Short Story Saturday: Alabama Dog Rot: A Creepy-Colin Escapade by Guest Author Paul Skelton

Alabama Dog Rot

(A Creepy-Colin Escapade) 

by Paul Skelton

   Desperate Dan (otherwise known as Daniel Eastwood) worked at Lather & Sons timber yard. He drove a bright red Ford Ranger and lived opposite the Gilby family, where sixteen-year-old Creepy-Colin lived. Colin had recently had his first sexual encounter with a neighbour, seventeen-year-old Jessica Wilson, and was now developing an unhealthy crush on thirty-five-year-old Janette Simpson, Desperate Dan’s live-in girlfriend. Colin employed various surveillance devices to witness her more private moments, when opportunity allowed. Opportunities were somewhat limited, as Colin was an apprentice at Lather's, and he was driven to work each day by Desperate Dan. His only opportunities occurred when Desperate Dan went to the pub and came home late at night, and Janette would (whilst he was out) perform her pampering activities, which, among other things, included shaving some very personal areas.

* * *

   'Gonna be away this weekend, Col'. I'm goin' to see a dog from a breeder down near the New Forest,' Desperate Dan confided on their way to the timber yard one morning. 'If you fancy earning some extra cash, I've got some gardening jobs 'round my place want doin' while I'm gone.'

   'Gardening’s not my thing, Mr. Eastwood.'

   'Okay, son, that's a shame. Janette can probably manage on her own, anyway.'

  Creepy-Colin had imagined Desperate Dan and Janette would be away for the weekend together. The fact that he had been mistaken in this assumption changed the incentives considerably. Creepy-Colin’s interest was now aroused, in more ways than one.

   'B-b-but, I could do with some extra cash actually, Mr. Eastwood, and if Janette’s there, she would be able to show me what wants doing and how to do it.' Colin then blushed, his pimple-ridden, oily skin became clammy and sweaty. 'I-I-I don't mean it,' (he did), 'I mean the work, er, the jobs, I mean.'

   'Hahaha, you crack me up, Colin, you really do. Hah hah. Yeh, she'll give you a hand.'

   WOW! thought Colin.

   'And I'll pay you thirty quid. There's a lawn to mow and a bit of hedge trimming,'

  'Trimming?' Colin nearly flipped, mentally picturing Janettes electric shaver in action.

   'And the weeds need a good seeing to.'

  Creepy-Colin needed “seeing to”, and when they reached the timber yard, he leapt from the Ford Ranger and made a dash for the Lather’s trade counter building where the toilets were situated.

   'You okay, son?' Desperate Dan called out as Colin sprinted across the yard to the toilets to deal with an uncomfortable problem, requiring instant gratification.

* * *

   Creepy-Colin saw Desperate Dan drive off at seven o'clock the following Saturday morning, and he decided to call on Janette a good half an hour earlier than planned.

   It's the early bird that catches the worm. He thought to himself, sniggering as he drenched himself in his Father’s favourite Diesel aftershave.

   Janette Simpson opened the door to Colin, clad in a short pink silk robe, which left little to the imagination. Creepy-Colin drooled.

   'Oh! Hi, Colin, you're early. Keen to get down to it, are you?'

   'Oh, God, yeh . . . ' He gulped, his eyes bulging. 'I mean, er, the gardening. Yeh, I like to make an early start.'

   'I'm impressed, Colin.' She smiled. 'I haven't showered yet, and I need to make myself decent, I do apologise.'

   Don't apologise. Thought Colin.

   'So, why don't you go through and fix us both a nice coffee while I get ready? The coffee’s in the percolator, the mugs are on the drainer, and, oh, there's some cream in the fridge.'

   Cream? Oh God! Colin thought, his head swimming, catching a glimpse of naked breast and nipple as Janette turned to go upstairs. Following her through the house, Creepy-Colin got another eyeful, “upskirt”, as she ascended the stairs.

* * *

   Janette sat down to her coffee, dressed in tight-fitting shorts and a loose, plaid shirt tied into a bow 'round her midriff. When they had finished the coffee, they set about the various tasks. Colin made much of “needing help” in order to be close to her as often as possible and peek down her open-necked shirt, noting that, on this hot day, Janette was bra-less. Colin worked hard though, mainly to impress Janette. They chatted amiably throughout the day, Colin trying to fit in as many compliments as possible, and Janette revealing that she may move out to get her own place soon, as she didn't want to share the house with a dog. She thought she would carry on seeing Desperate Dan but didn't imagine the relationship “going anywhere”. Eventually, the work was done, and Janette suggested that Creepy-Colin should take a shower before he went home.

   Colin undressed and stepped into the shower, hoping against hope . . .

   'You don't mind sharing, do you?' Janette purred as she slithered, naked, against Colin’s wet body in the hot shower.

   The fantasy ended abruptly when he heard Janette asking, 'have you come yet', and giggling from just outside of the door. He realised that she had been spying on him and what he was doing in the shower.

   She entered the bathroom fully clothed.

   'Sorry, Colin, I couldn't resist.' She sniggered. 'It's just that you've been so obvious all day. Really creepy, with those compliments, y'know? Bit pervy, Colin. Now hurry up, sort yourself out and get decent. I'm going out.'

   Creepy-Colin got decent and went home, deflated.

* * *

   Next day, Sunday, Colin got a call from Desperate Dan at around three in the afternoon, asking him to come over to collect his thirty pounds.

   'Ah, come in, Colin, and meet Lola.' Dan was beaming as they walked through to the kitchen where a grey and white puppy sat dozily on a dog blanket, 'There's Lola. She's half Greyhound, half Bearded Collie, only eleven weeks old. What do you think?'

   'Nice, Mr. Eastwood. She's a Lurcher then?'

   'That's right, Colin, she's a rough-coated Brindle dog. You know a bit about dogs then?'

   'Yeh, a bit. How much did you pay for her?'

   'Eh, don't worry. Here's your thirty quid.' Desperate Dan winked and handed over the cash. 'If you must know, I paid a hundred and fifty, not bad, eh?'

   'She's got some nasty sores, Mr. Eastwood.' Creepy-Colin was inspecting the dog closely.

