by Jason Davis
The little spider had emerged from the shell’s ear, noticing that the other shell had already been completely drained and was nothing more than something of theirs to control. They would have to move on.
The spider quickly made its way down the shell’s back and jumped to the cool surface of the counter. From there, it was a quick scurry to the wall and climb to the vent near the ceiling of the small room.
She was already farther than her brothers and sisters had ever traveled, but she wasn’t going to stop. She was going to make it all the way and find a new vessel.
She made it through the grate and immediately felt the cool rush of air streaming through the vent. It wasn’t much more than a slight tickle pushing against the many micro hairs that ran along her body and legs. What might have been excitement tickled, and it dashed down the left corridor of vents until it found the first side vent.
The little spider went through the grate and propped itself on the upper ledge of the register. She sat there and watched the long hallway. There was motion, and she saw someone walking closer.
She prepared to make her leap, readying herself to land on the floor and run to the shell walking straight toward her. It would be easy prey, and she was ready to take it. She needed to hurry, though, because she could feel her hairs drying. They were growing brittle, so she didn’t have much longer.
It didn’t seem to notice her, and an alien sensation of what some might take for glee rushed through the little black creature. She was going to get her turn to spread her spawn, start her generation.
Then she saw the taint on the man walking toward her. She saw the brethren he carried with him, already swarming and spreading beneath his skin. He was already a vessel and carrying their eggs. The little spider ducked back into the vent as the doctor walked into the examination room.
So, she turned and went the other way along the vents. It wasn’t done yet. She felt her time outside a vessel would soon be over, but she wasn’t done. She refused to be another of the fallen spawn. She refused to think of herself as just one of those who ended as dust to be discarded.
She ran down the corridor until she found the next vent. Feeling her breathing becoming labored, she dashed through without slowing. She jumped from it, readying herself to land on whatever surface. She knew the fall wouldn’t hurt her as much as not finding another vessel in which she could lay her eggs.
She landed on a semi-soft, rugged surface. It was different than any her kind had ever felt. It had a kind of texture that was giving, but not too much. She looked at it briefly but didn’t let it distract her.
No, she wouldn’t let it distract her because she could barely breathe. Her breaths came in short gasps. The air around her became its own poison as she had been out of her own element too long. The air grew toxic to her lungs. She needed to get back into a new vessel soon. She knew she was starting to die. She felt it with every labored breath she took. It was something she had seen many times as she had watched the previous generation try to do as she had done, and they had not made it nearly as far. They had barely made it a few feet from their hosts before they couldn’t breathe and their legs withered beneath them. Then, in mere moments, they just became a black dust that slowly disappeared into the cracks.
She was not going to become dust. She felt her legs under her twitch and fight against her, but she was not going to wither. Her many eyes hazed and focused again. She could see it; it was a vessel. It was smaller than the rest she had seen. Nonetheless, it was a vessel. She was saved!
The little spider ran to the girl, who sat patiently in the waiting room.
Chapter 5
When he hung up the phone, he didn’t feel too much better. He had called the CDC, hoping to get some information on whatever it was that infected the patient just a couple rooms away. Instead, they made him feel like he was a fool and didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Are you sure he has no pulse?” The heavy sarcasm from the other end of the phone didn’t make Doctor Wilson too happy. He had been practicing medicine since long before that woman on the phone had been a gleam in her father’s eye, but she had the audacity to question his competence?
The whole phone call had been a trial on his patience. He kept having to tell himself to stay calm. It wouldn’t do him any good to get his blood pressure up, but he had felt the heat rise to his face.
Why did the young always have to be so damn condescending, he thought, picking up his glasses from the desk. He had put them there when the woman had said it would be better to wait until Halloween before playing practical jokes.
He looked around the clutter of his dark office. It really was a mess. He should spend some time to clean it up. At least his wife kept the dust off everything. She was good for many things, and that was definitely one of them. He smelled another thing she was good at. The heavenly coffee scent drifted through the hallway.
He heard the bell ring on the front door, wondering why someone opened it. His heart skipped a beat when he thought maybe the patients had left, then he remembered he had locked them in the examination room. They wouldn’t be leaving until he allowed them to. Which was safer for everyone as he was pretty sure that whatever these kids had was contagious.
He grimaced when he thought about what would happen if he had caught it, too. Those two did not look good. He sure didn’t want to go down that path with them. By all accounts, the one was dead, a walking zombie as far as he could tell. How else would a person describe someone who was walking around with open wounds that weren’t bleeding, no blood circulation, and no pulse? It was medically impossible for the man to be moving.
Dr. Wilson stood and started looking through the boxes cluttered on a shelf just beyond his desk. He knew he had more of what he was looking for in the exam rooms. If he needed to, he would go into one of the rooms and grab one. However, he was pretty sure he could find a couple boxes...ah yes, there it is. He reached and pulled out a rectangular blue box that had a thin layer of dust on it. They didn’t use them too often, and only had them for when they had that flu epidemic that had everyone scared.
