Just Add Water

by Hunter Shea

  The fallen sea serpents, covered in wasabi, acted as a kind of barrier around the boys, the poison consuming them enough to take down the others. One step in the acidic miasma was enough to begin the process of putrefaction. For beasts so terrifyingly deadly, it didn’t take much to melt them like the Wicked Witch of the West.

  When the gang was done, they were surrounded by dead and dying sea serpents. Some of the bodies had melted entirely, black goo running down the gutter into the sewer.

  Patrick followed the path of the liquid remains.

  “We’ve got one more thing to do.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  David was the first to step off the iron ladder and into the sewer. It was as hot as hell and smelled, the humidity hovering around a thousand percent.

  Patrick, Alan and Chris followed.

  There weren’t many arrows left, and Patrick was close to running out of BBs.

  “We just need to check for a nest,” David said.

  “More like a spawning ground,” Patrick said. “I don’t think these things make nests like birds.”

  “I don’t mean a literal nest.”

  “It would have been smart if one of us brought a flashlight,” Chris said.

  Patrick looked at David, who just shrugged. They’d already done more than any of the police or other adults. They couldn’t be expected to prepare for everything.

  “Hopefully we don’t have to go far. When we dumped them, they had to land right about here.”

  There was nothing but sludge and trickling water by their feet. No sign of sea serpents or their eggs.

  “That’s good, because there’s no way I’m going down those tunnels,” Alan said. He had a nasty bruise on his leg where the sea serpent had barreled into him.

  “Well, maybe all we need to do is follow our noses,” David said. “They’re pretty hard to miss.”

  Chris pinched his nostrils. “It smells like the inside of a sweaty ass crack down here. How will we be able to tell? It can’t get any worse.”

  They scanned the sewer floor, shifting the muck around with the tips of their Pro Keds.

  David ventured the farthest. Water dripped from somewhere in the distance, the sound bouncing off the walls.

  Alan kept an arrow notched in his bow.

  “Just don’t accidentally hit us,” Patrick said.

  David stepped on something that gave way with a foul squish. He looked down. His sneaker was covered in a black mound of what looked like watery elephant dung. White maggots crawled out of the mess, slithering onto his bare leg.

  Worst of all, they were making tiny squealing noises. It made his balls retreat to the back of his throat.

  He jerked away, slipping on the wet surface and falling in the water. Some of it got in his mouth. His stomach sent it right back with the intensity of having consumed a bottle of ipecac.

  “You okay?” Patrick said.

  David looked at the gross nightmare of mud.

  There were little black eggs within it. One of them rolled onto his hand. It looked exactly like the sludge balls in the Amazing Sea Serpents tank.

  “I found it!” he said, spitting the dregs of vomit out. “There’s a whole bunch of them. Bring the wasabi.”

  Patrick came over with an open container. He cringed when he saw the disgusting pile of eggs and filth.

  “Bombs away,” he said, spilling the wasabi all over it. The eggs popped like little firecrackers, releasing intense bursts of noxious gas. Their diminutive death shrieks bounced off the filthy sewer walls. David, his face so close to it, threw up again.

  Some of the sludge balls tried to roll free, but David was too quick, squashing them under his sneakers. They exploded in tiny bursts of black and red. It felt real good.

  The other boys joined him, stomping any of the retreating sea serpent larvae. When they were done, they were covered in sweat, panting, sucking in the vile, tainted air.

  “Did we get them all?” Alan asked.

  “Yeah,” David said, regaining his footing. He leaned against the tunnel wall, felt slime at his back and jerked away. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chris said, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again. My stomach feels like it died.”

  “Mine, too,” Patrick said, patting his friend on the shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” Alan said. “I could go for a bologna sandwich now.”

  The three boys looked at him with disgust.

  No one noticed the sea serpent coming from the tunnel to their left. It came without making a sound. Its onyx arms extended outward, desperate, clawing. Before they could react, it had swallowed Chris in a deadly embrace.

  “Chris!” Alan bellowed.

  His brother tried to scream, but his mouth was crammed with oozing sea serpent flesh as it locked an arm over the lower half of his face.

  It dipped its head down quickly, horrid mouth open wide.

  Chris’s skull cracked with a soul-shattering pop as the monster feasted on his brain. It sucked greedily while Chris’s legs twitched and kicked. All three boys were hollering incoherently, shaken to their core as they watched their friend and brother get devoured.

  Patrick had a little wasabi left in the container. He regained his senses and splashed it on the creature at the same time as Alan ran at it with a strangled cry, stabbing an arrow in its head, over and over again.

  Chris dropped into the murky water, headless.

