So far there was nothing about the Lizard in any of the worn, yellowed papers. And that’s what Esma kept typing: “We have found nothing on the Lizard as of yet but we appreciate your inquiry. Thank you. Sincerely, Mr. Frank Foster and Ms. Esma Montoume.” Esma clacked away on the manual typewriter and Frank sorted through the old documents on the wooden floor. In his eight-year-old’s haste to get through the papers, Frank tore some but that didn’t slow him down.
Through the Spanish moss and the black silhouettes of the trees Anna watched the lake. The water was a soft purple and was so still it looked frozen. A dragonfly shot across the sky. She sat on the hammock in her silky, layered dress cradling a large kitchen knife on her lap. She rocked slightly as the insects started up their evening chant. Now and then her eyes flickered from the lake to the trees to the knife. The hammock ropes creaked with each sway. By the bank a small animal disturbed the water’s surface and splashed with little hands. Anna rose with the knife and walked slowly to the path to the water, her dress dragging in the mud. The house now loomed behind her, dark and Victorian, but she didn’t look back. The animal scampered off, creating a ruckus in the low bushes.
The three of them were stuck up on the roof, sitting along the low walls, smoking, nervous. Carmen had the big gun but they only had a few rounds left and it kept jamming so they had to save it for emergencies. And they had the dog with them, Sparks, probably smarter than all of them put together but hungry and a little too eager. The carnival was still in full-force below, everyone frolicking down there, oblivious to everything.
Mandy inched up slowly and peered over the wall. The alley was mostly empty except for a couple of homeless tramps groping each other. What he could see of the street was still an ocean of partiers in colorful garb. He sunk back down and looked at Carmen and Tad. Then at Sparks, who was staring intently at the door that led to the stairwell. “How long you think we got?” he asked Tad. Tad stroked his beard and took a long drag on his cigarette. “About five more minutes,” Tad said quietly and smiled.