Alice Henderson - Voracious

Madeline dipped her head low so the creature wouldn’t see her and turned to Noah.

“Noah!” she said low, urgently.

He looked up in midsip. “What is it?”

“Stefan!” she whispered.

Noah started, coffee spilling over the table. He winced as it burned his hand, then put the cup down. “Where?”

“Over there.” She gestured with her head. “He’s being seated, impersonating Steve. Just like he did when he wrecked his car.” When Noah remained silent, she went on. “That can’t be Steve. You said the creature could only appear as someone it had killed, so what I saw that night in the ditch, the creature imitating Steve, must mean that he had killed him earlier that night.”

Noah wrinkled his brow. “Only look like someone he’s killed?”

She nodded. “Right?”

Noah swallowed hard. “Right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” he cleared his throat, looking over at Steve. “Just so many victims.”

“What should we do?” she asked, leaning closer to him across the table. “Confront him? Jump him in the rest-room?”

“We shouldn’t let him see us. Let’s just leave.”

Madeline’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Noah just stared back at her.

“But you’ve been waiting for this opportunity. Let’s lure him outside and tackle him.”

Suddenly, as she watched him from across the table, he ducked his head low and turned it toward the window.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“He’s coming over here.”

“What?” Fear flopped in her stomach. She turned slowly. “Steve” was walking quickly toward their table.

“Madeline!” he said. “I can’t believe it’s you. I saw you from across the restaurant. Thought you’d be gone by now!” He continued toward her, limping severely. She sat transfixed, watching him approach. To her amazement, he walked right up to the table. “Can I sit down? My leg’s killing me. And I have to talk to you. You won’t believe what’s happened.”

Her mouth went dry. Her limbs felt heavy as sledgehammers, and still she sat, immobile, as she watched him. Here he was, the creature, in the middle of this well-lit diner, talking to her as if nothing was wrong. His gall was unbelievable.

She was blocked into the booth, “Steve” standing in her exit path. Noah just sat there silently, his face unreadable, almost frozen.

And then, to her amazement, Noah scooted over and offered “Steve” a seat.

“Thanks a lot, man,” he responded, and plunked down next to him in the booth.

The thing pretending to be a naturalist leaned across the table and whispered to her. “You won’t believe what happened. I never should have doubted you!”

She listened, half-dumbfounded by Noah’s behavior and half trying to figure out how she could make it out to the Jeep to grab the backpack and the weapon.

“Steve” continued talking. “So last night, after I dropped you off, I kept on toward Missoula. I wasn’t two miles away when all of a sudden I see this dark shape standing at the edge of the treeline. At first it’s upright, like the shadow of a man just at the edge of the road. Then, as I get a little closer, it drops down on all fours. My headlights lit it up. It charged straight for my car.”

He fell silent and glanced around at the other tables to see if anyone was listening. They weren’t. Above him the speaker piped out a sad ballad about a dejected man who would do anything to get his lady back. Madeline was beginning to notice a pattern.

“It rammed into my car. Full tilt. Smash. Completely creamed the driver’s side. I swerved off the road and into a ditch. The thing came around and opened the passenger door, started climbing in. It was terrifying: absolutely inky black and featureless, more like a shadow than a living thing. But it had eyes-I’ll never forget them; huge red saucer eyes-and a mouth full of pointed teeth. It tore a huge gash in my leg.

“I pulled out my shotgun and shot it. Two times at point-blank range. Right in the head and chest. It let out this howl and flew back into the ditch. I reloaded, hit it again. I tried to get out of my side of the car but couldn’t. I could already smell gas spilling out, so I quickly climbed out of the passenger side.” He looked around again. No one was even glancing over at them. “And can you believe that thing started to get up? I reloaded and fired the rest of my rounds into its chest and ran like hell.”

She watched him as he talked. His voice, mannerisms, eyes, all seemed like Steve. She hadn’t known the naturalist for very long, but even still, she’d felt a kinship with him. They read the same books. Had similar interests and beliefs. Some people you just liked right away and felt a strong connection to. Steve had been one of those people. Suddenly she was starting to have doubts that this was in fact the creature.

“It’s got to be the same thing you saw, right?”

She didn’t answer.

He continued. “I hiked for a long time, my leg killing me, and eventually reached this ranger’s residence. We radioed for backup. But when we got back there, my car had exploded and burned through a meadow on the side of the road. There was no sign of the creature. No body. No remains. Just the smoldering meadow and strewn car parts.”

She looked at Noah, who was listening intently to the ranger. “What happened then?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “An EMT fixed my leg. I got stitches and some codeine. Went back to my cabin.” He regarded Madeline intently. “And regretted not doing more to help you,” he added.

“You were plenty of help,” she said, leaning even more toward believing him.

“Why didn’t you get the hell away from here?” Steve asked.

She stared at Noah. “I thought I could help,” she said finally. Reaching across the table, she squeezed Noah’s hand. He seemed surprised, but then he squeezed her hand back.

She suddenly thought of a way she could know for sure. She looked uncertainly across the table at the naturalist. “Could I see where it scratched you?” she asked.

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘scratched,’ more like ‘took a chunk out of my leg.’ What, are you into the gory stuff? Shark victims, bear attacks, that kind of thing?”

She shook her head. “It would just put my mind to rest about something.” If this was actually Steve, then the wound would still look fresh.

Steve shrugged. “Okay,” he said finally. “But you probably want to finish your dinner first.”

Just then the waitress approached and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Steve. “Just want to sit here, hon?”

“Sure,” he said, then looked at Noah and Madeline. “If that’s okay with you two.”

“Oh, perfectly,” Noah said, trying to make him feel at ease.

Madeline found she couldn’t eat another bite of omelet until she knew for sure if the person at their table was her new friend or her relentless pursuer.

At her insistence, the three of them went out to the parking lot. Steve wore the kind of pants that zipped off into shorts, and he zipped off the bottom half of the left pant leg. Pulling the leg up, he revealed a blood-soaked bandage covering his thigh. Gently he peeled away the white first aid tape on one side and revealed a hideously long gash in his thigh. Brown stitches, over thirty total, ran the course of the wound, which seeped blood at the edges.

Gasping, Madeline took in the severity of the wound, sucking in breath and wincing.

Noah gave a long, low whistle.

“Satisfied?” Steve asked, grimacing as he replaced the bandage.

Noah nodded.

Madeline still wasn’t sure. She guessed it could fake a wound, too. She said, “Now give me something personal.”