Clickers. Part 8

"Not all the time, buster," Janice said, mocking tone. "You're grounded from comic books for the next two weeks, remember?"

The idea of previous sentencing for whatever childhood crime had been wreaked in the kid's name seemed to go unheeded. He nodded nonchalantly, as if he knew the appeals would come within the next few days. "I know," he said. "Do you like the X-Men?" His attention was riveted back to Rick.

"A little," Rick said, grinning. Ad-libbing. He hated the X-Men.

Bobby began spilling inane comic book questions at Rick, totally oblivious to his mother. "I've got number fifty-four, the one that's worth, like, fifty bucks now. I've also got the new Mutant comic and-"

"Tell you what," Janice interrupted, patting her son's wind-blown brown hair. "Why don't we go get some cotton candy and get to know each other a little better." She traded a sidelong glance with Rick, her hazel eyes holding greater promises in store.

Bobby saw right through the charade. "Aw, Mom, can't I go play on the beach some more? I don't want to be around you guys if you're gonna be making sucky faces at each other."

Rick sputtered laughter, Janice joining him. Bobby looked at them with bored disinterest, waiting for a chance for his reprieve. Rick didn't feel embarra.s.sed at all by Bobby's sudden burst of honesty; it was pretty G.o.d-d.a.m.ned funny. Janice ruffled Bobby's mop of hair. "Go on, but be careful."

Bobby's face erupted into smiles and he set off to run. Rick looked over at Janice and smiled. Bobby started off, but then doubled back and leaned toward Rick. "Hey Rick, if you're gonna be my Mom's new boyfriend, ya gotta know something."

"Robert Alton Harrelson!" Janice's tone changed to authoritative steel. Rick read the glimmer in her features; she knew Bobby was joking and he sensed that they teased each other often.

"What?" Bobby looked at his mother with irritation.

"What does he need to know?" Janice put her hands on her hips. Waiting.

Bobby leaned in close to Rick. "She can't cook!"

Janice leaped toward Bobby, arms out to grab him. He gave out a maniacal cackle and slithered like an eel out of her grasp and ran down the pier. Janice stepped after him and stopped, watching as the little urchin hit the sand and head for the water, laughing all the way. "You wait, Bobby! When you least expect it!"

Janice turned back to Rick, chuckling to herself. "Can you believe that little s.h.i.t?"

Rick shrugged. "It looks like you two have a pretty good relationship."

Janice nodded. "We do. Sometimes too good. I know where he gets that wicked sense of humor from, too. He's definitely my kid." Rick nodded. Intuition told him that Bobby's father probably skipped out of the picture a long time ago.

"Well, Rick, how about that cotton candy?" That flirtatious tone crept back into her voice.

"You got it."

They set off walking down the pier toward Rox's hamburgers, a greasepit burger stand that served everything that was bad for you. Janice got a pink swirl of cotton candy. Rick settled for a c.o.ke. They found a deserted table, wiped the settled rain off with some napkins and sat down. Small talk commenced shortly after their behinds met plastic.

Rick answered not-too-personal questions about himself. He told her everything that had happened to him up till now; his brief past in Philly, his decision to move to a new location, the drive to Phillipsport, his accident, his encounter with Rusty and the Sheriff, the exploration of his house. At the mention of Melissa, Janice nodded, no hint of jealousy in her face. "Melissa's a sweetie. Believe it or not, I used to babysit her."

Gee, she sure doesn't look that old. Rick originally pegged her to be around twenty-five, give or take a few years. Missy couldn't be more than twenty-one and if you count Bobby in as being around seven, Rick could definitely see that Janice was most likely around his own age. "When she dropped me off yesterday, Melissa mentioned that you and Jack Ripley are kindred spirits."

"She's a sweet girl," Janice said. "I don't see her that much now. Sometimes I'll stop by Shelby's for a bite and we chat, but it's been awhile."

"She drove me home from Shelby's the other night," Rick mentioned. He cut Melissa out of the loop from that point on. He liked Melissa, but it wouldn't be right to talk about another woman with Janice, even if that other woman was merely regarded as a friend.

