They looked around at me.
“You don’t seem to understand, or you’re trying as hard as you can not to understand. This is no ordinary fog. Nobody has come into the market since it hit. If you open that loading door and something comes in—”
“Something like what?” Norm said with perfect eighteen-year-old macho contempt.
“Whatever made the noise, I heard.”
” Drayton,” Jim said. “Pardon me, but I’m not convinced you heard anything. I know you’re a big-shot artist with connections in New York and Hollywood and all, but that doesn’t make you any different from anyone else, in my book. Way I figure, you got in here in the dark and maybe you just… got a little confused.”
“Maybe I did,” I said. “And maybe if you want to start screwing around outside, you ought to start by making sure that lady got home safe to her kids.” His attitude-and that of his buddy and of Norm the bag-boy—was making me mad and scaring me more at the same time. They had the sort of light in their eyes that some men get when they go shooting rats at the town dump.
“Hey,” Jim’s buddy said. “When any of us here want your advice, we’ll ask for it.” Hesitantly, Ollie said: “The generator really isn’t that important, you know. The food in the cold cases will keep for twelve hours or more with absolutely no—”
“Okay, kid, you’re it,” Jim said brusquely. “I’ll start the motor, you raise the door so that the place doesn’t stink up too bad. Me and Myron will be standing by the exhaust outflow. Give us a yell when it’s clear..”
“Sure,” Norm said, and bustled excitedly away.
“This is crazy,” I said. “You let that lady go by herself—”
“I didn’t notice you breaking your ass to escort her,” Jim’s buddy Myron said. A dull, brick-colored flush was creeping out of his collar.
“—but you’re going to let this kid risk his life over a generator that doesn’t even matter?”
“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up!” Norm yelled.
“Listen, Drayton,” Jim said, and smiled at me coldly. “I’ll tell you what. If you’ve got anything else to say, I think you better count your teeth first, because I’m tired of listening to your bullshit.” Ollie looked at me, plainly frightened. I shrugged. They were crazy, that was all.
Their sense of proportion was temporarily gone. Out there they had been confused and scared. In here was a straight- forward mechanical problem: a balky generator. It was possible to solve this problem. Solving the problem would help make them feel less confused and helpless. Therefore they would solve it.
Jim and his friend Myron decided I knew when I was licked and went back into the generator compartment. “Ready, Norm?” Jim asked.
Norm nodded, then realized they couldn’t hear a nod. “Yeah,” he said.
“Norm,” I said. “Don’t be a fool.”
“It’s a mistake,” Ollie added.
He looked at us, and suddenly his face was much younger than eighteen. it was the face of a boy. His Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively, and I saw that he was scared green. He opened his mouth to say something—I think he was going to call it off-and then the generator roared into life again, and when it was running smoothly, Norm lunged at the button to the right of the door and it began to rattle upward on its dual steel tracks.
The emergency lights had come back on when the generator started. Now they dimmed down as the motor which lifted the door sucked away the juice.
The shadows ran backward and melted. The storage area began to fill with the mellow white light of an overcast late-winter day. I noticed that odd, acrid smell again.
The loading door went up two feet, then four. Beyond I could see a square cement platform outlined around the edges with a yellow stripe. The yellow faded and washed out in just three feet. The fog was incredibly thick.
“Ho up!” Norm yelled.
Tendrils of mist, as white and fine as floating lace, eddied inside. The air was cold. It had been noticeably cool all morning long, especially after the sticky heat of the last three weeks, but it had been a summery coolness. This was cold. It was like March. I shivered. And I thought of Steff.
The generator died. Jim came out just as Norm ducked under the door. He saw it.
So did I. So did Ollie.
A tentacle came over the far lip of the concrete loading platform and grabbed Norm around the calf. My mouth dropped wide open. Ollie made a very short glottal sound of surprise—uk! The tentacle tapered from a thickness of a foot-the size of a grass snake-at the point where it had wrapped itself around Norm’s lower leg to a thickness of maybe four or five feet where it disappeared into the mist. It was slate gray on top, shading to a fleshy pink underneath. And there were rows of suckers on the underside.
They were moving and writhing like hundreds of small, puckering mouths.
Norm looked down. He saw what had him. His eyes bulged. “Get it off me! Hey, get it off me! Christ Jesus, get this frigging thing off me!”
“Oh my God,” Jim whimpered.
Norm grabbed the bottom edge of the loading door and yanked himself back in.
The tentacle seemed to bulge, the way your arm will when you flex it. Norm was yanked back against the corrugated steel door-his bead clanged against it. The tentacle bulged more, and Norm’s legs and torso began to slip back out. The bottom edge of the loading door scraped the shirttails out of his pants. He yanked savagely and pulled himself back in like a man doing a chin-up.
“Help me,” he was sobbing. “Help me, you guys, please, please.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Myron said. He had come out of the generator compartment to see what was going on.
I was the closest, and I grabbed Norm around the waist and yanked as hard as I could, rocking back on my heels. For a moment we moved backward, but only for a moment. it was like stretching a rubber band or pulling taffy. The tentacle yielded but gave up its basic grip not at all. Then three more tentacles floated out of the mist towards us. One curled around Norm’s flapping red Federal apron and tore it away. It disappeared back into the mist with the red cloth curled in its grip and I thought of something my mother used to say when my brother and I would beg for something she didn’t want us to have-candy, a comic book, some toy. “You need that like a hen needs a flag,” she’d say. I thought of that, and I thought of that tentacle waving Norm’s red apron around, and I got laughing. I got laughing, except my laughter and Norm’s screams sounded about the same. Maybe no one even knew I was laughing except me.
The other two tentacles slithered aimlessly back and forth on the loading platform for a moment, making those low scraping sounds I had heard earlier. Then one of them slapped against Norm’s left hip and slipped around it. I felt it touch my arm. It was warm and pulsing and smooth. I think now that if it had gripped me with those suckers, I would have gone out into the mist too. But it didn’t. It grabbed Norm. And the third tentacle ringleted his other ankle.
Now he was being pulled away from me. “Help me!” I shouted. “Ollie! Someone!
Give me a hand here!” But they didn’t come. I don’t know what they were doing, but they didn’t come.
I looked down and saw the tentacle around Norm’s waist working into his skin.
The suckers were eating him where his shirt had pulled out of his pants. Blood, as red as his missing apron, began to seep out of the trench the pulsing tentacle had made for itself.
I banged my head on the lower edge of the partly raised door.
Norm’s legs were outside again. One of his loafers had fallen off. A new tentacle came out of the mist, wrapped its tip firmly around the shoe, and made off with it. Norm’s fingers clutched at the door’s lower edge. He had it in a death grip. His fingers were livid.
He was not screaming anymore; he was beyond that. His head whipped back and forth in an endless gesture of negation, and his long black hair flew wildly.
I looked over his shoulder and saw more tentacles coming, dozens of them, a forest of them. Most were small but a few were gigantic, as thick as the moss-corseted tree that had been lying across our driveway that morning. The big ones had candy-pink suckers that seemed the size of manhole covers. One of these big ones struck the concrete loading platform with a loud and rolling thrrrrp! sound and moved sluggishly toward us like a great blind earthworm. I gave one gigantic tug, and the tentacle holding Norm’s right calf slipped a little. That was all. But before it reestablished its grip, I saw that the thing was eating him away.