Periphery by Michael Winter

Author:Michael Winter [Winter, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandhill Publishing
Published: 2019-08-23T06:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Bob Sanderson shuffled behind the John Deere, his head bowed against the midday heat, watching sourly as the machine snarled minced hay across his sweat-soaked legs. Hay was all that remained of the lawn, hay and briers. But his wife still kept bugging him to cut it. After weeks of hounding, he had finally dragged the mower out of the shed and aimed it toward the withered remains of St. Augustine that had somehow managed a few inches of strangled growth during April and May.

Sanderson cut a meandering trail through the yard and doubled back, making no attempt to keep the rows parallel. When he finally looked up he saw islands of tall stems amid the shorn grass, giving the lawn a mangy, patchwork appearance. Good enough for him, but Margaret would bitch and moan until he came back and did it right. Better to deal with it now than endure this sauna a second time.

Sanderson grabbed the mower as if to throttle it, and as he did his eyes drifted across the fence. Something was there. At first, he thought it might be a child’s toy, some elaborate, mechanical thing that transformed from tractor to dinosaur and back again. It was nestled among a thicket of dried weeds, a long, low shape, both smooth and complex, a jumble of overlapping plates assembled into some sort of crustacean or bug. His neighbor had grandchildren who sometimes visited. Maybe one of them had chucked his toy over the fence and into his yard.

Sanderson took a step toward the toy.

The toy took a step toward him, moving with a fluid grace he would not have expected from something made of plastic and running on half-a-dozen C-cells. It moved like it was alive. He took a step to the left and the thing near the fence took a crablike sidestep, tracking him perfectly. It had shifted orientation slightly, showing off more of its shape, and he noticed the upward sweep of something that looked like a long horn or stinger protruding from the creature’s posterior.

A flutter of panic seized him. That thing was real. It was real and it was stalking him. But just as he felt the first tightening in his chest, the first tingle of adrenaline, he remembered something he had seen years ago, a television show in which unwitting participants were set up by friends for the scare of their lives.

Sanderson smiled and ran a hand through his thinning hair. Sure, that’s what this was. A prank. There must be a hidden camera crew somewhere nearby. But they weren’t going to make a fool out of Bob Sanderson. He scanned the line of magnolias, looking for the tell-tale glint from a hidden camera lens and took a confident step forward. The thing by the fence skittered forward, halving the distance between them. It was amazing what they could do with servomotors and gears these days.

“I have to admit, you almost look real.” He smiled and shook his head. “Still think mechanical effects look better onscreen than CGI.

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