by Ian Woodhead
“My poor decisions have made me!” he shouted. The insect men had now formed a rough semi-circle around his quivering form. Two of them lifted their stick-like forearms and he saw they held what looked suspiciously like saw-blades. A high-pitched whistling sound filled the air. “And now my poor decisions will undo me!” He screamed as instruments they held cut through his flesh like a steak knife through raw liver.
CHAPTER NINE
Inner Space Invaders
It kinda encouraged Andrew to see that this shitty market had not changed much since he'd last set foot in here. Fuck knows how long that had been, probably about the same time Andrew had decided that school was for losers. He stopped next to a litter-bin, overflowing with rubbish and reloaded the shotgun. Four shots left, after that, this thing would be useless. He even doubted it would be all that effective as a club. An axe, that's what he needed, or a heavy sword. More ammo is what he really wanted but he wasn't going to find that in here.
Nelson had also stopped a few paces in front of him. “Those insect things are in here too,” he hissed.
“How can you possibly know that?”
He tapped his nose. After a lifetime of being in this game, you got a feeling for it. “The lack of people is a big giveaway too, that and the severed arm lying across those books over there.” He suddenly took a left and raced over to the shops lining the edge of the market. Nelson waited until Andrew caught up before continuing. “It's up to you, boss. You wanna hole up or keep moving? To be honest, I'd vote for the latter, ain't gonna find out what the fuck is going on by shivering under some bastard table.”
Andrew found himself nodding, unsure of how to answer Nelson. How could the old bastard treat this damn situation so matter of factly? Like a giant insect invasion was something which happened on a daily basis? Oh sure, even before setting off, he was fully prepared to deal with the unexpected. Something was bound to go wrong during the robbery but tackling a beetle the size of a horse? Fuck no, nobody sane could or would expect anything like that.
Could that be the answer? Had the appearance of all these armour-plated monstrous killing machines finally tipped Nelson over the edge? It seemed a reasonable assumption. The old bastard had never been the most stable of characters.
“I'll take that as a yes. In that case, we'd better tool up, you know, find something a little quieter and more effective than our popguns. We ain't never gonna get to their soft bits, not through all that shell. I reckon we don't need to though. Their legs are pretty thin. A decent machete would do the trick.” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, lob off a few limbs and those bastards won't be going anywhere. Be like bricking up a car, I guess.”
“Nelson, you are aware of where we are? I mean, look around you, man. This place sells samosas, batteries, crap Chinese made toys and mobile phones. It's not exactly known for selling offensive weapons.”
His colleague laughed at him. “Man, you really are a funny guy. You know that? Who said anything about picking what we need off the shelf? Come on, follow me.” Nelson hurried past two clothing shops, a jewellers, a shop selling Eastern European food and stopped outside a shuttered up electronics shop. “What we need to level the playing field will be in here.”
“Nelson, it's locked up, man.” What was this idiot playing at? It seemed like a dumb time to start looking for another knock-off mobile phone. “More to the point, Nelson, this place ain't gonna sell what we need.”
“Remember what I said about not picking off the shelf? Look, I knew this guy in block 8 who knew this other fella who told him all about how some of these market traders use these shops as a front. Well, I did some extra digging after you approached me with your little scheme.” He bent over and examined the lock on the bottom right, then looked at the other one on the opposite side.
“Great, so how do you know which shop is the dodgy one?”
Nelson tapped his nose again. “Told you, it's a knack.” He passed Andrew his gun. “Best you do what you do best and keep us from getting eaten.”
“Wait, say what?”
He pulled out a small brown leather rolled up sheet and laid it out by his knee. It contained a variety of thin metal picks. “We're being followed. Also, that severed arm vanished the moment we passed it. I reckon there's only one out there, maybe two. Still, I would appreciate not dying while I work on these locks, you know?”
He thrust the gun into his waistband then stepped away from the shop, and leaned against a concrete pillar. Andrew still wasn't all that convinced about being followed. He hadn't heard anything and his hearing was keener than Nelson's that's for sure. The only sound that reached his ears came from the scratching noise made by the old man's metal picks. Andrew then held his breath and closed his eyes just for a moment. That really was the only noise he could pick up, like the whole market was sound-proofed or something.
There wasn't anything following them. Apart from him, nothing moved. The old guy was obviously losing it. Still, just to be sure, Andrew decided to have a quick scout along both directions, just to see if there really was anything lurking up those paths between the stalls. He shouldered the shotgun and ran back towards the bank, staying close to the market edge shops, while looking up every aisle. It took him less than thirty seconds and saw absolutely fuck all. It must be true. Nelson really was losing it.
Andrew slowly walked back to his mate, not really seeing any point in checking the other direction. Even from here, it looked clear enough. He had no idea why Nelson had gotten all nervous in the first place. Maybe his conscience was having a go at him for shooting that bank employee? Even to Andrew, the old man's behaviour was a bit out of place. Like that poor bastard was in any fit state to pick Nelson out of an identity parade. Like anyone was even going to realise that his gang had robbed that bank!
