Afternoon of the Lizard King

by Shauna Checkley

Chiz walked quickly out of the projects towards downtown. Dodging the small clusters of hoodies and look-outs, a homeless guy passed out on an old, stained, orange plaid couch near a Lorass bin, Chiz hurried away. He was all too cognizant of the tiny bullet of dope deep in the pocket of his baggy cargo jeans. He just wanted to make it downtown. He just wanted to see Aria. That’s all.

But just as he left the sprawling complex that was the Lucian Trust housing project, when he had just rounded the curving thoroughfare that led straight to the beginning of the downtown core, he saw the familiar charcoal Buick.

Crap.

He turned away from it and began to walk even faster. But then it pulled up to him. Through the rolled down passenger window, Murphy motioned to Chiz to get inside the vehicle.

He groaned. But he did. Climbing into the back seat, he lay flat down on it. “Yo, are you trying to get me killed?” he complained.

“You already smell like you’re dead,” the Detective deadpanned. Turning to face him, she said, “So have you found out any more about Omar?”

“Just that he’s got his crew set up everywhere now. They switch money houses every coupla days. That’s all I know.”

“Who’s his man?’

“Andre runs the show. The guy with the gold grill. That’s all I know. So don’t be getting me killed for nothing.”

Murphy nodded. She was a tall, thirty-something, third generation Irish cop. She’d never even considered a life besides police work; she came from a family where anything else would have been considered heresy. Still, the high-stress job took its toll on her; she was a confirmed gambling addict. Casino overdrive. Besides whiskey, it was the only thing that seemed to help her decompress at nights.

Chiz spoke up. “Drop me off at the Giller building downtown. Y’know, that funny lime green place.”

Murphy needed no instructions. She had hauled off protesters from the site over bewildering art shows that went on there, vampiric themes right down to having your blood sucked by the presenter and other weird post-modern sensibilities.

Murphy began driving to it. In the rearview mirror, she glanced and saw that Chiz was still lying flat down on the back seat, curled up foetal-like, in hopes of not being seen by anyone from the street. He was all puma runners and limbs and legs like a toppled statue.

She dodged expertly through traffic.

The day was bright and teeming with activity. It was like the city was an unchecked organism, vibrant and spreading, with a power and intelligence of its own. Jackhammers. Wheezing buses. The occasional ambulance with its lights and siren blaring. Mothers pushing strollers.

“Still got your woman?”

“Yeah, and I got a date, so I need some money,” Chiz whined

Pulling up to the quirky building, oddly designed and almost neon in colour, Murphy parked. She tossed a crumpled ten-dollar bill at Chiz and watched him scramble out.

* * *

Aria looked about her. The support group meeting was winding down. She watched as people gulped the remainder of their cooled coffees, slipped their jackets back on. Frances. Gwen. Ron. Jack. Kirk. They formed that familiar, mournful circle every Thursday afternoon, a twelve-step group for hybrids.

Still, it gave Aria the chills when she appraised the group. Am I as weird as they are? For they had a children of the corn vibe: diminutive, blondish, ash-gray, saucer-like eyes; it was disconcerting to behold. They all were passive and listless. They seemed to lack the power and energy and aggression that was the natural providence of homo sapiens.

For very good reasons, she had joined the group several months back. It gave her the support and fellowship she had been sorely lacking in her life. It was a Thursday filler when the remainder of her week often felt barren. She had been so isolated before that she counted her pet cats as her closest confidants.

Her part-time job at Monster Gob candy factory didn’t help much, either. It just didn’t provide her with the diversion that she needed, only with a plethora of gummy treats, bears and snakes, berries and dragons.

Yet she hoped most of all that the support group would provide some answers to her very curious existence.

She knew that, like the others, she was a plant. She had been deposited into her earth mother’s womb with alien precision and was expected to form a fifth column on the planet when the time for disclosure came. The beings had told her. And she sensed it, right down to her cellular level even, to her hybridized DNA.

Lately, she was trying to make peace with the whole existential angst that had been building in her. For the big question lodged in her wider lens was not what this is all about, what does life mean? But, rather, just what in the world am I? What? Got an identity crisis like no other, she imagined.

