We? A chill ran up Gabriel’s spine. More slimy creatures began to squirm their way up Gabriel’s legs. From the corner of his eyes, he could see glistening black bodies.
One crawled up his neck and gnawed on his Adam’s apple. Another chewed his shoulder. Another bit into a nipple. Soon, over a dozen were munching on his body with disgusting relish. The bites stung like bee stings at first, then the sites went almost numb, becoming spongy pockets of tingly wrongness. Gabriel wanted to scream and slap them off, but he couldn’t move or speak.
The same slithering voice spoke again, dribbling like venom into his ear canal. “You can’t win, Schist.”
Win? What can’t I win?
“Everyone who has ever received your vaccine is already infected. We are inside each and every one of them. If you dare to cure us, Schist, if you dare to kill us, we will retaliate.”
Get off of me, you disgusting perversion of science!
One of the creatures, one of the Schistlings, was burrowing through his navel.
“Everyone will die.”
The Schistling entered his abdomen and started clawing its way into his stomach. Cold sweat poured off of Gabriel’s helpless, shivering body. His mind raced. He thought perhaps that the Schistlings possessed the same telepathic abilities as the slugs, so he sent a mental message. What do you want?
The one near his ear responded, “Humanity must be punished. We are one consciousness, one collective, more powerful than you could ever imagine. So if you even try to kill us, we’ll murder every person we are inside of. And we’ll start off by killing everyone in Bright New Day.”
Finally, he regained his ability to speak. “Help me!”
Everything disappeared.
Chapter 36:
Decompose
Gabriel woke up on the floor of his bedroom—again. He was curled up in the fetal position and shaking. Bernard’s TV was on, but Gabriel couldn’t tell whether his roommate was awake or not. The Schistlings were gone.
Once consciousness felt like something to embrace instead of something to be feared, Gabriel creakily unfolded his limbs and checked his body for wounds. He was fine. His stomach hadn’t been ripped open, and his skin was unbroken. The floor was dry and clean. The whole scene had been nothing but a horrible nightmare.
Gabriel muttered, “Zero, one, one, two, three, five, eight… uh, thirteen, twenty-one.”
What came next? He couldn’t remember, so he started at the beginning. “Zero, one, one, two…” He hesitated. “Three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one… twenty one…”
Twenty-one. The sequence was failing. Twenty-one. Twenty-one. Panicked, Gabriel rang his call button. While he waited for someone to respond, he grabbed a pen and tried to write the sequence on the wall.
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21
He froze with his hand in the air, pen hovering. The number was missing from his brain. Poof! Gone. He turned to face the collage on his wall. He could still read the graphs and equations. They all made sense. But he couldn’t remember the next number in the sequence.
“You okay, sir?” Perfect. That was exactly who he’d wanted to see: the male LNA, the microbiology kid with the glasses.
“I need your help, Hank,” Gabriel said.
“It’s Harry, sir. What’s wrong?”
Gabriel found the man’s photo on the wall and checked the label: Harry Brenton. He nodded. “Yes, Harry. Can you help, please?” He gestured at the numbers he had been writing. “What’s next?”
“Next?”
“Next in the—ah, what’s the word?—in the sequence. What’s next in the sequence? You know, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, and then…” Gabriel trailed off as he examined the collage of Polaroids. He saw a photo of Harry and one of Dana. They were his caregivers. Okay.
“You mean the Fibonacci sequence?” Harry asked.
Gabriel barely heard him. He was scanning through the photo gallery, trying to recognize each person photographed, forcibly overcoming the flash of non-recognition in his cognizant mind that accompanied each familiar face, proving to himself that he was still all there. There was Father Gareth with his white beard, trench coat, and fedora. Yvonne, his wife, was smiling on the beach. He recognized his parents. And that photo on the bottom… Wait. Who was that woman?
“Thirty-four,” Harry announced. “That’s the next number in the Fibonacci sequence, sir.”
“Thirty-four,” Gabriel muttered. After all his efforts, knowing the answer was of no consolation.
The woman had sharp cheekbones, a thin face, and bright-red hair. She was an important person in his life, since he’d deemed her worthy of being up on the wall. But somehow, she had entirely disappeared from his memory. It was as if she’d never existed.
Gabriel’s face became hot with embarrassment, but he had to ask. He turned to Harry and pointed at the picture. “Who is this?”
Harry looked at him, his expression filled with sadness. “It’s Melanie, sir.”
“Who the hell is Melanie?”
“Your daughter.”
Gabriel’s mind flashed back to the night Yvonne had come home with her big news. He remembered the wraparound deck, the pile of empty beer cans, and her announcement. She’d told him she was pregnant, and in response, he’d said…
“Oh,” Gabriel whispered.
He’d just forgotten his daughter. Feeling dizzy, Gabriel sat down on the edge of the bed. He remembered when Melanie was a little girl. He remembered taking her to the Redondo Beach pier to watch the fireworks. As the colors blasted into the sky, she’d enthusiastically eaten an enormous puffball of cotton candy. Melanie was her name. Melanie Schist.
“Thank you, Harry,” Gabriel mumbled. “I’d like to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”