That made him stop. Why had they told Tony to go wait in the sodding car? They knew what was happening. Well, they didn't but all three men had known something seriously fucked up had gone down. Having someone to watch his back while Nelson did what he did best would have been so much easier. He sighed heavily. Not that Andrew needed anyone right now. This market was quieter than a fucking tomb.
He wondered how the kid was coping out there. Hell, Andrew didn't even know if Tony was still alive. He didn't even know if the poor bastard had managed to get back to the car without one of those monsters getting to him first.
Tony would be alright, he was a tough kid. Andrew needed to worry more about his predicament, even if, at the moment, he was in no apparent danger. That started to niggle him. Not the no danger bit, although that did play a part, it was the lack of sound which worried him. Even if the insects had raided the market, there should still be some noise. No music, no mobile phones going off, no moaning, no nothing, apart from the ever present scratching sound.
Andrew's heart beat a little faster. There's no way that he ought to be able to hear Nelson trying to pick that lock! Not from here. What else could it be? He hadn't seen anything moving in here. Andrew hugged the gun a little tighter and slowly made his way back to Nelson, aware that the scratching noise continued. He jerked to a halt when Andrew saw Nelson. The old man stood with his back flattened against the shutter. He looked terrified.
Nelson urgently shook his head then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. Andrew lifted his head. Three huge black beetles stared back at him. They clung to the old ventilation ducts which stretched across the entire market. The noise he could hear came from those things rubbing their back legs against their outer shell.
One of the beetles scurried upwards and vanished into the blackness. The remaining creatures moved at lightning speed to the edge of the wall, then stopped. He tore his gaze off them and followed the path of that duct until he reached one of the openings. It looked wet around the edge. His stomach swirled when the realisation dawned as to why they hadn't found any people. Those things must have killed them and dragged their bodies up there and stuffed them inside the ducts.
At least, he h
oped to fuck that they were dead. Andrew remembered reading something about how some insects just stun their prey then lay eggs inside their bodies. Those eggs hatched as the babies ate their way out. Andrew raised his gun. There's no way he was going to let that happen to him!
“Lower the gun, man!” hissed Nelson. “That's only going to piss them off. Besides, I think there's more than three up there.”
He kept the gun trained on those monsters and took one careful step towards the shop. “Is that shutter still locked?”
Nelson nodded.
“Fuck. Any bright ideas?” Both beetles scurried halfway down the wall. “Into the arcade!” yelled Andrew. He took aim and squeezed off one shot. The blast hit the wall between the monsters, shredding four of their legs. Both beetles fell and landed a few feet in front of the two men. They scurried in a circle, smashing into each other before rushing to the left and vanishing into the market interior.
The danger was far from over. The noise from the blast had opened a deluge of sounds. Some familiar, some not so recognisable. Over the ringing in his ears, Andrew could now make out the sound of moaning, of soft weeping, as well as cries for help. They were coming from all around them. Some were, as he feared, drifting down from the inside of those ventilation ducts. Human misery wasn't all he heard. The sounds he couldn't hear before now made themselves known. From somewhere inside the market, Andrew could make out the theme tune from an old 80's Saturday teatime TV show. What he heard more than anything else was the clicking. Lots and lots of clicking. He looked up and discovered Nelson was indeed right. The ceiling was alive with dozens of those giant monsters!
“Stop gawping, you fool!” snapped Nelson. The old man grabbed Andrew's collar and pulled him into the next shop. He pulled the pistol out of Andrew's waistband then ran through the middle of the arcade and stopped beside a change machine. “Forget the machete idea, we need a few grenades.”
Andrew caught up with him, keeping his gaze on the opening while expecting those things to flood the place at any second. There was no way that their pitiful weapons would keep them at bay for more than a few seconds. They'd be better off getting it over and done with by turning the fund on themselves. He waited, hardly daring to breathe, unable to take his eyes away from the shop entrance. At either side, the machines showed off their retro graphic displays, encouraging whoever passed them to swap coins for a few minutes of pleasure.
The seconds stretched into an eternity. Beside him, Nelson's rapid breathing fought against Andrew's excitable heart for dominance. He moved a little closer to the counter and rested his aching arm on the glass top. Why hadn’t they entered? He saw first-hand how fast they could move. By rights, the pair of them should be ankle deep in insect gore about now, almost out of ammo and totally out of options.
“Do you think they might have forgotten about us?”
Nelson's sudden whisper scared the hell out of him. “How should I know. Why don't you go have a look? Maybe give them a little wave?”
“Fuck off, Andrew. I'm serious. We shouldn't still be alive.”
“Yeah, I know that,” replied Andrew. He moved backwards, further inside the arcade. “Come on. Let's make ourselves scarce and not invite a confrontation. At least get under cover and away from the entrance.”
He counted to five then turned and raced down the middle, running past several sit-down racing games, noting fresh blood on at least two of the black plastic seats. So the monsters had already been in here and fed. He had to stop. Andrew grabbed the side of one of the cabinets and scrunched up his eyes and winced at the image he'd just received.
