The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) (18 page)

“It won't.”

She shook her head. “You don't know
that.”

Trevor drove the blade into the creature's
muscle tissue, pushing until the handle stuck straight out. The
knife stayed in place as he bent over to tie the two sides of a
plastic bag together. His blood-soaked hands smeared the bag with
crimson droplets.

“We can't get sick. Everyone else... they got
sick so easy. A sneeze. A kiss. It spread like wildfire. Hell,
maybe it was airborne in the end, who knows. But we didn't get it.
We still haven't. We're immune, Ty. It can't hurt us.”

She shook her head and stopped cutting the
meat. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip until it turned
white around the tooth. Memories of the disease went flashing
through her mind—the illness that turned her loved ones into
drooling madmen. It caused hallucinations, hysteria, and it racked
their bodies with pain. Like rabies, it spread through the bat
bites, but this new strain was much more severe and a hundred times
more contagious. The disease was like nothing the world had ever
seen. It all started with the bat bites, and it went to hell from
there.

Ty released a deep breath and opened her
eyes, frowning. “I'm scared. I don't want to eat one of these...
things
.”

“Well, I'm sorry, but you're out of luck. The
nearest grocery store is three miles away through an area thick
with nests. I showed you through the binoculars; you know this
already. The people in our building were poor, Ty. They didn't have
well stocked kitchens, and well... we're out of food. Nada. Zip.
Zero.”

“Okay, I get it.” Frustrated, she gripped the
knife handle—knuckles white—and scowled as she carved the meat. Her
stomach grumbled. Even with the world in ruins and no use for
money, Ty still had it worse than the rich folk. If two yuppies
were stranded in that upscale apartment complex that ran along the
beach to the west, they surely had a much better stockpile of
groceries than the slim pickings Trevor and Ty had found around
their building. The entire world had changed, but one thing
remained the same: Things were rougher on this side of town.

The sound of thumping wings pulled Ty from
her thoughts. Followed by another sound. The clicking noise again?
No. It was closer, much louder this time. A series of abrupt
screeches assailed her eardrums, like the incessant squeaking of a
rubber bath toy, but baritone and feverishly fast.

There was a loud shriek. A large shadow moved
over the moon. She felt a gust of wind as the creature descended,
closing in.

“Look out!” she screamed as it dove for
Trevor. He dropped and rolled across the ground, narrowly escaping
the attack. It shrieked again, and its massive wings flapped as it
took flight, ruffling their clothes and hair in the wake of its
powerful ascent into the star-filled sky. Moonlight shone on its
translucent black wings, making them appear gray as it glided
through the air. Ty could see the long, skinny arms and spindly
fingers that powered the leathery flesh.

The carnivorous mammal swooped around, a
dark, furry boomerang headed straight back to where Trevor lay on
the roof. It did a nose dive, its eyes shining light onyx marbles
in the moonlight, fangs glistening in the pointed slope of its
hairy snout.

Trevor focused on the shotgun that lay just
ahead. His gloves left bloody hand prints on the ground as he
scrambled forward on all fours. The bat's shadow grew large around
him. He reached out, gripped the handle of the gun.

Pain exploded through Trevor's back and side
as the creature sank needle-point teeth into his body. He cried
out. It felt like a bear trap had closed around his torso. The
bat's strong jaws and dagger-like fangs made it impossible for
Trevor to scramble free without ripping himself to shreds.

He held the gun in both shaky hands and was
preparing to aim it when he saw the ground pulling away from his
face. The bat was lifting him, trying to take flight. His heart
pounded in his temples. Trevor dropped his right hand away from the
gun and stretched his arm out as far as he could. His injuries tore
open, and he winced but managed to wrap a hand around the railing
of the fire escape. He thought the bloody glove might be too
slippery to hold on, but was relieved to find it had some
traction.

Trevor craned his neck to look at the winged
beast. It shook its head, attempting to yank its meal from where it
clung to the fire escape. Drool leaked from the bat's mouth, a
viscous fluid that oozed down its angular snout, dripping into the
holes of Trevor's ripped T-shirt. It felt warm and thick against
his skin and mixed with the blood that ran from his aching
wounds.

He still held the gun in his left hand, but
he screamed, “Ty! I need your help. Shoot it! Shoot—”

A spear plunged through the top of the bat's
head. Blood rained over Trevor as the creature released him,
shrieking with such fury that he smelled the rotted meat on its
breath. Ty ran around the side of the creature, reaching for
Trevor's hand. “I got your back.”

The rabid predator spread its wings and
pumped them feebly. It gained a few yards of height, but its
movement was slow and disoriented. The harpoon dangled from its
head, whipping around with the jerky motion of its clumsy ascent
into the air.

Ty helped Trevor to his feet. A searing pain
burned in his puncture wounds, but he ignored it. He raised the
gun. Tried to steady his trembling arms.

A shotgun blast hit the creature in its wing,
tearing a jagged hole. A flap of loose material, like a ripped
movie theater screen, hung limply from its leathery flesh. Through
the hole, Trevor saw a dozen stars shining.

