Small Town Monsters. Craig Nybo

of an idling engine.

      Lucy laughed and shook her head back and forth. Tory just looked at her, listening to her laughter peel off like glass.

      “What has become of us, Tory Bently,” Lucy said.

      “What do you mean?”

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      “I mean all of us. Remember the rope swing down at the canal?”

      “I broke my arm,” Tory said.

      “On my dare, you broke your arm. I couldn’t believe you took the swing from the top branch. You were crazy back then.”

      “I was twelve; everybody’s crazy when they are twelve.”

      Lucy stared through the windshield into the melanin night, letting her head lie back on the headrest. She spotted Yellow Unicorn, her own constellation she had named when she was no older than six. Yellow Unicorn only appeared during the winter. Every October, ever since she could remember, she looked for it in the night sky. She’d never told anyone about Yellow Unicorn, but the creature, punched out of the firmament in stars, always brought her a form of comfort. Perhaps because the constellation reminded her of more carefree times. Perhaps Yellow Unicorn acted as a sort of guardian, dripping its starlight charms down on her throughout the cold and gray winter months.

      “You’ve always been there; don’t think I haven’t known it,” Lucy said.

      “What do you mean?”

      Lucy shook off her miasmic stupor, not knowing herself if she was talking to Tory or to Yellow Unicorn. “Nothing,” she said. “Just thinking about something else.” She craned around so she could look Tory in the eyes. She saw no lechery there; it surprised her, him being a man and all. “So what is the big secret?”

      Tory inclined his head and crimped his hands down hard on the steering wheel. The leather sheath rasped under his grip. He’d rehearsed what he was going to say many times. But now that the impending moment had arrived, his mind had tipped sideways and dumped his prepared words out onto the cold ground. “I was accepted to Cal Berkeley. I plan to go to law school.”

      “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” Lucy said, forcing a smile to cover the layer of pain just beneath the surface. “When are you leaving?”

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      “In two days. I need to establish residency in California for at least six months; it’ll save me a bundle later.”

      “Well, I don’t know what to say. Kudos on getting out of this cold town and doing something worthwhile with your life.” It all came out in a jealous rush and Lucy immediately felt bad for her sarcastic tone. She didn’t want to hurt Tory; hurting Tory was like kicking a cocker spaniel who always comes back for more love. “Sorry about that; I don’t mean any offense. It’s just that—“

      Tory didn’t look over at her, not even a slight flick of his eyes.

      “Look, I’m happy for you; I really am. You are a smart guy and once you get up on your feet, I have no doubt that you will become filthy rich putting bad guys away.” Lucy reached for the door release, sneaking another look over her shoulder at him. “Tell you what, come on into the diner for breakfast on me before you leave. I’ll even sit down and eat with you, give you a proper send-off.” She pushed the door open. As she swung one leg out into the night, Tory touched her shoulder. She stopped moving.

      “I want you to come with me,” he said.

      Lucy halted, unable to move out of pure shock. She swung her leg back into the car and shut the door. The two of them sat for a long time, the car idling its warm rhythm, keeping time during the silence. Lucy looked up into the sky at Yellow Unicorn.

      “This isn’t going down how I planned it,” Tory said. “Look, I’m not some kind of weird stalker. I’m not asking for anything but a little company. I know I’m not everything you’ve ever looked for in a guy. But I think that maybe if we get a fresh start, things might just, you know, come together.”

      “I’ll come,” Lucy said. She felt amazed at how easily the words came from her mouth, two syllables and that was that, two syllables to make the decision of her life.

      “What was that?” Tory said, letting up his grip on the steering wheel.

      “I said, I’ll come. I’ll come to California with you. Don’t

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      expect anything kinky; like I said, I’m not in the market for a boyfriend.”

      “No, of course not. I’m a complete gentleman.”

      Lucy’s face glided into a defeatist smile. “Lots of men use adjectives to describe themselves.”

      “What?” Tory asked.

      Again, Lucy broke out of her stupor. “Nothing. I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just talking to myself, I guess. That’s something you’ll have to put up with while we are on the road. When did you say you were leaving?”

      “In two days.”

      “Sounds like a deal,” Lucy said. She extended her hand like an executive. Tory looked down at her milky fingers and smiled.

      “Okay, a deal then,” he said. He took her hand and pumped it twice.

      “You can pick me up here at the diner, I’ll be getting off at ten PM.” Lucy opened the door and got out of Tory’s car.

      “Hey, what about breakfast?” Tory leaned down across the seat and looked up at her.

      “Sure thing, only it’ll be on you instead of me.”

      Tory smiled.

      “See you ‘round, Tory,” Lucy said and let the door close. She turned and walked across the parking lot towards the diner. Tory’s car rasped as he shifted it into gear. It droned away, it’s headlights like lemons in the dark.

      A bit of bounce came to Lucy’s stride as she sliced through the night. She hadn’t felt that bounce in a very long time.

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      Chapter 15

      The usual patrons haunted Abigail’s Diner with their tinkling glasses and murmurs of conversation. They sat in bucolic groups, gabbing and drinking coffee. But the chat seemed somehow less enthusiastic. The usual laughter had ebbed. People seemed to speak with subdued tones and frequent glances over their shoulders.

      Kurt sat across the table from Hugh Fostett. With the facts behind Buren Peoples’s sheep mutilations out—having spread like a virus—and with the rampant and inane speculation that monsters had lodged the attack, Kurt, being a man of reason, felt out of his element. Hugh seemed to be the only man with any sense of reality left in the community, a lightning rod in a field of absurdity, and so Kurt had asked Hugh to breakfast, to talk.

      “Hello, Kurt,” Lucy Cadano said. She wore her usual blue skirt and white apron.

      “How are you today, Lucy?” Kurt asked.

      “Peachy,” She said with a smile that revealed a mouth full of metal braces. “Coffee and a paper, right?”

      “I think, since I have company, I might splurge.” Kurt picked up the menu and glanced over it. “Why don’t you bring me your lumberjack breakfast and coffee. And get the old man

      Concerning:

      Kurt McCammus

      Hugh Fostett

      Lucy Cadano

      Durlin Ceivers

      Harmon Bently

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