by Gina Ranalli
Tess laughed, despite her anger at the woman who was obviously just prejudiced against the homeless, something Tess had heard was true of most people, though this was the only time she’d witnessed it first hand. “Yeah, she is a bitch,” she agreed.
Dobie and Mick started off in the direction of the exit while Speck lingered behind long enough to say, “Good luck with your fly situation.”
Fly situation.
That’s exactly what it was, Tess realized. A bad situation. One that was far from normal, no matter which way you looked at it.
Maybe they’re familiars, the bald girl—Mick—had said.
But that was crazy. Wasn’t it? Familiars for who? Tess didn’t know anyone who claimed to be a witch, unless perhaps it was a student of hers, in which case, it could be any one of them. Hell, it could be most of them, for all she knew. She was teaching about a hundred and fifty students this semester alone. Most of them teenagers. Around the same age as the ones just here…
Quickly, Tess gathered her belongings into her bag and stood up, bumping into the librarian the instant she turned around.
The woman gave her a self-satisfied smirk. “The threat of the police works every time. They scatter like the vermin they are.”
“You must be very proud of yourself,” Tess said. “You’re a very understanding and sympathetic person.”
The librarian’s smile stretched wide, showing off teeth the shade of dirty dishwater. Tess realized the woman had no concept of sarcasm, but she didn’t have the time or the inclination to explain it to her.
“Excuse me,” she said and pushed past the woman, slinging her bag over one shoulder and increasing her pace, intent on catching up with those kids and…and what?
Get them to talk to me. Buy them…I don’t know…coffee or something. Everyone loves coffee, right? Maybe burgers. Who knows? As long as they talk to me.
Tess knew she was behaving irrationally. But, she reasoned, what did she really have to lose?
CHAPTER 19
Josh left the office a few hours after Gillian’s visit and arrived home to find her asleep on the sofa. He was a little disappointed, but decided not to wake her. Instead, he went into the bathroom, stripped out of his work clothes and stepped into a steaming shower.
When he was finished, he pulled on fresh boxers and a crisp white T-shirt, went back to find Gillian still snoozing. He didn’t think she’d even changed position.
My jizz knocks women out for hours, he thought, amused and only half joking with himself.
In the kitchen, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap and took a long, satisfying swallow, wondering what they might have for dinner. He sat at the table thinking about food for several minutes before it occurred to him to call Tess and, with any luck, talk to Emily. Checking his watch however, revealed that it was still too early for them to be home, which he supposed was just as well, since the sound of his voice would surely wake Gillian—and she wasn’t always the most cheerful when awakened before she was ready.
As he finished his beer in the silent kitchen, he became aware of a headache beginning to nag at his temples. He chalked it up to hunger and rose to toss the empty bottle into the recycle bin. Glancing at his watch again, he wondered how long Gillian would want to sleep. How long had she been asleep already?
Not that he could blame her. He was beginning to feel a bit drowsy himself, perhaps due to the beer, which he had downed faster than he probably should have. There in the kitchen, he stretched and yawned, rubbing his eyes with his forefingers and thumbs.
Damn, this headache is coming on fast.
And now that he thought about it, his stomach was a bit queasy too. Mostly for the same reason: hunger.
But now, he had no desire to eat, despite knowing that he probably should. Maybe Gillian had the right idea. Maybe a little nap was in order, at least until she woke up. She would, without a doubt, in turn, wake him up and then they could proceed with their evening. Maybe go out to dinner if she didn’t feel like cooking. He already knew that he didn’t feel like cooking.
With what seemed to be a solid plan, Josh peeked into the living room one last time to be sure that Gillian was not yet stirring and then went into the bedroom and crawled beneath the cool, crisp sheets. His stomach was already feeling worse and he could only hope that he would feel better after a little snooze.
His last thought before drifting off was how he couldn’t afford to come down with something. There was nothing he hated more than bugs.
It seemed like mere moments had passed when Gillian shook him awake. He was instantly aware of two things simultaneously: Gillian’s face looming over him, an expression of concern creasing her brow and an acute pain in his abdomen.
Josh groaned, placing his hand over the painful spot on his belly.
“Are you okay, babe?” Gillian asked, touching his forehead with her fingertips. “You’re sweating.”
“Stomach ache,” he said, wincing. “Probably just gas.”
She frowned. “Should I see if we have any Pepto?”
“Nah.” He struggled to sit up, pulling the pillow against the headboard. “I’m sure it’ll pass. Just one of those things. Give it a minute.”
“I hope you didn’t eat anything bad.”
He thought about it, but couldn’t remember consuming anything but the beer he’d had just before laying down. Lord, he hoped it hadn't been bad. He’d never had a bad beer before, but knew people who had. According to them, a bad beer or two could leave you stranded on the toilet for days. The thought made him shudder.
Gillian gave him a quizzical look. “Are you hungry? Maybe I should make you some soup.”
He really wanted to say no, but felt bad about doing so. She clearly wanted to do whatever was in her power to make him feel better. The least he could do was play along and pretend that any little thing she did would help the situation, though he doubted soup would be the answer. “Sure, honey. That’ll be great.”
