(John)

“Detective,” he addressed a man in a brown blazer scribbling madly on a notepad. “How many kids saw this?”

“Eleven, boss,” replied Detective Handly.

“Terrible. They’ll be scarred for life.”

Edmunds took his hat off and ran a hand over his quickly graying hair.

“Get the names of all those kids and put them in the national database,” he said. “At least half will end up with emotional or social problems. The NSA needs to keep tabs on them from now on.”

Handley nodded and continued scribbling.

The sheriff stepped off of the entryway tile and down onto the orange shag carpet of the sunken living room. The decor of the house was purposely 70’s chic, which was making a comeback of sorts, but he didn’t even notice. His attention was on the bloated naked man hanging upside down in the center of the room. A ceiling fan, seemingly ripped off it’s moorings, lay in a corner. The electric wires which formerly powered the device descended from the popcorn ceiling and wrapped snugly around the dead man’s discolored big toes. Edmonds found it amazing that they were strong enough to hold such a large man without breaking. He must have weighed close to 300 pounds.

The wide-eyed, terrified face of the dead man unsettled Edmonds. How he died was a mystery. There were no puncture wounds and no signs of strangulation or asphyxiation.

Suicide could likely be ruled out. No furniture was in the room. It appeared to have all been hastily thrown into other parts of the house. Scattered about on the floor were a half-dozen open and empty soup cans. The greenish residue coating the interior of the cans also streaked the carpet, walls, ceiling and the body of the deceased.

Edmonds snapped a plastic glove onto his hand and picked one of the cans up. What he saw made his stomach turn.

(Steve)

While he was no medical expert, what he saw looked like partial brain matter.  The telltale loops and curls of gray tissue always sickened him.  When he was a boy, not much older than the kids betrayed by this night, he found a raccoon on the side of the road.  It had been hit by a car, which ripped open its skull.  The maggots had been feasting on it all day, but the gray and white pattern was clearly visible.  He poked at it with a stick.  When it oozed and squirted, he ran.  That experience was branded into his memory forever.  He wished he could run now.

Instead, he stepped closer to the body to look at the head more closely.  He wasn’t going to touch it.  Not his job.  Careful not to disturb any obvious clues below the body, including the small puddle of goo, he crouched down and leaned over to have a better look at the back of the skull.  He didn’t notice any obvious lacerations or abrasions. Moving to the front, avoiding the gaze of the bulbous dead eyes looking back at him, he noticed some of the green liquid coming from the nostril of the victim.  As he was turning away in disgust, a drop fell from there to his elbow, which had briefly swung below the corpse as he maneuvered and twisted up and away from the body.  He didn’t notice.

***

Handley was a bit confused by two parallel lines a couple feet apart that streaked through some splatter heading towards the back door.  He followed the tracks to the back sliding glass door where they became an artistic display of matching arcs and lines.  Something with wheels was adjusting to the doorway.  Strangely, the tracks just stopped there.  Looking out of the glass door, nothing was visible outside.

Heading back into the living room, he commented to Edmunds, “Boss, the strangest thing back there-”

His report was cut short by two strong hands encircling his throat.  Caught off guard, he fell back landing hard.  Only then did he see the enraged face of the Sheriff staring back at him.  His eyes were full of hostility, but he felt like they were look through him, not at him.  The vices around his neck tightened to the point where he couldn’t breath and he could feel his own pulse pounding strongly in his head.  He fought feebly at first, until the fight or flight instinct came in.  Then he became a tornado of twists, scratches and punches.  Edmunds’ body was too heavy and his grip was too tight.  Handley soon felt consciousness slip away and the tornado dissipated, leaving silence.  

(John)

Edmunds stood up and walked to the corner where the cans were piled up.  He reached down,  selected one, then returned to the unconscious body of the detective.  Kneeling down, he grabbed the man’s jaw and turned his face towards him.

The lid remained attached to the can. Edmunds brought the jagged edge of it up against Handley’s temple. Millimeters away, a green, oozing, slug-like creature pulsated and twisted. Already it had made its way through the layers of skin and burrowed against bone. Suddenly its efforts intensified as it became aware of the can approaching. Edmonds thought he saw an eye squint closed on the ugly little thing, but couldn’t be sure.

His hand shook. Edmonds summoned his nerve and quickly scrapped down against Handley’s exposed skull, dislodging the parasite. He closed the lid to the can once it was fully inside and dropped the whole thing into a plastic evidence bag.

“Handley!” he tried to shout, but his quivering voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for such a situation. He felt like screaming and running out into the street. But he was the sheriff. If ever there was a time to keep it together, this was it. He tried to steady himself and try again.

“Handley!” he shouted and slapped the detective. The sound of authority returned to his voice even though his insides were wracked by fear.

Handley’s eyes fluttered open. “What?... Boss, what the hell is the matter with you!”

He quickly scrambled to his feet and readied to defend himself if it should again become necessary.

“Easy!” the sheriff ordered. “I did that for your own good.” He held out a handkerchief. “You’ve got a bloody, gooey mess on the side of your head.

The detective eyed Edmonds suspiciously, then put his hand to his temple. When he brought it away it was covered with red and green. A brownish slime persisted in the spots where the two blended together.

“Look Handley!” The sheriff held the evidence bag up with his other hand. The detective’s eye’s widened as he saw the tip of the slug force the lid of the can part way open. “This was eating into your flesh and you didn’t even know it! I had to act fast.”

Handley starred for another long moment before the registering Edmonds’ words.

“So your solution was to choke me out?” he asked incredulously.

“I had to. There was no time to explain!”

Detective Handley respected his boss, but thought some of his decisions were better suited for crap 1970’s B movies than real life. He sighed and took the handkerchief. He wiped at his wounds and felt a light tingling. As he removed more of the goo his dormant nerve cells came to life and tingle became pin pricks which then became a burn.

“Yeooow!” he exclaimed in pain. “I can’t believe I didn’t feel anything.”

“Maybe this greenish sludge deadens the nerves - like Novocain,” Edmonds suggested.

“Yeah? Let me see your elbow boss,” Handly replied and pulled a sharpened pencil from inside his coat.

Puzzled, Edmonds did as he was asked and brought his arm up in front of him, presenting his elbow. Handly placed one hand up against the bottom of it and brought the pencil closer. Just as Edmonds spotted a green dribble of goo on the top side of his elbow, Handly jammed the tip of pencil through it and into his boss’s skin.

He quickly retracted his arm and opened his mouth to yell… and then paused. There was no pain at all. The disgusting slime definitely numbed human nerve cells.

“Handly!” he boomed and frantically wiped the goo onto a clean spot of some nearby curtains. “That was uncalled for!”

“Did it hurt?”

“Well, no.”

“Then no harm done, boss,” the detective said with a barely noticeable smirk.

“Alright. Enough of this,” Edmonds said impatiently. “We’ve got a real situation here. In addition to this man-eating slug, one of those cans had what appeared to be human brain inside it.”

The detective also got back to the business at hand. “And these tracks,” he said pointing to the floor. “It looks like something was wheeled to the back door, but they disappear there.”

(Steve)

“Is this the can?”  Handly held up a can.  He held up the side of it so Edmunds could see the label.

“Shit,” he replied once he saw the label: Can-O-Brains - Spooky and Goopy.

He couldn’t hide his embarrassment.  Clearing his throat, a sign to let it go, he turned back to business.   He looked over the scene and followed the tracks with his eyes.

“It would appear someone else was here,” Edmunds said.  “That’s concerning on so many levels.  Clearly there is a biological threat here.  Maybe some weird terrorist plot.  We need to get out now and cordon off this place until the CDC, FBI or someone other than us shows up.  Someone’s  going to want to check this out, I’m sure of it.”

The two men worked away from the body.  

A sound transitioned from inaudible to a clear whistling slowly.  Enough so that they almost missed it.  At nearly the same time they each stopped and tilted their head to awkward angles in an attempt to triangulate the source.

Their eyes met.  Then widened.  What else would this odd scene throw at them.  Their feet would not move.  