He ripped open the box of masks and took one out. He put it over his mouth, having to play a little with the thin string to make sure it didn’t snag along the rims of his glasses. If he wasn’t infected, he wanted to keep it that way. If he was, he didn’t want to spread it to anyone else. He figured the disease was airborne. He didn’t see the two men as lovers, so swapping fluids wasn’t likely.
The doctor left the room and headed down the hall. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to talk to them, but…
What was he going to tell them? Hey, your friend is dead. I don’t know how he is walking around, but medically, he is dead. Then what was he going to do? Besides them both scoffing at him and leaving, what more was there?
If he didn’t tell them, then what? Keep them locked in there until one of them figured out how to get out, then they call the police and arrest him for kidnapping? Sure, he was quarantining them, but he really didn’t have their permission and there was nothing legally he could do to keep them there.
Why did he have to tell them? He finally answered his own question, and it was the most basic answer he could give.
Not only that, it was the right answer. It was the one that got him into medicine, and it was the answer that kept him in this small town. Why? Because it was the right thing to do, and he was always one to do the right thing, especially when he didn’t think he should.
****
Denise Wilson saw her husband coming down the hall and quickly hurried to catch him, pausing when she saw he was wearing one of those stupid little masks. The mask sat just under his eyes, but she could still see how dark and sad they looked. She frowned. Whatever was going on in that room must not be good.
She caught him just as he was about to reach the door. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys, looking back at his office. He probably left the keys in his office, she thoug
ht. He turned back to the door, keys in hand, when he saw her.
He stopped, surprised. As the mask shifted, she could tell that he tried to smile for her. He was always terrible at faking a smile. He was too honest for an insincere emotion. That was why she was always grateful his smile was usually large and warm. He always had an excellent bedside manner that largely had to do with his strong belief in happiness and honesty. He was always optimistic, which was one her favorite qualities in him.
“Did someone come in the front door?” he asked. She nodded and handed him the cup of coffee she had been carrying. His smile turned warm, if only for a second, as he lifted the cup to smell it through the thin fabric of the mask.
“Yes, Tina and Lucy Lockwood.”
Her husband raised his brow. He was terrible when it came to remembering names. It usually took him a couple minutes with someone to recall them based on their personality. If it wasn’t for his wife remembering his not-so-regular patients, he would have been embarrassed many times over.
“Tina is Lucy’s aunt. She’s watching her while her parents are out of town. From the sound of it, she doesn’t have kids and is freaking out a little with Lucy having a fever. Other than that, sounds like it may just be a touch of twenty-four-hour flu.”
She saw the wheels turning in her husband’s head. Then he glanced quickly at the examination room and turned back to his wife.
“Tell her I won’t be able to see her today, but more than likely, it’s just that, a twenty-four-hour bug. If she still feels sick tomorrow, maybe bring her back or take her to the hospital. Then once they leave, I want you to close up and lock the front door. Call everyone and tell them not to come in. Then I want you to go back to the house and stay there.”
Denise’s brows furrowed. Just what was going on? What was in that room?
“I’ll tell you later, but for right now, just get them out of here. Please.” The tone of his voice had turned desperate, and she felt the tension radiating from him.
She turned back to look at him and saw it in his eyes—fear. How had she not seen it before? There was true terror in his expression.
“Okay,” she said quietly. She started to walk away, then stopped and turned back to him. “I love you.”
She saw the mask move again, knowing he was smiling weakly back at her.
“I love you, too. It’ll be just fine. I… We just need to take the necessary precautions.”
Denise nodded and turned away. He waited until she had left the hallway before he turned back to the exam room.
****
When the doctor entered the room, Marty and John were standing just like he left them. In fact, they looked almost like motionless statues. Marty looked at the floor, his left hand systematically scratching his right arm as he hugged himself, and John still sat on the examination table, staring at the wall. If he were to put his elbow on his knee and rest his chin on his fist, he could be mistaken for “The Thinker”.
Doctor Wilson closed the door behind him, locking it. They both turned to look up at him. He slowly turned to face them.
John looked terrible. His eyes were now completely white and bloodless, his face blank. There was no emotion left in the man as he watched the doctor, and why should there be? Internally, there was nothing left of the man. Inside him, the little spiders crawled, working his muscles, controlling his movements, driving his desires and needs as they ate away, devouring him from the inside out. Eggs had probably been laid all throughout his body, and their offspring and the offspring of their offspring now danced along his nerve endings and muscle fibers. He no longer had needs. He was an empty shell, their vessel. The spiders inside him swarmed, wanting to now do only one thing—spread. To leave this vessel and move on to their next food source.
When John looked at the doctor, he could see the familiar taint. The doctor was already being eaten alive, but that didn’t keep the spiders inside of John from screaming out, desiring the new food source. To join the others and enjoy the taste of fresh flesh and muscle.
