The Parasite War

by Tim Sullivan

  "Stay with us. There's safety in numbers."

  "The Satanic forces have been smitten by the hosts of the Lord this day," Samuel said. "If the Lord's people have mistaken me for a demon, perhaps it is because I have for too long lived away from other men in the wilderness."

  "Then you'll join us?"

  "Yes."

  Alex put his arm on Samuel's shoulder. He turned to see Jo's disapproving glare. She looked away as he called to the others.

  "Listen up, people," Alex shouted. "We're well protected by these walls, but we need food. Obviously we can't all go, so I suggest that a couple of us slip out, go back to the park and get some supplies. Any volunteers?"

  "I'll go," said Flash.

  "Good idea. You know where everything is stashed. Anybody else?"

  "I'll go with him," Jo said.

  Alex didn't know if he liked this. But he had argued with Jo enough for one day. He wouldn't try to stop her from accompanying Flash. There was too much to do, without worrying about what she was going to do next. At least she wouldn't be screwing things up around here.

  But, as he helped the others pile up the bodies, he began to wonder if it was such a good idea.

  "Three dead," said Elvin.

  Alex looked up from the mound of human flesh. Clearly, Elvin wasn't talking about these infected corpses. "Three of our people didn't make it?"

  "That's right. Annie, Leslie, and Leonard are all out there." Elvin showed no expression, as usual, but there was a catch in his voice.

  "Too bad, but at least there were only three. We gained our objective with only fifteen percent losses."

  Elvin stared at him, perhaps finding Alex's reaction questionable. Alex didn't like it, either, but he knew from experience that if they didn't celebrate their victory, there would be nothing left for them to do but mourn the dead. Chaos would follow, that way. It was best to go on and plan new strategies.

  There were two large store rooms on the ground floor of the armory, in the south wing, each containing several padlocked metal bins. Breaking them open, Alex and Riquelme found M-16s, portable rocket launchers, a great deal of ammunition, napalm B canisters, and flamethrowers.

  "These flamethrowers are battery-ignited," Riquelme said.

  "Is that good or bad?" Alex said.

  "Probably bad, because the batteries haven't been charged in a couple of years. But they tend to last a pretty long time, so maybe we'll luck out and find one that still works."

  "See what you can do." Alex went out to announce their find to the guerrillas. After the cheering died down, he said. "Our two volunteers should be leaving right after dark. They can go out by the door that Jo locked this morning. In the meantime, we should drag those bodies up and drop them out of a window."

  "Aren't you afraid of infection?" a man named Irv Finney asked.

  "We're more likely to get sick if we keep the bodies in here with us, wouldn't you think?"

  "Yeah, I guess you're right."

  Just after sunset, the bodies were dragged up and pushed unceremoniously through a briefly opened window. The infected on the street below looked up, after the first corpse thudded down onto the sidewalk, some of them shuffling awkwardly out of the way of the falling corpses. While this ugly job was underway, Jo and Flash left by the Cuthbert Street fire door. The distraction seemed to work: no gunshots were heard.

  A few minutes after they had gone, Alex unlocked the same door and went out into the darkness. He had instructed Riquelme to lock up behind him, and to say nothing to the others about where he had gone.

  Standing on the fire escape, Alex could see his breath in the moonlight. A few infected people were half a block away, but they didn't see him. The sickening thump of another body hitting the pavement drew their attention toward 33rd Street. Alex hung from the fire escape's bottom rung by one hand and dropped, sprinting for the nearest rowhouse. Once he was in the shadows, he slowed long enough to take a look back, trying to determine if he had been seen. Satisfied that he had not, he started toward Fairmount Park.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  He was too far behind Jo and Flash to catch up. But that was all right. He knew where they were going, and he had a pretty good idea of how long it would take them to get there. He tried to convince himself that he was only following them to make sure they didn't get into any trouble. The real reason was much more disturbing.

  Taking the long way around, through the tunnel, would be wise tonight. But Alex was going to take the bridge. The risk was worth it, if he could get to the park ahead of Jo and Flash. Once he was satisfied that everything was all right, he would sneak back the same way, and they would never know that they had been followed.

  There was little moonlight, but Alex was used to getting around in the dark. He stayed alert, watching for any signs of life. Once, as he passed an abandoned railyard, he thought he saw the glistening hump of a colloid, but he couldn't be sure.

  In ten minutes he was on the bridge. If he was attacked here, his best bet would be to jump into the river. But he was not attacked. He crossed over into Fairmount without incident. In another fifteen minutes, he was heading down the hill toward the hideout.

  It was then that he heard Flash screaming. Alex didn't hesitate for an instant. He sprinted toward the sound of his friend's voice as if his own life depended on it.

  It wasn't hard to find Flash. He was lying on the ground, in the path of the hideout. Glistening, shapeless things clung to his arms and legs and torso.

