hear the gunshot, she would be the one to discover his body, and he was concerned about hurting her feelings?
Sitting carefully on the bed, his back against the headboard, Beetle clicked off the pistol’s safety, pressed the barrel into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, and counted to ten.
CHAPTER 18
“Humans are such easy prey.”
From Beyond (1986)
Jeff’s eyes snapped open. He sucked back a sharp intake of air. His arms shot out from his sides, as if to prevent himself from falling.
Where was he?
He tried to sit up and pain flared in his back. He cried out, a twisted, tormented howl.
What the hell had happened?
He thought back. The crybaby bridge. Tossing the baby shoes he’d brought with him beneath the bridge to scare the others. The hearse—oh shit the hearse! Swerving off the road at the last second. Punching through the forest. Steve kneeling beside him, asking him to squeeze his hand, which he could do, asking him to move his legs, which he could not do.
An icicle of fear skewered his heart.
You’re paralyzed, a jolly, manic voice told him. You can’t walk. You can’t even tie your own shoes anymore. How about that? Try getting someone “more on your level” now, buddy old pal. You would be lucky to find a hooker who won’t feel sorry for you. Speaking of sex—can you even get an erection? Or is your dick as gimped as your legs?
Clenching his jaw against the pain radiating from his back, Jeff maneuvered himself onto his elbows. He tried moving his legs. They didn’t respond. He tried harder, focusing all of his concentration on them. Nothing. It was like trying to move a third arm.
He swallowed the panic that wanted to explode from his mouth in a needle-sharp scream.
“Steve…?” he said instead, his voice rusty, barely a whisper.
No answer.
He felt rough wooden floorboards beneath his palms. He moved his right hand, exploring blindly for his legs. He found them where they should be, though they didn’t register his touch; they felt like someone else’s legs. Nevertheless, they were there. They weren’t amputated.
Jeff’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and he discovered that the blackness was a little less black to his right. He stared in that direction until he understood he must be looking at a door. Dim light was seeping through the crack at the bottom of it.
So he was in some sort of a room. But why were the lights off, and why was he lying on the fucking floor? Shouldn’t he be in a hospital? Had Steve and the others gone to get help? Why would they all go? Wouldn’t someone stay behind with him?
“Mandy…?” he said.
Nobody replied.
Jeff squinted. There was something in the far corner of the room, something large and lumpy. A piece of furniture? Or someone else?
“Noah…?”
Jeff sniffed, detecting the putrid odor for the first time, though he suspected it had been there all along. Urine? Yeah, urine. But not his own. His pants were dry.
Urine and…something musky.
Swallowing fresh panic, Jeff eased himself to his side as gently as he could. His back screamed in protest at the movement. It was as if his vertebrae were being held together with razor blades.
“Ignore it,” he mumbled to himself, blocking out the pain.
Using only his arms, he began to drag himself forward on his belly. His body felt as though it weighed a ton, and it took all of his upper strength and willpower to move inch after excruciating inch. He didn’t stop once, fearing he wouldn’t be able to start again, and then he was close enough to make out the shadowy shape in the corner.
“Austin?” he croaked in relief at seeing his friend’s face—though it seemed strangely puffy, especially his lips. “Austin—”
Jeff froze in terror.
A gigantic snake was coiled around Austin’s body, from his feet to his shoulders. Its jaw, unhinged and opened impossibly wide, was attached to the top of Austin’s skull in a toothless smile as it worked on swallowing him headfirst.
Austin was having the nightmare again, only this time it was different and somehow worse than all the others. He was in his bar. It was late, long past closing. He was alone. From the back office came the now familiar sneaky, scuffling sound. He knew what was causing it from past dreams. It was his grandmother. He would go back there, like he did every other time, and he would find her rifling through the filing cabinet in which he kept all his receipts and bills. She would