Shark Beast 2: Paranormal Sharkitivity Page 5

  Cameraman Bob smiled and jabbed a middle finger against the window.

  "You're done," he said.

  Kasey punched the window. A frighteningly loud crack erupted -- for a moment everyone thought she'd damaged the window -- but, wailing and rubbing her wounded knuckles, it was obvious she'd hurt her own hand.

  "Owwowowow," she burbled. Then, with a look half angry and half scared: "Let me in, please!"

  Cameraman Bob jabbed his other middle finger against the door.

  "You can't leave her out there," Casey muffled through the seatbelt tied around her mouth.

  "You'd be surprised what I can and can't do."

  Casey leaned forward, or tried to. "But she'll--"

  "You touch that door," Cameraman Bob said, dully, "and I'll shove your goth behind out there with her."

  Casey's eyes suddenly widened.

  Cameraman Bob turned.

  Kasey, armed with a hunk of rock the size of a loaf of bread, lifted the grubby stone with two hands, high over her head --

  "Do it and die," Cameraman Bob called out firmly, his breath frosting the driver's side window. "Simple as that. Do it, you die."

  Kasey smirked crazily.

  Then: a weird, harsh, scratching sound. Cameraman Bob locked onto Kasey's eyes, which shifted slowly upwards, staring up at the car roof.

  Or at something on the roof.

  Her eyes widened and dimmed.

  The rock dropped from her hand with an absentminded, faraway thump.

  Casey said, "This is wrong," wrenching her arm out of the seatbelts tying her down, reaching for the door.

  "No!" Cameraman Bob's spit hit the window as he grabbed for Casey's hand.

  Crack --

  "No!"

  The door opened.

  ~ ~ ~

  What happened next happened fast, with an utter gritty-sick grossness:

  The thing -- half shark, half who could tell -- slithered in through the door from the roof, and then started scrambling, crab-like, over the seats and upside-down, hanging from the roof.

  Two scared passengers rocketed out of the car.

  How Casey managed, it wasn't entirely clear. She'd ripped herself out of the seatbelts Cameraman Bob had tied her down with, out of sheer panic -- but she hadn't come out completely unscathed. Something was wrong with her right arm--

  "It... touched... me," Casey garbled, before huck-hurling on some nearby rocks.

  "Close the doors! Now!" Cameraman Bob ordered. "Trap it! Trap the thing!"

  Casey, mouth gaping, eyes gaping too, wobbling on panicked legs, pivoted her head jerkily in Cameraman Bob's direction.

  "Hold your door closed!" Cameraman Bob pointed toward Casey's open door. "NOW!"

  "Whuh-what?" Casey managed, dumbly, a glistening string of drool dangling from her bobbling jaw.

  Cameraman Bob leaned down, peering over the Honda roof.

  "Close! Your! Door!"

  Casey let her head droop. Her side of the--

  (blink)

  Door wide open.

  (blink)

  "--or! It's! GONNA! GETOUT!"

  Then, in the backseat, that... thing. That horrible, bonzo-freaky, tentacled ... thing. Staring straight at Casey.

  (blink)

  I'm-a gonna...get you.

  Casey and the creature darted at the same exact instant, rushing for the open door.

  Blink --

  Gonna get you.

  Casey hit the door, thrust her weight behind it, shoved -- with her bad arm -- pain! -- (Imagine! The door slamming on the creature, half-in, half-out, those spindly death tentacles grabbing at you! Please don't happen!) -- felt the door swinging to a close. Then thunk -- something stopped the door from closing. Casey gasped, and, shoving her heels deep into the dirt, pushed with everything she had and ever would have --

  Gonna get --

  The door slammed shut.

  Air rushing from her lungs in a relieved, gulpy blast, Casey lurch-collapsed, her hands flapping across the car roof. Camera Bob immediately reached over from his side of the car, gripped Casey's good arm.

  "Pleeease," she whined, face-first on the roof. "Please, let me go, I want to go."

  "If you pull away, it can open a door, can get out," Camera Bob said, calmly. "Whatever it is, it's trapped inside, but the doors aren't locked. The only thing keeping us out here, and it in there..."

  Casey's head raised, then fell hopelessly, her chin thumping against the roof.

  "I can't do it," she wheezed.

