The Sludge

by David Bernstein

  An icy thought popped into her mind. She could take the man hostage. He was going to die anyway and if that happened, his brother might lose it. Kill them all. Blame them. Her friends could get away while she held a sharp object to his throat.

  The gunman talked violence, but why hadn't he killed them? June figured he could've easily shot them all and been done with them. No worries. Maybe he wasn't planning on killing them.

  She was so confused. She was a healer, and all this was wrong. Just wrong. All she tried to do was help the man. For that alone, she and her friends deserved to live.

  "You've got until the count of three to get out here," the gunman's voice said, startling June from her thoughts, "or I put a bullet into one of your friends."

  With that, June headed back outside.

  CHAPTER 11

  Cole watched closely as June duct taped the men's wrists and ankles together. There had been protest, but as soon as he placed his hunting knife against Kim's neck and drew a thin line of blood, everyone cooperated. Once the men were secured, he released Kim and had June bind her too.

  "It's better this way," he said, standing in front of them, June off to his right. "I can keep you from doing anything that'll get you killed." He turned to June. "You've got one job to do, pretty lady: take care of my brother. He dies, you all die." He then listened to the woman tell him how she had no idea what was wrong with him—again, and that there was nothing she could do except try to bring his fever down.

  First thing she did was take a bucket and a few towels to the lake, Cole reminding her not to run off or her friends would die. He gave her twenty minutes to complete the task. She warned him again that Derek needed a doctor and that if he died, it would be on him for not getting him proper medical attention. He knew she was probably right, but he couldn't risk it. Derek was a tough son of a bitch. His brother did look awful, like something out of a science fiction movie, but he was alive and fighting off whatever it was that had infected him. Despite what the woman said, he was sure it was poison, a snake's or insect's. Hopefully the black blood was leaving his body, the poison being pushed out. His skin color, where there weren't splotches, hadn't changed, so that was good. Though June had said the splotches were growing in diameter, spreading at an alarming rate. He supposed if he had to, he could have June drive his brother to a hospital while he waited with her friends at the camp. If she talked, brought the cops back, her friends were dead. But that had to be a last option.

  His back and forth thinking on the matter was pissing him off. His worry for his brother was eating away at him.

  When June returned from the lake, Cole stood by while she examined Derek. He supplied her with a pair of black leather gloves to wear. There were no bite marks, none that she could see at least. Now he saw for himself that the splotches had indeed grown, some linking together like algae in a pond. The black liquid seeping from his skin trickled down the sides of his arms and legs, but hadn't soaked into the sleeping bag beneath, as if it wanted to remain on his flesh. The stuff was coming from everywhere, the splotches, eyes, ears, mouth and from under his fingernails. Derek continued to writhe and moan, though the moaning was not as loud as it had been.

  June draped the wet towels over Derek and poured water over them to further soak them and the sleeping bag he was lying on.

  "There's nothing else I can do for him," June said when she was finished. "Can't give him any painkillers because he’s unconscious, but hopefully the cold towels will bring his fever down."

  Cole's stomach was in knots, but he didn't show it. He had to act like a cold-blooded killer, despite how much he hated seeing his brother in such distress. "Derek's tough. He'll make it through whatever this is and be stronger for it."

  Cole ushered June outside and had her sit in one of the chairs as he built a fire in the fire pit. Dusk had blanketed the sky, the woods filling in with gloom. Shadows danced all around, the foliage seeming to come alive at night as the clearing appeared to shrink.

  "What now?" June asked.

  Cole looked at her, wondering if he should tie her up too. "We wait."

  "Are you going to kill us?" Kim asked.

  "I have no plans to do anything as of yet," Cole said, watching the flames lick the night air. He suddenly realized he needed to take off the edge he was feeling. Standing fast, causing June to flinch, he went over to one of the coolers. He opened the lid and grabbed a room temperature beer. A cold brew would really hit the spot. He thought about having June place a six pack in the lake; leave it in the water to cool. He dropped the can of beer back in the cooler and picked up a bottle of vodka, unscrewed the cap and took a couple of long swigs. His throat burned as the clear liquid traveled to his gut.

