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Authors: Bryan Dunn

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BOOK: CREEPERS
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Chapter 27

It was late afternoon when Laura’s road-weary Honda pulled into downtown Furnace Valley. A thick coating of desert grit covered the car, and a branch of mesquite hung from the front bumper.

Laura slowed, and as she pulled to a stop in front of Nguyen’s Place, her windshield was suddenly blasted by a stream of water. A moment later, and a second stream joined in.

As the opaque layer of grime was washed off, Laura found herself staring at two 13-year-old boys. The Grogan twins—Billy and Josh—both of them pointing Super Soaker squirt guns at her car.

The Grogan twins were a plague that descended on Furnace Valley with their mother every spring. They usually stayed through the beginning of May, leaving with the summer heat. It was June, and for some reason they hadn’t left yet.

After they had emptied their guns, one of the twins blurted, “No charge for the car wash, lady!” Then they stuck out their tongues, screamed with laughter, and ran off down the street.

Laura shook her head and killed the engine.
Lovely kids
, she thought to herself. Then she climbed out of the car, stretched, and took in the town. She looked flushed and hot and bone tired. It had been a long and nerve-wracking trip.

Laura crossed the porch in front of Nguyen’s Place, and as she pushed through the door, she was greeted by Tommy who was standing by the register. “Welcome to Furnace Valley, miss,” Tommy said, flashing one of his famous smiles, wondering if she was a model out on a photo shoot.

“Thank you,” Laura said, smiling as she glanced around the store.

“Can I help you find something?”

“Actually, I was hoping to get some directions. I’m looking for the Fletcher place.”

“Doc Fletcher?” asked Tommy, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yes, that’s right. Dr. Henry Fletcher.”

“Really? I don’t think Doc’s ever had a visitor before. Heck, he hardly even comes to town.”

Carla, who’d seen Laura come in, walked over and held out an ice-cold glass of lemonade. “Here darlin’, this will knock the dust out of your throat.”

It was like Carla had read her mind. Laura took the drink, and before she realized it, she’d gulped half the glass. “Oh God, that was fantastic! Thanks so much,” Laura said, genuinely grateful.

Carla smiled, a wistful look on her face as she admired Laura’s shorts and her slim figure.

“Lord, I wish I could wear shorts like that.” Carla said, glancing at herself. “But let’s face it—that train left the station about thirty pounds ago.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Laura said politely.

“Oh, stop.” Carla waved a hand through the air. “We both know you’re just being nice.”

Laura, feeling suddenly self-conscious, looked down at her legs and smoothed the back of her shorts.

“So, how do you know Doc?” Carla asked.

“I don’t really… know him. It’s sort of a surprise.”

“You don’t know him?”

“Hey, come on,” said Tommy. “It’s not our business. No more questions.”

“I’m just being friendly,” said Carla, discounting Tommy with a flick of her wrist. “Jeez-Louise.”

“No one likes a busybody,” Tommy insisted.

“I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Right,
busybody
,” said Tommy, as if to rest his case.

“Dr. Fletcher and I met a long time ago,” Laura said, putting an end to Tommy and Carla’s bickering. “I’m an old acquaintance, that’s all.”

“Well, Tommy’s not interested… But I am,” said Carla, getting a dig in.

“Is the Fletcher place hard to find?” Laura asked.

“No, not really. Just a few more miles down the road.” Carla turned to Tommy. “Hon, get me some paper, I’m going to draw her a map.”

A few minutes later, Laura came out of Nguyen’s, map in hand, crossed the porch, and as she stepped down to her car, noticed the Grogan twins loitering in a wedge of shade at the end of the building.

A thought crossed her mind, then appeared on her face in the form of a sly smile.

She opened the Honda’s door, reached across the windshield, fiddled with something, then slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled forward until she was parallel with the twins.

She stuck her hand out and waved a dollar bill at the boys. “Hey… Here. It’s for the car wash.”

The twins looked at each other, exchanged confused looks, then figured what the heck—and, laughing at their good luck, hustled over to get their reward.

Just as they stepped up to her window, Laura hauled back on the windshield washer lever—and a stream of water shot out sideways, blasting one of the boys right between the eyes. He screamed out in shock, grabbed his face, and dropped to the ground.

“Free bath. No charge.” Laura laughed. Then she stuck her tongue out at the little monsters and sped off, leaving them choking in a cloud of dust.

