Free The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove by Christopher Moore Page B

what’s left of the minimart just burn out. Some cases of Slim Jims caught fire and they burn like the sun, we can’t get close.”
    Theo squinted into the flames. “I love Slim Jims,” he said forlornly.
    Robert patted his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I’ll order some for you, but you can’t tell anyone I’m carrying them. And Theo, when this is all over, come see me at the shop. We’ll talk.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    Robert pulled off his fire helmet and wiped back hisreceding brown hair. “I was a drunk for ten years. I quit. I might be able to help you.”
    Theo looked away. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He pointed to a ten-foot-wide burned strip that started across the street and led away from the fire in a path to the creek. “What do you make of that.”
    â€œLooks like someone drove a burning vehicle out of the fire.”
    â€œI’ll check it out.” Theo got a flashlight from the Volvo and crossed the street. The grass was singed and there were deep ruts cut into the dirt. They were lucky this had happened after the rainy season had started. Two months earlier and they would have lost the town.
    He followed the track to the creek bed, fully expecting to find a wrecked vehicle pitched over the bank, but there was nothing there. The track ended at the bank. The water wasn’t deep enough to cover anything large enough to make a trail like that. He played the flashlight around the bank and stopped it on a single deep track in the mud. He blinked and shook his head to clear his vision, then looked again. It couldn’t be.
    â€œAnything over there?” Robert was coming across the grass toward him.
    Theo jumped down onto the bank and kicked the mud until the print was obliterated.
    â€œNothing,” Theo said. “Must have just been some burning fuel sprayed out this way.”
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œStomping out the last of a burning squirrel. Must have gotten caught in the flames and ran over here. Poor guy.”
    â€œYou really need to come see me, Theo.”
    â€œI will, Robert. For sure I will.”

eight
    The Sea Beast
    He knew he should return to the safety of the sea, but his gill trees were singed and he didn’t relish the idea of treading water until they healed. If he’d known the female was going to react so violently, he would have retracted his gills into the folds beneath his scales where they would have been safe. He made his way down the creek bed until he spotted a herd of animals sleeping above the bank. They were ugly things, pale and graceless, and he could sense parasites living in every one of them, but this was no time to be judgmental. After all, some brave beast had to be the first to eat a mastodon, and who would have thought that those furballs would turn out to be the tasty treats that they were.
    He could hide among this wormy herd until his gills healed, then perhaps he’d take one of the females on a grateful hump. But not now, his heart still ached for the purring female with the silvery flanks. He needed time to heal.
    The Sea Beast slithered up the bank into an open space among the herd, then curled his legs and tail under his body and assumed their shape. The change was painful and took more effort than he was used to, but after a few minutes he was finished and he quietly fell asleep.
    Molly
    No, this wasn’t what she had planned at all. She had stopped taking her meds because they had been giving her the shakes, and she’d been willing to deal with the voices if they came back, but not this. She hadn’t counted on this. She was tempted to run to her kitchen area and gulp down one of her blue pills (Stelazine—“the Smurfs of Sanity,” she called them) to see if it could chase the hallucination, but she couldn’t tear herself from the trailer window. It was too real—and too weird. Could there be a big, burnt beast lumbering