He filled the rest of the anecdote with what had happened till he ran into her at the pier. He was surprised that Ripper, one of the most seminal influences on his writing, lived in Phillipsport. Janice nodded, smiling at him. "Jack Ripley plays a good babysitter, too. If you know what I mean."

Rick nodded, catching the glimmer in her eye. What better way to keep Bobby occupied some evening than leaving him with Ripper to peruse comic books while he and Janice got to know each other better?

The one minute Janice had imposed on Bobby quickly stretched to thirty. After a while she rose and walked over to the edge of the pier to check on him. Rick heard her call down to him faintly for a moment. When she came back she looked more at ease. "I told him we'd come get him in a few minutes. He won't scamper off if he knows I'm up here."

Great. That meant they could relax in the pleasure of each other's company. Rick sipped at his c.o.ke and listened as Janice related bits and pieces of her life. She was a secretary for the town's only lawyer who was currently out on a Black-lung case in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The job itself gave her ample free time when it came to raising a seven-year-old. She somehow found the time for little league baseball games, after school activities, and volunteering for PTA duties. She gave Bobby what he really needed; her undivided attention in her love.

Beyond that she had time for a few hobbies. She liked to read and watch movies-she was a big fan of Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k films and anything by Stephen King. "It makes sense, I guess," she said. "Being from Maine and all, he really captures the region quite beautifully."

Rick nodded and grinned. Bright woman. He liked her already.

They talked about their interests for a while; Janice liked to take Bobby to New York and Boston to peruse the museums. Bobby was interested in dinosaurs. Rick drew his leather jacket tighter around his body. The wind had picked up considerably, blowing his long hair over his face. Janice noticed the wind and looked out over the horizon. Rick followed her gaze. "Looks like we're gonna be getting a bigger storm."

Janice nodded. The sky from the north was as black as India ink. Forks of lightning flashed through it, creating a rippling effect of electricity. Rick could practically feel the tension in the air. The cloud ma.s.s looked like it was still a good twenty miles north. With the way the wind was blowing this new storm would hit them by nightfall.

"Is the weather like this all the time?" Rick asked, his eyes glued to the electrical show unfolding to the north.

"No. It gets pretty stormy in the winter, but I've never seen it like this before. It's really getting black and dreary, isn't it?"

Rick smirked. "I like it black and dreary."

Janice laughed and they slipped back into conversation. Rick was so absorbed in the conversation, in her awesome beauty, that he didn't even notice the storm clouds building in higher ma.s.ses and moving quickly toward them.

Chapter Ten.

Bobby Harrelson looked back toward the pier where his Mom and Rick were. He couldn't see them from this vantage point, but he knew they were there, talking grown-up stuff. He knew Mom wanted to be alone with Rick the minute he saw her making goo-goo eyes at him. He had been around Mom enough times to know that she wanted to be left alone whenever she got that way. His buddy Richard told Bobby that his mom did that to his dad all the time. Whenever Moms did that it meant they wanted to get laid. Bobby had a vague definition of what that meant, but it was still confusing; did it mean they laid down together? How boring.

Bobby turned and scaled the rocks of the beach carefully to avoid the cold, splashing waves. He'd been picking his way casually among the rocks for the past fifteen minutes now and hadn't come across anything. The rocky area held all the tide pools, which was where you found all the cool stuff; sand dollars, tiny fish, skeeters, wriggly things that were unidentifiable to him.

He had scoured all of them, but there was nothing. The waves had probably splashed them all out to sea. Too bad.

Bobby climbed on a large rock and sighed. He looked out at the ocean. The tide had receded for the moment, but it would come in at high tide tonight. Mom said there was going to be a full moon tonight and he knew well enough that the tide rose whenever the moon was full. Hopefully that would bring something up from the ocean. Something cool that he'd never seen before.