  Replacing the bottle, he picked up a can of beer, then asked, "Who's thirsty?"

  "I think we could all use something to drink," June said.

  "Water would be great," Edgar said.

  Cole left the cooler's lid open and returned to his chair by the fire. He popped the top on his beer and slurped a sip. "I think your friends are thirsty and I hate drinking alone."

  June got to her feet, paused, then headed over to the open cooler. She rummaged around. "There's only alcoholic drinks."

  "Water's in the tent," Cole said.

  "Beers are fine," Tyler said.

  "Yeah, I could use the alcohol," Edgar said.

  "Kim?" June asked.

  "Beer's fine," Kim said.

  June grabbed four cans of beer and went over to her friends. One by one, she held the cans to their mouths and helped them drink. Finally, when everyone was done, she sat back in her chair and drank hers.

  "Warm beer never tasted so good," Edgar said. "Any chance I can get another?"

  "Maybe later if you behave," Cole said.

  Silence, save for the crackling wood in the fire, filled the camp. Cole realized his brother hadn't made a peep in a while. He told June to check on him. After a minute inside the tent, she came back out and reported that he looked worse. Cole got up and looked for himself, nearly gasping aloud at the sight.

  His brother's flesh was almost entirely covered in splotches and a dark syrupy liquid that appeared to be thickening. He came back outside and began pacing the camp, .357 in hand. His brother wasn't getting better. It was time to either accept that the man was going to die, or send him to the hospital with June.

  "Okay," Cole finally said, having decided. "You're going to drive my brother to the hospital while your friends and me stay—"

  A loud shriek followed by the tearing of fabric shattered the night air. Cole felt as if his blood had stopped flowing. June was on her feet, a look of panic across her face. Cole pointed at her and told her not to move, then bolted to the tent and peered inside, gun in hand. His mouth fell open at the sight, and his stomach reeled as his mind worked to process what he saw.

  Derek was gone, most of him anyway. Only a thin layer of flesh remained on his sleeping bag, as if the man had slipped out of his skin or his insides had been sucked out. There was no blood. No syrupy ooze. The sleeping bag had been shredded, the stuffing showing like leaking clouds. At the back of the tent was a huge hole, the cloth ripped apart and flapping as a slight breeze blew in.

  Cole closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his body trembling. He knew what he was seeing couldn't be real. His mind was fucking with him. When he opened them, Derek would be there again. Taking a deep breath, Cole opened his eyes.

  He staggered back, almost tripping at the tent's entrance. A moment later, he was outside again, the scene change a welcomed sight.

  "What's going on?" someone asked, their voice unrecognizable.

  Cole spun around, still gaining his bearings. He shook his head, then focused, pressing the revolver's cylinder against his head. The cold steel brought his concentration back. He saw June approaching him, a club-like branch in her hand.

  Cole raised the revolver. "Get the fuck back."

  June dropped the stick and put her hands up. "What's wro
ng?"

  A clamor of voices echoed around the camp, his hostages demanding to know what was happening

  Cole charged forward and pressed the gun's barrel against a wincing June's forehead. He wanted to ask her what she'd done to his brother. If she had more friends in the woods. But he knew she hadn't done anything. He'd had his eye on her since she came back from the lake. There was no one else out here with them.

  But what he did know was that there was no medical condition that caused a person to shed their skin like a fucking snake.

  Cole lowered the gun and shoved her toward the tent. "You tell me what the hell is going on."

  June approached the tent like a child who'd been dared by her friends to enter the neighborhood haunted house. She poked her head inside. Cole heard her gasp before she turned toward him, her face pale.

  "Well?" he asked.

  "I—I don't understand . . ."

  "Bullshit," Cole shouted. "You live in New York City, right? You've had medical training. Learned all sorts of crap. You must've seen something like this."