   'Yeh, the breeder gave me some cream for those; look.' Dan picked up a jar from the Formica kitchen table and handed it to Colin who studied it meticulously. Colin then got his smartphone out and started browsing the internet.

   'What is it, Col'?' asked Dan.

   'Hang on a mo' . . . , she's very quiet, looks knackered. Has she vomited at all?'

   'Well, yeh she's tired, it was a long trip for her cooped up in my cab. She did puke a bit when we got back, probably travel-sickness.'

   'Appetite? Is she eating?'

   'Well, I put a bowl of food for her out as soon as we got back. She hasn't touched it yet, but . . .'

   'Alabama Dog Rot!'

   'Alabama what rot? Dog rot?'

   'Yep, reckon so,' Creepy-Colin said confidently. 'There's been no real clinical research, but the first cases affected Greyhounds in Alabama U.S.A. in the eighties. In the UK there's been about a hundred cases, most of them around the New Forest. The disease attacks the blood vessels, the kidneys, and affects renal movement. It's hard to treat and almost always fatal. Look, Mr. Eastwood.'

   Desperate Dan looked at the screen on Colin's smartphone, and he went deathly pale. He gulped a few times and then started ranting.

   'Right, I'll get her to a vet tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm getting onto that bloody breeder. I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im!'

   'No time for that, we've gotta act fast, Mr. Eastwood. If she's vomiting and not eating, it's advanced. The skin sores are already breaking. She's literally rotting away.'

   'What can we do, Colin?' Dan wailed and then started sobbing.

   'Not sure, but you stay here, have a drink or something. I'm off to get some stuff I've got, might help slow it down. Then tomorrow you can get down the vet's.'

   Creepy-Colin dashed home, and once in his room, started fetching bottles of various liquids from under his bed. He then started mixing them together, carefully examining the results each time he added something to the concoction. Finally, he filled some syringes with the formula and rushed back to Desperate Dan.

* * *

   Dan didn't show up at work for the next five days, he was taking some unpaid leave to attend to Lola. The following Saturday, Creepy-Colin was supping a pint of Coors that Desperate Dan had bought for him at the Rose and Crown public house.

   'Cheers, Col.' Dan raised his glass of Newcastle Brown. 'Yep, thanks to you, mate, Lola’s okay. The vet didn't have a scooby-doo, just offered me more skin cream. So I got her home and hoped for the best. I did administer another injection, as you suggested. Now, she's eating me out of house and home, and energy? Blimey, I've never known a dog like it. You should see how fast she can run when I take her down the park.'

   'She's grown a lot, hasn't she?' Colin was stroking Lola under the pub table.

   'Yeh, you wouldn't believe it's the same dog, would you? Drink up, Colin, I'll get you another.'

   After two more drinks they left the pub, and Lola, loping beside them, was now the size of a mature Great Dane. She stood thirty inches in height and weighed in at nearly one hundred and sixty pounds. Desperate Dan should have been worried.

* * *

   Creepy-Colin didn't fire up his computer to spy on Janette Simpson that night, as he knew she had moved out. He would miss her. He got ready for bed and settled down to look up breeds of dog, in particular, larger breeds. He was concerned by Lola’s sudden growth spurt, even if Daniel Eastwood wasn't. Then his mobile rang.

   'Hello?'

   'Hi, Colin, it's Janette. Look, I know it's late, but I want to apologise for making fun of you last weekend. I want to make it up to you. I've got my own flat, now, all to myself, and I'm home alone wearing my silk robe, the one you saw me in last week. Nothing underneath, Colin.' She spoke softly and sensuously. 'Come over, babe, and do a bit of gardening with me, yeh?'

   Colin stared at his phone, open-mouthed, instantly getting a hard-on, and momentarily couldn't think what to say. Then he decided to follow his instincts.   'What kind of fool do you take me for, Janette? You can't do gardening in a flat.  There's no garden. I wasn't born yesterday. Huh!' And with that, he terminated the call without waiting for an answer. Then he turned his phone off.

   Janette stared at her phone and threw it across the room in temper. Then she slid out of her robe, feeling rejected, and resorted to pleasuring herself. She was too far away from Desperate Dan’s house to hear the howling and screaming. But Creepy-Colin wasn't, and on hearing the commotion, he peeked outside. He saw Lola on Desperate Dan’s front lawn tearing him to pieces, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Creepy Colin wasn't the only neighbour dialing “999” at that point.

   Lola’s body lay dead on the front lawn, and to Colin, looked even bigger than he noticed at the pub earlier. The hide had large slits and splits in it, as if the animal had literally grown faster on the inside than the skin on the outside could keep up with. It had taken several gunshots from the Police vet before Lola went down, and Paramedics arrived to retrieve what was left of Desperate Dan.

   'You Colin Gilby?' the Police Constable asked, and Colin nodded in affirmation. 'And you work with Mr. Eastwood, I believe. Do you know anything about his dog?'

   'Bought Lola a few days ago in the New Forest. She got sick, and he took it to the vet. Alabama Dog Rot, I think. They gave him some cream.' Colin shrugged.' That's all I know.'

   'Thanks, son, never heard of Alabama Dog Rot. Vet should know what it is.'

* * *

THE END

Snippet Saturday: Idiots an excerpt from Halfborn

A Halfborn excerpt

I knew the risks of bringing Marshall out, but everything had gone so well. We were within a quarter mile or so of the R.V. as the scent assaulted my nose. Marshall hadn't gotten a whiff of it yet. The scent was poorly masked by what I could only guess was deer urine. I briefly thought we could make a run for it, making it to the Winnebago in mere seconds. Although they were somewhere between us and our destination. Then the bloodlust shot through me. It was too late, but I tried to fight it anyway.

“Marshall! Please don't!” I yelled, but he was already gone.

Screams erupted, and I ran toward them. Three different voices—two sounded in panic, while the third shrieked in pain and agony. I was finally able to get my eyes on the situation as shots rang out. Marshall held a grizzly of a man in his arms, his mouth latched to the guy’s throat. I had a fleeting thought of beard hair getting stuck in his teeth, then the sensation of bullets biting into Marshall's back chased it away.

