Chapter 24:
Michael
On the third day, at two thirty in the morning, Gabriel was awakened by the obnoxious static-filled blaring of his alarm clock. Still fully dressed, he slowly roused his creaky bones out of bed.
Why did I set the alarm for such a ridiculous time? Oh, wait. That’s right. Michael.
Bernard was still awake and, from the sounds on the other side of the curtain, watching an old Bogart movie. But that was okay, as Gabriel wasn’t worried about Bernard overhearing him when Michael showed. His roommate, though always friendly, was so wrapped up in his daily rituals that he often seemed to forget that Gabriel even existed. Surprisingly, Bernard was turning out to be the best roommate Gabriel had ever had.
Gabriel glanced at his bedside table, hoping there might be some leftover coffee, but the mug was empty. He pushed the mug aside and noticed something behind it. A bizarre figurine had been left there. The six-inch wooden statue’s head and shoulders were leaned against the lamp as if the doll was taking a nap.
Gabriel picked it up. He’d seen many similar dolls during that one time he’d impulsively vacationed down in Mexico for the annual Día de Muertos celebration. The Day of the Dead doll was a smiling skeleton garbed in bright-colored clothing and a wide-brimmed sombrero. The doll clutched marigold flowers in its bony hand, and its circular black eyes were just reminiscent enough of the Black Virus’s victims to make him shudder.
“Hey, Bernard?” Gabriel called.
“Yep.”
“Did anyone come in here while I was asleep?”
After a pause, Bernard replied, “I dunno, buddy. I haven’t seen anybody come in here in at least seven or eight days. I’m starving.”
The doll’s other hand was clutching a folded-up slip of paper about the size of a fortune cookie strip. Gabriel plucked the note from the tiny hand and unfolded it. The print was too small to read, so he got up and placed it under the microscope.
Don’t let the past define the future. Follow the new path, Gabriel.
The note was typed in Courier font, italicized, and perfectly spaced. The figure fell out of Gabriel’s shaking hands. From the floor, the skeleton doll’s black eyes stared up at him. A deep knot of discomfort settled inside his guts. He didn’t like the idea of people sneaking into his room and placing skeleton dolls beside his bed. Pantsless Bernard shuffled over to the bathroom, gripping his invisible steering wheel.
“Bernard, are you sure no one came in? Just a little bit ago, maybe?”
Bernard stared at him. “Nope.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Averting his eyes from the skeleton doll’s mocking gaze, Gabriel glanced at the clock. 2:58. Michael would arrive soon. He drank a glass of water, wishing it was whiskey.
Gabriel stood before the window, resting his head on the cool glass. It was dark outside, so he turned off his bedside lamp and allowed his eyes to adjust. Outside, beyond the unlit parking lot, was a cluster of bushes, a pine tree, some orchids, and a fence.
Gabriel stood there, waiting. He tapped his foot impatiently. He looked at the clock: 3:00. Anytime now, Michael. Anytime.
Gabriel’s legs trembled under the weight of his agitation. He checked the time again: 3:02. Michael was late, despite the slug’s assurance that he was very exact. Gabriel stared out the window, trying not to get too worked up.
Something moved in the bushes. A tall shadow emerged and crept forward. That had to be Michael. But Michael definitely wasn’t a slug. He was much too big for that. He was bigger than a dog, almost the same size as a man. Was he a human?
Gabriel strained his eyes to catch a better glimpse. The dark shadow lurched upright. Its body writhed through the grass, coming toward Gabriel. No, it wasn’t human. It looked like a tall, gelatinous blob.
The shadow raised its head, revealing two long antennas nearly as big around as Gabriel’s forearms. Michael was a six-foot-tall slug. And that enormous slug was standing at Gabriel’s window, peering inside at him.
Chapter 25:
Gathering
Michael’s glossy skin glistened in the moonlight. His massive grey-and-black speckled body had an almost crystalline texture that was oddly beautiful. His antennas waved in a curious manner, with moist little black eyes on the ends of both stalks. With every twist and turn, the creature’s inner musculature bulged and flexed with a sense of purpose. Michael was a slick, powerful machine, yet at the same time, an elegant dancer.
With one antenna, Michael tapped on the glass.
Gabriel raised the window, nervously aware that the only thing between him and the giant slug was a thin screen. The smell of ocean saltwater drifted inside the room. On the left side of the slug’s neck was a giant pneumostome, a large hole from which air entered into the slug’s single lung. Gabriel could hear the enormous creature breathing. The slug’s respirations sounded like those of a relaxing horse.
Gabriel tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He swallowed. “I… um… hello.” He cleared his throat. “Hello?”
The slug’s pneumostome heaved in and out. Every breath sounded slow and steady but with all the thunder of a racecar revving its engine. “Hey,” the slug replied.
Gabriel rocked back on the balls of his feet. Despite the casualness of the tone, Michael’s voice was incredibly deep, but at the same time, quiet. The slug sounded like a whispering giant, one who knew that only the slightest pressure was needed, and that speaking any louder might shatter a few eardrums.
“Um. Hi?” Gabriel mumbled.
“That’s a mighty fine trench coat you’ve got there,” Michael said. “I’ve gotta say, Gabriel, you’re looking sharp, sharp as a blade.”
Gabriel had no idea how to respond. The whole situation was just too weird. He considered reciting the Fibonacci sequence.
The slug cocked his head to the side, antennas momentarily retracting then extending again. “Ah, man. Sorry about that. I’m terrible at introductions.”
“So I take it that you’re Michael, then? I mean… Slug-Michael?”
The slug’s antennas reeled back a bit. “Cripes! Slug-Michael?” Michael chuckled, emitting a deep reverberating noise. “You’re kidding me. Slug-Michael. When you say it that way, it just sounds bad. And when I say bad, I don’t mean bad in the kitschy slang sense of the word. Listen, man. Just plain ol’ Michael suits me fine. We’ll stick to the basics, agreed?”
“Michael,” Gabriel said. “Yes. Sure.”