One time he'd found a tiny octopus in a tide pool and took it home in a jar. Mom had put her foot down on that. He'd wanted to keep it till at least Monday when he could take it to school for show-and-tell. Mom wouldn't have it though, and he had to dump the critter back into the ocean. What a b.u.mmer that had been. He would have had the greatest show-and-tell exhibit of all time. Instead he had to settle for a crummy piece of driftwood that sort of looked like Ross Perot when you held it up at the right angle.

Bobby jumped off the rock and landed in the cold sand. A huge wave was coming in and he scooted back to avoid getting wet. G.o.d forbid he get his new Air-Jordans soaked with sandy sea water. Mom would kill him.

He stepped back as the wave crashed on the beach and rolled up the sand. He watched the tide retreat, exposing sh.e.l.ls and sand crabs. He looked up at the gray sky and the vast expanse of ocean and sighed. Nothing much else out here to play with. Might as well go back.

He was just about to turn and trudge back up the beach to the pier when a flash of brown caught his eye. He turned toward his left and squinted down the beach. A brown ma.s.s was lying in the sand, tangled in seaweed. Bobby stepped toward it curiously. He trotted over the sand to the object until it was more identifiable, then he started running. A moment later he pulled up to a stop just a few feet from it.

It was a boat. A small one. The tail of the craft was in the water and the gentle lapping waves pushed it farther up the beach. There was a small outboard motor on the tail and a broken oar leaning against the railing. It looked like it had just been cast up from the ocean. In short, it looked like whoever was piloting it had abandoned ship.

Bobby turned around, checking to see if anybody was watching him. The beach was deserted. He looked out toward the pier and could now see Mom and Rick. They were still there, still talking and making goo-goo eyes at each other. Good.

He stepped closer toward the boat, pretending he was a special investigator who had just discovered an abandoned ship. He would have to tread carefully to avoid being spotted by any enemy agents whose only motive would be to discredit his find. Not to mention he had to be extra careful for any enemy spies that might be lurking in the ship. He would just peer inside quickly, a.s.sess the situation, then dash off and let his commander know what he had discovered. Headquarters would send reinforcements to aid him right away.

Something about the boat looked familiar the moment he saw it and now it dawned on him. It was Old Man Stebble's boat. But where was Old Man Stebble?

Bobby stopped and checked out his surroundings more carefully. He looked back up the beach, looking for Old Man Stebble. Surely the old fart wouldn't leave his boat on the beach unattended. And what was it doing on the beach in the first place? Old Man Stebble was real protective when it came to this boat. He wouldn't leave it here; he would most likely anchor it to the docks south of the pier. Bobby kept his eyes peeled for Old Man Stebble. He didn't want to be caught anywhere near the old codger's boat. Stebble had a nasty reputation of being a total p.r.i.c.k when it came to his personal belongings.

But Old Man Stebble was nowhere to be seen.

Bobby kept his guard up as he stepped back to the boat. He was going to a.s.sess the situation quickly and hightail it back to headquarters and inform his superiors. But he had to do it before Old Man Stebble showed up or he was dead meat.

The chewed and splintered hull was the first thing he noticed as he drew near the boat. He stepped forward, craning his neck forward to see inside. A few holes had been gouged in the walls of the tiny boat and a few splintered pieces of bark lay on the floor amid dark water. It was a miracle the boat had made it this far. It looked like it should have sunk.

The cawing of the seagulls made him crane his head up. The birds were shrieking up a storm. It seemed like they were sending him messages about the boat, but it was something he couldn't fathom. He reached for his keyring where his special decoder was, and brought it out. He rubbed the shiny black surface and pointed it up at the gulls, pretending he was trying to get a read on whatever the gulls were trying to tell him. Whatever it was the birds were upset about, the decoder couldn't decipher it.

He stepped closer to the boat, his curiosity spurring him on.

Click, click!

Bobby stopped, straining his ears. What was that?

He studied the boat again. It was perched on the sand at a forty-five degree angle, its hull and a portion of the bottom facing him. The interior lay on the other side of the boat itself. He took another step closer.