Marshall threw the grizzly man's lifeless body to the ground and turned on the other two. They stopped firing. Whether it was because they'd run out of bullets or realized the shooting was doing nothing, I wasn't sure. Marshall stalked toward them. The younger, clean-shaven one turned and sprinted away as quickly as his legs would take him. The other had frozen in shock.

Marshall, being an animal of opportunity, naturally selected the one that had frozen. Leaving me to take chase. I couldn't let the guy get away, no matter how crazy his story would have sounded to people. I dropped my mental barrier, letting Marshall's bloodlust take over. As I caught up to the man, I jumped toward him. I came into contact with his body with more force than I intended, and he fell forward. His head smashed into a rock with a loud crack. His body twitched and jerked on the ground. I went for the strike when the smell of blood entered my nose.

I walked around to where the man's head lay on the rock. My gut wrenched at what I saw. The force of the impact had split the man's skull wide open. Blood pulsed steadily from the wound, pooling on the ground, and through the separation of bone, the man's brain was clearly visible. As I stood there, staring at the horrible scene, Marshall came up, still driven by his bloodlust. Either he didn't see what I did or didn't care. Instead, he went straight for the gushing wound, licking and sucking at it. He gulped greedily.

He looked up at me briefly, and I shook my head to refuse what I assumed was an offer to join him. I couldn't bring myself to feed. Not after what I saw. The man twitched on the ground as Marshall sank his teeth into the guy's neck. I listened to the beating of the man's heart slow, then ultimately stop. Marshall lifted his head and looked around, the wildness in his eyes dying a little as he wiped away the trails of blood from his chin.

“Are you finished then?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He glanced around, again. “Shit! I'm sorry.”

I wasn't sure if I was angry or disappointed. Maybe a combination of the two. I gave up on trying to understand the feelings that coursed through me. “Listen, Marshall . . . Just don't worry about it. This is my fault. I knew better.”

“Hey now, I'm the one that has no control. So how is this your fault?”

“All of this is my fault, Marshall! Can't you see that? I'm the reason you are how you are.”

He lifted himself from the ground. I gave the dead body a glance and started walking. I went back to the area where the other two bodies were. Marshall followed on my heels. I took in the area for a minute. Then I walked away, toward the direction of the Winnebago.

“I'm not dealing with this! Come on, Marshall.”

“But . . . Shouldn't we do something with them?”

“I just said, I'm not dealing with it. Let 'em rot. It was such a perfect day, and they ruined it. Just. Like. That. Ruined!” I said, feeling that much less than who I used to be. “What the fuck were they doing out here anyway? Idiots!”

I tromped through the trees, letting the rage that began within me take over. Rage had to be better than feeling sorry for the guys or feeling disappointed in Marshall's actions. I was angry that the day hadn't played out as it should have. Every bit of fun and distraction had been taken away in a matter of a minute or two. I was angry that I let myself get in the way, and I fought the bloodlust in me. It was a rage all in itself for not being sated.

*You can find and purchase Halfborn on Amazon HERE. Available in ebook and paperback formats, and you can read for free with Kindle Unlimited.

Short Story Saturday: Tapioca

Tapioca

Joanie looks across the table at me like I’ve lost my mind. Her bottom jaw hangs slack, and I can see where her back molars on the bottom are missing, leaving me to wonder how I’d not noticed their absence before.

“What? I don’t understand why you guys are even trying. It’s just my opinion until we know what’s going on, where we’re going to end up, that no one should be trying to get pregnant. Don’t look at me like that! We’re on a fucking alien spaceship, for fuck’s sake!” I shove a spoonful of the grey gruel that fills the bowl in front of me into my mouth. It’s not bad, but it’s also not good. It’s got this weird, oily film that coats your mouth and everything else it touches, and it has little squishy-like balls similar to tapioca. Gross! You get hungry enough, you’ll eat just about anything, including whatever the hell it is these squid things give us to eat. But, I can’t stand tapioca, so I pick and spit out the little blobs of disgustingness to dispose of them in the closest possible receptacle as soon as I can.

Before we went our separate ways on Earth, my brother called the aliens Squiddies. Part of me wishes I stayed back there with him, and I wonder for a moment what he’s up to before I brush the thought aside. He was always private in that scary, keep-to-yourself-psycho kind of way, but at least I never had to go on the news and say, “He was the quiet type. Kept to himself, really.” But he was right about the aliens, they do look like squids—not that I’d call them Squiddies or even Space Squids to their faces. They insist we call them friends; I don’t know that I could honestly call them that, though.

“You’re serious, aren’t you, Betty?” Joanie’s lips wrap around the spoon she holds, and then she slowly pulls it from her mouth, causing my breath to hitch and pulse to quicken. “This is our life now. There’s no going back. You saw what Earth had become. You couldn’t even see land or water through the thick layer of black smog when we made it into orbit. It was so much worse than the government made it seem. We were going to die there, and people were still reproducing. How is this worse? They’re taking us to a new home. We are meant to procreate. They wouldn’t have saved us if they wanted us to die. Would they have?”

A heavy laugh sounds behind me, and the tall, ginger-haired man it came from rounds the table, sliding in beside Joanie. “Or we merely saw what they wanted us to see. What do you think, Bet? They got beaks hiding in those tentacles?”

“That’s not nice, Travis! They saved us!” Joanie seems to struggle to keep her voice at a low level.

“Well, Travy,” I sneer at him, “it would only make sense. They do share pretty much all the other characteristics as the squids we have on Earth.”

“They’re not squids. Just because they look . . . weird, doesn’t mean we can’t trust them,” Joanie says under her breath and glances around.

“Let’s not forget, they call themselves Decaphaliods. Anyone who knows their shit, knows ‘deca’ for Decapodiformes the suborder of cephalopods, where the ‘phal’ comes from. They knew they looked like the squids from Earth, and they took the scientific name and class for those creatures and smashed them together to make a fancy sounding name to call them. I’d guess, they’d been studying us humans for some time . . . just waiting to make their move. I’m with Bet, Joanie, I don’t trust them.”