She smiled and he knew he’d said the right thing. My God, she was radiant when she smiled. “Coming right up,” she said. “Nurse Gillian to the rescue.”
Josh tried to return the smile but felt certain that it probably looked more like a grimace of pain.
Giving his hair a quick ruffle as though he were a sick seven-year-old, she said, “Chicken noodle?”
He nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.
“Ok. Be back in a flash.”
She turned, her blonde hair flipping from one shoulder to the other, catching the light just right. Spun gold, he thought. I got myself a genuine golden girl. The thought amazed and pleased him to the point that, for an instant, he forgot about the sharp pain in his belly.
Slumping lower in the bed, he sighed as he watched her leave the room, a pang of regret stabbing his chest, even though he knew she would only be out of his sight for a few minutes.
“Jesus, I love her,” he whispered, just as another pain jabbed his abdomen. Once it passed, he realized he had to urinate and sighed again, for an entirely different reason.
Tossing the sheet back, he swung his bare feet over the side of the bed and rose shakily to his feet. The pain doubled him over immediately and tears sprang to his eyes. “Mother fucker,” he hissed.
But again, the pain was over just as quickly as it had begun and he was able to straighten up and head for the bathroom, his hand still pressed to the spot where the pain had been.
Standing over the toilet, he leaned back and studied the ceiling briefly, waiting for the familiar sound of water hitting water.
All he could manage was a little trickle and the burning sensation was so strong and unexpected that he cried out, stepping back from the toilet as if it were somehow responsible for the pain.
“Shit…”
Something was very wrong.
Josh grimaced, gritting his teeth against the pain, staring down at his dick as a pink-yellow drop of fluid fell from the tip and landed silently on the fuzzy blue bathr
oom mat where it was quickly absorbed, disappearing from sight.
Blood.
That had been blood.
Blood and, Jesus fucking Christ, pus too.
Instantly nauseous, Josh slumped against the wall.
"Gillian?" His voice came out too soft-too weak. He cleared his throat. "Gillian?" Louder, but not loud enough; and did he really want to shriek his girlfriend's name anyway? It would give her a heart attack and make him look like a hysterical child.
But...
Another pang of agony accompanied by the uncontrollable need to urinate.
An infection of some kind. Had to be. Or maybe a kidney stone?
He had no idea what the symptoms of either possibility were. He'd never been unfortunate enough to experience either one.
Forcing himself to stand over the toilet once more, he squeezed out another drop which fell with a thick splash into the bowl and sank slowly to the bottom, this once decidedly more red than the previous drop.
It felt like he was trying to piss broken glass.
Staring, he saw something move on the head of his penis.
Something alive.
Josh sucked air into his lungs and screamed to wake the dead.
"GILLIAN!"
It took her thirty seconds, tops, to arrive in the bathroom, coming on the run, her eyes wide and alarmed. By then, Josh was already on the floor, crumpled against the wall opposite the toilet, sitting up but clearly in danger of falling over.
"Josh! My God, what is it?" She crouched beside him, her worried gaze moving from his face to take in his exposed genitals and back again.
He held out a hand to her, palm up. A small, white thing squirmed in the center of his hand, thrashing lazily in a drop of watery blood.
A maggot.
"It came out of my dick," Josh said. "This fucking thing came out of my dick!"
Feverish tears pricked the corners of his eyes and then spilled down his burning cheeks.
"I think I'm sick," he added, dropped his hand to the floor beside him and vomited into his lap.
CHAPTER 20
"Call an ambulance," Josh said, puke dripping from his chin.
"You're okay," Gillian tried to reassure him, pressing her hand to his forehead. "You're gonna be fine, babe. It's all gonna be fine."
She had no idea if it was going to be fine or not. What the hell was wrong with him? He was warm, running a slight fever, but nothing that should be making him hallucinate. Not by a long shot.
"Let's get you out of these clothes and back to bed, okay?" she said, already raising his arms over his head and yanking up his T-shirt. "Come on. Let's get up."
"I need a hospital," Josh whined. "A maggot came out of my dick!"
Once the shirt was off, Gillian used it to wipe his face before dropping it to the floor to deal with later. "What you need is to get back in bed. You probably have food poisoning."
"It's not food poisoning! Gillian, listen to me! I'm really sick!"
"I know you are, sweetie. Now stand up so we can get you cleaned up and back to bed. Do you want to get in the shower?"
Josh obeyed, using the wall to help himself stand while his worried eyes scanned the floor. "What happened to it?"
"To what?" Gillian did her best to breathe through her mouth as she helped him step out of his disgusting sweatpants.
"The maggot! I dropped it! Where did it go?"
"Probably in the bathmat."
"We can't leave it there! We have to kill it!"
She sighed. "I'll put it in the washing machine, okay? Now, come on. I really think you should hop in the shower before getting back in bed." She straightened up, peering into his face. His eyes glistened wetly, the pupils dilated. He looked scared, that much was obvious. Perhaps she really should get him an appointment with the doctor. "You're not gonna fall over are you?"
He ignored the question, still searching for the maggot on the floor.
