“Why are they saying that?” Gabriel grumbled.
“You’re not really surprised by a government cover-up, are you?” Leopard Print replied. “I would think that you humans would be used to that by now. Clearly, they have no idea what’s going on, but they must offer some explanation, whether it’s true or not. You know how it is.”
The news flicked back to more stories about the Black Virus. Gabriel held his hand up to his shoulder, and the slug crawled onto his palm, leaving a slimy trail across his hand.
“Why are they all joining together that way?” Gabriel asked. “The Schistlings, I mean. I know you have your noninterference clause and all that, but can you at least tell me that much?”
“Because when they join the pool, they become one, a collective. Every time a new Schistling joins this collective, the mass becomes more intelligent. By merging into one amalgamated consciousness, their united front against humanity becomes that much stronger.”
“So this black pool is some new body that they’re putting together? But for Christ’s sake, if they’re rebelling against the human body, if they’re so keen on fighting for their freedom from it, then why would they surrender themselves to yet another body?”
“Do desires always make sense, Gabriel? Do people always make the right choices and live up to their ideals? What the news won’t tell you is that this toxic waste spill has more than doubled in size since last week.”
“Hell. And in the meantime, they’re still trying to link the Black Virus to the damn flu.” Gabriel shuddered. “So they have no idea what they’re doing, and the only one who does is a senile old fool in a nursing home. Yes, I want to do something, but what? The birth of a poisonous new species isn’t the sort of problem I can solve. Why can’t the next Gabriel Schist step up to bat, already? Why can’t someone like Harry Brenton find a cure? Why did you choose me?”
Gabriel put the slug down on the table and left the room. The more space he put between himself and the slug, the less anxious he felt. The hallway was quieter than normal, but it wasn’t a peaceful silence.
Two nurses—the ex-military nurse on West Wing and a new employee—had gotten sick in the last week and never returned to work. Over half of the residents had become infected, their doors marked by black circles. In the rooms where the occasional doors had accidentally been left open, Gabriel saw emaciated marionettes with black eyes staring up at the ceilings.
As he passed one room, an infected woman let out an ear-shattering shriek. Gabriel peered inside. Her black eyes were bulging from their sockets like eight balls popping out of pool table pockets. One hand with oozing red nubs where her fingers had once been was raised in the air, and her mouth was crimson. On her chest lay a bloody finger with a wedding band hugging its base.
Gabriel hurried past, trying to forget what he’d just seen. The groans from all of the surrounding rooms seemed amplified, ringing through his ears and vibrating his fragile bones.
Edna Foster was sitting in her wheelchair, rolling it back and forth in the hallway. As he veered around her, she reached out and grabbed his hand. Her face was pulled back, taut and miserable, but fortunately uninfected. “Please. I need a ride.”
Not right now, Edna. Gabriel tried to remove his hand.
Despite her shakiness, her grip was surprisingly strong. “Please,” she said. “Give me a ride. Just take me around a bit, will ya?”
Sweat rolled down Gabriel’s forehead. He heard another person screaming. A sick, splattering noise. More beeping. Crashes. Death. “Edna, I can’t right now. Please let go. I can’t—”
“Help me. Please, everything is so terrible. So, so terrible. Please, can you take me for a ride? Just a little ride. Please, I wanna go upstairs and maybe get me some nice hot tea while we’re there.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Edna, not right now. I can’t.” He tried to free his hand again, but Edna wouldn’t let go.
A loud noise came from the room he stood outside of, and he leaned to the side to look in there. An infected resident had fallen out of her bed and was dry heaving on the floor. The black, rope-like veins tore open across her flesh, spewing pus.
He hated to watch, to witness another person dying. He started to turn away but stopped when he realized that the old lady could be his chance to capture a Schistling. He eyed the wastebasket in the corner of the room. He could capture the Schistling in there, trap it in the bag, tie it up, and deliver it to the authorities.
The infected woman vomited, and black tar-like mucus sprayed out across the floor of her room. Another Schistling was being born.
Gabriel desperately tried to yank his hand from Edna’s grasp. “Let go of me, Edna! I need to do something!”
She clenched his hand even tighter. Gabriel heard the squalling cry of the newborn Schistling. He couldn’t reach the trash bag unless she let go. He was running out of time. The infected woman was dead. The Schistling’s wriggling, sperm-like body was rising from the puddle of vomit, its crocodile-like jaws gleefully snapping in the air. The Schistling tilted its head, focusing its beady little eyes on Gabriel.
Gabriel anxiously tried to pull away from Edna’s hand, scared that if he pulled too hard it might snap her frail wrist. The Schistling writhed in the vomit, sucking up the black liquid like a newborn feeding off its mother’s milk. Then, it slithered up the wall and out to the open window, where it proceeded to effortlessly shred the protective screen with its teeth and make its getaway to the ocean.
Gabriel had missed his chance.
“Please…” Edna begged, blissfully ignorant of the scene unfolding in the adjacent room.
“I can’t help you!” Gabriel cried. “I can’t help any of you!” He ripped his hand from Edna’s clutches, which sent Edna’s wheelchair rolling backward.
She scowled. “And I thought you were one of the good ones. Boy, was I wrong.”
Gabriel stepped forward to apologize, but she gave him a look of such sheer hatred that he backed away. He hobbled down the hall as fast as his cane would allow. By the time his room finally came into view, he felt as if his tenuous connection to reality was severed. Is any of this real? The slugs. The Schistlings. Any of it?
He went straight to bed. The sun had barely sunk to the horizon, but Gabriel just wanted to get the day over with. He curled up under the covers and closed his eyes. Sleep. That was all he wanted to do until the end of his miserable life.
Chapter 35:
Tainted
Gabriel woke up on the floor. He had a splitting headache and a heavy feeling on his chest, as if a tree had fallen on him. He was naked except for a johnny gown that he didn’t remember putting on. He could see the ceiling, but he was trapped within his body, unable to move.
Sleep paralysis. He’d experienced it before but not the same way. His mind was still torn between consciousness and unconsciousness, between reality and the dream world. He listened to the heavy drumbeat of his heart. The more he listened, the faster it became. Wake up, Gabriel, you old fool. He heard the vague hum of voices from Bernard’s television, accompanied by the former truck driver’s loud snores. Call bells rang in the corridor.
Something sloshed across the floor. He couldn’t turn his head to look. The slippery sound became louder.
He tried to move. He tried to breathe. Nothing. Something cool that felt like a melting Popsicle poked him in the leg. His stomach contracted into a tight, hard ball. The wet object slid over his calf then up his thigh. It slipped under the hem of the johnny gown, feeling like a snake coated in cold mucus.
Gabriel tried to call for help, but his mouth couldn’t move. Maybe it was a slug. Please, please, please be a slug.
The snake-like creature wriggled up to the base of Gabriel’s neck, leaving a trail of stickiness behind it. A million tiny hooks pricked his skin as the thing clung to him. Chills ran up and down his body. He couldn’t look or speak. The only thing he could do was feel.
An array of long, needle-like teeth pierced his chest. Gabriel’s mind reeled in panic. The pain was hot and immediate. He heard sucking sounds, then chewing.
“We are alive,” the thing whispered. “We are the collective. And we will end you.”