Handly spotted it first, the inverted body started to vibrate, which led it into a slowly expanding circular motion, as if the fan were still there and the body was attached to it.  As the the diameter of the circle reached about three feet, boils grew out in all directions on the face and skull.  

The whistling sound was coming from there, that much they could tell.  It was growing in volume and ominous pitch.  Instinct or fear took root in Edmunds.  He took a fistful of Handly’s coat collar and yanked him backwards, throwing both their bodies through the plate glass window in the front of the house.  Right at that moment a series of rapid popping sounds replaced the whistling and splats could be heard as objects were ejected from the dead man’s head in all directions hitting the walls and whatever else was in their path.  Edmunds felt at least one whiz by him as he rolled away from the house coming to rest against a tombstone that read: Jack Dup.

He glanced over at  Handly who ended crumpled up against a tree.  He could see penetration holes on the man’s clothing.  He’d been hit by whatever was shot in their direction.

***

Wanda woke up in complete darkness.  Even with eyes adjusted to pitch black, she couldn’t see her hands in front of her face.  Her hands search about but only felt the coldness of stone or concrete.  As she tried to rollover, she realized she was actually pinned down.  She felt what she thought were small cables wrapped around her torso and extending out of her reach.

“Hello?”  She cried out to the darkness.  The sound did not reverberate back to her.  Wherever she was, it was big.  Really big.

“Hello,” whispered a lisping voice right near her ear.

(John)

“Where am I!”

“That’s not important.”

“Why is it so dark?!” she cried to the strange voice nearby.

“So I can see if anything is glowing.”

Click. Brightness from directly above Wanda illuminated her body. She was still blind to her surroundings, since it shown strongly on her face.

“Please!” Her voice was high and she was on the verge of tears. “Let me see you!”

“Certainly”, the voice said in a soft lisp.

A few clicks later the overhead light was replaced by standard fluorescent tubes on the high ceiling. Wanda looked about to find that she was strapped to a wide table. The top of which contained a drain and a raised lip ran around the outer edge. Various computerish things and medical looking devices sat on wheeled carts nearby.

The windowless room was as large as a gymnasium. At least 50 other tables were evenly spaced across the floor and most were empty. A few appeared to host bodies covered with white sheets. Wanda screamed and turned her attention to the only other living person in sight.

“Let me go!” she sobbed hysterically. “Please, please let me go!”

A short man with a wrinkled head leered at Wanda through baggy eyes. The artificial light added to the pallor of his skin.

“Go?” he smiled, showing coffee stained teeth and a small spit bubble on his lower lip. “You’re not going anywhere… ever again.”

He stuck his hands in the pocket of his lab coat and began to laugh as Wanda’s lip quivered and a tear rolled down her face.

“Quit scaring her, Glumdino,” an approaching voice sounded from another part of the large room.

The lips of the wrinkled man dropped into a frown.

“I told you not to call me that!” he said angrily before turning and shuffling away.

Wanda turned towards the newcomer. He was tall, thin and had his short blond hair styled up and forward to a point above his forehead. It was a hairstyle she had noticed fairly often among the younger crowd. She guessed he was in his late twenties and unlike Glumdino, wore a genuine smile on his pock-marked face. She guessed he must have had quite the battle with acne a decade earlier.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully and blinked at Wanda through thick glasses. “My name’s Danny.”

Although thankful not to be dealing with the scary old man, she was still plenty frightened.

“Will you please let me go?” she pleaded.

Danny’s smile faded.

“Hrm… no. I’m not allowed to do that. But don’t listen to Gardino,” he offered hopefully. “You may yet live through all of this.”

“What?!” Wanda was taken aback. “You’re saying I might die?”

“Uh… let’s talk about that later.”

Wanda watched Danny take a pen from a pocket protector and start writing on a clipboard. A tie and sweater peeked out of the neckline of his lab coat. He had another pen behind one ear and it seemed his forehead was getting moist.

“Am I sick?” she asked.

Danny stopped writing and looked into Wanda’s beautiful, brown eyes. Up until a few weeks ago his worked consisted of doing autopsies on the recently deceased. He wasn’t used to talking to people other than his equally socially awkward co-workers. And none of them were even female.

He had the full Quincy series on DVD and likened himself to be cut from the same mold as the protagonist of that old 1970’s television drama.

Quincy was the Los Angeles County medical examiner and solved crimes with his problem solving intellect. The thing Danny liked the most though, is that Quincy was also a hit with the girls in spite of his lack of good looks or sexy body.

The beginning of each episode showed clips of the Q-man in action while the exciting theme music made the heart pound in anticipation. Danny’s favorite scene had Quincy on a yacht with a bikini clad hottie laying out in the sun. Quincy, while wearing long pants, sweater and a tie, brought her a cocktail. Woo-hoo! You just knew he was going to get lucky on that boat ride!

Yep, Quincy and Danny were cut from the same cloth.

Or so he thought.

Now, however, there was a real live woman in front of him and he was starting to clam up. Quincy wouldn’t do that. No way. He would say something smart and charming.

“You’re very pretty for a lady with no legs.”

 (Steve)

***

Water surged in rhythmic pulses from the broken sprinkler at the corner of the lawn, like blood percolating from a chest wound of a dying soldier,  leaving a stain on the sidewalk that everyone avoided.  An ant patiently followed the edge of the small stream, looking for some way to cross it. Instinct driving its search forward, it avoided other obstacles.  A dog, pulling hard on a leash tethered to an uninterested arm of a young lady, unintentionally crushed the ant with a stomp of its street-worn pad and carried the ant far over the watery impasse, depositing it with the next deadly step.  One leg of the small insect danced above the lifeless corpse, as if it had a life of its own.  If given a choice the ant might have chosen a different route, but fate stepped in and made the decision for it.

Across the street, the body of Handly rose suddenly, startling Edmunds, who was checking for a pulse.

His face was pale.  Even more than usual. But it was the far away look in his eyes that was most unsettling to Edmunds.  Edmunds spoke to his colleague, but the words drifted off into the night, unheard, as if they had never been spoken.  

Handly shed the strong grip Edmunds had on him, rising to his feet and shuffling away from the house.  Edmunds’ every attempt to stop or even slow the smaller man was futile.  He kept pace, trying desperately to reach him verbally or stop him physically.  He glanced around with desperation in his eyes, but onlookers and other personnel backed off in confusion and fear.

When they were several houses away, Handly stopped.  He inhaled the night air deeply  and turned, in an odd jerking twist, facing Edmunds.  His eyes began to regain focus.  For a moment Edmunds felt a sense of relief. But just for a moment.  It was the realization that Handly was laser focused on the wound on his arm that unnerved him.  Handly took in another deep breath as a stream of saliva escaped his parting lips.

***

Danny returned from another room in full surgical garb.  He carried a scalpel and small metal bowl.  

“Please forgive me,” was all he said before turning on an overhead lamp.

She did not feel the sharp blade slice deeply into her.  She might not have known he was doing anything if not for the blood that shot out at him.  Her disbelief that this was actually happening allowed her mind to wander, imagining faces and other shapes in the blood spatter that adorned his white surgical gown.

She found it odd that she felt no physical discomfort.  Her growing sense of concern came when she realized his complete disregard for the amount of blood she was losing.  There was no transfusion bag or IV of any sort.  He nonchalantly pulled out and set aside an organ of some sort, but she wasn't sure which one it was.

“I know you're around here somewhere,” he muttered to himself.  His face inched closer as he cut out and discarded other pieces of flesh and internals.

She asked herself why she was not shocked by this scene she was starring in.  There was no answer.

“What the fuck are you doing,” she finally spat out, but there was no real emotion behind the words. They were contrived, to appease some weak, rational inner voice.

Danny ignored her, slicing away.  She could not see his mouth behind the surgical mask, but she was sure by the squint and gleam in his dark eyes that he was enjoying this, and was probably grinning from ear to ear.

“There you are!” His triumphant words startled her.  

He pulled a clear, greenish sack from her abdominal cavity.  It was still attached to something inside by a slender umbilical cord.

“Ouch,” he exclaimed, dropping the sack back inside her.  They both looked at the tear in his glove and the small drop of blood clearly visible on the tip of his newly exposed finger.