“See, Joanie,” I say and bite back the bile caused by what’s to follow, “as much as I hate Travy here, we’re on the same page. So, are you sure you want to bring a child into this setting?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Bet baby. Don’t be changing my honey’s mind. She wants a kid, I’m going to give it to her,” Travis says and smirks.

“You’re only worried about getting laid, and now since there’s no reason to have your nose in a book, you’ve got time to do so. It’s just sad that, out of everybody, Joanie chose you to collect sperm from. It’ll only be a matter of time before she comes crawling back to me, begging for a real fuck.” Irritated, I shove my chair back and stand. I grab my bowl and take it to the bin for dirty dishes. It’s still nearly full, but I’ve lost my appetite—well, what appetite I had—so I toss it as it is into the bin and walk to my quarters.

***

“I guess Travy’s rancid little swimmers stuck then, huh?” I asked. It’s been nearly a month since we really talked to one another.

“Doc’s pretty sure, yeah, but apparently they weren’t allowed to bring any medical equipment, so he said it could just be a bug.” Joanie fiddles with a cloth in her hand she’s been using to wipe her mouth with.

“I’d like to think it’s just a bug, and it is pretty early for morning sickness, I would think. Ugh, Joanie,” I cringe, “how can you let him touch you? Is having a kid so important to you that you’d risk intercourse with a complete and utter asshole?”

“He’s not all that bad.” She takes my hand in hers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Betty. You gotta believe me that I never, ever meant to hurt you, but things change. The fact that we’re on a ship with beings not from our planet and going to a completely different one to live better lives is proof that things change. That’s how life is.”

I pull my hand away, fighting to control my anger. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, Joanie. I mean, you’re the only reason I’m here on this ship with these freaky fucking squid things, but you didn’t mean to hurt me! You never even mentioned wanting kids the entire time we were together. Four years and not a peep about it, so you can imagine my surprise when two weeks after hopping aboard Star Ship Squiddie to be with you, you leave me for the ginger prick to go try to have a kid.”

Joanie’s left hand flies to her mouth, and she stands abruptly. Her eyes are glassy and shining with unshed tears, and I can see she wants to say something, to respond in some way, but her cheeks are puffed with what I can only assume is vomit. As she turns and runs, I see just how baggy her clothes fit.

Maybe it is a bug, I think to myself. If not, she should probably ask if losing so much weight is safe for the fetus.

***

It’s been three weeks since I saw Joanie. I miss seeing her. Travis is also been avoiding me. I look around the dining room, noting that there are a lot fewer people than normal.

I turn in my chair, look at a man with sharp, hard features and dark hair, and ask, “Where the hell is everyone?”

He grunts and clears his throat. “Lotta folks been sick. I heard some have even died.” He rubs at his eye, then scratches his chin. “Not sure if the last bit’s true. I haven’t really looked into it. Wonder what they do with the bodies if it is true. I haven’t seen any.”

I need a second to take in what he’s said. I don’t even respond before I jump up and rush toward the last room that I knew Joanie was staying. Before I can reach the room, I run right into one of the things that supposedly saved us from our dying planet.

“Please do slow down,” it says in it odd, even tone. I’ve never figured out where their voices come from, whether they’re actually speaking the word or projecting them directly into our brains. “There is no need to move about so quickly. There is nowhere to go but here.”

I notice that it’s using one of its tentacle arms to rub a grey substance over its body. The substance looks strangely like the stuff they feed us, only without the little, squishy balls. I shudder at the resemblance.

“Sorry. Just going to see a friend.” I maneuver around the squid and continue on.

I make it to Travis’ door and pound on it with everything I have in me. Several minutes pass by with a few more bashes from my fist. I try the door, but it’s locked.

“Joanie! Are you in there? God damn it. Travis, where are you guys at?” I hit the door three more times with no result, so I turn around and begin walking away.

I hear a click behind me, and then the sound of a door sliding open.

“Bet,” Travis says, his voice strangled and strained.

I swing around and face him. His clothes are baggy, worse than Joanie’s were the last time I saw her. But it’s not just his clothes, his skin is baggy too, and it has a sickly grey pallor.

“Sweet balls of Aphrodite, Travis. You look like shit, but I’m actually glad to see you. Where’s Joanie? I need to know she’s okay. There are rumors about people dying,” I say, hoping he only looks worse than he is.

I watch as his cheeks pull in and then push away from his teeth, and then he swallows. It’s like he’s working to moisten his mouth. “Joanie’s—” he coughs a couple times and clears his throat, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear the worst, “—Joanie’s in bed. She isn’t well. She’s worse than I am.”

I push past him, nearly knocking him over. Something in my panicked mind has enough decency to have me mutter, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” he says and coughs again. “Come on in.”

I ignore him and rush to the side of the bed where Joanie lies. Her skin is devoid of color, and its greyish hue makes her look like a corpse. It also hangs loosely. In a matter of a few weeks, it’s as if her muscle and fat have shriveled away to near nonexistence.

“What the fuck, Joanie? What the hell’s happened to you?” I manage to say.

Her eyes open minutely, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s only at that moment, I see how dry her lips are. She tries to smile, and the fact that her teeth are no longer there is startlingly apparent.

A movement draws my attention her shoulder, but as I focus, there’s nothing there. I put it off as a side effect of the moisture filling my eyes. I hear a shuffle and look up to see Travis finally making it over to the bed. He sits on the corner.

“She hasn’t said anything in days, and I haven’t been able to get her to eat in a week,” he says, and then rubs at his chest with his hand. He grabs a glass from the bedside table and drinks heavily.

“How did you let her get so bad?” I control myself enough not to screech it at him.

“The doc said there’s nothing he can do, that he’s never seen anything like what’s been going around. Said we just need to ride it out and hope for the best.” He shakes his head.

I try to keep the tears from spilling and running down my face. I wipe at them with my palm when I fail to keep them at bay. “Joanie, you hang in there. You stay with me. I love you. Please, I can’t lose you like this.”