  "Fine," Camera Bob said, releasing Casey's arm. "But you better be prepared to run, better run like Lola ran, because that thing is going to come sprinting out that door like that" -- he snapped his fingers -- "and good luck, Mustang Sally. It's got more legs than you, remember."

  Casey sighed, dropped her face side-flat on the roof. She noticed Kasey was right next to Cameraman Bob, holding her door shut.

  "I can't do this," she offered, helplessly.

  Kasey said nothing.

  ~ ~ ~

  A scrambling, whirling dervish sound from within the car. It lasted about 20 seconds, sounded horrible, and made Casey wilt and crumble.

  "I can't do this," she groaned pitifully. "Can't... do this..."

  But Casey stayed. Heaving, sobbing, her chest hitching and jerking... but she stayed.

  A long moment in the moonlight later.

  Casey was still face down on the roof.

  "What are we gonna do now?" she moaned.

  Cameraman Bob cleared his throat roughly, then spit to the side. "We got two choices, far as I see it. Either we stay like this, wait it out -- or we run."

  "Wait it out?" Casey snorted, muffled. "Wait for what?"

  "Wait for someone to come along," Cameraman Bob said. "I assume we're not the only nitwits that know this shortcut."

  Kasey muttered, "Your shortcut." Getting her sullen back.

  Casey muffle-snorted again. "So what, we stand here, hugging this car all night?"

  "Somebody'll be along."

  "Somebody who? We're in the middle of nowhere!" Casey jerked her head off the roof. "And what if nobody drives by? And even if somebody does drive by, when's it gonna be? Tomorrow morning? Tomorrow night? Next week? Or how 'bout until one of us slips and falls asleep, and that thing gets out? Then what? I'll tell you then what! We'll be freakin' dead, that's then what!"

  "Well, what do you suggest?" Cameraman Bob started to hock another loogie, then just swallowed it. "You don't want to run, you don't want to stay! That kind of ticks off all the options--!"

  "We kill it!"

  Cameraman Bob snorted. "What?"

  "Sticks, rocks." Casey wrenched her fists in the air. "Just open it up and bash its freaking head in. Just kill it!"

  "Kill it?" Cameraman Bob laughed. "We don't even know if it's alive."

  "Well, it freakin' looks alive to me," Casey said.

  Cameraman Bob shook his head. "Well, I'm telling you right now -- no way I'm fightin' that thing with rocks and sticks. I'd rather high-tail and bail and take our chances, and I don't even want to do that."

  "Run? Run where? You think that thing won't find you? It'll pick us off one by one!"

  "I just said I didn't want to run!" Cameraman Bob insisted. "That's why we wait!"

  "No way!" Casey whined. "No way, that's just stupid."

  "Better than lettin' that thing out and waving rocks and sticks at it! It'll eat us alive!" Cameraman Bob said. "Now, if we'd have took the prop van, we'd have a gun or an ax..."

  "-- stupid!"

  "I'm warning you, little goth girl, if you don't shut up right here and now--"

  "Well, guess what, genius, we ain't got a gun, and we ain't got an ax," Casey said, sullen and bossy and whiny now. "But we got rocks and we got sticks. I say we make do with what we got instead of what we wish we had!"

  "How about we run and we'll leave you and the thing hack it out with your rocks and sticks."

  "How about you wait here, Mister you, and we
go after you with some rocks and sticks --"

  "Oh, children..."

  "Hey, lay it down, big man, anytime --"

  "Oh, child-ren..."

  Cameraman Bob blinked, turned to Kasey.

  "I think it's gone," she said quietly.

  Casey and Cameraman Bob looked over at Kasey, blankly.

  "It's gone." She pointed down. "The thing... it's not in the car."

  All three leaned down and peered into the car.

  Empty.

  They looked at each other through the windows.

  "Where ... did it go?" Casey whimpered, her voice hitching.

  They leaned in even closer, pressing their noses against the glass.

  Still empty.

  Casey stood up.

  "Where did it go?" she muttered, as she found herself face to ghoul-face with the freaky creature, which was now perched spider-style, tentacles curling, on the roof of the car.

  Casey stared.

  Casey gulped.

  Casey howled.

  "AAHHHHHHH--"

  Everyone shot straight up.

