Then Julie’s eyes fluttered open and Matt looked down at her face and felt a chill flood his body all the way down to his bones. She had been sleeping on her back, and outlined on the porcelain skin of her face were a pair of red splotches roughly the circumference of a decent-sized rope. Or snake. Or whatever the hell Matt had (maybe) seen slither into Tim’s mouth.
Julie blinked sleepily and sat up in bed. “What’s the matter, baby, did you have a nightmare?” She reached for Tim and as she did, Matt inspected her face more closely. The splotchy marks ran from the sides of her mouth across each cheek. They looked as though they had been made by . . . something . . . trying to force her mouth open and slither inside it.
Just as he thought he had seen happen to Tim.
What the hell was going on here?
Julie pulled her son close and Tim tumbled awkwardly into their bed, eyes wide, saying nothing. Julie refused to meet Matt’s gaze.
He kicked off the tangled blankets and eased out of bed, padding into the kitchen to make coffee. There was no way he would get any more sleep tonight. And he had to get away from Tim; the kid was seriously creeping him out.
***
“He’s been through a lot, give him a break!” Julie’s face was a mask of stress and barely controlled anger as she glared at Matt, but he thought he could detect a trace of desperation in her eyes as well. She was confused and frightened about what was happening to her boy. They were sitting at the dinner table, the dishes having been picked up and rinsed, Tim having trudged down the hall and into his room like a freaking zombie after picking at his food and eating basically nothing.
“I understand he’s been through a lot, but the way he’s acting is not normal.” Matt had been thinking about the bizarre scene he had woken up to all day at work and knew he had to broach the subject to his girlfriend. As expected, Julie did not want to hear it.
“Oh, okay,” she said acidly. “Not normal. And I’m supposed to believe . . . what? That some alien life form entered Tim’s body while he was down in that mine and is trying to . . . what? Expand into other bodies, too? Like mine?”
“I know how it sounds,” Matt said. “But I also know what I saw.”
“Really? You know what you saw for a split-second in the dark after being awakened from a deep sleep? In the middle of a nightmare? You don’t think it’s more likely you awoke disoriented and just saw Timmy yawning? You don’t think that’s more likely than your stupid alien theory, or monsters, or whatever?”
Matt knew it was pointless to argue—Julie simply was not going to see his side of things, not now, at least—but he couldn’t help himself. He had to admit it sounded ridiculous when he heard the words come out of her mouth, but he also had to admit that, yes, that “stupid alien theory” was exactly what he thought. Maybe it wasn’t aliens that had invaded Tim’s body, maybe it was just some weird mutated virus or something, but whatever it was, Matt feared it. And if Julie had any sense, she would fear it, too.
“Listen,” he said. “I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I know what happened in those underground tunnels a hundred years ago, I know”—
“—That’s a load of crap,” Julie interrupted. “You know the fireside ghost stories you’ve heard and you know the whispered rumors and half-truths, but you have no idea what actually happened back in the 1920’s and earlier. You don’t have a clue. So don’t go trying to frighten me even more than I already am. Don’t try to turn me against my own child and make me afraid of him. Just don’t. Fucking. Do it.”
“I’m not trying to make you afraid of anyone, and I certainly don’t want to turn you against Tim. But think about it. The drop-off just inside that mine shaft was something like ten feet, almost straight down. How could Tim possibly have fallen into that shaft and gotten himself back out with no help?”
Julie glared at him. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “My son is fine and he’ll be his old self again any time. Just wait and see.”
Matt gave up. He stared into Julie’s eyes and saw a kind of frightened defiance reflecting back at him. Finally he shook his head wearily and left the kitchen to get ready for bed.
***
Just about everybody owned guns in Tonopah. The little village was located in the middle of nowhere in central Pennsylvania, and while it wasn’t like there was no local law enforcement presence in town, most long-time residents just felt more secure knowing they had their own protection.
