Chapter 5
five
Angry Lizard Problem
Igroan and push myself up, then reach for my phone I’d dropped on the way down. I shine the light on what I’d fallen into and my heart squeezes.
Books.
So many books.
All of them worse for wear.
I gently brush the torn spine of something written in French, or maybe Italian. My hand falls on something missing a cover. The front page is so yellow and bleached that the words are barely visible.
“Moby-Dick; or The Whale…” I murmur as my nail traces the lines.
Holy shit.
Goosebumps rise along my arms as I realize I’m holding the original American publication of Moby Dick from 1855.
This is a treasure and it’s just been flopped into a pile!
I hold the book close to my chest as I stand, pointing my flashlight across the others in the haphazard cluster.
A strange growl emanates from under the books, and then, they shift. Maybe it’s just the floorboards groaning and of course the books are shifting because I fell onto them…
They move again, and another, longer growl sounds.
I point my phone at the spot of most action and hold Moby Dick up like a weapon. I’m sorry to Herman Melville, but if his original printing can save me from getting rabies, I am going to use it.
The books slide apart and a set of glossy, white eyes glare back at me. It’s not a racoon, or a squirrel. It’s not a furry animal at all. The snout is long and green and scaly. Do they have snakes in Wisconsin?
I take a step back and find myself on the edge of the top stair. The creature pushes farther out of the pile, its little clawed hands gripping onto book covers and pages as it hauls itself forward.
“A lizard?” I ask no one in particular, because the lizard surely isn’t going to answer me.
It opens its mouth and for a second, I think I might be wrong, but then, it hisses.
Two sharp fangs glisten against my phone light as the thing pulls back its lips in a menacing display.
It’s only the length of my forearm, and its teeth are about as long as Oscar’s, but still, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of a bite.
“Sorry to disturb your rest,” I say, taking one step down the stairs as I grab the door handle with my phone hand.
The lizard scrambles over the books and charges at me. I hold Moby Dick out in front of me like a shield and it stops, skidding to a halt. It hisses and growls, stomping its front feet.
“Nice lizard, no biting,” I say, heart pounding in my chest. “I’m just gonna close the door, let you go back to bed.”
I pull on the handle but the door is stuck and my phone slips from between my fingers. It hits the ground next to the lizard. It hisses as it goes full attack mode on my technology. I wish I was dignified enough not to scream as I run, but I’m not.
I charge down the stairs to the back door before remembering Oscar with a curse. I sprint into the bookshop and pick up his kennel but when I turn around, the lizard is there, waiting.
There’s fury in its glossy eyes, but they don’t immediately fall on me. It sniffs hard as it moves into the shop, hunting left and right. I calm my breathing, trying my best to be quiet since I think the thing is blind.
Oscar growls, and the lizard’s head snaps toward me.
Its little feet clickity-clack on the floor as it rushes us and I run for the wall, leading it on a chase until I can safely get back to the door to the hallway.
I jump over some rotted wood, and the lizard easily navigates around it—as if it could sense the obstacle.
Oscar is bouncing around in his kennel, complaining wildly as I dash down the long hallway to salvation: the car I never wanted to sit in again but will now live in if it means escaping this feral reptile.
I throw the back door shut behind me and lean against it.
There’s scratching on the wood from the other side and the lizard growls in anger, but it can’t get out.
I set the kennel down and my trembling hands fish the keys out of my pocket. I lock the door, then run with Oscar back to the car. I squeeze into the driver’s seat and shove him over into the passenger’s, then finally take a breath.
I still have Moby Dick in my other hand, but the title page is wrinkled and ripped from my harried flight. I wince as I try to smooth the page back down, but it’s no use.
“Shit,” I mumble, then set the book on top of Oscar’s kennel.
He glares at it, then at me.
“What do you want me to do? Call an exterminator?”
He blinks his eyes separately and I remember I can’t call anyone.
I groan, thinking about my phone lying upstairs next to the book pile, probably covered in bite marks. I glance back at the closed door as I consider how to grab my phone.
No. There’s no way I’m going in without a weapon this time.
“Maybe I should go to that gun shack and get some pepper spray, or a taser,” I mumble, watching the door for signs of activity. Not that I think a little blind lizard can open a door…
I shiver and put my keys in the ignition. There’s no use in considering going back for my phone until I have an appropriate weapon, or some backup.
We pull out of the parking lot onto the main road, and I drive about a half mile back toward the hotel I saw on my way in. It’s a single-story building with a neon sign that reads “Occupancy” below words scrawled in sans serif font.
“Hotel Bar Boat Rental and More,” I say with a sigh as we pull into one of the many open spots.