Julian Davis cleared his throat. He was a very tall, bald, spindly man with strangely luminous amber eyes. He was the moderator for their support group. A counsellor, he was the only professional in the area that specialized in dealing with the humanoids that had been planted on Earth by extra-terrestrials. It was an open secret in the wider UFO community, and yet it remained largely unknown otherwise.

He had a Ph.D. in Parapsychology. He had authored several books, even a sci-fi thriller that was briefly on the best-sellers list and that eventually became a blockbuster movie.

The Giller building was home to his counselling practice. Sometimes, though, he would rent it out to various artistic elites for their own events though, unfortunately, controversy often erupted, especially since that cannibal-themed exhibit several weeks back. The media ran with the story. Protestors dotted the sidewalk outside. It turned into a Mondo Godzilla scene in fact.

Aria regarded Julian as a friend as well as a professional, yet there was something off-putting in his lofty manner, his almost regal bearing. He had an imperious air that occasionally betrayed a temper. It was odd given that he was so skilled at counselling but not at human relations. “Poor bedside manner,” some would call it. Ah well, I guess it takes a special kind of soul to be immersed in this field, Aria deduced.

“So are there any final thoughts in closing?” Julian said. His eerie eyes swept about the circle of attendees.

Several shrugged, shook their heads.

“All right, dismissed. I’ll see you next Thursday.”

They stood and filed out. Aria lingered as she often did to converse privately with Julian. He never rushed away either, because he liked to avail himself for any further consultation.

Outside, Chiz leaned up against the wall. With the blond dye job under the gray toque, with his junkie paleness and his neutral, layered clothing he almost blended right into the facility that was a taupe colour indoors.

The hallway was momentarily abuzz as the meeting emptied out. But they soon disappeared into the elevator and were gone with a whoosh of the doors. He was alone once again.

He stood in the semi-darkness. The neon Exit sign in the hallway gave off an unnatural glow.

Though he wanted to hook up with Aria, he could really only concentrate on that tight little package, that nugget buried deep in his pocket. He felt light beads of sweat on his brow. He felt the electric current of craving and addiction of that twin-headed hydra begin to assault him. He longed for his pipe. He yearned for the rock, the crystal. It screamed, blared its deadly seductive song. Yo, just hurry up already!

Hovering above her, Julian frowned and said, “Please tell me you’re still not with that horrible creature!”

Aria looked sheepish. “But he’s getting better. He even eats and washes his clothes sometimes.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Don’t let him move in, whatever you do! That would be a huge mistake. Don’t become co-dependent to him as a result.”

“No, no. Of course not. He just couch surfs as far as I know.”

Julian continued to frown. “Remember how I told you that women are not rehab centres for poorly raised, dysfunctional men,” he reminded her.

With her head tilted completely upward, as the man was so tall, Aria nodded to him. But she continued to push her case. “He’s sort of one of the good guys. He’s a police informant now. He feeds them whatever he knows. He’s actually helping out.”

Julian looked bemused. “A rat?”

“I guess.”

“Why don’t you try and get to know some of the men in our support group. That’s not what it’s there for, of course, but it would be a much better alternative than Chiz.”

Aria frowned. I can’t tell him how boring they all are, uber-nerds for certain. Besides, if they are all endowed like Jack, why bother? She then saw a flash of his micro-dick again, recalling the time they got drunk out at the beach and he lost his trunks in the surf. She was decidedly underwhelmed.

They paused. Then those golden, glittery eyes shone down on her coldly. Aria felt a definite chill in the air. It was like the room had somehow emptied itself of all that was familiar and humanizing. Silence. Then a deep disquiet arose like the abyss and the void and the underworld had popped open and blended together. Right there. Right now.

Finally, after an uncomfortably long lull, Julian tilted his head downwards to her. His narrow face and the ironic half-smile that parted his thin lips and showed his small, crowded, teeth made him appear insectile and predatory. Aria had seen him make that expression before. It had always been vaguely unsettling.