  The thing thumped its pinchers against the roof. Began hissing. Snarling. Flick-licking. Spinning in sharp, jerky half-circles, whipping its black tongue at everyone, bearing seemingly endless rows of teeth.

  Everyone stared.

  Everyone gulped.

  Everyone howled.

  Cameraman Bob staggered back, casting about for a weapon; then, remembering his knife, grabbed for his pocket. Something suddenly pushed past him --

  -- Kasey whipped open the back door, and dove in.

  The door slammed behind her.

  Cameraman Bob fumbled for his switchblade.

  The creature turned its head, toward Cameraman Bob, then back at Casey.

  Grinned evilly.

  As if...

  ... trying to choose.

  Casey tried to focus, but couldn't; her head was boiling with white noise. She stepped back, just in time to hear the foul creature say:

  "Get in."

  Casey blinked, stunned.

  "Whut?" she said, her eyes dilating wildly.

  "Get in."

  "Wh-whut--?" Casey felt something grab her, and her heart rocketed from her chest up through the top of her head. Her eyes flickered, and she was sure she was going to pass out, when --

  --Kasey pulled her into the car.

  "Get in!" Kasey ordered, yanking her feet in, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Casey regained her orientation in time to catch Kasey lock-lock-lock-locking all four doors, punching one after the other with her fist.

  Cameraman Bob finally got his switchblade open, just in time to realize he'd been locked out.

  ~ ~ ~

  He looked at the backseat car window.

  Kasey, grinning an endless grin, flipped a slap-happy middle finger through the window.

  You're done, she mouthed.

  Not at all sullenly.

  Not sullenly at all.

  Cameraman Bob gaped at her, unbelievingly. His face said this couldn't be happening, but his eyes said, simply: I'm going to kill you. "Tricky...! Traitor...! Tramp...!" he bellowed.

  He flung the knife at the window with a clatter.

  Kasey blinked, grinned, two middle fingers bracketing her mocking face.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cameraman Bob was scared, not motorcycle-scared, not bungee-jump scared, not midnight-drives-without-headlights-on scared ...

  This was I'm-gonna-die scared.

  Gonna-die-bad scared.

  Then it registered: the top of the roof was empty.

  Where could the thing have gone?

  Then: sparkle. On the ground, by the back tire...

  His switchblade.

  Cameraman Bob bent for it -- just as a slimy tentacle whipped out from underneath the car, snatched the knife, then, with a taunting curl, slowly disappeared.

  Cameraman Bob shot straight up. "It's under the car!" he screeched. "Under the freaking car!"

  He pressed his hands against the car windows.

  "Please, you gotta let me in," he pleaded, his breath spit-smearing a trail across the glass. "Please let me in!"

  Kasey just grinned, flipped him another bird. And mouthed these words:

  You're not the boss of me.

  ~ ~ ~

  The car lurched.

  "What was that!" Casey gaped out the window.

  Cameraman Bob was running away from the car, chased by the ... thing ... the shark beast ... like in the stupid cable movie! I thought that was made-up! -- skittering after him, crab-like, in the runny moonlight.

  "Oh... my... freaky-freak-freak," Casey said, dry-voiced.

  Cameraman Bob and the crab-shark-thing disappeared behind some trees. Then: nothing.

  "Man-man-o-man," Casey muttered. "Man man man man--"

  A long, stretchy moment.

  "What'll we do now?" Casey managed finally; slowly; almost wistfully. No answer. She turned to face Kasey. Kasey will know what to do Kasey will make everything right Kasey will Kasey will man man oh man-- "What do we should we --"

  THUNK--!

  The side of the car rocked.

  Then: nothing.

  Kasey and Casey both tilted their heads, like terrified cats, listening. Finally, it was Casey -- scared, keep me out of this Casey -- who leaned over, and pressed her nose against the glass...

  Cameraman Bob's bloodied sneering face filled the driver's side window.

  Casey screamed; flailed; and in a clumsy effort to push herself away from the door, accidentally

  (click)

  unlocked it.

  ~ ~ ~

  Casey screamed, just as Cameraman Bob disappeared downward in a mucky crimson smear, out of window range.

  "Idiot lesbian, what did you do!" Kasey yowled, lurching for the door lock.

