Slimer

by Harry Adam Knight

  'Some of the time, I guess. But they're dead really. Except that…' he frowned, not wanting to go on.

  'Except that they don't know it. Or don't want to know it.' She said, and shuddered. 'They're dead and yet they're still alive in a horrible kind of way. They're trapped in a sort of purgatory.'

  He could see the depth of her fear in her eyes and it alar-med him. 'Don't think about it,' he advised.

  But she wouldn't leave it alone. 'Paul, promise you won't let it get me.'

  Misunderstanding what she meant he said quickly, 'Of course I won't let it get near you.'

  'No. I mean if it looks as if we're going to lose I want you to kill me first - before it can get me. I don't want to become a… part of it… Do you promise?'

  He looked at her and swallowed hard. He would never be able to bring himself to kill her, he knew that, but he lied and said, 'Of course. I promise.' And for her added peace of mind he didn't tell her what Shelley had said about death possibly not being protection against the absorption of one's personality by the creature…

  Later, as he was piling up a collection of supplies on one of the tables she said, 'There's something else worrying me.'

  'Yes?'

  'It's Mark. He said the thing, the slime in the crane, didn't attack him.'

  'That's right.'

  'Paul, how do we know he's telling the truth? What if it did attack him? What if he's part of that creature now? Has been all along…?'

  Patiently, Paul said, 'He can't be. He's been with us when Shelley and the others, including good old Charlie himself, have made appearances.'

  'Yes, but Paul, how do we know there's only the one creature?'

  Paul stopped what he was doing and stared at her. It was a good question.

  Chris was getting worried about Rochelle. There was some4 thing disturbing about the way she was lying there, her eyes wide open and watching both of them so intently. Mark, hadn't seemed "to notice - he was too busy fighting a losing battle against his body's craving for that damned drug - but it was beginning to get on her nerves.

  Finally she got up and went over to her. 'Ro, why don't you try and get some sleep. You've had a pretty nasty experience. You need rest. You - ' Suddenly she screamed and recoiled.

  Immediately Mark leapt up, grabbing for one of the M16s. 'What's wrong? Is it here? Where is it?'

  Shaking, Chris managed to regain control of herself. 'I'm sorry. It's nothing. My imagination's working overtime. I'm seeing things.'

  'Seeing what?' he demanded.

  She shook her head. She couldn't tell him that for a moment she could have sworn she saw Alex's eyes staring out from Rochelle's face…

  TWELVE

  The cramps were getting worse. It felt as if there were steel hooks inside his belly, ripping and twisting through his guts. Mark wanted to fall onto the floor and curl up into a tight, screaming ball but instead he remained on the chair, bent forward almost double, hugging his stomach.

  His eyes were watering and his skin was covered with goosebumps. This latter symptom of heroin withdrawal, he knew, was the origin of the term 'cold turkey'. He also knew that the muscle spasms he was experiencing would get pro-gressively worse and eventually his legs would start kicking uncontrollably. This was the origin of yet another colourful expression - 'kicking the habit'. Finally the spasms would get so bad he would have spontaneous orgasms. Not that he'd be in any condition to enjoy them…

  He knew all these things because once he'd become hooked on heroin he had studied up on the subject of drug addiction. What he'd learned had scared him profoundly but his dependence and need for the drug hadn't lessened. It was like going down a hill in a car with no brakes - you knew there was going to be a fatal crash at the bottom but there was no way you could get out of the car.

  How much longer could he last without another fix? How much longer before the final convulsions and the descent into a coma? He didn't know. He had taken several codeine tablets which, like heroin, was a derivative of opium, and they had helped but not much. If only that last fix Alex gave him hadn't been so small. If only he could get another one…

  He groaned aloud.

  'Is it bad?' asked Chris.

  'Of course it's bad, you cretin,' he hissed at her.

  'Isn't there anything I can do?'

  'Yeah. Go get me some smack. Go find Alex and get it off him. That's all you have to do…'

  'Oh Mark, don't ask me to do that,' she cried in anguish. 'I can't go out there. I'm scared. That thing is waiting… And even if I could find Alex he wouldn't give me any heroin. Not unless I… I…'

  Mark glared at her. 'Jesus Christ, I'm dying here. It won't kill you to give Alex what he wants from you. You've done it before. Hell, underneath it all you probably enjoyed it.'

  Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to hit him. Did he understand so little about her that he could actually think something like that? But she contained her anger. She knew he couldn't help himself. He was like an animal with its leg caught in a trap. He was snapping out at everything, even her.

  'Well, are you going?' he demanded.

  She shook her head helplessly. 'I can't, Mark.'

  'Then we're through. It's all over between us,' he snarled. 'When we get out of here I never want to see you again.'

  'Mark! You don't mean this… you don't know what you're saying!'

  'Shut up,' he said coldly. 'The sound of your voice makes me sick. The sight of you makes me sick.'

  'Mark…' she cried. 'Please don't do this to me…'

  'The heroin's here,' said Rochelle.

  Both Chris and Mark turned to her. Chris had thought she was asleep but now she was sitting up on the bunk and looking at them with the same spaced-out expression she had before.

  'It's here?' asked Mark, disbelievingly.

  'Under that mattress.' She pointed at the bunk Chris was sitting on. Chris immediately got up and pulled the corner of the mattress to one side. Lying there was a wide belt. Mark gave a wild cry and leapt out of the chair. He snatched up the belt and began to frantically rip open its series of pouches. Small plastic packets containing white powder fell onto the floor. He looked at them with the kind of wondrous awe that you normally only see depicted in religious paintings. It tore Chris up to see how much power the damned drug had over him.

  'I don't believe it,' said Mark, picking up a handful of the packets. 'I didn't think Alex would let these out of his sight for even a moment.'

  'Betterjust take what you need and put the rest back in the belt,' advised Chris, casting a nervous glance at the door. If Alex chose this moment to return she didn't like to think what he'd do.

  'Yeah, you're right,' said Mark. He stuffed three of the packets in his trouser pocket then refilled the pouches and put the belt back under the mattress. Then he started for the door.

  Alarmed, she said, 'Where are you going?'

  'To our cabin, to get the hypo and other stuff. Then I'm going to the bathroom to shoot up. I won't be long.' He began pulling the rags out from the gap under the door. 'Put these back after I've gone.'

  'Mark, you shouldn't go out there. Wait until the others come back then Paul can go with you.'

  'No!' he cried angrily. 'I don't want Paul to know about this. You know that. And don't you tell him either.' He opened the door.

  'You can't keep it a secret from him for much longer,' she persisted. 'He's going to find out sooner or later. Be sensible, Mark. Don't put your life at risk because of your stupid pride.'

  He didn't answer. The door closed. She sighed and went and locked it. Nothing mattered to him anymore except that filthy drug-it was sickening and it was all Alex's fault. 'Damn you, Alex,' she muttered, 'Damn you to hell.'

  Behind her, Alex sniggered.

  Shocked, she spun round, expecting to see Alex there. But the only other person in the cabin was, of course, Rochelle. She was sitting up on the bunk still wearing that same stoned expression.

  'God, you scared me just then,' Chr
is told her, 'You sounded exactly like Alex.' I must be cracking up, she thought. First I think I see Alex's eyes in her face and now I'm hearing things.

  Suddenly the blank look on Rochelle's face vanished and she screamed, 'Jesus, Chris! Get out of here! Run! Run!… Oh no…' Her face then contorted as if she was in pain and she started to whimper in a little girl's voice. 'Please, no, I don't want to go back' into the dark again… I'm scared… let me stay in the light… It's down there… Oh no…' The blank look returned, as if a visor was going down over her face. She began to climb off the bunk.

  Chris tried to restrain her. 'Hey, Ro, calm down,' she said anxiously, 'It's alright. Everything's going to be alright.'

  Then she gasped as Rochelle pushed her back with a strength that was alarming. 'Ro…!' she cried.

  Rochelle was now pulling at her clothes. The fabrics tore like paper and very soon she was naked. Then she was ripping off the dressings. Chris saw that the ugly wounds across the top of her chest had vanished. Her skin was smooth and unmarked.