Click, click!

His heart jumped. He caught a bright flash of red through one of the holes in the side of the boat, followed by a soft scuttling sound. Bobby's heart leaped in his chest in pure excitement. There was something in the boat. Something alive. Something he could take to school Monday to show off to his friends!

The thought of finding something to show the kids at school propelled him to the boat hull. He stood on his toes and tried to get a better look over the side, but he was too short. He briefly considered circling around the exterior of the boat, but the interior was facing the ocean. Mom would cream him if he got wet.

Bobby sighed, his mouth drawn in a tight, pensive line of grim determination. The only way he was going to catch whatever was in the boat was to face it head-on. He looked around and spied a three-foot section of driftwood lying in the sand. The driftwood looked a little bit like a club. He picked it up and turned back toward the boat. Brandishing the piece of driftwood like a club gave him a new burst of confidence. Nothing would stop his mission now!

With newfound determination, Bobby walked over to the abandoned boat and rested his hand on the splintered edge. Then he carefully lifted himself up and peered over the side.

The dark storm clouds were just beginning to touch down over Phillipsport County when Bobby screamed.

Rick was telling Janice about how he became a published novelist when Bobby's scream hit their ears.

Janice was up in a flash, running down the pier toward the beach. Rick rose and scanned the sh.o.r.eline, trotting after Janice. His heart was racing. He spotted Bobby halfway up the beach, near an old boat on the waterline.

Another piercing scream.

Rick's mind slammed into action. He took off after Janice, who was already halfway to Bobby. He chased after her, running as fast as he could till he came to a halt at the boat. Janice was kneeling beside Bobby who was doubled over, howling in pain. Janice was bent over him, her features creased with worry and fear. Rick noticed that Bobby was holding his left hand and shrieking. His hand and arm were covered with blood. Janice was holding his b.l.o.o.d.y arm, trying to steer it toward her so she could get a good look. "Bobby, let me see your hand!"

"Mommeeee!" Bobby was howling with an intensity that made Rick's knees shake. He was at Janice's side in an instant, reaching to see what the extent of Bobby's injuries were.

Janice got a hold of his blood-streaked arm and slowly brought it up. Bobby's face was screwed up in pain, tears streamed down his face. Janice let out a little yelp when she saw the extent of Bobby's injuries. His middle finger had been severed at the second knuckle.

"It hurts!" Bobby moaned. "Oh, Mommy it huurrttss!"

Rick helped steady him as Janice bundled him to her bosom and lifted him up. Rick's eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of what could have injured Bobby so greatly. He was running on pure adrenaline now, trying to find out what had hurt Bobby, while trying to help him and Janice at the same time.

"We've got to get him to a hospital," Janice said, her voice trembling. She turned her tear-stained features to Rick. "Will you help me get him to the hospital?"

"Of course," Rick said. His eyes were still roaming over the area, searching for a possible solution. He put his arm around Janice's shoulders to lead her away when a flash of red caught his eye. He whirled around just as- Click, click!

-they appeared around the side of the boat. He gasped in surprise and stepped back. Janice stopped, her scream lodged in her throat. Bobby caught a glimpse of them through tear-blurred eyes and began screaming uncontrollably. "No! Don't let them hurt me, don't let them hurt meeee!"

There were roughly half a dozen deep-red creatures crawling out of the small boat. They looked like a cross between a giant crab and a giant scorpion. Their claws clicked in a frenzy that drove Bobby to insane shrieks. Their small black eyes wavered on eyestalks that resembled something right out of a nightmare.

The sight of them jogged Rick's mind to yesterday...the crash...the flashing red thing he hit...the piece of claw that he'd given to Dr. Glen Jorgensen...

Jesus.

There was a piece of driftwood lying on the sand. Rick picked it up and wielded it like a club as the creatures advanced on them. He stood in front of Janice and Bobby protectively, sizing the creatures up. Their pincers were menacing, but could probably be avoided. They were low to the ground and could be stepped on. It was their arched, scorpion tails that were going to give him trouble. Anything that looked that lethal was probably poisonous as well.