  "No, I haven't," she cried.

  Cole believed her. But somehow, someone was screwing with him—had taken his brother and left a latex flesh suit to frighten him into . . . Into what? Running? No, it was June. Had to be. Her friends were tied up and there was no one else around. He was sure of it.

  Damn, his head was all messed up. He was coming apart. This was all too much, too odd and confusing. He needed to make them come clean.

  "I'm giving you one chance," he yelled, face reddening. "One fucking chance to tell me what you all did with—"

  A guttural growl thundered through the camp and forest area, silencing Cole. It was followed by a clicking sound.

  Movement from the corner of his eye.

  June screamed and stumbled backward.

  Cole spun to see what it was. A dark silhouette was bearing down on him. It stood seven feet tall. A person wearing some kind of alien suit. Its arms were twice as long as any human's and its hands were webbed with talons shaped like rhinoceros horns that gleamed in the firelight. He couldn't believe some joker would come out of the woods dressed in a Halloween costume to try and frighten him.

  As the thing came fully into view, Cole marveled at the detail and design. Its flesh appeared like armor, varying shades of onyx like camouflage. Pupiless black orbs took up where its eyes were, the spheres reflecting the camp and surrounding forest like mirrors. Another growl came from its wide mouth and Cole saw multiple rows of black teeth and a worm-like tongue. What moron would go traipsing around in the forest wearing such an obviously expensive Hollywood costume?

  No one would, you idiot, a voice inside his head screamed at him.

  Cole was suddenly very afraid. His bladder released, warmth spreading across his frontal region. He raised his gun arm, the weapon seeming to weigh a ton. The creature leaped like a frog springing from a lily pad. He pulled the trigger and the gun roared. Cole had no idea if he'd managed to hit the thing because the next moment it was on him and he went crashing to the ground. The air came out of his lungs as the weight of the creature pressed down on him, its talons finding a home in his chest. White-hot pain fanned out from there, as if he was being electrocuted. Cole opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came forth.

  The creature screeched and then its tubular tongue, layered in black sludge, shot into Cole's mouth. He tried forcing it out with his tongue, then closed his jaw to sever the thing, but it was too strong and forced its way down his throat. He felt his esophagus stretch and then the tongue was in his stomach. It was probing him, searching him for . . . something.

  Then orange sparks exploded over the creature's head, ashes scattering like speedy fireflies. The monster withdrew its tongue from Cole's throat as it roared, the worm-like thing now covered in a mixture of black sludge, blood and pink-colored flesh.

  Cole saw June holding a burning log over her head. She brought it down again and clobbered the creature on its head. More embers exploded. The creature cried out and leaped away, disappearing into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 12

  June hadn't done much thinking when she saw the creature. Her body seized up from disbelief, her lungs stuck mid-breath. It only lasted for the length of time it took her to blink twice, and then something in her brain clicked. A survival instinct of the simplest kind. Fight or flight. She chose to fight. She'd grabbed a burning log, one where the end was poking from the flames and not engulfed. The wood was still scalding nonetheless, but the heat only ignited her fortitude. She raised the flaming lumber up high before smashing it down onto the monster's head, twice.

  After the creature sprang away, her chest heaving, the pain hit her and she released the wood. Looking at her hands, the palms were practically glowing red. The burns would be painful for a few hours, but there was no serious damage.

  If she'd had time to think, she might've waited until the creature finished off the man. He was a danger to them all, the enemy. But her reaction to the situation had been what it had been. Take care of the larger threat.

  Her friends were yelling, their words a jumbled mess. The nameless man on the ground, for she never learned it, was in bad shape. He was her only focus. His shirt was torn, soaked with crimson. Blood spurted from the wounds in his chest and leaked from his lip-shredded mouth. Black sludge decorated his face, neck, chest, arms and the area around him.

  "Help . . . me . . ." he said, his right arm coming an inch off the ground in what looked like a sad attempt to reach out.