Matt was no different. He had locked his Glock up in a gun safe when Julie moved in, not wanting to risk a tragedy brought on by a curious twelve year old. Now, though, he knelt in the closet and opened the safe, picking up the pistol and hefting it. He thought back to last night and what he had (maybe) seen, about the strange behavior Julie’s son had exhibited since returning from the mine yesterday—how had he managed to climb out of that shaft all by himself?—and came to a decision he had known all along he would. He slammed the gun safe closed and walked out of the closet still holding the Glock.
He wandered to the small table on his side of the bed and opened a drawer, dropping the pistol inside and sliding it shut. Keeping a loaded gun next to the bed was not ideal, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Tim almost never came into this room, last night’s bizarre occurrence notwithstanding.
Besides, the way Matt saw it there were risks to not being protected, especially if what he had seen last night was somehow real. So he would keep the gun in the drawer for a few nights and see what happened. If Julie was right, and Tim snapped out of his bizarre fugue—not that that scenario seemed likely—he could simply return the gun to the safe and no one would be the wiser.
If she was wrong, though . . . well, Matt didn’t want to think about that possibility.
***
Middle of the night.
The bedroom mostly dark, illuminated only by the weak light of a half-moon filtering through the partially drawn shade.
And Tim was standing next to the bed again.
Matt’s eyes flew open and he was instantly awake. As was the case last night, he had no idea what had awoken him from his slumber, but this time there was no confusion or disorientation. One moment he was asleep and the next he was awake, alert and aware.
Tim stood quietly next to his sleeping mother, closer to the bed than he had been last night. This time there was no rope, no snake-like thing reeling back into Tim’s mouth or anywhere else. Matt knew, because it was the first thing he looked for.
He snapped on the lamp and examined Julie’s face closely. No red marks. Nothing to indicate some bizarre protrusion may have been trying to force its way into her body through her mouth.
But what did that prove? Nothing. Maybe the marks had already disappeared, or maybe the thing had gotten smarter or more careful and not left any evidence behind, or maybe it had entered her body through some other opening. Matt shuddered, suddenly freezing despite the stifling heat inside the bedroom.
Hell, maybe he was going crazy. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Tim hadn’t changed at all, maybe the kid was perfectly normal and so was Julie, and he was losing his fucking marbles.
Matt didn’t think so, though. As confused as he had felt last night when he had awoken to discover his girlfriend’s son standing mute next to the bed like some flesh and blood statue, he felt exactly that clear-headed right now.
He leaned over to nudge Julie awake. She must be really exhausted, he thought. Normally she’s such a light sleeper she would have woken up just from the sound of the kid’s breathing. Not tonight, however. Tonight she lay dead to the world, her respiration slow and steady, her body as unmoving as her son’s.
Before Matt could wake her, Tim turned, still silent as a corpse, and began trudging/stumbling out of the bedroom. Matt assumed he was heading back to his own room but didn’t really care; he was just glad the kid was gone. That whole stand-still-and-stare act was seriously fucked up.
With Tim gone, the air in the room seemed to lighten somehow, to become
less dense, and Matt realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled heavily and decided not to bother Julie after all. The kid was gone and Matt guessed he would have a bitch of a time trying to wake his girlfriend up anyway, she was sleeping so deeply.
Matt looked at the clock on his bedside table. Four-twelve a.m. The entire disturbing incident had probably taken thirty seconds from beginning to end, although it had felt like much longer. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but knew he was—like last night—wasting his time. All he could think about was where the little twelve year old zombie-in-training was and what he might be doing.
After fifteen fruitless minutes spent trying to get back to sleep, Matt slid out of bed to make coffee in the middle of the night. It was becoming a habit.
***
Matt looked at his watch for the fifth time in three minutes. Seven fifty-five a.m. Julie would normally have been up for almost an hour, getting Tim ready for school and then herself ready for work. So far, neither one of them had yet put in an appearance. It was unsettling. Matt busied himself with his breakfast and tried not to dwell on what Julie’s absence might mean. She was probably just tired. Or maybe she was getting the flu.