“Sucks to be you,” she said coldly to him.

***

The cool night air rushed through his thinning hair.  He used to love that feeling when he was younger, riding his Harley with the guys.  That was before the accident.  He hadn't even thought of it since he brought Wanda home.  

Now Dean was flying down Waylon Drive, what the locals all called The Widowmaker.  The hairpin turns with the rocky border on one side and a ravine drop on the other had led to many untimely endings.

“Gotta go, gotta go…” he repeated endlessly to himself.

Somehow managing to keep the wheelchair under just enough control, he navigated curves like an expert luger.  His hands, while calloused by months in the chair, couldn't keep up with the extreme friction and had ripped open soon after he started his battle with The Widowmaker.  Blood coated the handrail and splashed about haphazardly, making control even more difficult.

He saw lights ahead, just beyond another couple of bends, so he did his best to begin decelerating.  

Several bright road work lights had been erected to illuminate the area.  Three military humvees were blocking the road.  

Dean saw several guns, held by cold-eyed soldiers, aimed directly at him as he came to a stop a few yards away.  

“I'm sorry son, but you'll have to go back,” a salt-n-pepper haired soldier informed him.

***

(John)

Danny grabbed something that looked like salad tongs and fished around inside Wanda. He again retrieved the green sack and deposited it into a glass receptacle. Then he calmly cleaned and band-aided his finger.

“Hey Poindexter, did you forget that you sliced a giant hole in me?”

“Oh, sorry miss”, he said sheepishly. “I have to follow protocol or I could get fired.”

Wanda rolled her eyes.

Danny quickly pulled on fresh latex gloves and turned his attention back to the gaping hole in her stomach. He grabbed a clear plastic tube attached to a flexible hose and poked it into her gut. A whirling noise emanated from somewhere below the table and blood and green goo started up the hose.

“What are you doing!” Wanda demanded over the noise.

Danny said nothing and continued vacuuming.

“There!” He announced triumphantly. “No more green inside you. I can sew you up.”

“Really?” She felt very little concern for her health or anything else, but knew she should care. “What about that thing you took out of me? Don’t you think I’ll need it later?”

“Ha! Huh? Are you kidding?” Danny lifted a the beaker holding a disgusting green slug. “If I put this back inside you, you’d be a goner for sure.”

Wanda stared at the horrible creature. A section of its gooey surface near one end puckered at different angles. She thought it similar to an eye getting a good look around.

“No. I mean that other large thing you took out of me.”

“Oh right. That’s your kidney. The little swerm - that’s what we call the little buggers, swerms. It ate right through the top of your urinary tract and other important stuff connected to it, so I just pulled it out. Don’t worry though, the green goo these things secret not only make for a wonderful nerve anesthetic, but causes the blood to clot, minimizing internal bleeding. It wants you to live as long as possible while it eats, see?”

She had a feeling Danny was smiling again under his mask.

Wanda remained stone faced, but could feel some pain now. It was dull, but increasing.

“Er…” Danny started again. “Uh, but the good news is that you have another kidney. So you might just make it.”

Both remained silent as he stitched her up and inserted an IV into her strapped down arm. “This will help you recover… if you do recover.” Danny sighed. “Anyway, you’ll be kinda out of it for a few days.”

Danny stood and looked down on her, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I guess I should close your robe.”

She noticed sweat break out across his brown.

“I’ll play some nice music, so you can get some sleep.” He scuttled rapidly away. Moments later, the lights in the giant lab dimmed and soon soft jazz floated out of the intercom.

It could be worse, Wanda thougth.

Danny was right about her being ‘out of it’. Her consciousness began to drift. First to that dumbass Dean. If he wasn’t so damn weird he would have been the one looking under the table. Not her. When that - what did the nerd call it? A swerm? When that thing scrunched up and sprang at her face, she tried to pull back. Unfortunately her waist was flat on the floor due to her lack of legs and she wasn’t able to maneuver fast enough. That damn thing made it past her lips and cut off her air. This was all dumbass Dean’s fault.

Wanda lost track of time and drifted into a half sleep. Strange fuzzy dreams came and went.

Unbeknownst to her, a tall thin figure slowly approached. He carried two glasses with clear liquid and set them on a tray next.

“Miss, are you awake?”

The words sounded very far away. Wanda did not react.

One by one, he released the straps holding her down. His breathing increased as he opened her robe. He grabbed one of the glasses and quickly downed the liquid.

Aw, yuck! Danny thought to himself. Although he had worked on it for month now, he still hadn’t acquired the taste for gin and tonic. However, it was the drink of his Netflix hero, Quincy, and he would learn to love it.

He turned his attention back to the beautiful, legless girl displayed before him. Danny no longer wore a lab coat or mask and wiped his sweaty hands on his sweater. He climbed on top of the table and positioned himself over her.

This was it. Danny was about to join the man club. He brought his chest down onto hers. She remained still. Then as Danny fumbled with his belt Wanda’s eyes opened and her hands powerfully clamped onto his scrawny neck.

***

 (Steve)

He peered out from the bush he called home.  He'd been living out there alone so long he sometimes forgot his own name.  This time of year the storms started to roll in, making for cold, wet nights.  He was used to that.  Winter was coming, it was a hard time then, but it made him feel even more alive.

Tonight wasn’t so bad, until the bright lights came on, and stayed on.  He was used to headlights whizzing by, creating shadow puppets from the brush on the ground around him.  But these lights were extra bright and didn't go away.  He tried to ignore them, but curiosity got the better of him, so he got up to see what was happening.

He watched large vehicles park and camouflaged people dart around under the lights they had brought.  For a long time they didn’t do much. Just annoyed him.

Later, he heard a squeaking sound and saw the people get into position for something coming down the hill.  Eventually he saw a crippled man come to a halt in his wheelchair in front of the barricade.  

An argument clearly ensued as both the cripple and one of the other men faced off, arms gesturing wildly and yelling at one another.  He couldn’t make out the words, but it was clear they didn’t want to let the man continue down the hill.

Eventually, the cripple resigned.  He pivoted his chair and began slowly working his way back up the road.  As he rounded the first bend, out of sight of bright lights, the cripple stood up out of the chair.

The words “what the fuck?” escaped his own weather-torn lips.  He hadn't spoken in such a long time, that it startled him and he looked around frantically to see who had said it.  When he realized it was him, he farted and grunted away the embarrassment.

He watched the miracle in progress.  The cripple rubbed his legs and shifted from leg to leg, testing each one.  Then he looked around and sprinted towards the ravine.  

Before he disappeared into foliage, the cripple's head exploded in a red puff an instant before the sound of rifle fire ripped through the night's silence like a thunderclap.  

***

His eyes fluttered open as he tried to make sense of where he was and what had happened.  

“Glumdino?” he was staring into the face of his grinning  colleague.

“You know I don't like being called that,” he replied, face contorting to a frown and back to a grin.

Danny tried to get up, but found he was strapped down to a table like he had done to several others in the last few hours.

“What's going on?”

Gardino looked at him with that “are you serious” face.

Danny looked around and realized he was still on the same table.  The lady was gone and an empty beaker lay on its side on the portable cart nearby.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know, I just came back and found you here.  I see you've been wounded.”

Gardino shifted around excitedly, held up a scalpel so Danny could get a good, long look at it, then said, “Now let's take a look at you…”

***

He hovered over the body of the cripple, expecting to see brains and bone where the head used to be.  Instead, to his surprise, he saw the man’s head was intact and covered in a fine red powder.  He saw the chest heave, slowly inhaling and exhaling, so he knew the guy was still alive.  A little blood trickled from the cripple's nose, probably when the guy face-planted after getting shot.  He kicked the body testingly a couple of times with his bare, calloused foot.  The guy was out cold.

He didn’t like to involve himself in other people's happenings.  He learned that mistake the hard way, many, many years ago.  

He had even been hunted once by some local kids with BB guns.  That ended with several kids shitting their pants and never stepping foot in his house again.

Hearing distant voices growing louder as people slowly approached, and uncertain of what to do, he quietly hoisted the smaller man onto his broad, dirt-crusted shoulder and stealthily worked away from the scene.