  June believed all human life was sacred and guessed that was the real reason she hadn't allowed the creature to finish off the man. She knelt by him, making sure not to come into contact with any of the black sludge.

  "June, are you nuts?" Tyler asked, his voice coming through the din of voices. "Get over here and untie us before that thing comes back."

  June looked into the man's eyes. His left pupil was blown, the eyeball unmoving. The smell of copper and something chemical, like an industrial strength cleaner, wafted into her nostrils. There was nothing she could do for him. Even though he had taken them hostage, threatened them, her heart pounded a little harder for him.

  "June," Edgar screamed. "Get the fuck over here."

  June shot to her feet, snapping out of her foggy state. She looked up and out into the dark woods around her. Her friends were right. That thing could come back at any moment. Glancing around at the ground, she saw the gun and snatched it up. Thankfully the weapon wasn't covered in sludge. Whatever that stuff was, it came from the creature. For all she knew, it was poisonous, infectious. Something that transformed the gunman's brother—for what other reason could there be?

  With gun in hand, she realized she had never held such a weapon before. Had no idea how to use it. Point and shoot, she imagined.

  With no sign of the creature, she knew the next step was to free her friends.

  A knife! She needed a knife.

  The man on the ground coughed up more blood mixed with ooze. He was unable to get air into his lungs as the black goo filled his mouth, coming from his throat like a natural spring from the earth. June jumped back as sludge splattered about. She looked on in horror as the man's eyes bulged and his body trembled. Finally, he went limp, his head lolled to the side. Sludge leaked from his open mouth down the side of his face.

  She saw the knife she needed at the man's side, attached to his belt. But it had sludge on it, making it useless, for there was no way she was touching that stuff.

  Remembering having seen a box cutter in the red toolbox, June hurried inside the tent, grabbed the slicing tool, and rushed to her friends. She quickly and carefully cut them free.

  Without his asking, she handed the gun to Tyler, knowing he was the best with a firearm.

  "What the hell was that thing?" Kim asked, rubbing her wrists.

  "I don't know, but we need to get as far away from here as possible," Edgar said.

  "We can't leave yet," June said. "We don't know
where that thing is. It's too dark. It could be waiting for us."

  "She's right," Tyler said. "We should stay by the fire until daylight arrives. Flame and bullets are what's going to keep us alive."

  Edgar groaned, but said nothing.

  "We need weapons," Tyler said and was making his way over to the dead man when June stopped him.

  "Don't touch him," she said.

  "He's got a gun on him, the one I found in the tent."

  "He's covered in that black shit," June said. "We don't know what it is, but it was the same stuff coming out of his brother."

  "Shit," Tyler said, and kicked at the dirt. "We could really use that other gun."

  "We've got the one," June said. "It'll have to be enough." She made sure to meet his stare.

  "You think that black syrup is poison?" he asked.

  "I think it’s more than poison," she said. "I think it turned this guy's brother into that thing."

  "What?" Tyler asked, clearly taken aback.

  June told them what she'd seen in the tent and how she believed Derek had become the monster, as impossible as it seemed.

  "Whoa," Edgar said, remaining near the fire. "You think that sick dude who was in the tent is now that thing?"

  "Yes," June said.

  "I don't give a shit where it came from," Kim said. "I just hope it stays gone."

  "So what now?" Edgar asked.

  "We get through the night," Tyler said. "Hike out of here when we can see more than a few inches in front of our faces."

  A harsh growl emanated in the distance, followed by a lion-like roar. June felt the hairs on her arms and neck stand as a chill shot through her.

  "I guess that answers that," Tyler said, bringing the .357 up and holding it with both hands. "It's still out there."

  CHAPTER 13

  The group of friends remained around the fire, the wood popping and crackling loudly during periods of silence. Torches were made using branches and clothing found in the tent, but they weren't lit and would only be used if needed. There was plenty of firewood. Keeping the blaze going through the night wouldn't be a problem. It was a small relief, but a welcomed one.