* * *

Fletcher’s body lay right where Frankie and Vinny had left it. The air was still and breathless. A cloud of blowflies covered Fletcher’s face. Their angry buzzing filling the air.

Across the way, the
drip-drip-drip
sound of water echoed from the base of the reservoir as the last of its contents pooled on the ground, then quickly disappeared beneath the sand.

Something moved. The flies started, all of them moving in unison like some unholy school of fish, causing them to swarm up and away from Fletcher’s body.

A moment later, Doc’s body contracted, jerking off the ground. Then his legs began to dance on the sand like they were attached to strings manipulated by some invisible puppeteer. A creeper rose up between his legs and snaked across his chest. It continued until it reached his head, weaving back and forth through the air. A second after that, it struck down, plunging into his neck, the force causing Fletcher’s head to cant to the side and release a knot of boiling maggots that spilled out of his mouth and rolled onto the sand.

Another creeper appeared. It raced toward Fletcher’s body, raising a trail of dust as it rippled across the desert floor like an eel sliding through water.

Chapter 28

Laura gripped the wheel as one of the Honda’s tires banged into, then shot out of yet another pothole. The road seemed to be one giant divot. The good news was, all the bumping and banging had jolted the air conditioner back to life.

She grabbed Carla’s map, rotated it in her hand, tried to make sense of it, then dropped it in her lap and shook her head. “I think I’ve driven off the map,” she said to herself in a frustrated voice.

It was getting late. She thought about turning around and heading back to town when she saw a weathered sign slanting out from one side of the road. It read: Lester Moon’s Goat Farm. Beneath that, a cartoon hand pointed the way.

She looked at the sign, unsure what to do, then pulled off the road, following the pointing finger into a driveway that was really no more than a beaten path through the scrub.
What did she have to lose?

After a minute or so, she came to a roughhewn wooden house with a corrugated tin roof and a series of animal pens attached to one side. A man stood in one of the pens surrounded by six goats. He looked up and waved as the Honda pulled up alongside the pen and parked next to a section of the split rail fence.

Laura waved back. Then she stopped the engine, climbed out of the car, stepped up to the fence, and looped her arms over the top rail.

“Hello,” she said, smiling warmly.

“Hello back, young lady,” answered the frail-looking man. He was dressed in khaki pants, a soiled work shirt, and a battered Resistol cowboy hat.

“You must be Lester Moon.”

“The very same,” said Lester, his weathered face crinkling into a smile. “Say, do you like cheese?” He reached down and gave one of the goats a loving pat.

“Um, yeah. Sure,” said Laura, thinking,
oh-kay
.

Lester picked up a handful of hay, then leaned forward and dropped it into a feed bin. “The thing about goats is—they’ll eat just about anything. Had one chew off my back pocket once.”

“Really?” said Laura.
Here we go
.

“Yep, chewed it right off and swallowed it.” Lester shook his head, thinking about it. “I’m raising these here for goat cheese.”

“Oh. Great. I love feta cheese. Good stuff.”

“Me too. I’m a cheese-eatin’ son-of-a-gun. I love all cheeses—gouda, swiss, jack, cheddar—heck, you name it. No processed cheese, though. No, sir.”

“No, of course not,” Laura agreed, stifling a laugh.

“Remember the movie
Treasure Island?

“Sure… Long John Silver.”

“Right. And Ben Gunn. Remember Ben Gunn? He was the guy in the cave surrounded by all that treasure.” Lester leaned forward, his eyes widening at the thought. “And when they finally discover him—all he wants is cheese.” Lester laughed, then slapped a knee. “So old Ben Gunn trades all those doubloons for a giant wheel of cheese. I believe it was cheddar.”

“Hard to imagine,” Laura said, playing along.

“I’m like that. Heck, I’d have done the same thing.” Lester stooped and picked up another handful of hay. Just as he went to drop it in the bin, there was a flash of green, alien and unnatural-looking—a Fletcher Creeper had been mixed in with the feed. It was a clipping given to him by Doc a few days ago.

“Actually, I’m looking for the Rainsford Ranch,” Laura said, finally getting to why she had wandered by. “I think I may have missed the turn?”

“Oh, Sam’s place. You’re almost there. Just go back to the main road and keep going for five miles and you’ll run smack into it.”

“Great,” said Laura, relieved she hadn’t missed the turn. She turned back to her car, then waved and said, “Thanks again.”

