the office. A battered metal desk, covered with stacks of paper, stood by the front window; an old office chair rested behind it, rocked back on its hinges, giving the ghostly impression of having only recently been vacated. He moved through the door that led to the service bays, a cool, dark space that smelled of oil. A Cadillac Seville, late-’90s vintage, was perched on one of the lifts; the second bay was occupied by a Chevy 4×4 with a jacked-up suspension and fat, mud-choked tires. Resting on the floor was a five-gallon gas can; on one of the workbenches, Grey located a length of hose. He severed off a six-foot section, slid one end into the 4×4’s fuel port, drew in a sip that he spat away, and began to siphon gas into the can.
The can was nearly full when he heard a scuffling above his head. Every nerve in his body fired simultaneously, clenching him in place.
Slowly he lifted his face.
The creature was suspended from one of the ceiling beams, hanging upside down with its knees folded over the strut like a kid on monkey bars. It was smaller than Zero, more human-seeming. As their eyes locked, Grey’s heart froze between beats. From deep inside the creature’s throat came a trilling sound.
You don’t have to be afraid, Grey.
What the fuck?
His feet tangled under him as he lurched backward, sending him pitching to the hard concrete. He snatched the gas can off the floor, fuel still gushing from the siphon, and charged from the service bay into the office and out the door. Lila was standing with her back braced against the car.
“Get in,” he said breathlessly.
“You didn’t notice if they had a vending machine inside? I’d really like to get a candy bar or something.”
“Damn it, Lila, get in the car.” Grey threw open the Volvo’s hatch, tossed the can inside, and slammed it closed. “We have to go right now.”
The woman sighed. “Fine, whatever you say. I don’t see why you have to be so rude about it.”
They raced away. Only when they were a mile from town did Grey’s pulse begin to slow. He let the Volvo coast to a stop, threw the door open, and stumbled from the car. Standing at the side of the road, he placed his hands on his knees, breathing in huge gulps of air. Jesus, it was like the thing had spoken to him. Like those clicks were a foreign language he could understand. It even knew his name. How did it know his name?
He felt Lila’s hand on his shoulder. “Lawrence, you’re bleeding.”
He was. His elbow looked ripped open, a flap of skin dangling. He must have done it in the fall, although he’d felt nothing.
“Let me look.”
Wearing an expression of intense concentration, Lila gently probed the edges with her fingertips. “How did it happen?”
“I guess I tripped.”
“You should have said something. Can you move it?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Wait here,” Lila commanded. “Don’t touch it.”
She opened the hatch of the Volvo and began to rummage through her suitcase. She removed a metal box and a bottle of water and dropped the tailgate.
“Let’s sit you down.”
Grey positioned himself on the tailgate. Lila opened the box: a medical kit. She rubbed a dab of Purell into her hands, removed a pair of latex gloves, snapped them onto her hands, and took his arm again.
“Do you have any history of excessive bleeding?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Hepatitis, HIV, anything like that?”
Grey shook his head.
“How about your last tetanus shot? Can you remember when that was?”
What Lila was this? Who was Grey seeing? Not the lost woman of the Home Depot, or the defeated soul in the kitchen; this was someone new. A third Lila, full of efficiency and competence.
“Not since I was a kid.”
Lila took another moment to examine the wound. “Well, it’s a nasty gash. I’m going to have to suture it.”
“You mean like … stitches?”
“Trust me, I’ve done it a million times.”
She swabbed the wound with alcohol, removed a disposable syringe from the box, filled it from a tiny vial, and tapped the needle with her forefinger.
“Just a little something to numb you up. You won’t feel a thing, I promise.”
The prick of the needle and in just a few seconds, Grey’s pain melted away. Lila unfolded a cloth onto the tailgate, laying out a pair of forceps, a spool of dark thread, and a tiny scissors.
“You can watch if you want, but most people prefer to look away.”
He felt