Rick backed up against Janice and Bobby. Janice gathered Bobby in her arms and managed to drag him back. He howled as if all the hounds of h.e.l.l were on his trail.

"Janice, get Bobby the h.e.l.l out of here." Rick brandished the driftwood, ready to swing if one of the mutant creatures got too close.

Janice scooped Bobby into her arms amid his screams and turned to run toward the pier when one of the creatures popped up from under the sand in front of her like a Jack-in-the-Box. Janice screamed and almost dropped Bobby. The creature locked its black marble eyes on her. Rick's heart was racing as he quickly a.s.sessed the situation.

Jesus, they were f.u.c.king surrounding them!

They had to get out of here some way. He reared back and swung the make-shift club Hank Aaron style at the nearest creature. The wood impacted on the thing's armored back, causing it to skitter back. Rick swung again, this time connecting with the arched tail. There was a loud snap and the last two segments of the tail broke free and flopped on sinewy meat. The wounded creature squealed and backed up, its eyestalks wavering drunkenly.

Its two companions charged them and Rick swung like a madman, hitting the one closest to him straight in what pa.s.sed for its face.

Pieces of sh.e.l.l and cracked mandibles flew through the air and landed in the wet sand. The force of the blow flipped the creature over on its back and it kicked its eight legs furiously like a dying spider. He backhanded the other one, the top of the club striking the side of its head. It retreated backwards as Janice screamed.

The creature in front of her had dug itself out of the sand and had the loose hem of Bobby's jacket in its claw. Mother and creature were engaged in a bizarre tug of war over Bobby as Janice kicked at the thing with her feet. Rick sprung toward the creature, rose the club over his head, and brought it down on the thing's head. The club hit the creatures' eyes, driving the eyestalks into its head and popping the eyes like grapes. The creature mewled in pain in a deep tone and kicked its legs.

It still had a hold of Bobby's jacket. Its segmented tail jabbed blindly, the stinger missing but coming too close for comfort. Rick brought the club over his head again and brought it down with all his strength. The twin sounds of splintering wood and cracking sh.e.l.l reached Rick's ears like sweet music. The creature twitched on the sand, its head a bashed pulp of yellow blood and red meat.

Rick barely had time to catch his breath when a wave of fury raced up to them.

"Rick, Janice! What happened...oh Jesus!"

It was Ripper. He had just run up from the pier, probably at the sound of Bobby's screams. Now he scuttled back at the sight of more of the crawling things that were rapidly scuttling over the top of the boat toward them.

Ripper's arrival jarred Rick out of his brief lapse of reason and another burst of adrenaline blossomed in his system. He grabbed Ripper and Janice and spun them toward the parking lot. "Let's get the f.u.c.k out of here!"

He herded them toward the parking lot, not looking back as they ran as fast as they could over the sand. The wind was blowing harder now and it looked like it was going to rain any moment. Rick ran as fast as he could while keeping Janice in front of him; he knew the going would be slower with her since she had Bobby. He debated having them stop so he could take him, but thought better of it. Why did one think of such stupid things in moments of stress?

They reached the concrete boardwalk a moment later. Ripper turned toward them, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his chicken neck. "I'll go get my van." He turned and sprinted toward the van. Rick turned his attention to Janice and Bobby.

Janice was crying openly. Her cashmere sweater was stained a deep maroon with Bobby's blood. She settled down on her knees, laying Bobby across her legs. Rick kneeled down with her, noting Bobby's condition. He had stopped moaning and seemed to have lapsed into semi-consciousness. Probably shock. His freckled face was pale, flushed. His shirt was stained red, the crotch of his blue jeans and the front of his denim clad legs stained with blood. He was holding his wounded hand to his chest, cradling it from further harm. It was still bleeding profusely.

Rick slipped out of his shirt to make a tourniquet to quench the flow of blood. Janice looked at him, still crying. "What's happening, what were those things, what's happening..."