  Rochelle stared at her. The eyes were losing their blank-ness again. There was terror in them. As if they were looking up out of a deep pit. Then they changed. Chris's sto-mach tightened and her heart began thumping.

  This time there was no mistaking it. Those were Alex's eyes.

  ***

  'I guess you're right,' said Paul, 'we can't be sure there's only one of them.'

  They were in one of the labs on the second level. Paul was hunting through the cupboards looking for the acids he wanted. Linda was keeping guard in the centre of the room, reluctantly holding the flame thrower. The burner was lit which meant she could fire the device at the turn of a handle if the need arose.

  Paul closed the cupboard door and slowly turned to her. There was an odd expression on his face, as if something unpleasant had just occurred to him.

  It had. 'If there is more than one it means that any of us might be one of them. You could be.'

  'Come on Paul, don't do this to me,' she pleaded. 'You know I'm not…'

  'Do I? How? There's no way I can really be sure.'

  'We've been alone a lot of the time,' she said carefully, knowing that this was a potential crisis unless she handled it correctly. 'If I was part of that thing I would have attacked you by now. I had plenty of opportunity.'

  'Yes,' he said slyly, 'but you might not even know you are the thing. That Soames woman didn't, until towards the end. Hell, I might be it as well and not know it. That would be wild, wouldn't it? Both of us no longer real but neither realising it?' He started to laugh.

  Linda unstrapped the flame-thrower from her back and put it down on the floor. Then she walked over to Paul. He continued to laugh and she knew it wasn't far from becoming all-out hysteria. She grabbed him by the shoulders and he flinched. The laughter stopped. With dismay she saw there was fear in his eyes. Fear of her.

  'Listen to me, Paul,' she said quietly, 'this is me, Linda. I'm real.' She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands towards her. 'Feel me.' She put his hands on her breasts. Then she leaned up and kissed him on the mouth.

  For a long moment he didn't respond then she felt the tension begin to drain out of him. He let go of her breasts and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I suppose I'm starting to crack up.'

  'You can't afford to crack up,' she told him fiercely, 'we need you, Paul. You're the only one who's capable of getting us out alive. Without you the others are useless…'

  But even as she spoke - even as she was feeling secure and safe in his arms, she couldn't help thinking, is it really Paul?

  ***

  Rochelle's body was changing. It was expanding. The shoulders were getting wider and the chest bigger while at the same time her breasts were shrinking - turning into hard pectorals.

  Chris couldn't move. She knew now what was happening, what had happened, but she was literally paralysed with fear. Like a rabbit caught in the headlights of some approaching juggernaut truck. She couldn't even scream.

  The face was the worst thing. The features were melting and flowing like butter in a frying pan. Rochelle's nose grew thinner and sharper. Coarse pores formed on her cheeks and her chin became clefted and blue black. Her hair was like a million electrified snakes - wriggling, stretching, squirming as it grew longer from her scalp and changed colour, losing the dyed pink and becoming black and greasy.

  The body continued to change. It was as if the thing that had been Rochelle was performing a disgusting travesty of an erotic dance before her. The skin shimmered and pul-sated as if the muscles beneath were undergoing incredible contortions - but no human muscles could have made those shapes. And they were accompanied by sickening sounds. Grisly sounds. Bubbling, slurping sounds. The body was like a bag of slime searching for a new form.

  Chris shut her eyes.

  The sounds finally died away. A voice said, 'Hi, Chris. Good to see you again…'

  She opened her eyes. As she feared Alex was standing there in front of her. He looked bigger, more powerful than before. The muscles bulged on his gleaming, naked body. Then she gasped as she glanced down and saw the huge jut-ting erection. It was so absurdly massive it was like a caric-ature of a penis, something that a dirty-minded schoolboy might draw on a toilet wall.

  Alex gave her a malevolent grin and took a step towards her. She still couldn't move. 'Alex, don't hurt me… please don't hurt me,' she whispered.

