Community by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton [Masterton, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Mrs Kroker’s house stood cater-corner to the community center. It was painted an odd maroon color, with yellow drapes which were all drawn tight, as if nobody outside should be able to look in and nobody inside should be able to look out. There was an old bronze Honda sedan parked in the driveway.

Michael climbed the steps to the front door and knocked. The knocker was tarnished brass and had the face of a snarling wolf on it. For some reason Michael remembered that people whose front doors faced east hung wolf-like knockers on them to keep away evil spirits, which always came from the east.

After more than half a minute there was no answer so he knocked again.

He heard Mrs Kroker call out, ‘Lloyd! Where are you, Lloyd? Somebody’s banging at the damn door!’

There was a pause, and then he heard Lloyd saying, ‘It’s OK, Mrs K! I’m getting it! I’m getting it!’

The door opened with a shudder and there was Lloyd in a red bandanna, wearing a red football shirt with Bakersfield Falcons printed across the chest in white. When Michael had talked to him at Isobel’s afternoon get-together, Lloyd had been sitting down, so he hadn’t realized how tall and heavily built he was – at least six-four and three hundred pounds. He was quite good looking, in a roughly sculptured way, with clear blue eyes, but his nose looked as if it had been broken more than once, and he had a livid red scar above his left eyebrow, as if he had split his head open – and not too long ago, either.

‘Hey there, Greg!’ he said. ‘What you doing out on a day like this?’

‘I was bored, that’s all,’ Michael told him. ‘Thought I might pay you a visit.’

‘Who is it, Lloyd?’ screeched Mrs Kroker, from the living room.

‘It’s only Greg,’ Lloyd called back, over his shoulder. ‘You remember Greg – we met him at Isobel’s.’

‘Greg? I don’t remember any Greg! What does he want?’

‘Just needs to chew the fat about something, Mrs K. Don’t worry. We’ll go in the kitchen.’

‘Well, don’t you dare to fetch him in here!’

‘I won’t, Mrs K, I promise!’ Lloyd winked at Michael and said, with his hand half-cupped over his mouth, ‘Still in her hair-rollers and her nightdress. I wouldn’t wish the sight of that on nobody.’

He beckoned Michael inside and shut the door behind him. Then he led the way through to the kitchen, which was fitted out Shaker-style, with wooden cupboards and worktops, and wheelback chairs.

‘How about a cup of coffee?’ asked Lloyd. ‘Or maybe a brewski if you’d rather.’

‘Sure, why not? How about a beer?’

Lloyd went to the fridge and took out two bottles of Coors. They sat down together at the kitchen table and clinked them together. ‘Here’s to swimming with knock-kneed women.’

‘I thought it was “bow-legged”,’ said Michael.

‘You have more fun when they’re knock-kneed. It’s that prying them apart. Just like opening up a clam.’

Michael said, ‘I’ll come directly to the point, Lloyd. I need your help.

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