It was peculiar. Where had it come from? Certainly not his penis, as he seemed to think, but nevertheless it was disconcerting. She didn't like the idea of such a repulsive creature inside her house any more than anyone else would.
When she was convinced that Josh could hold himself up, she crossed the room and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to heat, she watched him, standing there naked, his arms wrapped around his torso as he hugged himself. He was shivering slightly, despite the fact that she suspected he was running a low-grade fever. He looked small and-she had to admit it-somewhat pathetic standing there like that. Uncomfortable, she averted her gaze until the stream of water was warm enough and then she helped him into the tub and stayed with him until she was once again positive that he wasn't just going to fall over.
Gathering up his vomit-soiled clothing in addition to the bathmat, she left and made her way down the hall to the laundry room, tossing the items into the washing machine, but not turning it on. That would have to wait until Josh was out of the shower and safely tucked back into bed.
By the time she returned to the bathroom, she saw that he was making no attempt to actually wash himself; he stood dazed beneath the shower, staring down at his flaccid penis, which he held loosely in his right hand.
Gillian supposed the soaking he was getting would have to be good enough and reached in to turn off the water for him. His eyes rose from his dick to her face and he blinked at her dumbly, water dripping in thick rivulets from every inch of him.
How's your stomach feeling?" she asked as she handed him a towel.
He considered the question for a moment before replying. "It doesn't hurt as much anymore."
"Probably because you got that sick out of you. But if it's food poisoning, you might throw up again. In fact, you definitely will."
Josh made no response, but began to half-heartedly dry himself off with the towel, which seemed like a good sign to Gillian. If she was right about the food poisoning, he would probably have to puke again in fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on how serious it was. If she was wrong, then maybe he wouldn't get sick again at all. She supposed it could be something else-a bug of some kind, perhaps. Either way, getting him back in bed was her priority and once he was finished drying himself, that was exactly what she did.
He went without protest, allowing himself to be tucked in like a child.
"Do you want some tea?" she asked when he was settled.
"I don't know." He paused. "No."
She felt his forehead again, which was cooler than it had previously been; another good sign.
"What would cause that?" he asked, heaving a heavy sigh.
"What would cause what, babe?"
"What would cause a maggot to be inside my...my penis?"
Gillian frowned. "Josh, it wasn't in your penis. That's ridiculous."
"It was!" he shouted and started to sit up. "I ought to know! I saw the fucking thing come out! I felt it come out!"
She placed a hand against his bare chest and gently pushed him back down. "Could it have been in your underwear maybe?"
He made a look of disgust. "Why the fuck would there be a maggot in my fucking underwear, Gillian? That's ridiculous!"
"Well, I don't know. It seems more plausible than it being in your cock, for Christ's sake!"
"So you've never heard of anything like this before?"
"No, Josh. I haven't heard of anything like this before. Unless you've been fucking an infected sheep's anus or something equally gross, it couldn't have come from your dick."
He gaped at her, probably because of the hostility in her voice. Her words had come out sounding angrier than they'd felt.
"I'm sorry." She sat on the edge of the bed. "But, really, you should just listen to yourself."
"I am listening to myself. It's you who's not listening."
"Okay, fine. A maggot came out of your dick. If that's the case, then I'll make you a doctor's appointment."
"That is the case."
"All right. I'll call right now. You just stay still. Try to
sleep if you can. I'll bring you a pan in case you have to throw up again, okay?"
He nodded, his jaw set.
"I'll get you into see the doctor as soon as possible."
"You don't think I should go to the hospital?"
She tried to smile. "Stop being such a baby. Whatever it is, it's clearly not a life or death emergency."
"Easy for you to say." He sounded like a petulant child and Gillian had to stifle a groan before she got up and left the room. What had gotten into him, she didn't know, but it was already grating on her nerves. A maggot in his penis...
"I'm just sure," she mumbled as she entered the kitchen and scooped her cell phone off the countertop. She scrolled through the numbers until she came to the doctor's office, then punched SEND.
As she listened to the automated recording, she wondered just how she was going to explain herself to the receptionist who took the call. "Yes, that's right. A maggot. Out of his penis. That's what he says. No, I'm not joking."
Jesus.
She was going to sound like a fool.
Pressing the END button before the robotic voice could give her any options, she placed the phone back on the counter and stared at it thoughtfully.
The whole thing was just absurd.
But what could she do? She couldn't lie to him and say she'd made an appointment when she hadn't.
A fly buzzed by her ear before landing on the counter beside the phone. She watched with fascination as it strolled around leisurely, maybe looking for a crumb or some other small goody to feast upon.
The insect seemed especially large-probably twice the size of Gillian's thumbnail. It's wings quivered delicately as it walked, as if ruffled by the tiniest breeze that only the fly could feel. It buzzed again, which to Gillian sounded more like a purr, before hopping onto her cell phone and remaining there, inert.
There was something about the fly that was tickling the corners of her mind, just out of reach. Something that made her think of-
The phone chimed, causing her to jump and the fly to take off with an angry drone that could have been cursing.
Gillian snatched the phone from the counter and checked the display window.