  His answer was to slap her so hard her jaw was almost broken by the impact. She fell backwards, her head spinning, but then a powerful hand had grabbed her by the shirt front and was hauling her upright again. Alex's face was now only inches from her and she could smell the stink of his breath. A long, black tongue darted out from between his lips and began to caress her face around her mouth. She shuddered with revulsion and tried to pull free but couldn't. She noticed then that his fingernails had been replaced with black, sharp-looking claws.

  The tongue disappeared and he said, 'Of course I'm going to hurt you, you stuck-up, stupid bitch. I'm going to split you in two with this…' She felt him prod her in the groin with the impossibly huge member. 'And that's just for starters. Then, when I'm finished, I'm gonna let it have what's left. You're gonna end up in here with me. And I promise you babe you're not gonna find it much fun...'

  She began to struggle, kicking out with her legs, but he simply lifted her up and flung her onto the bunk. She bounced off it and hit the wall then lay stunned.

  Alex advanced on her with frightening speed. With one savage movement he ripped her clothes open from neck to crotch, his claws leaving long, thin cuts on her flesh. Then he flicked her legs apart with rough ease…

  Chris shut her eyes and willed herself to die.

  She got her wish. Alex's first violent thrust ruptured something vital deep within her. She bled to death internally in a very short time. Alex didn't even notice she was dead.

  ***

  Paul was furious. 'I can't believe it!' he cried. 'Are you telling me they both just walked out of here unarmed after all I told them…?'

  Rochelle, blank-faced, nodded. 'Yea. First Mark. Then Chris followed him.'

  'But why? What was so important that Mark had to go out there alone?'

  'I think he said something about going to the bathroom,' said Rochelle in the same unconcerned tone of voice.

  'Oh, that's just great,' he exclaimed. 'I might as well just talk to myself from now on. I tell you all how goddam dangerous that thing is and Mark then calmly goes off to take a leak. I give up.' He sat down heavily on the bunk and slumped forward dejectedly.

  'Careful,' warned Linda. She was sorting out the supplies they'd brought back and had placed the large bottle of sul-phuric acid that Paul had found on the floor beside the bunk.

  'How long have they been gone?' he asked Rochelle.

  She frowned. 'I don't know. Not long.' Then she lay back on her bunk and closed her eyes. Paul looked at her with exasperation. She was out of it. She had been ever sin
ce her experience with the creature. The tough, hard-bitten Rochelle of old had gone. She'd pulled up the drawbridge and retreated into some deep mental cellar. Not that he blamed her - he felt like crawling into somewhere safe and womb-like himself.

  'I don't like it,' said Linda. 'First Alex goes offby himself, now Mark and Chris. And Alex still hasn't returned…'

  Paul took a deep breath. 'I think we can write Alex off. I'm pretty certain that thing must have him by now.' Then he stiffened as he heard a noise outside. He motioned to Linda to hand him his M16…

  There was a tap at the door. 'Hey, Chris, Ro… It's me. Open up.'

  It was Mark. Paul got up, still holding the gun, and unlocked the door.

  As soon as Mark came in it was obvious that something was wrong with him. He wore a dreamy, contented smile and acted as if he didn't have a care in the world.

  'Oh, hi guys,' he said. Then he looked around and asked, 'Where's Chris?'

  'She's not with you?' asked Paul.

  'Me? No. I haven't seen her since I left here.' He sat down in a chair, still wearing the dazed grin.

  'You didn't see Alex either?'

  'Nope.'

  'Or any sign of the creature?' persisted Paul.

  'No. No one…'

  Paul raised the barrel of the M16 and pointed it at Mark's head. 'Unless you can prove to me you haven't been taken over by that thing within thirty seconds I'm going to blow your head off.'

  Mark's grin grew wider. 'Hey, man, stop pissing around.'

  Paul pulled the trigger. The gun sounded very loud in the confines of the cabin. Mark screamed as the bullet burned a furrow along the side of his head, taking off the top of his right ear as it passed.

  'The next one will be in the centre of your forehead,' said Paul calmly.

  Mark clutched at at his ruined ear. Blood trickled down the side of his face. The smile had gone now. Behind him in the wall there was a small, smoking crater. 'Jesus, are you crazy?'