room, a kitchen with a dining room, and a den. There were three bedrooms, the largest of the trio tucked in back of the house with its own bathroom and shower. A second bathroom was off the main hall. Rick christened the middle bedroom as his office, and began moving his computer equipment in.

The house was equipped accordingly with worn yet homey furniture. The kitchen had all the necessary tools of the trade; pots and pans, dishes, gla.s.ses, silverware. The den contained a television, a VCR and a so-so stereo system. The master bedroom contained a king-sized waterbed with satin sheets. The bed sat across from the walk-in closet with mirrored sliding doors. All the better to watch if he ever got lucky and found a steady honey to do the horizontal bop with.

Rick spent the next two hours unpacking and stowing things. Clothes went into the closet or in the dresser. His computer and laser printer went in the office, along with his files and supplies. The few books and odds and ends he brought along remained in the living room. He'd brought his CD collection and some reading material, along with some VHS tapes. His stay in Phillipsport wasn't intended to be permanent, but the more things he brought from home, the better he felt.

Once he was semi-settled in, he called Cynthia Jacobs. His agent.

He rang her up from the extension in the office. She picked up on the first ring and sounded surprised to hear from him. ”So, you made it to Phillipsport?” Her voice came in strong and syrupy, dripping with s.e.x. It instantly reminded him of the first time they'd combined business with pleasure.

It had happened at a convention in Nashville. They'd been conducting business for three years by mail and phone, but that was the first time they had the opportunity to meet in person. They'd both gotten drunk at a party, talking aimlessly. They'd stumbled to their rooms and as Rick bade her goodnight, she swept him up in a sweeping embrace, hug, smooch, squeeze, fondle. They ended up making love in her room. At the time it happened, Rick never thought that it was a wrong thing to do. She made the first move, he was drunk, she was drunk and attractive, and why not take advantage of each other? What else was a man supposed to do when seduced by a drunk, h.o.r.n.y, s.e.xy older woman?

He regretted it almost as soon as the convention was over. He knew it was unethical business-wise, but then she had made the first move. Still, it bothered him and he seriously considered dumping her for another agent. When you came right down to it, what kind of agent f.u.c.ks her client on a business trip? He voiced his concerns to her over the phone one day and they talked about it. She said that she had no interest in pursuing anything relations.h.i.+p-wise and was sorry she'd come on to him. It had been very unprofessional of her and she promised it would never happen again. That made him feel better about the situation.

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