“Come back in about a week, and I’ll have some cheese for you.”

“That’s a deal,” said Laura, pulling open her door.

Chapter 29

Sitting on the house porch, Sam watched as Curley tried to scramble up a sandy bank—two steps forward, one step back. Kristin was inside reading one of her books, a zombie thriller, but had only made it through a couple of paragraphs before drifting off to sleep.
The end of civilization as we know it would just have to wait until she woke up from her nap
.

“Stop right there, Curley.” Sam rocked back in his chair, took a sip of beer. “Put it there and we’ll see if it can hold back that marching dune.”


What?
” said Curley, twisting toward Sam. “What did you say?”

“Just plant it there, Curley,” Sam said, pointing at Curley’s feet. “That’s the perfect spot.”

Curley waved and nodded okay. He dropped to a knee, scooped away a handful of sand, making a shallow hole, then placed the creeper clipping—the one Doc had insisted Sam take—in the hole. Using both hands, he carefully pushed sand around the creeper, being sure to tamp it down on all sides.

Satisfied with his work, Curley struggled to his feet and looked at Sam. “I swear, Sam, half the time I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Curl, I know. It’s why we get along so well.”

* * *

The sun was setting when Laura’s car passed beneath the Rainsford Ranch sign, pulled into the compound, and parked next to the water storage tank. The sky had turned amber, bathing everything in soft golden light, and the noonday heat had finally begun to ease.

Sam came off the porch when he saw the Honda pull up. He didn’t know the car, and was straining to see inside, when—

Laura flung her door open, and in one graceful movement, slipped out onto her long, elegant legs.

What happened next caught Sam totally off guard. He stopped in his tracks, unable to move or even speak.
Stunned
is really the way to describe it—stunned by Laura’s lovely presence. It was like an electric shock. A pulse that overwhelmed his senses.

Laura felt it too. An adrenaline rush. A spontaneous attraction. An unguarded outpouring of love. Or lust? And right on the back of that, she suddenly wished she had changed and fixed her hair and brushed her teeth.

“Hello,” said Laura, pulling her hair back and at the same time breaking the spell she had unwittingly cast on Sam.

Carla was wrong
, Sam thought, staring at her. She had said to keep on the lookout for a pretty girl that might be stopping by. This woman wasn’t pretty—
she was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Hey,” said Sam, as he walked over to greet her, relieved to be able to move his legs again.

Laura held out a hand. “Laura Beecham.” For some reason, she suddenly felt the need to include her last name.

“Sam Rainsford,” he said, taking her hand. “Welcome to the Rainsford Ranch, home of the seedless date.”

“Oh right, yes…” Laura pointed to the entrance. “I saw the sign.”

“Want a date?”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a date.”

Sam smiled, took a step back. Then using his hands, he framed her face like a photographer. “Hair. Wardrobe upgrade. Maybe a touch more makeup…”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” said Laura, giving him a flat look.

“I am, of course, kidding,” Sam said, giving her a warm smile. “Actually, you’re incredibly perfect just the way you are. Just a little date humor. We’re big on that around here.” Then he thought to himself,
What the hell’s come over me?

“Date humor?” she said, a skeptical tone in her voice. “How quaint.”


Quaint?
Oh, we’re very quaint around here. In fact, it’s why I moved here. I was looking for quaint. In my opinion, the world could use more quaint.”

“Well, it’s working. You’re very quaint.”

“Thank you.”

Sam went over to a workbench next to the water tank, grabbed a basket filled with dates, and offered one to Laura. “Here, try one.”

Laura reached out, took a date, then held it up and examined it. “Deglet Noor, right?”

“Right,” said Sam, instantly impressed.
Beautiful AND smart
. What had he done to deserve this?

Laura was thinking she should mention why she was here, that she was looking for the Fletcher place, but she was having fun—
and there was something about this guy
… So instead, she said, “I’m familiar with the trees. Actually, I’m a botanist.” She looked over, staring at the rows of palms silhouetted by the fading light. “They’re majestic.”

“My favorite time of day. Always reminds me of an ancient oasis.”

Laura held the date up, examined it. “I just never think to eat them.”

“That’s because of the seeds. They’re a real bummer. Hey, who ate grapes before the Thompson Seedless, right?”

She thought about that. “Maybe you’ve got a point there.”

Sam held up a date. “Rainsford Seedless Dates. Jewel of the Mojave.”

