Ray Garton - The New Neighbor

Quillerman could see nothing yet, but the sound grew louder. He started to roll down the window so he could hear better, but -

– the man standing in front of the pickup shouted, “Oh, fuck!” and ran to Quillerman's right, into the darkness, hugging his camera to his chest, as -

– an enormous malamute ran into the glow of the headlights and faced the pickup, black lips pulled back over long glistening fangs, crouched low and ready to pounce. But the sound the creature made was not the sound of a mere dog. It was a much bigger, deeper sound than that of any dog Quillerman had ever encountered, and -

– its eyes glowed.

It snapped at the air, clacking its fangs together.

The reporter standing beside the pickup screamed and slammed herself against the door.

The dog inched closer to the pickup as its entire body shuddered. Two long black bonelike limbs suddenly shot upward from its shoulders, spread and unfolded into broad, bat-like wings. With one sudden movement of the wings, the creature was on the hood of the pickup, its face little more than an inch from the windshield. Its growl grew louder as its lips pulled back even farther… and farther… until they peeled away to reveal black, ripply skin beneath.

Pastor Quillerman lifted the microphone to his mouth and shouted, "In the name of god the father and his son Jesus Christ and all that is holy , I command you to leave this place !"

The creature rose up on its hind legs, swept its wings madly up and down and released a cry that made Quillerman's eyes tear up and his bowels tremble. When it dropped back down on all fours, any resemblance to a dog was gone. Its body trembled and a thick white foam dribbled from its stubby black snout. It snapped at the windshield and its fangs nicked the glass, then it looked Quillerman in the eyes and its glistening black lips curled into a grotesque mutation of a grin.

"Whatsamatter, Quillerman?" the creature asked in a gleeful, retching voice that was neither male nor female. "Don'tcha wanna join your wife and sons? Don'tcha wanna join your wife, the dyke , and your cocksucking sons?"

Quillerman's face twisted in horror and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to block the flood of memories that he had avoided for years. The last time he'd seen his family they were all dead by his oldest son's hand – his wife on the bed, his boys lying in a hideous, bloody embrace with their eyes open and their skin the color of dirty snow, and -

– Quiller man whispered to himself, "No, no, that's over, it's behind me and -" He lifted the microphone to his mouth. " – and I command you to leave this place in the name of Jesus Christ !"

Two things happened at once: the creature vomited explosively, shooting a thick black substance on the windshield, and it shot backward off the hood of the pickup, shrieking. It landed in a clumsy heap on the pavement, several feet in front of the pickup.

“In the name of -" Quiller man began again, but the creature flapped its wings and rose from the ground, hovering for a moment as it stared straight into Quillerman’s eyes, then released a cry so full of hatred it made Quillerman briefly nauseated.

It was gone in seconds.

Quillerman couldn't move for a while. One hand clutched the steering wheel, the other clutched the microphone and all his knuckles were white and fingers were numb. Suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, his hands and arms relaxed and he looked out the window to his left. At first, he thought the reporter had gone, but then he saw the top of her head rising slowly. She had ducked down beside the pickup. Her eyes were wide, face pale, and she stared at him as if she didn't know where she was.

Quillerman got out of the pickup and asked, "Are you all right, Miss?"

"What… the fuck… was that?" she asked, but there was more amazement in her voice than fear. Quillerman was quite amazed to see that she seemed about to burst into a grin.

Before Quillerman could reply, the cameraman staggered around the pickup and joined them. The woman grabbed his lapels and shook him, saying, "Did you see that? I mean, did you see that? Did you get it? Oh, please, Will, tell me you got that on tape, tell me you got it!"

He stared at her a moment, then said in a barely level voice that rose as he spoke, "I didn't get it on tape because I was too busy shitting my pants ! Now do you believe me? Now can we leave?”

"You go right ahead if you want, Will, but if you put a hook in my tongue you couldn't drag me away from this story. Just leave your camera."

"I think he's right," Quillerman said. "You'd better go. It wouldn't be a good idea to stay here any -"

Something caught his eye and he looked up the street.

Flashlight beams were cutting through the darkness on both sides of the street.

People were coming out of their houses and walking slowly toward the pickup. First, a man and woman. Then a child. Two teenagers with a woman. And there were others. Their steps were uneven and some were limping, but they were coming . Quillerman whispered, "Good. Good ." He stepped around the reporter and went to meet them.

Jen gripped George's arm and said, "Daddy, what's happened to Mom? Why won't you tell me?"

He'd been watching out the window silently, unable to respond to Jen's questions about Karen. What could he tell her? That Mom had decided she preferred to be with the new neighbor?

"She's over at Lorelle's," Robby finally said.

Jen stared at him in silent horror, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered. "We have to get her. Did you hear me? We have to get her, Daddy!"

George put his arm around her and said, "We're going to try, honey." To Robby: "I'm going outside to talk with Pastor Quillerman."

"I'll come with you," Robby said.

Jen said "Me, too."

George looked from Robby to Jen and was about to protest and tell them to stay in the house. But he saw their determination and said nothing. They followed him out.

As they headed down the front walk, they saw the others nearing Quillerman from both directions, coming out of the darkness in small groups, some with flashlights, a couple carrying kerosene lanterns with golden light that flickered over shadowy faces.

"Hello, George," Pastor Quillerman said quietly as George approached.

"What's going on?" George asked.

"My prayers have been answered. They're coming to talk. I think we might make some progress now."

Footsteps scritched to a halt on the pavement as people gathered around the pickup. Flashlight beams crisscrossed in the darkness and the people behind them were reduced to murky, faceless shadows.

George squinted against the lights and searched for a familiar face or figure, but could not make out enough details in the dark to recognize anyone.

"My husband is gone," a woman said in a voice soggy with tears.

"Our daughter is missing," a man said.

A woman beside him added, "One minute she was in the house and the next she was gone."

A man stammered, "I truh-tried to… to suh-strangle my w-wife today and… and I -" His words dissolved into sobs.

"It's all right, honey," a woman whispered reassuringly, "that's over now."

Others spoke up and their words overlapped:

"I can't find my wife."

"What has that woman done to us?"

"We had a fight with our son today and I-I… hit him… for the first time ever , and now he's disappeared." "We're coming apart, our whole family is just coming apart."

"My husband said he'd kill me if I came out here. I had to sneak out of the house."