***

Wanda peeked out from the closet, the door slightly ajar.  It had been a while since she saw Gardino shuffle past her hiding place.  It had taken a lot to get there, clawing and crawling along the smooth tile floor, out of the cavernous room, into an adjacent hallway.

When she heard the scream, she knew Danny was probably wishing she had shoved that green glob down his throat.  He deserved whatever he was going through.

Her own intense pain had subsided when she made the decision to reunite with the creature.  It wasn't an easy decision, but the intensifying pain was just too much to handle.

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” she told herself.

She noticed a mop in a wheeled bucket in a dark corner of the closet.  The dirty water inside was clearly a mix of detergent, water and blood.  The stench would normally have made her puke, but her new friend had a way of taking care of her.

Setting aside the mop, she positioned her chest on the bucket.  Using her strong arms, she pushed out of the closet and rapidly scooted down the hallway towards a green glowing exit sign.

***

Dean had spent the last thirty minutes wondering how he ended up in the small cave, covered with leaves and moss.  Sure, he was toasty warm, but the last thing he remembered was bolting from the road.

A small crevice in the rock allowed light from some unknown source to leak into the small enclosure.  He occasionally heard voices, sometimes close, sometimes further off, but could never quite make out was was being said.

Knowing the crisis he was trying to escape from, he had decided to lay low.  Whoever brought him here clearly was trying to help him hide, so they probably had a better feel for the outside situation than he did.  That, and the fact that he felt groggy and couldn't string cohesive thoughts together.

He worried about Wanda.  He wasn’t sure what had happened to her.  She went crazy.  More than her normal fowl self.  Really crazy. She had tried to attack him, so he locked himself in another room. Had she not been handicapped, she would've likely got him.  After failing to get inside, exasperated, she left the house.  

After some time, he left the house too. He tracked her to another street.  He loved her, crazy or not.  When he saw all the cops outside a house there, he figured she must have really gone off the deep end.  

He stayed in the distant shadows hoping to see them drag her out safely.  Suddenly two guys crashed out through the window of the house that was taped off.  All hell broke loose and people outside scurried for cover.

Eventually the two guys got up and started walking down the street.  It seemed like the larger fellow was harassing the other. Finally,the smaller man had had enough and turned angrily at the larger man. A scuffle ensued and a shot rang out.

Dean had taken that as a sign to get going.  When he saw similar scuffles another block away and another further off from that, he knew something was amiss.  It was when he saw a couple of guys in black toss an unconscious body into the back of a windowless van and speed off, that he hightailed it out of there.

Outside the small cave he was now hiding in, he heard the crack of a small twig breaking.

***

His mom called him Jacob.  He was one of those kids that was a little out there.  Always toting the line between strange and strangely appealing.  

As a child, he would run around the neighborhood at all hours.  New neighbors would be aghast at the sight of him in their backyard at 2 AM.  Eventually though, they would fall in line with everyone else.  Ignore that side of him.  He was, after all, extremely helpful.   If he was in your backyard, he was probably pulling weeds out of your lawn or something.

As he grew older, people called him Jake.  He was a handsome young man.  All the girls tailed him.  At this point in life's journey, his eccentric nature was appealing.  Girls were looking for something different.  Well, that was Jake.  The guy was extremely intelligent, and everyone knew it, but he just wore the strangest combination of clothes, said the most unexpected things and did whatever he wanted with complete disregard to what others thought.

Later, as he passed into adulthood, he surprised everyone by going into the Air Force.  There he was JJ.  That's what his pals called him.  He learned a lot about rules, discipline and survival.   He learned about love and about loss.  Saving lives and taking them.

Now he had no name and was inches behind a camouflaged soldier who was about to peer into the cave he had hid the cripple in.  Naked and grizzly, blade in hand, ready to pounce.

***

(John)

What the hell am I doing? JJ thought. I am about to attack another brother in uniform, and for what? I don’t even know that weirdo in the cave? And why was he in a wheelchair? He can walk and run when he wants to. Why?

JJ quietly backed into some bushes to watch and think.

The soldier in camouflage was clearly well trained like JJ. He could tell something was amiss and prodded the bushes and rocks with his automatic rifle.

JJ wasn’t used to thinking about people and their strange motivations. It was part of the reason he went off the grid. Life was so much simpler this way. He scrunched his brow in concentration and an idea came to him.

The guy I hid in the cave is trying to be something he’s not. He wants people to think he can’t walk… so they’ll feel sorry for him. He’s a poser. … This is stolen valor! He mimics the struggle of the lame and the crippled and generally defective!

Anger for the imposter welled up in JJ. He watched as the soldier pushed aside some thick brush, uncovering a narrow cave entrance. He felt content to remain hidden and let things unfold. The soldier snapped on a small, but powerful light and attached it to his rifle. He entered the cave ready to shoot.

The pretender has no honor, JJ thought and smirked. He deserves no aide.

    The sounds of a scuffle echoed out of the cave. “No, please!” was heard, followed by a sharp clap. JJ’s smirk faded. The soldier exited the cave with a dirty, unconscious man slumped over his shoulder. In spite of himself, JJ found himself feeling sorry for the miserable, valor stealing bastard.

    Whatever. It was no longer his problem. A complication to his life had been removed.

***

Dean awoke shirtless with battery cables clamped to his nipples. His hands were tied together and he hung suspended by them from the ceiling of the room he was in.

    “Hit him again boss.”

    Dean’s nipples seared with pain. Still too groggy to scream, he half-heartedly moaned. The two soldiers at the controls laughed with glee.

    “I told you to go back up the hill, didn’t I dickhead?”

    Dean did his best to focus and realized the soldier speaking was the one with the salt-and-pepper hair he spoke to earlier.

    “Let me go!” Dean slowly demanded as a thin stream of drool cascaded off his lower lip.

    “That’s ‘Let me go, Major’ to you, fuckface.”

    Another jolt of electric pain ripped through his nipples. A weak “Aaaaaahhhhh…” was all Dean could muster. He looked about and realized he was in a very large van. Electronic communications equipment, whiteboards and weapons covered the walls. It appeared to be a military mobile command vehicle.

    “Where’d you find him again sergeant?” the Major asked.

    “In a cave not too far from here. It really smelled like shit in there. There was also a bunch of weird porn mags. They all seemed to have half naked girls wrapped in American flags or wearing red, white and blue bikinis. Only a sexual deviant could spend time in there.

    Dean didn’t have the energy to tell them he had nothing to do with that cave. He did, however, register movement near the open door.

    It was instinct more than a conscious decision. JJ lept into the command vehicle, rock held high. The soldier’s training immediately kicked in. He spun and lifted his rifle towards the hairy wildman bearing down on him.

    But it was too late. JJ slammed the large rock into the side of the soldier’s head, knocking him to the ground. Too far removed from actual combat roles, the major raised his hands and tried to scream, but the rock quickly found its mark and a moment later, both soldiers were crumpled on the floor.

    “It’s called ‘Patriot porn’! I expected brothers in arms to know that!!’ screamed JJ.

    Dean was vaguely aware that the immediate threat was gone, but his foggy mind felt a new problem growing. He realized the leaf and twig covered individual who attacked the soldiers had taken the driver’s seat. The large vehicle lurched into motion, knocking various army gear and communications equipment to the floor.

    (Steve)

As the van bucked and swayed, the deep blackness took over and he drifted into unconsciousness again. When he came to again, Dean had no idea how long he had been out, where he was or why his ass hurt so bad.

    “War’s hell!”

    The scream brought his eyes to focus on a naked man pacing back and forth.  

    “War’s hell!”  

    This time the man pointed aggressively at his own shadow on the wall.  The bright headlights of the vehicle parked inside the entrance lit up what appeared to be an old mine of some sort.  His shadow was his own personal inner demon, reminding him of the past and taunting him with his every move.

    Dean was on the ground leaning up against an old crate.  He could see some magazines had been stashed behind it, but couldn't make out what they were.  The smell of oil and truck exhaust filled the air.  His body was weak and he noticed scrapes and dried blood down the front of his body and arms.  He realized he was only wearing boxer shorts and they didn't look familiar.