Laura popped a date in her mouth—and right before she began to chew, Sam said, “
Careful!
Watch out for the seed.”

She gave him a funny look, finished the date, then let the seed slide into her fingers. “Wait a minute, I thought you—”

“Um, yeah. They’re not exactly seedless yet.”

“Well, despite the seed, it was very good. Very tasty.”

“The Deglet Noor is the king of dates,” said Sam, motioning towards the palms. “Doc and I figure by next year we’ll be growing the seedless version.”


Doc?
Laura questioned, suddenly forgetting the dates. “Dr. Henry Fletcher?”

“Right, I should’ve mentioned that…”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m on my way to see him.”

“Yeah, I know. Carla called, said you might be stopping by.”

“Oh,” Laura nodded.

“So how do you know, Doc? Dr. Fletcher?”

“We met once, years ago…” she said, letting her voice trial off. “He’s not expecting me.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Oh…?”

“Doc doesn’t get any visitors.
Especially
good-looking women.”

“Hmm,” she nodded, saying to herself,
glad he thinks so
. “Well, won’t he be surprised.”

“Very.”

“I understand it’s not far from here… do I just follow the road?”

“Basically, yeah. But not in that,” said Sam, pointing at her car. “That Honda will never make it. The road up to Fletcher’s is like the back of a camel. Four-wheel-drive only.”

Laura frowned. “How far is it?”

“Two hours…
on foot
.”

“By four-wheel-drive, I mean,” she said flatly, stopping just short of rolling her eyes.

“I seen Sam make the run to Doc’s in twenty-five minutes,” said Curley, stepping out of the shadows and giving Laura a wide-eyed look.
He’d never seen such a good-looking woman
.

“Yeah, but not at night,” said Sam, putting a hand on Curley’s back. “Curley, say hello to Laura.”

Curley raised his cap. “Hey,” he said. You could see the blush on his cheeks clear through his beard.

“Nice to meet you, Curley,” she said, warmly. “Quaint name,” she added, giving Sam a little smile.

“Quaint?” said Curley, giving her a confused look.

“Just say thank you, Curley,” Sam laughed. “Trust me on this.”

Curley threw up his hands and shook his head. “I don’t understand you any better than Sam.” He turned to go, then looked back and said, “I swear, Sam, one of these days I’m just gonna up and walk off this place.”

“Fine, Curley. You do that,” challenged Sam. “But just remember, your bunk will always be here waiting for you.”

“Aww… how am I ever gonna get out of here…”

A loud
snorting
sound erupted next to the barn. They all turned and watched as Blossom trotted over to a bag of chicken feed and tried to open it with her hoof.

“Curley! Didn’t I tell you to keep that pig penned up?” said Sam, a little anger edging into his voice.

“Shoot! Sorry, Sam…” Curley hitched up his coveralls and ran toward the pig. “Blossom! Blossom, no! Get away from there!”

Sam looked at Laura, shrugged, and gave her a
What am I gonna do
look.

Laura just smiled. She could see that Sam was really fond of Curley and had taken him under his wing. “So, how about running me up to the Fletcher place?”

“Love to.”

“Great,” said Laura. She moved toward her car. “I just have to—”

“First thing tomorrow morning,” he said, cutting her off.

“What’s wrong with right now?”

“It’s too late. That road is bad in the daytime. At night, it’s suicide.”

What’s this guy playing at?
She suddenly thought to herself.
Is he working the situation, trying to come onto her?
And then,
Would that be so bad?

“You’re kidding… are you sure?”

“Cross my seedless heart.”

Laura frowned. “Great.”

“You’re welcome to stay here tonight.”

There it was… Mr. Suave. Mister Smooth Operator makes his move
. She mashed her lips together, glanced at the house, then issued an equivocal, “Hmm…”

“Or, I’m sure Tommy and Carla would put you up for the night.”

Laura sighed. There was no way she was getting back in that car. “I couldn’t face the drive,” she said, dropping her defenses. “Not after today.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. You can stay here.” Sam plucked a date out of the basket and flipped it to Laura. “Besides, you don’t want to miss the Rainsford Ranch house special.”

“What would that be?” she asked, flashing a skeptical look.

“Date loaf,” Sam said, a dead serious look on his face.

Laura’s face dropped. “
Date loaf?

“Just kidding!” he laughed. “Tonight it’s roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus.”

“Thank God,” Laura said, genuinely relieved.

BOOK: CREEPERS
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