That must be it. The flu.
He finished his cold cereal—he realized he had no clue what brand he had just eaten and tried to chuckle, but found he couldn’t force the sound out of his throat—and dropped the bowl into the sink, and when he turned around, there was Julie. She seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, standing just inside the kitchen doorway. Her hair was mussed and her nightgown wrinkled and she stood silently.
Stiffly.
Watching.
Saying nothing.
And Matt knew.
***
No one had left the Hardiman/McKenna house all day. Tim called the kid in sick from school and then his girlfriend in sick from work and then himself in sick as well. Sure, the bills were going to keep coming but Matt had a feeling he wouldn’t be worth a shit at the garage today anyway—his mind was on other things—so he decided not to bother trying.
After Julie’s appearance in the kitchen this morning, Matt had smiled brightly and offered a cup of coffee—“Looks like you could really use it,” he said—and she had stared right through him like he didn’t exist. She supplied no answer to the coffee question but that didn’t matter. Matt knew the answer already.
The day passed slowly. Time felt disjointed to Matt, like maybe he was living in one of those old-time movies where the camera was cranked by hand and the actors’ movements were jumpy and out of sync. Tim stayed in his room all day, not coming out to eat or even, as far as Matt could tell, use the bathroom. Julie wandered aimlessly through the house, back and forth, like she had done when Tim was missing, except her pacing three days ago had had a purpose to it and this seemed almost random.
Matt tried a half-dozen times to start a conversation with her; nothing serious or complicated, just normal adult chit-chat. Eventually he gave up. Her interaction consisted of toneless grunts or one-word answers, exactly as Tim had done when interviewed by the police the day before yesterday, after his miraculous return from the mine.
The police.
Matt’s thoughts kept coming back to the authorities. He should get the cops out here, but what the hell would he tell them? I’m afraid my girlfriend and her creepy kid have become possessed by whatever has been locked up inside that cursed mine for the last couple of centuries? And what was his theory based on, exactly? A grouchy girlfriend? An unresponsive kid? Hell, if that was the measuring stick for possession, half the families in America would be considered possessed. Maybe more.
The clock continued moving, afternoon becoming evening, evening sliding into night, with no change in the status of either his girlfriend or her son. It was like they had become fucking zombies overnight. It would be time for bed soon, and Matt knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would not be sleeping with whatever Julie was becoming. Or had become.
He eyed her nervously from the couch as she wandered past, walking aimlessly through the little house, somehow larger, bulkier than she had been before. Her hands were balled into fists, but Matt knew what he would see if he could get her to unclench them—lengthening nails, hooked and claw-like, growing thicker and stronger.
He wondered how she would react when he told her what he had to say. He needn’t have worried. “Listen,” he said. “I’m thinking I should probably crash out here on the couch tonight.” And every fucking night until whatever is inside you has disappeared or died or otherwise gone away, he thought to himself. “You really could use a good night’s sleep and I’ll probably just keep you awake tossing and turning next to you.”
It sounded weak coming out of his mouth, but if Julie thought so, she didn’t say. She barely said anything. “Whatever,” she grunted, hardly slowing her stumbling, trudging pace and not looking Matt’s way at all. Or maybe, “Okay.” Matt wasn’t sure. He didn’t ask her to repeat herself, though. The exact words didn’t matter.
A few minutes later, he walked into the bedroom and retrieved his gun. He returned to the living room and placed it under the couch, within easy reach, and set himself up with some blankets and a pillow. Then he waited uneasily for Julie—or whatever she had turned into—to wander off to bed. His sense of unease continued to build. It was turning into real fear.