  "Flash!" Alex cried in an anguished voice.

  But Flash could not answer. His body trembled and his limbs flailed ineffectually. Colloids had eaten into his skin, and were swiftly corroding his flesh, muscles, seeking the nerves. He shrieked until a pseudopod slid into his mouth. Flash gagged, but the vomit did not stop the colloid from vanishing down his throat.

  Alex opened fire, using many more rounds than was necessary. He did not intend to let his friend suffer for one second longer than he had to. His finger grew numb on the trigger, and his hands and forearms ached by the time he stopped shooting.

  The colloids, feeding on Flash's nervous system, trembled with the shock of his death. In a moment, they would reject the dead body and crawl away. Alex had better not be anywhere near them when that happened. There must have been six or seven of them on Flash's body. God only knew how many more were lurking in the overgrown woods surrounding the hideout.

  But he had to find Jo, no matter how many of them were here.

  "Jo!" he cried, crashing through the underbrush. He reached the hideout and kicked open the door.

  There was nobody inside. Apparently, Jo must have escaped. Alex tried to feel relieved, but he knew that there were other possibilities. He preferred not to think of them right now, but he couldn't help it. He could only hope that Jo would find her way back to the armory. He lit a kerosene lantern and searched for signs that she had been inside the hideout tonight. As far as he could tell, the stores of canned goods were untouched. He found a sack and filled it with as much food as he could carry.

  Just before he turned out the lantern, he took one last look around. The corner of the room that he and Jo had used for their private quarters was covered by the curtain. He could not resist going over in the darkness and lifting the curtain for a moment.

  There was Jo, lying on the mattress. Was she dead? His heart grew huge in his chest.

  Before he could move or make a sound, he saw that something was on the pillow beside her head—something that quivered gelatinously. A thin stream rushed from the colloid's main mass, across the pillow and into Jo's right ear.

  Even in the darkness, he could see the rise and fall of her breast. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight up at the ceiling.

  Alex gripped the Ingram. He hadn't thought twice about killing Flash, but this . . . this was Jo. He backed away, letting the curtain drop. He could not penetrate Jo's soft flesh with bullets. Turning, he ran from the hideout, retching.

  He did not st
op running until he had climbed up the fire escape and was pounding on the iron door for someone to let him into the armory. There were infected people standing on the pavement, but none of them came near. If they had, he would have killed them. He didn't want to—he only wanted to be among humans, away from that hellish sight at the hideout. He had never panicked like this, not even in the worst days in Nam. "Let me in!" he shouted. "For Christ's sake, let me in!"

  He almost fell as the door opened inward. The worried faces of Elvin and Dr. Siegel peered at him.

  "It's Jo!" he cried. "She's—"

  "What is it, my dear boy?" Dr. Siegel said, embracing him. "What has happened to Jo?"

  "Oh, God!" He buried his face in her breast and wept.

  The others began to gather around them, astonished that Alex could break down like this. Elvin shushed them to silence, as Siegel talked to Alex. "Alex, tell us what happened."

  "A colloid," Alex said. "She's infected."

  Siegel looked at him skeptically. "There was no sign of infection."

  "No, it's something new. An infection that hides in the brain, controlling her. I saw . . . " He covered his face with his hands.

  "What, Alex? What did you see?"

  "A colloid, its pseudopod entering her ear. Communicating with the one inside her."

  "How do you know?"

  "I know. She's been different these past few weeks. The thing has been inside her."

  "But the colloids eat away at a person. There is a noticeable physical change."

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "Don't you get it, Claire? They've learned how to do it without showing themselves."

  "It's impossible." But Siegel looked frightened.

  "But that's what they've done. They've adapted, developed this new capability to get at the last few survivors, to get at us."

  Elvin stared at him with his sleepy eyes. "You mean Jo is one of them now?"

  "I don't know." Alex slumped against the wall. "She might not even know what she's doing. But she led Flash right into a swarm of colloids."

  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Polly muttered.

  "Then Flash is dead," said Siegel. "Is that what you're saying, Alex?"

  "Yes, he's dead. I shot him myself."

  Everyone was silent now. There was no need for an explanation. They understood what Alex meant, when he said that he had killed Flash. They had all seen people devoured by mature colloids.

  "Jo led Flash into a trap?" a woman said. "Didn't I hear you say that?"

  In utter misery, Alex nodded. "Yeah."

  "She was pretty anxious to leave here tonight," said Irv. "It seemed kind of funny that she would volunteer, the way she's been acting."

  "I thought I was the only one who noticed that," Alex said.

  "Well, once you left, we couldn't help talking about why you went out after them. We knew it couldn't be Flash you were suspicious of."

  "How do we know what he's saying is true?" Elvin asked. "Maybe something else happened, and Alex doesn't want us to know about it. Maybe he killed both of them."