    “War’s hell,”  was screamed a dozen more times, in unison with wild gestures.

The words bounced around the cavern endlessly and eventually reverberated off the inner walls in his skull.  The migraine welled up from a dull ache to a pounding in mere seconds.  Dean tried to contain himself, but he could not.

***

Billy was lost.  He was dressed up as a zombie, fake skin peeling off in random patterns, realistic blood strategically placed here and there, clothes tattered and dirty.

At first, the night had been a wonderful adventure.  Even the grownups played along.  Everyone roamed the streets and he even saw some people attack each other randomly, just like on TV.  

Later, when the houses went dark and the other children were long tucked away for the night, loneliness sunk in.  He saw the occasional grownup running this way or that, but he never really paid much attention to adults.

His mom had to work the night shift and had left his older brother in charge of his trick or treating. It didn't take long for the older boy to grow tired of watching after him and turn his attention to some scantily clad girls out to celebrate the one night when nobody would judge them for wearing pretty much nothing.

Billy drifted on from house to house, street to street.  The pillowcase was so full of candy, he was dragging it on the ground. A small hole eventually materialized and occasionally released a prized sweet, leaving a trail marking his adventure.  He was too young to work that out.  Instead, he stood on a street corner of a four way stop, unsure of where he was or which way to go.

He was tired and just wanted to sleep.  Behind him, the front door of the corner house squeaked open as a gust of wind made its way down the street.  Billy walked towards it, with each step, his eyelids became more heavy.

***

Wanda pushed hard on the door, but it only opened a foot or so.   She heard the rattle of a chain and could see the door had been secured from the outside.  Ditching the bucket, which was too big for the gap in the doorway, she inched and squeezed her way through to the other side.

Just as her trailing limb was about to clear, a bloody hand jutted through after it and tightly grasped it.

Danny’s grip was strong for such a scrawny guy.  Having to manhandle corpses for a living requires unexpected strength.  His determination and the adrenaline coursing through his veins added even more pressure to his vice-like grip, fingers digging into her bare flesh.

“Get back here bitch,” he said in a cold rasping voice, ditching the persona of his TV hero.

He started pulling her back through the gap.  She clawed helplessly at the smooth tiled floor.  In her mind, she commanded her feet to kick wildly at this weirdo.  In reality, her limbs just swung spastically.

He positioned his feet against the doorway, giving him extra leverage to pull her body through the small opening.  Halfway through, she used her strong arms to push in the opposite direction.

They were in a tugowar.   Her bared hips inching back and forth in the opening.   Seeing her exposed womanhood excited Danny, fueling his desire to get her back.

“What the fuck is your problem asshole,” she screamed from the other side.  

“You’re mine,” he replied, huffing and puffing, gasping for air, his heart hungry to fuel his blood with much needed oxygen.

“Fuck you freak! Let go of me!”

His fantasy unfulfilled, he wasn't going to do that.

“Okay Daniel, you can let go now,” said a familiar voice.  To her surprise, it came from her side of door.

She looked up to see Gardino staring wickedly down at her, lust in his eyes.

***

Edmunds still had his thumb shoved in the bullet hole in his abdomen, using it to stop the bleeding.  A paramedic worked on him frantically in the ambulance that sped through the night towards the hospital, lights flashing, siren screaming.

He didn’t know why Handley went crazy on him.  When they tussled, it quickly became apparent that his colleague had lost his mind, so Edmunds had tried to draw his firearm just to fend off the attack, but it went off in the struggle.  It was his own damn fault he was now strapped helplessly to a gurney.

The sound of that gunshot shattered the silence and seemed to momentarily jolt his colleague into the present.  Edmunds recalled the other man's eyes go wide with shock, confusion and concern.  Handley backed off in fear of what had happened.  Then the searing pain shot through Edmunds like a lightning bolt and the world around him faded in a mishmash of colors and blurs.

He now wondered what had happened to the other man.  They had worked together many times, and they were always jovial with one another, but he was never really considered a friend.  They didn’t hang out with cold beers in hand and watch football or anything.  That didn’t negate his concern over Handley’s situation.

As the meds started to kick in, Edmunds could feel the blur coming back.  All thoughts started to drift away along with the words the driver spoke to the paramedic working on him, “Take him to facility with the others, right?”

***

Handley lumbered down the dark street.  His mind was blank, not even one thought.  He was driven onward, step by step, by an instinctual hunger.   As a gust of wind blew by, the scent of some necessity restered and he altered course towards it.

***

It did not have thoughts like its human host.  It was driven by a biological urge to find a suitable host, consume enough fuel from within the host for its own transformation, then eject the resulting offspring, the small replicas of itself.  This would be the end of its cycle, usually resulting in one or more of its offspring finding new hosts from which to spread and multiply in their own cycles.  

While it did somehow sense the outside world, usually to ensure the newborns were released when other suitable hosts were nearby, it typically was not directly cognisant of its own host.  It could numb the pain caused by its feeding, so the host was typically unaware they were occupied.  Unless the host was large enough, it would also pass on its own insatiable hunger to the host, pushing the host to consume more food to fuel its own needs.  Once it started feeding, it required food similar to that of the host it was consuming, so it usually had to exert some force in its symbiotic union to get the host to consume its own kind.  Otherwise, there was little interaction between it and the host.

This time was different.  It had been removed before its cycle was complete.  Perhaps due to the phase it was it, when it was apart from the host, it felt a longing never before experienced by any of its predecessors in its lineage, going all the way to The Origin.

When it was separated, it was helpless.  Though it sensed other suitable hosts nearby, it wanted none of them.  It longed for its mate.  Then it realized the host was more than food.  There was a bond between them, never understood before by its own predecessors.  It could tell its mate was close, but was helpless to reunite with it.

When its mate voluntarily rejoined with it, a new sense emerged.  Emotion.  It identified and was tuned into the frequency of its mate from then on.  Though thoughts could not be shared and communication was not possible, emotions could be felt.  This was a new stage in its evolution.  All future offspring in its lineage would know this and all that it would soon discover leading up to the end of its cycle.

Sensing the fear in its mate from an external threat, it poured endorphins and hormones into the mate, hoping to help it, but unsure what the result would be.  This was unexplored territory for it.  Stalling its own cycle, it chose to help, instead of being directed purely by its biological cyclical programming.

It felt the rush this gave its mate.

***

“Excuse me Sir, have you seen a little boy dressed as a zombie,” the teenager asked the older man?  

These were the last coherent words he would ever utter.

***

The Major abruptly came to.  So much so, he startled the Corporal that was working on his head wound.  

He was about to launch into a tirade of f-bombs when the Corporal clamped down on him.

“Stay still Sir, I'm almost finished.”

Her voice was stern, but sweet and soothing.  He looked up into her dark mysterious eyes, commending himself for having pulled her onto his team.  

Nobody could quite figure out where Corporal Dahatti’s family was from, but everyone wanted to visit that place, wherever it was.  She turned heads with her beauty and sex appeal, only to catch them all off guard with her sharp wit and intellectual prowess.

As she tied off the last stitch, she said, “Now you can carry on being and major pain in the ass.”

Even as he woozily rose to his feet, he could appreciate her veracity.  She was stuck with boys and men that acted like boys everyday, fighting for respect in a male dominated profession.  She wanted to be a real doctor some day, but didn’t have family money, so she took this route.

She didn't ask the Major what happened, that wasn't her place, but she was sure it would come out.  At least some version that had him being the hero, good guy, or badass.

“If I don’t see the bodies of that bastard in the fucking wheelchair or that naked, hillbilly fucker, I'm gonna kick someone's ass so hard they'll be spitting fucking shoe polish like chaw.”

While that would normally have had men shaking like abandoned puppies, his only audience was Dahatti and the other unconscious soldier she was now working on.  She ignored the threat.

“Sir, Captian Freemen sent out one gun truck loaded to track down the stolen TOC.  Whoever stole it knew to pull the tracker and both redundancies.”

“So, we've been betrayed by one of our own fucking boys!  Where's Captain Freeman?”

“Outside getting comfortable in your chair.”

“Fucker,” he said as he kicked open the doors and jumped out of the mobile med unit.