***
Matt stretched out on the couch and tried to relax. He didn’t think there was any way he would be able to fall asleep with his brain buzzing like a hive of angry bees. It occurred to him that he was probably in shock, and why wouldn’t he be? Three days ago he had a life he understood. It was boring, sure, but it made sense. Steady job—maybe he’d never get rich, but everybody needed a mechanic eventually—sweet girlfriend, standoffish twelve year old. His life was so normal, it was a slice of freaking Americana.
Then the standoffish twelve year old turned everything upside down by becoming some kind of juvenile Christopher Columbus and exploring uncharted territory.
Fast-forward seventy-two hours. The steady job was still there—assuming he hadn’t gotten canned for skipping work today—but the sweet girlfriend and standoffish twelve year old had morphed into something out of a late-night horror movie.
The worst part of the whole shitty situation was that Matt had no idea what he was going to do. He had relegated himself to his own fucking couch while the thing that used to be Julie was ensconced in their bedroom doing who the hell knew what. Probably becoming more zombie-like by the minute.
Okay, so he would deal with the situation by sleeping on the couch tonight. But that really wasn’t dealing with it at all, was it? What about tomorrow and the next day and the day after that? Would the old Julie and Tim somehow magically return? It didn’t seem likely. In fact, with every passing hour it seemed more and more like a pipe dream.
And if they didn’t return to their old selves, what then? The situation as it currently stood could not continue. Matt didn’t really believe he had gotten fired for missing one day of work, but he certainly couldn’t stay home forever, and that presented a problem. Hanging around the house watching the two ghouls skulk around wasn’t accomplishing anything, but as frightened as he was to stay in the house with them, Matt was even more afraid to leave.
What if he went off to work and they went around town infecting others with whatever had infected them? Matt didn’t want to be responsible for other people becoming what his girlfriend and her son were becoming, and he also feared how many people might potentially become infected over an eight hour span.
He knew he needed to get both of them to a doctor, get them under an x-ray machine or some other type of body scanner, find out exactly what had taken up residence inside them. He no longer doubted what he had seen two nights ago, the fleshy, ropy-looking thing that had been protruding from Tim’s mouth and had been reeled back inside his body like some sick fishing line the moment Matt had awoken. He had questioned the sight at the time because it
was just so damned . . . bizarre, but he no longer questioned it. No sir.
The infection, or the parasite, whatever it was, had survived by hiding deep inside the mine for at least a hundred years, and probably a lot longer, if the stories regarding the cursed place were true. It had hidden and festered and waited patiently for an opportunity to be released, then taken advantage of that opportunity when little Tim had knocked down the damned concrete slab.
Julie—the real Julie, not this horrible, shambling, blank-eyed version—wouldn’t have believed any of it if she had been rational enough to listen to Matt. She had never believed. But he didn’t care. She wasn’t from around here. Harrisburg was only fifty miles from Tonopah, but it may as well have been fifty thousand. Julie hadn’t grown up hearing the tales of disappearing miners and strange incidents occurring with regularity in those tunnels under the earth’s surface.
Matt believed the stories, though. He believed every last one. The evidence was right here inside his own house. And he could prove something horrifying was happening, too, if only he could get Julie and Tim to the hospital. But he also knew they would never allow that to happen. At least not willingly.
He reached under the couch and gripped his gun like an infant clutching a teddy bear, reassured by its solidity and deadly potential. He had come to a decision, and felt marginally better for it. Tomorrow he would take one more day off from work. He would drive his girlfriend and her son to the hospital, by force if necessary.
At gunpoint if it came to that.
At the hospital he would demand the doctors on duty take x-rays of both of them, again at gunpoint if necessary. The authorities would be called—of course they would, a lunatic waving a gun around a hospital would be all over CNN within fifteen minutes of their arrival—but that was okay, because if the X-rays revealed what he knew they would, Matt guessed every cop within a thirty mile radius of this tiny little dying hick town would be needed, and even that much firepower might not turn out to be enough.
The Becoming - a novella Page 6