  Too late -- the door swung open, and the upper part of Cameraman Bob's body flopped inside, wildly. Casey watched in zero-eyed terror as Cameraman Bob grit his teeth, grabbed and held onto one of the seatbelts with all his worth. Everything below was out of view, as if he were on his knees, or his legs were somehow underneath the car...

  "Help me," he begged.

  Which is what Casey wanted to do, and would have done, if Cameraman Bob hadn't said it in that low, groany voice. The sound of it had creeped Casey out useless. She couldn't move. All she could do was stare as Cameraman Bob tried to pull himself into the car.

  "Help me," he repeated, just as low, just as groany.

  Casey just sat there, her mouth clamped so tight she was breathing through her ears.

  "Hel--"

  Cameraman Bob suddenly jerked backwards. He regripped the seatbelt, trying to tangle his arm, tie it around him somehow.

  A crazy image came to Casey's mind, morphed into the one she was seeing. The car was suddenly a boat, and the ground was blue, blue ocean, and Cameraman Bob was a swimmer trying to get back onboard, but a giant fish, a shark ... a shark beast, was trying to pull him into splash-horror depths.

  Every muscle on Cameraman Bob's tattooed arms seemed to bloom, as he tried to pull himself into the car. The seatbelt twisted, and when it wouldn't twist anymore, just tightened, until it couldn't tighten anymore -- and then:

  Started to fray.

  Casey, zombie-eyed, slowly offered her foot.

  The seatbelt snapped, and Cameraman Bob immediately grabbed Casey's ankle.

  "Unnnhh--!"

  Casey's orange-and-purple Nike popped off and bounced across the dashboard. Cameraman Bob's attempt to re-grab Casey's ankle caused him to hit the loose Nike again, which flopped and bounced off of Casey's forearm.

  "Ayyy-ey!" she shrieked.

  Camera Bob lost his hold on her ankle, and...

  (a quick look at Casey, then: a bold spark of hope)

  ...he grabbed at another seatbelt, and when the next jolt came, he was ready--

  "Ohhh--hhohh--"

  --until the belt came off in his hands. He and Casey immedia
tely recognized it as one of the ones he'd sliced up earlier, one that he'd used on Kasey.

  The one she'd tried to strangle him with.

  "Oh," he said, big-eyed and tiny-voiced.

  Belt limply gripped in his hands, Cameraman Bob swallowed hard, and the bold spark dimmed like a wishless birthday candle. And with that, he jerked, spaz-crazy, and disappeared beneath the car.

  Casey stared out the open door.

  With a whiny high-pitched girl-screech, Casey panic-fumbled for the door, snatched it shut. She pounded the door lock with her fist, kept pounding it, making sure it stayed locked. Then, and only then, did the high-pitched girl-screech come spiraling to an end.

  Casey leaned forward, burying her face in the imitation leather of the seat. Closed her eyes, felt her body go slack, as she lay there, breathing in that imitation leather, and soon enough...

  When I wake up, Kasey will know what to do.

  Kasey will know.

  Kasey will --

  Everything went blank.

  ~ ~ ~

  She woke up.

  Raised her head, the movement causing soupy movements in her brain. Eyes fluttered thickly.

  She was alone.

  Something grabbed hold of her heart and gave it a nasty twist.

  Alone.

  Kasey left.

  Kasey left me.

  Then, on the chain-link steering wheel, held on with a bit of .. what ... couldn't tell...

  A note.

  She wanted to reach for it.

  Really did.

  But then she noticed.

  Both front doors were open.

  There was blood on the dashboard.

  Casey sat there, in the back a very long time. A stupidly long time -- even in her utter fear, enough logic seeped through to let her know --

  The doors.

  You need to close the doors.

  NOW.

  But she couldn't move.

  She couldn't --

  She --

  "Yes, I can," she heard herself whisper. Surprised by her own words. "Yes, I can."

  Just shut the doors. Lock them. Then wait. Or try to start the car. Or find a cell phone. Or...

  Shut the doors.

  Now.

  "Yes, I can," she whispered. "Yes, I will." Slowly -- oh so slowly, like she was hardly moving at all -- she adjusted her bad arm, so she could lean -- slooowwly -- up and reach --

  Then something moved.

  In the front seat.

  ~ ~ ~

  Her mind a windmill of nothing, Casey reached down and found herself with a handful of loose Nike.