  "Right," Riquelme said. "And rather than just let things be, he comes back here and announces that Flash is dead and Jo is infected. Sure."

  "Why was he so suspicious of them in the first place?"

  "Don't you remember what happened this morning? Jo fired a shot, warning the infected that we were attacking," said Riquelme, his dark face showing anger. "That seems like a pretty good reason for him to be suspicious."

  Nobody argued with that. Seeing that Alex had brought something back with him, a man opened the sack. "Canned goods," he said. "And lots of 'em."

  "Never mind that," Alex said. "We've got to do something."

  "What can we do?" Siegel asked. "She is lost."

  They didn't understand. No, how could they? He loved Jo, far more than he had ever realized. He could have killed her back at the hideout, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. Now she would be one of the infected. But maybe Siegel was right. Maybe she was already dead.

  "Come, Alex," Siegel said. "Maybe Jo is better off now. At least she won't suffer."

  "No." This was all wrong. "She's not dead yet. I shouldn't have left her."

  "You couldn't help her," said Riquelme. "I've seen it a thousand times."

  "I've got to do something!" Alex screamed at them. "I never ran away like this before. I've got to do something!" He sprinted to the room where the napalm was stored. He unlocked the bin and lifted out one of the smaller napalm B canisters. It was heavy, but he would manage to carry it up and drop it out on the vile things that lurked outside. He wanted to see them burn. To hear their screams.

  But he didn't. Instead, he fell to his knees and wept uncontrollably. "Jo," he said, over and over again. "Jo, I love you. Don't leave me."

  He cried for a long time, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Claire.

  "Alex," she said. "I'm sorry."

  "I thought I was ready for this. My wife and son . . . I didn't think anything could hurt me like this again."

  "You're still human. That's not a bad thing."

  Alex wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "In this world, maybe it is a bad thing. It was different before the colloids came. We could afford human emotions then, but not now."

  "Alex, don't."

  He stood and faced her. "I won't waste this napalm. Better to save it for a time when I can do some real damage." He was under control now. Hearing Claire speak rationally helped, especially knowing that she had been in a schizoid state earlier today. They had to go on, no matter what happened. This was war, and you couldn't lose your head.

  Stooping, he picked up the canister and set it back inside the bin.

  A commotion was starting up on the second floor. Alex and Siegel went to see what it was. A crowd had gathered by the Cuthbert Street door.

  Alex pushed through the gathered guerrillas. Elvin stood by the door, a frightened look on his face.

  "Somebody's out there," he said. "Somebody who wants to get in."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Alex pointed the Ingram at the door. "Open it."

  Riquelme opened the door. A lone figure stood silhouetted on the fire escape, the moonlight at her back. She stepped inside.

  Nobody spoke.

  The door slammed behind Jo. She looked around her and said, "Flash is dead."

  Alex wasn't sure how long he stared at her. Gradually, the realization came that he was gaping. This couldn't be. He had seen her violated by a colloid. She couldn't be standing here talking to him like this. This just wasn't right.

  "I couldn't help him," Jo said. "I managed to get to the hideout. I stayed there until I was sure nobody was around, and then I came back. The long way around."

  "Is that all that happened, Jo?" Siegel asked.

  She turned to the older woman. "What do you mean?"

  Siegel said nothing. She seemed to go off on one of her schizoid fits again, perhaps set off by this inexplicable incident. She wandered off into the armory's shadows without speaking.

  "Jo," Riquelme said, stepping toward her and extending his palms. "What Siegel meant . . . "

  "Take her gun!" Alex ordered, cutting him short. He pointed the Ingram directly at Jo. "Elvin, take it!"

  Elvin looked frightened and confused, but he did as he was told.

  "What do you think you're doing, Alex?" Jo directed a withering glance at Alex.

  "I'm making sure you're not armed," Alex said. "You see, I followed you tonight."

  Jo showed nothing. Her cold stare transfixed Alex, made him feel weak. "Why did you follow us? Did you think we weren't up to the job? You could have gone yourself, you know."

  "I just had a hunch," Alex said.

  "A hunch?" Jo snarled.

  "I saw you." In spite of the chill, he was sweating. "In the hideout. In our bed."

  She didn't even blink. "After they got Flash, I ran into the hideout, sure. I thought they might not find me i
n the dark, so I hid on our mattress behind the curtain. If you saw me, why didn't you say something, Alex? What's wrong with you?"

  He felt the others' doubts as if they were palpable, as she twisted things around. But he had to think about what he was doing. What had he really seen behind that curtain an hour ago? Only the kerosene lamp had lit the scene, and even that light had been obstructed by the curtain. Was it possible that he had only imagined the colloid there?

  "No, it won't work, Jo. I know what you are." But there must have been some doubt, some hesitation in his voice. She gave no ground.