The doctor looked at John. Something had changed. There was something about how his skin seemed to twitch and move. Was there... What was that? The doctor could swear he saw little shapes moving just under the skin of John’s face.
“I don’t know how to tell you this…” Doctor Wilson started, turning toward Marty. He stopped when he saw the same shapes moving under Marty’s skin. He looked at Marty’s arm, where he was still scratching. He had made several cuts in his skin. Little spiders emerged from the wounds, then ducked back under the safety of the skin before Marty’s fingernails found them.
The doctor turned to look back at John. He seemed to be edging closer to him. The doctor tried to take a step back, but his body didn’t want to listen. He stayed in place as John reached the edge of the exam table.
A little black spider emerged from the corner of John’s eye and stood on the white of it. It seemed to be watching as John moved closer to the doctor. Doctor Wilson wanted to scream and run from the room. He felt the need to get away as quickly as possible. A voice deep inside told him that he was in danger. Yet, somehow, he couldn’t seem to communicate any of this fear to his muscles. He just stood there, paralyzed by fear.
He watched as John leaned toward him. He opened his mouth as he moved toward Doctor Wilson’s throat. One of the last things the doctor saw, before his mind was lost to the infestation, was that mouth. Hundreds…thousands of spiders crawling on top of each other, preparing for their next meal. They seemed to be dancing, and Doctor Wilson felt their delight as they approached.
Then he felt piercing pain as John bit into his throat. He knew those spiders were now coursing through him, taking him like they had worked through these two.
One of his last thoughts before his mind was completely invaded was that if he saw the spiders. he had already been infected and it didn’t matter if they attacked him. He was already lost.
Marty walked forward, as well, spiders spilling out of his eyes and nose. The doctor fell back into the door as they both bit into him. It didn’t matter now. All was lost. His mind was already being eaten, controlled and manipulated.
Chapter 6
That open mouth, flesh dropping from it, puss dribbling from the side, she slid forward, falling on top of him. He had screamed out, but those assholes just ignored him and watched.
Yeah, this was turning out to be one hell of a day. Carter stopped at the stop sign and looked around, trying to get that image of the woman out of his head. It wasn't going to come out easily. Sure, he knew part of it was just his imagination, like when she had spoken to him, and how both bodies reached out to grab him. He knew none of that was real, but them falling on him? That had been real enough.
His uniform was still covered in the gore. He must have accidentally pulled them out and onto him somehow, and they had both tumbled out of the car. The two firemen, the assholes who had been there, just laughed at the sight of him lying under the two bodies, neither one of them moving to help.
Yeah, there was probably going to be a bunch of pictures of that one online. He was sure the dumbass kid had pulled out his cell phone. He had seen the flash going off. The kid probably couldn't wait to hurry up and post that shit.
He opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and was glad to see the sun rising. It was almost there, just about to breach the horizon, already forcing back the gloom. At least he had the day to look forward to. A day of sleep before another night of sitting, waiting for kids to screw around and get themselves into trouble.
God, he couldn't wait until he got home and into his soft bed. Oh, just to pull back the sheets and collapse into it, let everything just get the hell away from him for a while.
Her face popped back into his head—those dead eyes, the bloody penis hanging from her mouth. Yeah, he wasn't going to sleep worth a damn. He was going to be up all damn morning, trying to coax that mental image out of his head. Why did he want to hurry home
to that?
He knew he was probably going to be sick again. He didn't think he could throw up any more. Most of his supper was already splattered along that country road, and the remainder of it was in the bag in his car. He hadn't even been able to make it a couple miles before his stomach released more of the bile. There couldn't be much more left inside of him. Where was it all coming from?
His stomach twisted. He felt it rising. He quickly pulled open the door and stuck his head out, ready for the assault of puke to rush out of him. Instead, he burped a foul taste, as his stomach tried to push out his insides, but there was nothing left.
He pictured the woman staring at him, her cold eyes watching. He closed the door and pulled off to the side of the road. He needed to breathe, focus, count to ten. He needed to do something to get that image out of his head. It was just his imagination. She hadn't said anything. Even the firemen had said that when he had asked them. Of course, they thought he had lost his mind when he said she was still alive and tried to get them to help her. They had looked at him, probably thinking he was trying to get a good joke over on them now that they had their laugh. Then the young one came over and checked her as he pulled her off him.
"Nope, still dead. Not talking," he had said.
Yeah, thanks, he had thought. And thanks for finally getting her off me.
So he had imagined it. He hoped. He hoped it wasn't like when Heather died. He hoped she wasn't trying to reach him again.
She had never tried to reach you, a voice cried out in his head.
He knew that, but it had felt so real. Had he not listened to her, he would have died. So, whether or not she had reached him, he was still alive because of her.
Still, she had never talked to him. He was alive because he got lucky, not because his dead wife had told him to watch out for the semi. He was alive because he was just an extremely lucky individual and not a man haunted by his wife who had died five years ago.