I move the blanket to uncover her hand, and I grab ahold of it with my own. I gasp when I feel the hand has no structure. The fingers, hand, and forearm are pliable, bending and squishing like those goo-filled stress balls. Before I can let go, I feel several small movements under her skin. I jerk my hand away, and I stand, backing away.

“What the actual fuck, Travy? What’s wrong with her hand? Her arm?” I yell.

“I don’t know.”

I go to speak again, but Joanie’s breaths pick up. Her chest heaves as the air whistles and hisses as it leaves her body. I see where it looks like several things squirm under the skin in her neck, and I scream.

The next thing I know, several of the alien squid beings are sliding into the room. I have enough time to see Joanie still, her labored breaths halting, before one of the beings grabs me, pulling me out of the room. I feel a jab in my arm, and I’m plummeted into darkness.

***

I wake in a room, staring at a white ceiling and some kind of tubing hanging from it. My arms are strapped to the table I’m lying on. There’s a noise to my right, and I try to turn my head to look, but it’s secured in place.

“Ah, finally awake,” someone says. “Maybe you can clear something up for us? We have done test after test, and there is not any sign of egg implantation within your body. You are obviously eating or else you would have died of starvation long ago, so how is it there is not a single trace of egg or larvae in your system?”

“Who are you? And what are you talking about?” I shout and then struggle with my bindings. “Why the fuck am I tied down?”

“Just calm yourself,” the squid says as it comes into view above me. “Have you been eating?”

Giving up, I answer the thing. “Yes, but I pick out the tapioca. I couldn’t stand the shit on Earth. I sure as hell didn’t plan on eating it here.”

“Tapioca? What is that?” the squid asks.

“The squishy balls in the gruel.” I clench my teeth and suck in a raging breath as what it’s said clicks into place.

“Yes, that explains it.” It pauses, and once I’m about to speak up, it says, “If we let you out of here, are you going to eat all of the food provided to you?”

“Why the hell should I? It seems to me that a minute ago you implied it has some kind of eggs in it that implant themselves in our bodies.” My last memories resurface—Joanie’s shriveled body, her arm pliable as if it didn’t have bones, the movement under her sagging skin. “Oh, my god!” I gasp, fighting back the tears that force their way into my eyes. “Is that what’s wrong with the sick people. They’re not sick, are they?”

“Sick? No. But, unfortunately, they do not survive the process. A side effect we have not been able to fix,” the thing says as I watch it rub a layer of that grey slime on its top half, and I shudder, thinking that it probably is more than likely the same stuff they’ve been feeding us.

“Why did you take us away? Promise us a new home, a new life?” I say through clenched teeth.

“Your world was dying with you along with it. We saw your potential as incubators, but you must understand, not all of you will die. Most are going to make it to a new home where they will procreate. Only the finest specimens will be used for incubation. We want our offspring to have the best start possible, so we will give them the best food we can find. You have fallen in the first group of humans to continue the growth of our species. You should be honored.”

“Honored?” I laugh. “Oh yeah, sure. Honored to have been lied to, used, and . . . eaten from the inside out? Do I have that right? Is that why her arm felt like a sand-filled bag? Bones and all, huh?”

“Yes, sadly it is not a very pleasurable experience. Know that nothing goes to waste. Our young use everything within the body, only breaking through the skin when everything has been used.” It acts like what it’s said is the best news in the universe.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about essentially being eaten by maggots with tentacles? Because it doesn’t. I knew you things were weird and disgusting, so I don’t know why I didn’t figure you to be damned parasites.”

If it’s offended, I can’t tell. Hell, I’m not sure if these things have emotions. Motion catches my eye, and I focus to the hose thing that hangs above me. One of the Squid’s tentacles is wrapped around it and pulling it down toward me. In my peripheral, I can see another of its tentacles move and what I assume is the other end of the hose. It looks like the thing is connecting it to itself.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

“If you cannot cooperate, if you insist on resisting, then we must force feed you. We are running out of time, as we plan to move the second group onto this ship, shortly. None of the first group can be present when this happens. We do not want things to be more difficult than they need to be,” it says, moving the hose closer to my face.

“I need to know something. Why, if your species was just planning to use us to house your larvae, did you leave behind so many? Why did you weed out those you deemed unworthy if you were just going to kill us?” I ask, unsure of why exactly but wanting an answer, nevertheless.

“Ah, our young take on traits from their hosts. While you may find our actions monstrous, we are merely trying to survive, so we are doing what needs to be done. But traits such as urges to kill your own kind or to molest little ones or rape those we find weak in our kind or to take advantage of others to the point their lives are miserable . . . those are traits we do not wish to pass on to our young. So, we left behind the humans who held higher levels of what we felt were bad traits,” it answers me.

“I should’ve stayed with my brother,” I say.

“If it makes you feel better, he will die too. The planet may heal, but the people left, they will be far more dangerous, wanting to feed their cravings. Most may starve at some point. You humans were far too dependent on corporations to provide you with food to buy. Very few of your kind would know how to survive, needing to hunt and forage. Your brother may outlive you in years, but, yes, he too will die as you would have, had you stayed.” I see it slather on more of the grey substance on its long body . . . head . . . I’m not even sure I care anymore.

Something drips on my face, next to my mouth. I cringe and look at the hose dangling above me. A slick looking, oily drop of grey dangles from the hose. Looking past it and toward where the hose meets the ceiling, I see where the clear tubing is filling with the grey substance. Then a tentacle settles on my chin, pulling my bottom jaw down and opening my mouth. Another tentacle wraps around the hose.

“Now, this will be easier if you don’t fight it,” it says as it feeds the tubing into my mouth and pushes it into my throat. “Just let it in. Try to swallow. The goal is to get it down to your stomach. We want the deposit to be direct.”

I gag, feeling the oily residue coat my throat, making the tube slide just a little easier than if it were dry. I force myself not to swallow, willing it not to go any further. I hoped to wake up from this horrible nightmare that had become my life, but I knew it was all too real. I feel the tears rolling from my eyes and down my cheek. My stomach clenches and my throat tries to wretch to expel the invading tube that has triggered my gag reflex, but it is to no avail.