It screeched again. This time it curdled
Trevor's blood. It was a war cry. The bat was getting pissed.

It narrowed its onyx eyes, lips drawn back to
expose two rows of sharp yellow fangs. It was Ty's turn to scream,
“Shoot it! Shoot it!” Trevor grimaced at the pain caused by the
shotgun's weight. Every movement he made filled his torso with
agony.

He steadied the barrel and aimed.
Boom.
The bat's cranium shattered. One side of its face went
missing. Chunks of bone and furry flesh exploded outward from its
head like a Fourth Of July firework. Its wings stopped pumping, and
it fell, convulsing on its way down.

Crunching metal and shattering glass echoed
from below, like the sound of cars crashing together. Ty gulped.
She and Trevor connected eyes, and they stepped toward the railing.
Trevor lagged behind.

Ty looked down at the fallen creature. Its
neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. It twitched for a moment
before finally going limp. Even from up here, it looked massive. It
had struck a car, the roof completely flattened, the metal frame so
smashed that the windshield was nothing but a haphazard slit
surrounded by splintered glass.

Ty considered, yet again, where these
creatures might have come from. She wondered if she'd ever know the
answer. There were theories, of course—speculation among various
groups of scientists, government officials, and conspiracy
theorists. But the human race dwindled so quickly, and in such
devastating numbers, that even the nation's leading scientists had
not discovered a reason before most of the humans died out.

The disease that spread after the bats
arrived... it was too deadly for the world to fight. Everyone was
gone. And all she had left was Trevor.

She looked over at him as he slumped against
the railing, resting his face in the crook of his arms. “Are you
okay?” Her voice shook as she studied the tattered cloth of his
shirt. She saw bloody lacerations through the holes.

Trevor raised his head and smiled, though his
face was tense with fighting back tears. “I'll live.”

“But—”

“I said I'll live. It hurts like hell, but I
don't think—” He winced, holding his side. “I don't think it
punctured anything vital. I'm standing, aren't I?” Ty nodded, but
her eyes lingered on his blood-soaked abdomen.

“The gift was for you,” he added.

She raised her eyes to meet his. “What?”

His words were strained as he pulled away
from the railing and stumbled back toward the butchered bat. “I
said... the gift... was for you.”

She thought about this as she removed her
gloves and threw them into the backpack. She found the knife she
had dropped and returned it to the sheath, then said, “But we
weren't even dating before—” she circled her hand in the air, “all
this.”

“I wanted to date you.” He found his knife
and tucked it into the pack “I just didn't have the guts to
ask.”

Ty rolled her eyes. “Yeah right. So you
bought me a present without even asking me out?”

“When I saw it, I thought of you. I thought
maybe some day, when the time was right, I would give it to you.”
He moved closer, peeling the gloves from his fingers and stuffing
them into his pockets. He grabbed both of her hands in his. “I know
you, Ty. I know you shortened your name because your hippie parents
named you Tiger Lilly and you hate it.” She closed her eyes and
cringed, a half smirk on her lips. He smiled. “I know you're a
sweet, beautiful person who deserves better than the last jerk you
dated.” Now it was Trevor's turn to cringe as he realized that the
“last jerk” was probably a dead man by now. Ty didn't seem to
notice or care.

“Okay...” She pursed her lips. “Then why
haven't you given it to me?”

A grin spread across Trevor's face. He
chuckled, slow and deep, like he knew something hilarious that Ty
didn't understand. “Open it,” he said and laughed again.

Ty gave him a puzzled look and slid the box
from her jacket pocket. She opened the lid. A silver necklace
glimmered in the moonlight. Hanging from the chain was an onyx
pendant outlined in thin, polished silver. The black stone was in
the shape of... a bat.

Ty snorted, and the corners of her lips
curled upward. She giggled breathily, shaking her head. “Oh,” she
said. “I see your point.”

They both exploded into laughter. “Under
different circumstances,” she managed to say with some effort,
“This would be a very gorgeous necklace.” They both smiled.

The sound of wings flapping in the distance
and bats chattering in a colony killed the moment for the two young
lovers. “C'mon,” he said and kissed her forehead. “Let's get inside
before we get a guano shower.” Ty laughed. Even bleeding from a
bite wound and with an empty stomach, Trevor always found a way to
make her smile.

They gathered their things and headed for the
stairs. Ty carried the plastic bags as Trevor shuffled along,
clutching his side. She loved him, she knew that now as she watched
him stumbling towards safety, in pain. Ty hoped he'd be okay, and
she wondered if she would have loved him this way before the world
came to an end.

Or maybe the world hadn't ended. Not yet.

###

Lindsey
Goddard’s stories and poems are a reflection of her love for the
dark side. She has been published over forty times. Recent credits
include Dark Moon Digest, Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing,
James Ward Kirk Fiction, and Sirens Call Publications. She lives in
the suburbs of St. Louis, MO with her husband and three children.
For more information, please visit:
www.LindseyBethGoddard.com