I take Oscar out for one more potty, then fill up his water bottle and toss a handful of treats into the kennel. Moby Dick is tucked under my arm like some security blanket as I make my way up to the front.
The door is covered in stickers from different events or bands, and even some local shops.
A very loud chime plays “For Whom the Bell Tolls” as I open the door, and I snicker to myself.
The inside is a bar first and foremost, with that taking up most of the entryway.
There are a few booths around the side wall with windows covered in more stickers.
The overhead lights are dim fluorescents, and there’s a pool table at the other end.
A woman tending bar beckons me in. Dark brown hair is pulled back in a high bun on her head, and little sweaty strands fall around her oval face like she’s been working hard all day.
Her black shirt is branded with the Metallica label—doorbell source identified—and she has ten piercings on her face alone.
One on her nose, two rings on her bottom lip, painted bright purple, one in her left eyebrow, and three along each ear.
She smiles brightly in stark contrast to her dark makeup, looking like some kind of goth fairy.
“Welcome to The Only Stop, what can I do for you, friend?”
I almost frown at the overly bright nature of this stranger who doesn’t know my name, let alone enough information to call me “friend.”
“I need a room for me and my cat for the night, please,” I say as I approach the bar and lean against it.
She glances down at the book. “You don’t happen to be the new owner of that ancient bookshop, do you?”
I chuckle. I guess she does know enough about me.
“The one and only. I’m Caitlin Kennedy,” I say, holding out my other hand for a shake.
There’s a twinge in my shoulder and I remember how I’d idiotically rammed my old injured one into the door to open it, then landed on it. Awesome. PT for at least a month.
She reaches over the bar and takes my offer. “Renee Gardner. I’m the owner, operator, cook, and boat fixer-upper! Do a bit of plumbing and carpentry on the side, too.”
“Nice, I might need a plumber, and I definitely need a carpenter,” I say. “But really, I just need a place to stay for the night. Seems there’s an…infestation, in my new place.”
She gasps. “Oh no, coons again?”
Again?
“No, not racoons. It was a lizard. A very angry lizard.”
Her shock intensifies, pushing her pierced eyebrow up to a sharp point. “A lizard? I didn’t think they would really infest places. Maybe a Northern Prairie Skink? Was it brown, or did it have a red face?”
I shake my head. “No, it was green, and it had sharp teeth. It was about elbow to wrist length,” I say, holding up my arm for comparison.
She scowls. “Strange…welp, Randy’s the only one who does pest control around here but he’s on vacation in the Alps or something. Overseas trip, the fancy pants.”
“Great,” I mumble as I put my purse on the counter.
“Well, if it’s got a mouth and eyes, I’m sure some mace will disorient it enough for you to cage it.”
I snort. “You didn’t see this thing. It was feral.”
“I’m sure,” she says with a smirk, then gestures to the bar. “Can I get you anything other than a room for the night?”
I take in the bar. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I think my nerves would like a little calm after the flight for my life.
“Got anything sweet?”
“How strong?”
I shrug. “Medium?”
She laughs. “That’s a new one. I’ll make you the state beverage.”
I slide onto a stool and pull out my credit card.
Glass clinks as Renee works, and in short order, I have a short tumbler in front of me, full to the brim with dark orange liquid, garnished with a citrus wedge and two cherries.
“This is the most Wisconsin mixed drink there is: a brandy Old Fashioned,” she says with a wink.
She watches me intently as I grab the glass and take a sniff. Bitter orange peel, a little fresh fizz, and the bite of sweet alcohol. I take a sip and am pleasantly surprised to find the taste matches the smell. She smiles at my shift in expression.
“Tasty, right? We put a little light soda in it to sweeten it up, and the carbonation helps you get tipsy faster.”
“Good thing I’m already home for the night,” I say, then take another drink.
She snorts and then takes my credit card to the register. “We got a queen with a lake view open, sound good?”
I nod. “As long as you don’t mind a bit of orange fur on the duvet.”
She blows a raspberry. “It’s probably seen worse.”
I get a momentary ick, and push it down. It is a very small town, and this is—as she said—The Only Stop. She probably means dogs…and sex. Maybe racoons?
I’m going to stop thinking about it.
I drink my beverage and Renee chats about all the events coming up in the area.
The little town just north of us will host a Bloom festival on June first, and a town just south will have a big July 4th celebration, with boats loaded with fireworks to shoot off over the lake.
She speaks so animatedly, and with such heart, I can tell she loves her town dearly, and it gives me hope that I will, too.
This is just the restart I’ve been looking for, and lizard problem be damned, I’m going to make the most of it.
Time for the next chapter of my life to begin.