The Squid quits pushing on the hose, and I can feel that it has made it to its proper destination as my stomach begins to fill. It isn’t just that my stomach was filling, I could feel movement. Small, tiny, quick spurts of movement.

“You should not have to suffer long. And the process will go much more quickly for you as you are getting a direct infusion of freshly hatched young. You see, we have the ability to have live young or eggs. We laid eggs to feed your kind, which was given in lower doses. So, it takes longer that way. The eggs need to accumulate to a decent number before hatching, but with you, I can fill you directly with as many as I can, and they can start to consume you and grow immediately. It should only be a few of your planet’s hours before you lose active consciousness. You will still be awake, but you will not be aware. I believe your kind would refer to the term vegetable. Your body will die within a day or two, which should fall right in the timeline we need it to.”

I try not to listen to it. I try to ignore the tube down my throat, the tears falling from my eyes, and the painful expansion within my stomach. I didn’t know how painful it could be to fill your stomach beyond its ability. I feel it stretching to accommodate. I try to scream as something pops inside my body. I can see my abdomen being inflated upward and outward.

The thought that this thing, this Squid has to see what’s going on, crosses my mind, but it doesn’t seem to realize. The pain becomes unbearable. My vision goes black as I feel liquid run down to my breast from my stomach and a searing pain shoots through me.

“Oh, it seems I miscalculated. Sorry about that. I’m afraid we will have to close that up,” the Squid says.

Its voice sounds far away. The last thing I register is the tube being pulled from my throat.

Short Story Saturday: Remains

REMAINS

The world was ending, so I don’t really blame everyone for leaving with the Space Squids when they came to Earth and offered a new planet to live on. They’ll probably just destroy that one too. It’s whatever, people fucking suck anyway. By what I could tell, the Space Squids weren’t so special, either, with their weird, soft bodies, tentacles, and strange pointy heads.

Yeah, I said tentacles. I don’t call ‘em Space Squids for fun. Besides the fact that they didn’t live in water, that’s pretty much what they were.

They did moisturize . . . a lot. Like all the time. It was kind of obscene, but that’s a story for a different time.

Like I was saying, the Space Squids, yeah, assholes. That’s what they were. Just as bad as all the humans they took. Maybe they ate everyone . . . well, one could only hope, but considering the fact that they left the ‘trash’ humans behind and they wanted to only take productive, non-criminal folks, I assume they weren’t planning to eat them. Unless us ‘trash’ humans taste bad. I’ll just keep thinking they ate everyone and be happy with the fact that they didn’t want my kind to go.

I still don’t see how I fit in with the others they left behind—The Remains the Squiddies called us. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they didn’t throw me into the volcanoes like they did the leaders and politicians of the world. Oh, they made sure that shit was broadcasted on live television. You ask me, some of those fuckers got out too easily and quickly for the things they got away with.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Those Squiddies left me behind, saying murderers weren’t welcome on their planet. Blah, blah. Yeah, I’ve killed, but I’m no murderer. I deal out justice. I take out the ‘trash’ that they accused me of being. I tried to clean up the world and rid it of the people who were making it a bad place to live. Taking out people who destroyed nature for the hell of it, who killed for the enjoyment of it, who took pleasure from the touch of a child, and those who deemed themselves better than others, making sure the lives of those they found to be lesser than them was full of hardship, grief, and sorrow.

I’m not sure how many I had the pleasure of disposing of, but I know I didn’t stop after everyone left. I didn’t even have to do as much research once they were gone, so really, they did me a favor. They made my job easier.

***

Thomas looked around at his captors. Their hair in mudded clumps. Their round cherubic faces, holding expressions of anything but innocence. No, all of the children that surrounded him looked upon him like a wolf eyeing a rabbit it wished to have for dinner.

“You tell your lies. You act as if you were doing this world a favor, killing people you decided weren’t good enough to live. Who were you to judge when you killed our parents?” one of the oldest males visible within the group said, surprising Thomas for he’d not expected such feral-looking children to be able to speak so well.

“Well, I . . . uh, shit. I didn’t know there were children still left here. At least none old enough to have been around for the Great Departure. I thought they all went with the Squiddies. Who in their right mind would’ve kept their children here?”

“People who didn’t want to be separated from their families. People who knew that once the majority left, the planet would begin to heal. People who didn’t trust the aliens, and so they didn’t go, even if they were accepted to go to the new world,” said another of the eldest as she stepped forward.

A girl and boy, who looked so similar there was no mistaking that they were brother and sister, came closer to Thomas. They appeared to be about seven, meaning they were born sometime around The Great Departure, Thomas noted.

“We were five when you killed our father,” the little girl said.

“He was all we had. Our mom didn’t make it through having us,” the boy continued where his sister left off.

“We saw you. We watched from the brush. We saw what you did.” The girl grabbed her brother’s hand and squeezed.

“We watched as you broke his legs, making escape impossible. We listened as you listed his supposed crimes. We choked back our sobs, our cries, as you drew your knife across our father’s throat.” The boy straightened his posture, standing as tall as he could.

“Then, you left him there to rot. You walked away from him like he was nothing. What you did was wasteful. You kill but for what reason? There’s no purpose in what you do.” The girl had begun to tremble, but not in fear or grief. The girl’s body shook with rage, if Thomas was correct in his thinking.

“I would’ve never killed him or any of your parents had I known they’d had children that had no one else to care for them. Know this to be the truth. Know this, as I only wish to end the suffering, hate, greed, and filthiness in this world. Know that I only wish to make things better. I never meant to cause harm. I only wished to deal out justice.” Thomas wiggled his arms, struggling against the ropes that bound him.

“Justice! Justice! There’s no need for justice in a lawless land, sir. You have no authority. You are far worse than any criminal you believe you’ve dealt your justice to. For you think you are better than they were.” A girl, older than the rest, Thomas had not seen until that moment, walked over to him, clutching a knife in her dirt-covered hand.

“Now, just wait a second. What is it you’re planning on doing with that knife? How do you figure killing me makes you any better? It certainly won’t bring your folks back. Not that it appears you need them. The lot of you seemed to be doing just fine without them. Y’all have got to be some of the plumpest people I’ve seen in a while.”