Even as he woozily rose to his feet, he could appreciate her veracity.  She was stuck with boys and men that acted like boys everyday, fighting for respect in a male dominated profession.  She wanted to be a real doctor some day, but didn’t have family money, so she took this route.

She didn't ask the Major what happened, that wasn't her place, but she was sure it would come out.  At least some version that had him being the hero, good guy, or badass.

“If I don’t see the bodies of that bastard in the fucking wheelchair or that naked, hillbilly fucker, I'm gonna kick someone's ass so hard they'll be spitting fucking shoe polish like chaw.”

While that would normally have had men shaking like abandoned puppies, his only audience was Dahatti and the other unconscious soldier she was now working on.  She ignored the threat.

“Sir, Captian Freemen sent out one gun truck loaded to track down the stolen TOC.  Whoever stole it knew to pull the tracker and both redundancies.”

“So, we've been betrayed by one of our own fucking boys!  Where's Captain Freeman?”

“Outside getting comfortable in your chair.”

“Fucker,” he said as he kicked open the doors and jumped out of the mobile med unit.

(John)

Where the fuck is that asshole, Dean, Wanda wondered. I need to get my hands on a phone and give him a call. Then something occurred her.

“Danny! Please! I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t let this old geezer have his way with me.”

Gardino’s toothy smile turned into a wide frown. Wanda reached back through the door and took Danny’s wiry hand.  Gardino grunted and tried to hold her close, but even a scrawny kid like Danny easily outmatched his strength.

No! Gardino thought. This was just like his entire life all over again - robbed of satisfaction. His bosses in the government had always conspired to keep him down just like his professors had back in school. He should have been valedictorian in high school and should now be running the entire Alien-Human Cross Biohazard division instead of working as a lowly tech. Now this ungrateful, pointy-haired kid was going to pull a double-cross and keep the girl for himself.

No! He thought again. The Viagra had already kicked in. He didn’t want to settle for the love in the morgue any longer. If memory served, warm girls were so much better.

Gardino held on as tightly as he could, but his old arms proved no match for the combination of Danny and Wanda working against him. He grasped at the last semblance of possible pleasure by pressing the bulge in his pants against the top of her head as it slipped back through the door. He choked down a cry in the back of his throat.

Once she was back through, Danny immediately began fumbling with his belt. Wanda reached up and gently caressed his inner thigh.

“Take me somewhere private, Danny,” she said in a soft, reassuring voice. “Someplace away from the old Geezer.” Being soft and likeable was not something she did very often, but had seen it on TV enough times to pull it off for a short while.

Danny glanced at Wanda’s face and then the angry face of Glumdino cursing him from the gap between the door and door jamb. He lifted her up and staggered a few steps. Ugh, even without legs she must weigh 75 pounds. Too much to carry.

Quincy improvises, he thought and plopped Wanda down onto the mop bucket she previously used as transportation. He wheeled here away from the ranting old man as quickly as he could. They made their way to the far side of the huge lab and listened?

“I’ve had it with your Tom Foolery! I’ll knock your block off!” They could still hear Glumdino’s ranting, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or grating. Danny looked down at Wanda. She gave a slight nod.

This was it! Danny puffed out his chest and in the most manly way possible, lifter her off the rolling bucket. His right leg almost buckled, but he summoned the strength of his 1970’s hero and placed Wanda safely on one of the cleanest autopsy tables available.

She cooed softly and pulled her gown up almost to her naval. It was enough to show her feminine treasure, but not the open wound on her stomach.  

Danny’s eye’s bulged at the sight of Wanda’s party palace. He nervously fumbled with his pants and after some struggle, got them off. He then lowered his tighty-whities and climbed up, positioning himself once again between her stumps. She did not resist this time and they parted further as Danny lowered himself into her.

Normally she would have fought this skin-flint to the death before allowing such a violation, but things were different. With the green slug back inside of her, she felt more powerful and alive than normal, and didn’t sweat the little shit nearly as much as before. That said, she still wasn’t going to let Danny get away with it.

As he clumsily moved his hips about, she reached under her gown and grabbed a string protruding from the wound on her torso and pulled. Danny was too busy losing his virginity to notice as she brought the string out and up behind his head. It was one of his shoe laces that she had stolen from Danny after choking him unconscious earlier in the evening. One end was in her closed fist and the other was tied around the strange green slug-like creature that had eaten away some of her insides. It seemed to wink at her as she lowered it onto the base of Danny’s skull.

***

There was a noise from another part of the building. A large metal door opened and a man was whisked in on a gurney. Edmonds tried to raise his head, but he was dizzy and disoriented. He was dimly aware of being moved from the gurney to a table and strapped down before losing consciousness again.

***

Being forcibly removed from the host again was a jarring experience. This time, however, the chemicals in the blood and secretions of the organs signified not fear, loathing or a general rejection of itself, but trust in her new partner. And when it made contact with a new host body, a clarity resonated that it was here for a purpose. It quickly dissolved the soft flesh and tunnelled up beneath the hard bone, into a delicate fatty substance.

The smile remained plastered on Danny’s ecstatic face, but Wanda noticed one of his eyes twitch. Soon one corner of his mouth relaxed and a stream of drool dripped onto her cheek.

“Gawd, that’s gross!” she shouted. “Enough of this, get the hell off of me junior!”

One of Danny’s arms collapsed, flattening his face against hers. He managed to raise his head and make eye contact. “Bubt, I taught you libked me nowv?” he said, before losing consciousness and rolling off the table onto the concrete floor.

“Goodnight strokey,” Wanda snorted.

She wiped the disgusting drool off her face with the back of her hand and plopped down on top of Danny’s motionless body. First things first, she thought and gently pulled the shoelace from the back of his head. She then laid on her back and held the delicate green being in both of her hands. It was really quite beautiful in its own way. She felt a longing to be reunited with it. Gently she placed it on her stomach next to her still open wound. Instinctively it dipped inside and worked its way out of view.

For a moment she rested and felt the connection re-establish itself. But there wasn’t time to waste. Wanda sat upright and fished through Danny’s pockets until she found his phone. The screen came to life and she was relieved to see the dumb kid hadn’t set a password.

***

In a cave miles away a phone rang. The dirty, naked man nearby sprang up on a boulder and shouted “I told you, war is hellllllll!”

***

(Steve)

Edmunds watched in silent horror as the woman pulled out a green glob from her abdomen and placed it on her lover.  The poor bastard literally melted in odd ways as if his insides were sucked out of him.

When she pulled the blob back out of him and reinserted it in her abdomen, he saw a look of ecstasy on her face.

He wanted to get up and do something to stop this crazy bitch, but he was strapped to the table and was still weakened by the sedatives.  He wondered what the hell was going on in his quiet little town.

He watched her make a phone call, get visibly pissed off, take her lovers clothes to wear herself, then to his surprise, as if all that wasn't outlandish enough, scoot off the table to the floor.  She had no legs!

He felt the straps loosen and saw hand come carefully out of nowhere to place his revolver gently on his chest.

“Sheriff, you've gotta stop her,” whispered Gardino in his ear.

He looked over to see the aging pathologist.  He'd watched him perform a few autopsies over the years. He always felt this guy was a bit strange, but the job seemed to fit him.

“Stop her,” Gardino repeated.

Edmunds tried to get up but could just attain a seated position with Gardino’s help. His thumb still plugging his gut. There was no way he was going to get to his feet.

Hoisting the weapon with one free hand, he noticed it was oddly heavy.  He’d easily hit dead center at the range doing his Dirty Harry impersonation, but now it took all his strength to raise and aim it.

She was scooting quickly across the room on what appeared to be a wheeled bucket.  As she rapidly approached a hallway, he fired.

The sound of the shot was deafening. He was used to that.  It all played out in slow motion for him. The muzzle flash, the blood spatter on the wall behind her, but then momentum carried the woman out of view.

“You got her,” Gardino said excitedly, “Let's go finish her off!”

“Yeah, let's,” Edmunds replied.