“I think that you are falling for this Chiz character, and I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Aria shook her head. She had always viewed Chiz as no more than an acquaintance, a friendly face in a soulless city. She sensed that Chiz may have wanted more. Probably just a fling. But she knew better than to fall for bravado and street charm. She had grown up in the rough east side, too, after all.

Then the door burst open. Chiz slumped in and smiled weakly and waved to Aria.

She waved back.

Then he flashed her some gang hand signs. He did this to her sometimes as a joke.

Julian walked over to Chiz.

“So you’re the fellow that Aria has befriended,” he said icily

Chiz frowned. He said nothing. Still in the grip of raw craving, he felt that white-knuckle edge growing in him. Sometimes he almost felt he was morphing into another being, the kind of creature that would rob or beat to meet its own needs. The other side that the addict met on a daily basis that was him and not him, just some peculiar distortion, dark shadow rising.

Chiz pointedly ignored Julian. “Ready to go?” he called to Aria.

Julian was outraged by the rebuff. How dare he! To moi even hmmph!

Let’s just get outa here, Chiz thought.

Aria grabbed her purse. She just wanted to leave, to escape the clutches of Julian, no matter how correct he was about the whole thing. She wished only to return to her small life of magazines and cats and coffee and the budding friendship that she had begun with her homie.

“Would you like to see what they do with punks and snitches on my planet!” Julian snapped. His eyes seemed to flare and roll in their sockets.

“Excuse me, bitch!” Chiz spat. His hands clenched into fists.

Reeling in disbelief at Julian’s remark, Aria felt her breath catch, her heart race. What did he mean anyhow? On my planet?

But before she could ponder further, a horrifying thing began to occur. Aria and Chiz watched Julian shape-shift before them. First, there was a blinding light, then a blurring and a whirring sound until he finally manifested into a grotesque nine-foot lizard-like being. Channelling David Icke.

The creature was an upright reptilian with grayish-green scales, golden eyes, jagged fangs and cloven, hooved feet. It was like something from the worst bed-wetting nightmares, from the scariest of drive-in movies.

Holy...! Chiz exclaimed. He jumped backward, nearly losing his balance. He cowered in the corner.

Aria gasped. All of the misgivings she had about Julian finally fell into place. It all made sense now! I should have guessed! He’s from the dark side!

Yet as the creature’s long, muscular tail proceeded to wrap tightly around the man and lift him into the air, Aria and Chiz screamed in unison.

Hearing the cell phone go off in the back of her Buick, Detective Murphy frowned. She knew it must be Chiz’s by the unfamiliar ring tone, Jim Morrison saying, “I’m the Lizard King/ I can do anything/”

She groaned. Then she pulled over and retrieved it.

Though she would be off duty soon and was eager to head to the Casino, she was near the Giller building and thought she would cruise over and see if Chiz was still there so she could return the phone to him. She pulled up to the infamous building and went inside.

Hearing the most blood-curdling screams imaginable, Detective Murphy froze. Then she ran to find the source. She pulled out her gun. What the hell?

Inside the large meeting room, Chiz was being promptly devoured. The tall reptilian being had eaten both of Chiz’s legs and most of his torso. He had just paused to chew furiously before moving on to the head and shoulders.

Aria was alternating between screaming and fainting. Though she had come to her senses long enough to begin throwing chairs at the thing. She then watched as the last bits of her friend were eaten. Shoulders. Neck.

Bursting in, Murphy turned white at the sight. All colour drained from her face.

Chiz’s head was lodged in the things mouth like a grape. His blue eyes were glassy and frozen in horror.

“What in the...” she sputtered

She emptied six shots into the monstrosity. It paused and then fell to the floor with a loud, dull thud. It shape-shifted into a tiny mound of flickering ash. There was a brief smell of sulphur. Then all was gone. There was no trace of the other two, only Aria and Murphy remained.

Both women paused and looked at each other incredulously. They were pale and shaken and silent. After taking a moment to process it all, they turned to each other. Aria wept.

“You must be the girlfriend, I take it,” Murphy said.