“We do well with the gardens, and we have an excellent group of hunters. You met Ellie and Niro. They’re our absolute best. You’d agree, I’m certain, that they’d need to be top-notch to track and capture you. You who prides yourself on tracking and hunting people down. I assume as you’ve been up to these tricks since before the ‘Great Departure’, as you put it.” The teenage girl tapped him on the tip of his nose with her knife.

“Oh.” Thomas let his gaze focus more on the surrounding area. His eyes took a second to adjust to the darker places where they weren’t completely consumed by the shadows. Mounds of off-white caught his attention, and he stared at them until the bones, skulls, and other human remains became clear. “Oh! You little shits are cannibals!”

“Only when we have to be. We get more meat from a deer than we do most humans. So, unless we absolutely need the meat, we usually leave people alone, but when little Josiah and Penelope here saw you . . . when they recognized you for who you were, well, we couldn’t pass that up.”

Thomas struggled more with his bindings, not even bothering to hide his movements as he’d been doing. He squirmed. His shoulders jerking, and his body bucking, but he couldn’t get free. If anything, the ropes only became tighter on his wrists and around his waist.

“Now, Thomas—it is Thomas, right?” the elder girl with the knife said. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “What you don’t seem to get is, the more you fight your restraints, the more Little William back there will twist. And while we’ve yet to see it happen, you’d have a better chance getting loose after your hands pop off your wrists—well, like I said, we haven’t seen it yet, but I suppose it’s possible. That is, given you don’t pass out from the pressure on your abdomen first. So, by all means, keep trying to free yourself.”

A sinister smile spread across her face as several of the other worked to control fits of laughter.

“Quiet!” a male voice behind Thomas yelled. “Charlotte! Why must you play with your food? It doesn’t need to know why it’s dying. Just kill it and be done with your theatrics. I thought we were good for meat, anyway, so why the need to butcher more?”

“You’re probably right, Jonathan. We shouldn’t play with our food . . . but did you look to see who this is before you spoke?” the knife-wielding girl, Charlotte, said before turning away.

A tall man in his early twenties walked in front of Thomas. “Is this who I think it is?” He bent down, getting face to face with Thomas. “Why, yes. Yes, it is.”

“I assume I killed one of your parents too?” Thomas asked.

“Ah, but you killed both. My father before the aliens took everyone away, and then my mother two years after she’d decided to stay on this planet with the Remains. We were going to go, but when our group was called to board, she changed her mind because she had a bad feeling. I don’t know what happened to those who left, but I know what happened to my mom. And I remember what you told me when you dispatched her,” Jonathan said.

“But dear Thomas here just told us that he never would’ve killed someone had he knew they had kids to take care of. Didn’t you, friend?” Charlotte chortled, but Thomas was unable to see her past Jonathan’s tall frame.

“I wouldn’t have. I certainly wouldn’t have spoken to a child I was leaving an orphan,” he protested, knowing all too well the lies that left his mouth.

He remembered Jonathan. The boy was fifteen, maybe sixteen, when Thomas killed his mother. He’d followed her from a rundown pharmacy, where he’d seen her take dozens of prescription bottles. It was only later that he’d found they were only antibiotics.

“Don’t follow in her footsteps, boy, or I’ll come back for you.” Jonathan’s words echoed the ones that ran through Thomas’ mind. The young man’s voice bringing him back to the present. “Yeah, I see it in your face. You remember. What you might not know is, the antibiotics that you killed my mom for taking, they were for my little sister. She was four. She’d gotten a cut on her foot, and it was infected. Without my mom, without those antibiotics . . . well, it got worse. Gangrene set in. By the time I found help, even the amputation of her leg didn’t save her. I had to watch her die, all because you thought my mom was a fucking junkie.”

“I didn’t know.” Thomas tried to look disgusted with himself, but somewhere along the way, he’d lost his morals, his reasoning, and he’d began killing people for the enjoyment of it. The one kid was right about it being a lawless land, and Thomas had taken advantage of that, but he’d felt far from guilty about it. He’d felt powerful . . . well, until a group of filthy, parentless kids captured him and tied him up. He met the eyes of the one named Jonathan and said, “If you feel inclined to kill me for my crimes, might I have a request granted?”

Jonathan smirked. “Well, that would depend on what it is? If it’s a request not to eat you, as much as I’d rather not, we don’t waste what can sustain us. Had we still had pigs, you’d go to them, but the entire drove became diseased a while back and died. So, that request will be denied, but you can ask, and I’ll consider anything else.”

“Jonathan!” Charlotte screeched.

“He shouldn’t be given the dignity of a request,” the young boy sibling said.

“He didn’t give our father or your mother or any of the others’ parents time to speak, let alone a request,” his sister sounded, barely letting her brother’s words end.

A mass of murmurs and angry words flew about the night air. Thomas stopped himself from smiling for the commotion he’d caused. The ropes twisted more, tightening further at his wrists and around his lower chest.

“Silence!” Jonathan bellowed. “I said the man could ask. Now, let’s let him say his, and we will decide if it will be granted. Thomas, what is it you want?”

Thomas cleared his throat, struggling to breathe with the tightened ropes around him. He wondered if Little William was trying to hurry the job along without the others knowing. “Would it be too much to ask for the ropes to be taken off? I know that most, if not all, of you feel I did your folks wrong, but I ask for just that bit of dignity and compassion.”

Jonathan took a second, giving a brief hmm. As he opened his mouth to say his answer, a mass scream sounded, and Thomas was overwhelmed by bodies hitting him from every direction.

“I’d say that’s a no, Thomas,” Jonathan shouted.

Thomas barely made out the words over the cries of the kids and the ripping sounds from his clothing being torn off him. They were scratching and clawing at his flesh, and it only dawned on him when he felt their teeth biting into his flesh and breaking the skin, they’d planned on starting their feast while his heart was still beating.

“Yep! Definitely a no!” Jonathan’s words sounded so far away. A moment later, his face hovered over Thomas’. “Come on guys, at least make sure it’s dead first. We’re not complete animals.”

Thomas got a brief glimpse of the hammer before it smashed into his face, ending the searing pain he felt as his flesh was ripped from his body.

