Down the hall, Bob Baker screamed for him to shut up. Gabriel took in a deep breath, and his laughter faded. The only thing that remained were his tears.
“Marvelous.” He glared at the slug. “You’re still here.”
“Yes.” As it spoke, the slug’s tiny mouth opened and closed.
“Okay, listen.” Gabriel shook his head. “I know that you’re just a figment of my imagination, some stray hallucination caused by my degenerating brain. I don’t know why the hell my consciousness decided to imagine a talking slug, but—”
“I’m not a figment of your imagination, Gabriel.”
“Yes you are. Don’t confuse me. I’m still going to talk to you, just in case my consciousness has anything important to say, but don’t even pretend to be real.” Gabriel wiped sweat from his forehead, hands shaking. “Why are you here?”
“Well, I did come here for a purpose, after all. Seriously, Gabriel, if a slug talks to you, don’t you think there’s a good reason for it?”
Gabriel stood up and began pacing. The sight of Robbie Gore’s empty bed made him shudder. He considering pinching himself but dreaded the possibility of doing so and then finding that the slug remained in place. It’s not real. Don’t forget that.
He sat down again, squinting at the slug’s face. “I wasn’t aware that slugs spoke,” Gabriel muttered. “Actually, last I heard, the only thing that slugs are any good for is destroying gardens.”
“You don’t understand,” the slug said. “But none of you do, not really. Humanity has never understood slugs. Look at me. Doesn’t my slimy, odd-shaped physical body seem a bit… odd? A bit unreal? A bit alien?”
“Oh, yes. The poor, poor plight of slugs.”
“Very amusing. My point is, all of us, the slugs, we don’t come from your Earth.”
“No? Ha! So you’re not simply a talking slug but also a UFO conspiracy theorist!”
“Gabriel, we slugs come from above. We come from the sky. We are the protectors of humanity.”
Gabriel laughed again, but his laugh was forced. “You? You call yourselves the protectors of humanity?”
“Yes,” the slug replied calmly.
“And… what? Okay. Tell me. How exactly does a slug do any protecting when the only speed it’s capable of is slow?”
“Heh.” The slug wriggled its antennas. “Trust me, we don’t have to move slowly. We choose to.”
“Pardon me for being a bit dubious of that claim.”
“Oh, your doubts are completely understandable,” the slug said, its antennas springing out like bolts of electricity. “But really, we can move at any speed we like. See, you have to understand, these slimy bodies aren’t our original form. On the inside, we are actually incredible beings of pure light. But surprisingly, we’ve come to appreciate these strange, wriggling bodies. These bodies are wonderfully humble and low to the ground. They’re delightfully inconspicuous, so that we can watch over you without ever being suspected. We’ve chosen to stay in them in service of our master. We’ve—”
“Your master? Who’s that?”
“Our master? Oh, you mean the great Sky Amoeba, of course!”
“That’s enough,” Gabriel said, fists clenched, holding his temper at bay like a lit flame.
“Oh, come—”
“No!” Gabriel snapped. “I’ve heard enough. I know that you’re just some rogue piece of my subconscious causing mischief, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“But—”
“Get out. Now!” Gabriel jabbed a finger at the door.
The slug turned to look at the door, an action which made Gabriel feel even more ridiculous. How the hell was a slug supposed to walk out the door? The talking slug turned back toward Gabriel. It didn’t crawl away.
Fine. If it didn’t leave, he’d make it leave. Gabriel raised his fist. The shadow of his hand fell over the slug’s helpless little body. But the slug stood its ground. Gabriel glared at it.
“I care about you,” the slug said. “I’m here to help. I’m here to deliver a message. You can either listen, or you can run away. But I remember that strong-willed man inside you all too well. I still see the rugged genius who never runs away, even when the entire world seems against him. You’re not a coward. Are you?”
Gabriel held his fist in place. Was he?
“Are you?” the slug repeated.
Gabriel hesitated. “No.” He slumped and put his hand out on the table.
The slug crawled into his palm, its damp, wriggling little body tickling his skin.
“I still don’t believe you,” Gabriel said. “I still think you’re a hallucination of some kind.”
“I know.”
“So what’s this message you have for me? Tell me that much, at least.”
The slug turned its antennas down. “Gabriel, there’s a storm on the horizon.” The odd geniality that had been in the slug’s metallic voice was gone. Its tone had turned murky and foreboding. “Tomorrow. That’s when it starts, Gabriel. That’s when everything changes.”
“What happens tomorrow?” Gabriel asked.
“The Black Virus will begin here. Right here, tomorrow, at Bright New Day. And once the virus begins cutting its bloody path through humanity’s corpses, you will be the only one who can stop it.”