He saw himself sitting in this very machine, feeding in another pound coin. He felt a little uneasy, sure that somebody in the distance had just screamed. Must be his imagination or some kids having a joke. It had nothing to do with him.
Just another thirty thousand to go to knock off those hateful initials of ORC from the top slot in the high score table. All the others belonged to him or that thirty-something skinny guy who spent every Wednesday afternoon in the arcade.
He heard another scream just when the continue hit 5. It was nothing to do with him. He pressed the continue button and was immediately back into the action. Several waves of attack fighters emerged from behind a large asteroid but he was ready for them and vaporised them with his last plasma bomb. The end of level guardian was just ahead but first he had to...
Three more screams took him out of the game. Several kids ran past his cabinet on both sides. The screaming grew more intense. He leaned out of the cabinet and saw nothing but crowds of people desperate to get out of the arcade. He then made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. He couldn't help but join in with the screaming. Hot piss ran down his legs but he was hardly aware. What the fuck was that thing sliding down the stairs, what the fuck was it? Oh no. Oh fuck. It had seen him. It was coming straight for...
Andrew snapped open his eyes. “What the fuck just happened to me?” he gasped.
“Hey, are you okay, man? You've gone as white as a sheet.”
He turned his head and allowed his eyes to refocus before answering. “I think I just saw some kid die. Like, you know, in a vision or something.”
“Are you winding me up?”
“Of course I'm not winding you up.” Andrew peered inside the cabinet. The game was the same. It waited a moment until the high score table was displayed. Sure enough, there it was, right at the top of the score table, the name which that kid had been so desperate to beat, ORC. Andrew spotted a patch of thick blood on the seat and backed out, feeling a little nauseous. “Christ. I don’t know what just happened. One second I was standing right here, feeling dizzy, the next, I was in this kid's head, playing the game when the insects turned up and started eating people.”
“Right, and these beetles ate this kid?”
Andrew shook his head again. “No, this is where it gets really fucking kooky. It wasn't any kind of giant insect that we've already seen. I mean, they were insects but these guys kinda looked, I don't know. They looked like humanoid insects. One of these things came down those steps right behind you and..." he shook his head. "Can't remember. Killed him, I guess.”
“You are aware of how mad that just sounded?”
“Of course I am. I'm not an idiot. Saying that, is it any more mad than being attacked by a giant beetle?”
“Yeah, I know, but, come on, man. Fucking insect people?”
“Look, forget it. Come on, let’s see where those steps lead.”
Nelson looked back over to the entrance before he took the steps two at a time. Andrew followed but he took his time, still trying to wrap his head over what he had just experienced. He reached the top and leaned over the metal railing. From this vantage he could see the mess made when those giant insects raided the arcade. Christ. Those poor bastards never stood a chance. It looked like a slaughterhouse floor.
“Andrew have you got a minute?”
He turned and moved away from the railing. Nelson stood in front of a gap between two slot machines. “What have you found?” it was the old man's turn to look pale. Hell, the guy was positively fucking transparent.
“This kid. You know, the one whose head you magically jumped into. I don't suppose you can remember what he was wearing by any chance?”
“What?” Andrew closed his eyes. “Wait on, he had this scruffy dark brown jacket and a pair of grimy jeans. Oh, he had a baseball cap on too. Come on, what is this about?”
“You had better come here, man.”
He approached Nelson, curious as well as a little fearful as to what he might have stumbled across. Andrew saw it before reaching the old man. It hung on a wet, light brown, smooth cord, as thick as his wrist. It looked, for want of another word, like some giant chrysalis. He kinda doubted that a beautiful butterfly was going to emerge from this though. Andrew stepped a little closer, then stopped dead when he found what it contained. “Oh no. Fucking hell, it's him! That's the kid. The poor bastard, what's happenin
g to him?”
The clothes were the same, as were the general shape and mass of the body, but everything else remotely human no longer existed. At least, not that Andrew could make out. A dark, bark-like substance covered all the visible skin and hundreds of thread-like vines covered the new growth. He leaned a little closer. “Okay, this is seriously freaking me out.” He turned his head. “I don't even want to know what is happening in there.”
Andrew stood up and reached for his blade. “That poor kid.” He was almost ready to slice through that cord when Nelson grabbed his wrist.
“What the fuck are you playing at, man?”
“What does it look like? I can't allow that kid to suffer. It's fucking inhumane.”
Nelson kept hold of Andrew's arm. “Look, man. I sympathise, I really do. I mean you two obviously shared a moment or something, but you have no idea what cutting that cord could do.”
“Will you get off me already?”
The old man shook his head. “Fuck no. Have you not worked out how we can possibly still be breathing? Come on, Andrew think it through. Why did those monsters not follow us into the arcade?”
He loosened his grip and the knife clattered to the floor. “You think they were protecting this?”
Nelson bent down, retrieved the knife and handed it back to Andrew. “No, not them. Maybe your insect people. I mean, I doubt this is the only chrysalis thing in this arcade. Makes sense that they'll want to protect them, but not with your heavy artillery.”