Short Story Saturday: Josh

JOSH

“You think you can just start fucking someone and leave,” I bellow in her face. “Like you'd think I'd just let you leave, Meg?”

She laughs at me. Fucking laughs! She thinks the whole situation is hilarious, but I knew just when she started fucking him. A part of me thought she'd stay, but that, apparently, wasn't going to be the case. I didn't care if she fucked someone else. Hell, I didn't even care if she fucked me. I don't care for all that stuff. If I get tense, I know how to take care of it myself. That's how I was brought up—though I left Jeb, Jack, and Mason long ago, they taught me well how to take care of my own needs. Even if their ways were extremely unorthodox.

They were quick to replace me after I left. I'm pretty sure the kid who took my place is called Tommy. Though, it's probably not his real name, just what the others called him after they took him away from his real family. Sometimes, Mason calls asking me to come back, but I left that life for a reason. I needed to at least appear like a normal person.

That's why I chose Meg. She's the perfect housewife material. Normal in all aspects. A little overweight, brunette, a nice smile, and when we first got together, others looked at me as if I was normal, too, and not like the creepy, single, town butcher they had before I'd hooked up with her. I was approachable on the streets these days. People said hello in greeting while passing me. Now she's going to fuck things up.

“Meg, fuck who you want. Fuck 'em when you want. I don't give a shit. Just stay. I need you here,” I say, not liking the way my voice cracks more than I'd wanted it to. I'm pushing too hard for emotions I don't have. Emotions she knows I don't have, so she knows this is all an act.

“Don't give me that. You need me because I make you seem like an actual person to other people. What the fuck do I get out of it? A shag once or twice a year. Certainly, no emotional connection. Have you ever thought I might want kids? Would you even consider letting me have them?” she screams at me.

Kids? What the fuck? I'd just screw them up. Kids shouldn't be anywhere in my proximity. I open my mouth, but she's already talking again.

“No. You wouldn't, and if you say otherwise now, it's just to keep me here.” She stops and crosses her arms over her chest. “I'm going, Josh. There's nothing you can say or do to make me stay.” She turns away from me.

I grab the lamp from the table on my left. The cord rips free from the plug. It's noisy, but she keeps walking. I rush after her and smash her over the head. She crumples in a heap on the floor.

I straighten out her body, rolling her to her back. I see her chest rise and fall. I think fast, pulling the wire from the lamp, and I turn her on her side. I bring her feet up and her hands down, tying them with the wire almost as if she were a calf at a rodeo and I a cowboy.

I go to the garage in search of lengths of chain and padlocks that I know are in there. I find them and take them to the spare room.

When I return to Meg, she's still unconscious on the floor. I think about untying her and hefting her over my shoulder but decide against it. Instead, I drag her—holding onto the wire that binds her hands and feet together—along the carpet to the spare room. I release the wire and turn her over, seeing the carpet burns on her face and across her stomach where her shirt rode up.

“That's gonna sting,” I say, satisfied.

I grab a stepladder from the corner, placing it in the center of the room under a support beam I normally hang my heavy bag from. I grab three lengths of chain—two longer, one shorter—and a padlock. I wrap one end of the shorter length around the support beam and padlock it to itself, letting the rest dangle down toward the floor. The two longer ones I run over the beam, half of each chain on either side, and step down. I walk toward Meg, and I wrap the other end of the shorter chain around her neck and padlock it to itself, giving her a heavy chain necklace. I pull at the wire tying her hands to her feet and remove it. I grab the two ends of one of the longer chains and wrap an end around each wrist using two more padlocks. She now has matching bracelets to go with her necklace. I move to her feet, doing the same to her ankles that I did her wrists, completing the set with anklets.

Well, she did like to harass me about jewelry. Now she has some; though, it's probably not exactly what she had in mind.

I go to the kitchen and pour a glass of whiskey. I swish it around my mouth before letting it burn down my throat. I don't mind killing. It really isn't my thing, but I don't care either way. I'll let her wake up. Let her decide her own fate. She can agree to stay with me and live or choose to die.

I've nearly finished the bottle of whiskey when Meg starts screaming. I go back to the room where she is. She's jerking the chain on her right wrist only to have it pull her left arm away. I laugh. It's actually an extremely funny sight to see. She falls when she kicks a left leg back and the right is yanked forward.

“Josh, you need to let me go!”

“You agree to stay, and I'll take the chains off,” I tell her with a shrug.

“Fuck you, asshole! You think I'm going to stay here after you do this?”

I pull my phone from my back pocket. I search through my contacts list, finding the name I want, and touch the screen. It rings through. Just when I think he's not going to answer, he does.

“Damn, Josh, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw your name. You change your mind?” Mason says.

“Nah, Mas. I do have a favor to ask, or maybe an offer for fun?”

“Josh, you need to let me go,” Meg yells.

“Hey, is that Meg? The one I've heard about you being with?” Mason asks.

“Yeah, and if you agree with my offer, well, you can meet her.”

“No shit! Whatcha need, Josh?”

“Well, you remember that time you took me deer hunting?” I ask him.

“Yeah?”

“How we finished the day?”

Meg starts screaming for help, but our closest neighbor's a quarter mile away. Maybe if she was outside, they'd hear her but not with her inside the house.

“What with cleaning the deer?” he asks.

“Yeah. Can you help me with something like that but not a deer?”

“Sure thing. Is it Meg?” The excitement in his voice is unmistakable. “Because I'm sure Jeb wouldn't object to a new girl. You know, if you'd rather me just pick her up,” he says.

“Nah, Mas. I've got a better idea, and I think it'll really help out with the business.”

“Hey, Josh, how is the butcher business, anyway?”

“Not bad, but it's not great, either,” I tell him.

“Well, give me a couple hours, and I'll be there. I know the perfect place. You let me know how that meat sells later,” he says and hangs up.

I look at Meg. Her face is streaked with tears, and she's sobbing. She brings her eyes up to meet mine and asks, “Why?”

“What? I gave you a choice. You chose wrong.” I shrug my shoulders and leave the room, shutting the door behind me.