***

The wall of water was like an impassable barrier.  It might as well have been made of concrete and steel, a mile wide, a mile tall.  The creature in Handley had memories passed down by its predecessors of drowning to death and then being resuscitated.  It was extremely painful to that creature.  So much so, the shared memory of this lineage would forever have a deep fear of water.  Even though Handley could easily walk through the spray unscathed, the creature exerted its influence on him to wait it out.  

Long ago in this lineage, it was learned to utilize the host to maintain awareness of the outside world, perhaps a result of the aforementioned event, and to be able to manipulate hosts more skillfully.  This had proven to be a more efficient way to ensure survival and optimal dispersion of offspring.  

The evolution of each lineage was different. Infinitely different. While there was knowledge and what could be described as memories shared from predecessors, the exponential growth of certain lineages also meant exponential new paths away from an event experienced by a predecessor.  

They all tied back to The Origin, so very long ago, but some lines vanished from existence due to natural or unnatural events.  Those that found themselves near others of their kind could sense the difference between it and the kin.  Instantly knowing just how far back their lines split.  The further back, the more aggressive and competitive they were.  

Handley's creature knew others of its kind were nearby and it was extremely important to multiply and dominate this area quickly.  To spread its line first and furthest.  War was inevitable, as it always was when different ancient lines crossed paths.  Hosts would be the vehicles through which the conflict would be carried out.

The sprinklers shut off.  The creature was so hungry and eager to fulfill its cycle, it quickly responded.  Like controlling a car, this creature took Handley out of Park, shifted him into Drive and stepped on the gas.  

Handley walked towards the front door of the house.  He wanted to feed.

***

Dean heard the phone ring.  It was far off, probably in or near the vehicle.  He was too busy for that right now.  

He had been slowly creeping up behind the naked man who wouldn't shut up about war.  He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got there, but his blood was boiling and his short temper could barely contain it.

The timing of the call couldn't have been worse, so he knew it was probably Wanda.  Just as he reached striking distance of the naked man, the call thwarted his plan to overtake the man unnoticed.

Hearing the ring, the crazy, naked guy sprang up on a boulder, pointed a bony finger straight at him and shouted “I told you, war is hellllllll!”

Without thinking Dean dove at the man's legs, knocking him off the boulder to the dirt beyond it.

The guy was strong, wiry and fast though.  Upon touching down, the man spun behind Dean, wrapping his legs aground Dean's midsection, and clamping his strong arms around his neck and head, all in one effortless move.  Your classic choke hold.  Dean struggled helplessly, and felt the lights going out.

“I told you, war is hell,” the man whispered in Dean's ear, knowing that would be the last thing he heard before nap time.

Those words echoed in Dean's head, lighting a torch that lead him from the darkness he was entering, to the light of the present.  His uncontrollable rage had always been his weakness, now it was the fuel for his revival.

Maybe the guy had loosened up a bit, or maybe Dean just had it in him.   Somehow he exploded out of the clutches he was in, found his footing and turned to face the man.  Blood rushed  back into his head turning it from ghostly white to rabid red.  

They intensely stared each other down. Dean was a model of intense rage, hunching slightly, knees bent, arms reaching forward, hands clawed, and eyes of fire.  The naked man was cool, calculating, eyes dead of emotion, body relaxed, but certainly prepared for what might happen next.  

Dean knew he was likely overmatched, but the day's events and those three words rattling around his noggin, lit a fuse that wouldn’t easily be extinguished.  He feigned one way and shifted the other, testing his opponent.

The man didn’t even flinch.  His eyes just followed the act played out before him, flickering with amusement just for a moment.  He already knew he would be the last man standing.  This pot bellied, suburban, lying piece of shite would easily be outmuscled and out maneuvered, letting his emotions give him false confidence.  In the end, he would be dead or near it.

“You know, I already saved your life twice tonight,” the man said, struggling to communicate.  He hadn't talked to anyone in a long time, and had hoped he would never have to use that skill again.

“F,f,f, fuck you man!”  Dean was not normally short for words.  Now he too struggled to spit the words out, surprised by what he was hearing.  

***

Somehow Billy managed to find a nice warm bed to crawl into.  He was somewhere between almost asleep and dead to the world when his little ears registered the squeak of the front door and the rhythmic clunking of footsteps coming up the stairs.  The boogeyman was here and coming for Billy.  His eyes flew open, wide in fear.

***

Dahatti checked again over her shoulder to make sure the med unit was empty.  She shimmied some equipment around to reveal a floor panel.  It was locked, but she had the key strategically hidden in her bra.  She fished it out skillfully.  She unlocked the small storage panel after glancing around again.  Inside was a small cylinder about the size of a balled up fist.  There was a small green light glowing brightly on one end.  She smiled and patted the thing like it was a small dog.  Satisfied, she quickly locked up and hid the panel again.  

***

The reflection of the looming figure behind her caught her eye when the screen temporarily went dark as it transitioned between television programs.  The old lady tried to scream, but the stranger connected with a right cross to her chin so quickly, just the sound of her jaw cracking was all that was heard.  

She was a stubborn old broad though, and with uncanny speed of her own brought a small revolver out of nowhere and shot the  stranger point blank in the face. The bullet ripped through his cheek and imbedded in the drywall.

He knocked the weapon out of her hand, but it bought her enough time to get to her feet.  They squared off on opposite sides of the small sofa she had been sitting on, blood pouring out of each of their mouths.  

Reaching inside the large pocket of her fuzzy, faded-pink bathrobe, she pulled out a cleaver.  She fanned it aggressively in front of her, but his eye never left hers.

“I told you sons of bitches not to mess with me,” she screamed, blood and spit flying out with each word.  She ignored the intense pain.  

With little effort the stranger grabbed the sofa and pushed it aside, blocking her only escape route, but leaving him a clear path to her.  She noticed his wound was now barely trickling blood and he showed no physical discomfort or stress.  She could see teeth grinding through the hole in his cheek, saliva streaming out of the gaping wound.

As he approached and reached out for her, she hacked off his hand in one wicked swipe of the cleaver.  He didn’t appear to notice, and continued to reach out for her with the wounded limb.

Another pass of the blade and another six inches of flesh and bone dropped to the floor.  That didn’t slow down his advance.

As she backed herself into a corner of the room, wielding the cleaver in front of her, she said, “You better not mess with me, you son of a bitch!  My son is the sheriff!”

***

(John)

“Fuck you! You homo cave dweller.” Dean’s words were coming back, but he still didn’t have access to his full verbal arsenal. He felt gay slurs were beneath him  - in fact, he had even been a little bi-curious in college - but he couldn’t think of any other potentially wounding phrases. And his ass still hurt.

“You didn’t save me you dirty bastard!” Dean continued, shouting now. “You used my body for your sexual amusement!”

Confusion crossed the naked man’s face, followed closely by annoyance. “I did save your life and I don’t like man-butt and I don’t like talking.” He quickly squatted and sprang back up with fistfulls of cave dirt he tossed in the air.

Dean screamed through the rain of dirt and dead bugs, “Then why am I wearing someone else’s underwear and why does my ass hurt!!”

“Cuz you pooped your pants when the army fried your nipples and I don’t want poop in my cave! I was a nice guy and gave you my shorts. But first I had to put a rock in your crack so to stop the anal leakage.”

Some of the remaining unsettled dust landed in Dean’s open mouth as he processed what he had just heard.

“You’re welcome,” said the naked man.

***

    He closed the distance with the gritty old woman. She brought her cleaver quickly up towards his neck, but he was ready this time. He brought his elbow up and the sharp bladed embedded in the bone. Forcing her hard against a wall he brought his bloody teeth forward to tear away at her wrinkly neck. She dropped her chin and raised a shouldn’t to keep him from biting her jugular, but knew it would only be a momentary reprieve. The tough old bird yanked the cleaver loose and put all of her strength into a deep slice through the man’s abdomen.

    Unlike her other strikes, this one caused an immediately response in the attacker. He drew back and blinked hard.

“Guess you crossed the wrong old lady, you son-of-a-bitch!” she stated triumphantly, brandishing the dripping red cleaver. But he didn’t seem to notice. Instead he looked about the room as though he were lost. Then he placed his remaining hand in and around his stomach. Fats and intestines hung limply out through the long horizontal slice in his dress shirt. His eyes widened in fear as he frantically ruffled through the gaping wound.

