The Hidden

directions, and just offshore a massive hunk of shale shaped like the prow of a ship reared up out of the sea.

A car was parked on the lookout, facing seaward. Tourist taking in the view? Not too likely, this time of year and this late in the day. Somebody with car trouble, maybe. If that was it, he might be able to help. He braked and turned off onto the blacktop.

Low-slung sports car, he saw as he neared. Porsche, looked like. He didn’t much care for cars like that, or the kind of people who drove them. Too fast and reckless, no regard for anybody else’s safety, like that asshole tailgater. This one was black and had familiar lines, but there were a lot of them like this zooming up and down the coast highway.

His headlights washed over the other vehicle; the driver seemed to be the only occupant. Sitting there quietly—looking, waiting? Or doing something else, like swilling booze, getting ready to smash a bottle on the asphalt or the rocks below or throw it at a sea creature like that drunken motorcycle rider on the Navarro River?

Friend—or enemy?

He pulled up a few yards away, transferred the 9-mil Glock from the glove compartment to his coat pocket, and went to find out.

E L E V E N

NIGHT.

A martini for Shelby and half a glass of wine for him while good jazz played soft in the background—Macklin’s CD choice this time, Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue. Crab salad, leftover sourdough, half a bottle of chardonnay. One of the DVDs from Ben’s collection, his choice again—a farcical boy-meets-girl comedy that was watchable if not particularly funny. Quiet time again, more wood on the fire, the last of the wine from dinner in Shelby’s glass.

The combination of heat and music and food had relaxed him for the first time in days. Again he watched the firelight play over the smooth contours of Shelby’s face, the familiar curves of her body. Tenderness welled in him. And, inevitably, desire.

He said, “Remember that trip to Big Sur right after we were married? The cabin in the woods?”

“What made you think of that?”

“Sitting in front of the fire like this.”

She was silent.

“That’s not all we did in front of the fire,” he said.

Still silent.

“There’s plenty of room in front of this one, too. I could go get a blanket from the bedroom …”

“No,” she said.

“Just like that? No?”

“Not tonight, Jay. I’m not in the mood.”

One of the burning logs dropped off the grate, sending up a shower of sparks that glowed bright red before winking out; his desire died just as quickly. “Seems like you’re not in the mood a lot lately. It didn’t used to be like that—you used to be horny all the time.”

“A lot of things used to be different.” She stirred out of her chair. “I think I’ll take a hot bath.”

“You don’t have to lock the door,” he called after her. “I won’t come in and try to wash your back.”

Bed. Shelby turned away from him, the cold, rhythmic sound of the rain on the roof adding to his feeling of loneliness. Sleep was a long time coming.

And when it did—

Dark place, warm, safe. Sleeping.

Not sleeping anymore. Listening.

What’re those noises? Loud, weird.

Thump. Grunt, slurp, screech, squeal. Thump thump thump.

Something’s out there.

Something … terrible.

I have to find out what it is. But I don’t want to. I’m afraid.

Squeal, howl, slurp. Thump thump thump thump thump.

Oh God, what if it tries to hurt me?

Stay here, don’t move.

No, I can’t, I have to find out what it is—

Dark place, cold. Walking.

Long tunnel, shadows crawling on the walls, faint glow from somewhere that lets me see where I’m going. The floor feels like it’s made of ice, I start to shiver from the chill. Walking straight, turning right, walking straight, turning left—

Light ahead, so bright it hurts my eyes. The noises come from behind it—grunt, slurp, thump thump squeal thump. I want to stop walking toward the light, I’m afraid of what I’ll see, but I have to find out what’s making those sounds.

Closer. And into the light, through the light.

No! No!

Monster.

Horrible, hairy thing and what it’s doing, what it’s doing—

Slurp, thump, slurp slurp.

It’s feeding!

I make a sound, I can’t help myself, and the thing rises up from the carcass of whatever it’s eating, its open mouth and yellow-spike teeth dripping crimson. It looks around at me, then lets loose an ear- splitting roar and leaps up with long sharp claws slicing the air and comes lurching toward me spitting fire.

Run! Hide!

And I run out of the light into the shadows, run through the tunnel, I’ve never run faster … but I can’t run fast enough, the thing is close behind me, I feel its fire breath and hear the pounding click of its claws—

Dark place again, and I’m down on all fours crawling into another dark place. Trying to make myself smaller, squirming like a worm into a hole, hide, hide!

Too late.

The thing is there, looming over me, I see the awful twisted shape of it as it bends down and … oh Jesus it wraps a claw around my arm and yanks me upward. Pain erupts, then wild panic as it drags me close to its red drooling mouth.

It’s going to eat me!

But first it shakes me, hard, my teeth rattle like bones, I smell the hot stink of its breath in my face. Spiraling terror makes me pee on myself. The thing roars again and shakes me harder, and then it—

—rips my arm off and hurls it on the floor—

—and rips my head off and hurls it on the floor—

—and my head rolls into the wall, wobbles and stops, and my eyes stare up, stare up—

—and I’m looking at my wriggling mutilated body wet all over with piss and blood—

—and the creature’s mouth opens wider, yawning like a cavern, and from the floor I hear it booming out words in a voice loud as thunder but I can’t understand them, the words somehow fall like whispers against my ears—

—and in horror I watch my headless body being stuffed inside its gaping mouth—