    Then his eyes locked onto something on the floor. The spinster’s eyes followed. There, between them was something green and gelatinous, stretching itself towards the man. She was stunned. Had this thing been here all along or had it fallen out of his ruptured gut? And how was he still standing? A normal person would be dead after taking so much damage.

    The man acted first, dropping his face to the floor and slurping the disgusting green thing up in his mouth. As he turned on all fours to scramble away, she saw the gelatinous thing pause, as though it was looking at her through the bullet hole in his cheek.

    A pain shot through her chest and down her arm. No! I don’t have time for another heart attack she thought. She struck one more blow, but the cleaver barely reached the backside of the retreating man, slicing through his pants. His wallet dropped to the floor and opened to reveal a badge and police ID that read “Detective Bruce Handley.”

***

    Billy scrambled out of bed as quietly as he could and moved towards the door. Too late, the footsteps were now on the landing just on the other side. He inhaled sharply and ducked inside the closet. As he silently slid the door closed, he could see the handle turn on the hallway door.

    The door swung open and the floor creak as someone, or something crossed it. The thing in the room paused at the bed. Billy’s heart raced. After several seconds that felt like hours, it moved again. Slowly. It made it’s way directly across the room towards the closet.

    Billy tried to control his breathing. He wanted to scream out in terror. The footsteps stopped right outside the closet door. It started to slide open. Billy put his fingers against it to provide friction. And for a moment, it worked. The closet door stopped moving.

    He prayed whatever was there would turn its attention elsewhere. The floor creaked again. Just as a flame of hope rose in his heart - that it was about to move away, the door flew open. Billy found himself face to face with a little girl wearing a gray wig and glasses.
    “Aaaaaah!” Billy screamed.

    “Hi,” said the little girl, adjusting her tie. “What are you doing in my closet?”

***

(Steve)

Handley leaned up against the van.  He was shaken by the experience.  Both he and his creature had been injured in the encounter with Edmund’s mother.  As a result, he was partially cognizant of his current situation.  Being yanked out of the blackout induced by his occupant was traumatizing, but instinctively he knew he needed the creature.  They were forever linked.  He just didn’t know this would be a short union compared to his normal life expectancy.

Once back inside, the creature quickly went to work, addressing Handley’s needs and ignoring its own.  It wasn't ready to complete its cycle yet, and now injured, it would need to recover before continuing its biological journey.  It was vital that Handley survive and was strong enough to gather more required energy before its transformation.  

Handley had to help his companion recover and it was clear there was only one way that was going to happen.  Feed.

***

The two guys were joking around with each other when they came out of the house carrying the sedated body between them.  It had been a long night for them already and there was much more work to be done.  

At first, taking the people stressed their moral compasses, and they gingerly cared for them as they gathered them and drove them off to the lab.  Now they were just cargo.  Supplies for something they could only guess about, so they just hauled them out and tossed them around as if they were sacks of sand.  

They tried to make light of the situation to mask their discomfort, joking around about how good looking the woman was they carried and what magic moment they would have with her if given the chance.  They eyed each other questioningly, trying to communicate nonverbally if they should take a go at her before delivery.

As they approached their van they noticed the disfigured man.  

***

Handley hadn't been awake in past feedings.  In fact, he wasn't really sure if he had ever fed during his blackout, and if so, how many times.  He now wished he was still oblivious.

The taste of the flesh dancing on his tongue was both revolting to his human side and exquisite to the beast he was becoming.  The battle in his mind raged on, while he devoured the fat, muscle and organs of the two men.  The texture, as he tore at it and ground it down for consumption, made him sick, yet satisfied.  He was more satiated by this than any meal he could ever recall.  He clamped his hand to his face to prevent the saliva and precious blood from spilling out the hole in his cheek while he chewed.

Despite his handicap, he was stronger and faster than ever, and he easily subdued the two men.  Unlike his failed attempt with the old woman, here he had enough of his own faculties to strategically overtake the two shocked victims, grabbing them with one hand and beating them senseless with his other clubbed appendage.  They screamed like little girls, pissing and shitting themselves.

With every bite, he could feel the strength returning quickly to both he and the creature inside.  He felt powerful, unstoppable.  He knew he wasn't ready yet.  He needed more.

The woman still lay unconscious on the ground a few feet away.  He didn't know why, but instinctively felt deterred from consuming her.  So he slowly moved away.

As he passed by the van again, he saw his reflection in the passenger side window.  A fleeting thought flittered in and away, “Man, I look like shit!  What the fuck happened to me?”

***

 (John)

“I’m lost,” Billy said with a combination of sadness and fear.

The little girl looked him over through her large glasses. “Well. I guess you could stay with me.” She smiled at the idea and in a voice as deep as she could make it, said “Twenty.. Seven.. Dollars!”

Billy didn’t know what $27 had to do with anything, but liked the idea of staying with her. He was lonely and scared and it was nice to be with another person even if he didn’t understand her Halloween costume. She certainly wasn’t dressed as something normal like a witch or zombie.

Something else was out of place. She was cutting a corner. “Don’t you have to ask your parents first?”

The smile on the little girl faded and fear fluttered into her eyes. “I don’t have a daddy and my mommy was taken away.”

“Taken away?”

“She was acting funny while we were trick-or-treating and said she was trying hard not to eat me. Some men dressed like grownup workmen heard that and shooted her with a sleepy dart. Then they carried her away to give her some medicine.” There was a pause as the children tried to contemplate what it all meant. “So I’m all alone.” She sighed and bit her lip, trying not to cry.

Billy watched her pretty blue eyes fill with tears. “You’re not alone. I’m with you now,” he said and took her hand.

The tears that were about to fall, didn’t. Her face relaxed and soon the smile was back. “Twenty.. Seven.. Dollars!” she suddenly shouted.

Billy dropped her hand and leaned back. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because I’m Bernie Sanders and that’s what he says.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. My mommy just told me to say that since that’s who I’m dressed up as.”

Billy was puzzled. “Who is Birdy Sanchez?”

“Bernie Sanders,” she corrected. “Mommy says that anyone who has more money than us is greedy. Bernie Sanders is going to take their money away and give it to poor people. Poor people only need twenty-seven dollars.”

She stared at Billy, waiting for his reply.

“Uh… ok.”

The little girl wrinkled her nose. She expected more of a reaction. She sighed. “My name is Jenny. You can just call me that.”

“I’m Billy.” He brought his arm up to shake hands as he had been taught to do when he met someone new. She thought that was an odd thing for people her age, but then remembered seeing Bernie shake hands on TV. She reached for Billy’s outstretched hand when a loud noise pierced the air. They jumped. Upon regaining their composure both ran to the window and looked out over the front yard and street below.

***

The phone rang again. This time is was clearly coming from the military communication vehicle. Dean didn’t know if the naked man in front of him was going to attack or not, but he desperately wanted to get to his phone. “Look,” he said, “maybe I’ve got the wrong idea about you, but that could be my wife calling and I’ve got to answer.”

The naked man crouched as if ready to spring. The leaf strewn hair on his back bristled, but he allowed Dean to step by unmolested. “War is hell,” he grumbled.

It was a number he didn’t recognize. “Wanda!” Dean pleaded into the phone, praying it was her. “Wanda!?”

“Shut up Dean.”

It was so good to hear her salty voice. “Oh Wanda!”

“I said shut up! I’ve been shot. You’ve got to help me!”

Dean inhaled sharply. “Where are you?!”

“I don’t know. They brought me to some kind of laboratory full of morgue tables.”

A loud bang sounded in Dean’s ear, followed by silence. “Wanda? Wanda!!” he screamed, but there was no answer.

Dean looked over his shoulder and screamed again when he realized the naked man’s face was only inches away. Then composing himself said, “They’ve taken my Wanda! Can you please help me?”

An hour later, JJ, still naked, carried a bound and gagged soldier into the communications vehicle. Dean was amazed, but went quickly to work like a chef prepping for a big meal. He cut the soldier’s shirt open with scissors and clamped battery cables to his nipples.

“You’re going to tell me where I can find my Wanda.”