  The sea serpent flipped onto its side, melting. It reached for Chris, but Alan stomped on its stunted arm. They could hear its bones crack. Chris’s body lay on its back, water collecting on his side as if he were a dam.

  “Help me get him up,” Alan said, sniffling back tears.

  It wasn’t easy getting Chris’s body out of the sewer, his blood pouring from his open neck cavity, splashing down on them as they hoisted him up the ladder.

  When they emerged into the cooling dusk, they were surrounded.

  Everyone in the town who had been hiding in their homes stood around the sewer, waiting for them. A huge cheer went up when they saw Patrick, then David. The boys flinched, taken off guard.

  Their revelry was cut short when Alan came up, cradling his brother’s headless body.

  “Hey, everyone get out of here! This is private property!”

  All heads turned to crab-ass Ernie. He carried a broom, as if he could sweep the crowd of thirty or more away.

  Patrick hit David’s chest with the back of his hand.

  “Look.”

  A small sea serpent, what they hoped was a lone survivor, came up out of the other sewer grate across the street, just behind Ernie. No one warned their irritating neighbor it was there.

  “I already called the cops!” Ernie shouted.

  “Sure you did,” David said.

  The sea serpent latched onto the man’s leg, eating the meat at the back of his knee. Ernie went down, crying in pain while the monster scrabbled up his chest, going for his throat.

  Patrick walked through the crowd and shot it with the BB gun, three, four, five times. The little beast shrieked and fell off Ernie’s chest.

  “Leave us alone,” Patrick said. “Forever.”

  Ernie yowled in pain, clutching his leg. “I need help! Somebody call an ambulance.”

  No one made to go in their house and make the call. They were too transfixed by the melting monster.

  David said, “I think I’m too tired to feel bad for Ernie.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Patrick said.

  A car, the first moving car they’d seen in hours, came down the street slowly.

  Patrick dropped his BB gun. He ran to the driver’s side door.

  “Mom!”

  She rushed out, tears cascading down her face, and wrapped her arms around him. Patrick didn’t feel the least bit like a baby, hugging his mother and crying into her neck while the whole neighborhood watched. He thought he’d lost her. He never wanted to let her go.

  “I came just as s
oon as the police opened the barricades. I was so worried about you.”

  “D . . . D . . . Dad,” was all he could manage to croak out.

  She hugged him harder.

  “I’m so sorry I left you. I just wanted to get a few things.”

  He stared at her face, still numb to the fact that she was here. “It’s okay, Mom. There was no way to know this was gonna happen.”

  He noticed David standing by his mother’s car, peering in the window. He motioned for Alan to come over.

  “What is it?” Patrick asked David.

  David shook his head slowly. “No way.”

  Patrick reluctantly broke from his mother’s embrace and stepped to the car. He saw the box lying on the back seat and gasped.

  THE AMAZING SEA SERPENTS! FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY! JUST ADD WATER!

  “Mom, where did you get that?”

  She rubbed her hand on his back, sniffling back tears. It seemed as if everyone was now gathered around the car in breathless silence. “I found it at KG Toys. I remember how much you wanted them, so I was going to surprise you.”

  The blood in Patrick’s veins turned to ice. He looked to his friends, who couldn’t stop staring at the Amazing Sea Serpents box.

  “David, you have a big grill in the yard. Get as much coal and lighter fluid as you can.”

  His mother grew confused. “What are you talking about, Patrick?”

  He opened the door and grabbed the box.

  “We have to burn this first. I’ll tell you everything . . . after I’m sure there’s nothing left.”

  David said, “Mrs. Richards, were there other sea serpent kits in the store?”

  “Yes. A whole shelf of them.”

  Patrick shivered.

  There were going to be a lot of fires tonight.

  Keep reading for an exciting preview of

  OPTICAL DELUSION out August 2017!

  PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

  OPEN YOUR EYES WITH “X-RAY” VISION!

  Put on a pair of “X-Ray” glasses and things will never look the same! These almost-magical specs will make you the hit of the party! Astonishing three-dimensional X-Ray visions of what your friends—and girls—look like under their clothes! And all for just $1!

  THE MORE YOU WEAR THEM . . .

  Martin Blackstone punishes his son for wasting his allowance on a pair of flimsy cardboard X-ray vision sunglasses . . . yeah, right. Martin tries them on just for the hell of it—and all they do is give him a headache . . .

  . . . THE DEEPER YOU’LL SEE.

  Until he sees things he can’t possibly be seeing. Glimpses of things on the other side of a wall or beneath someone’s clothing. He wants to believe it’s just his overactive imagination but the “X-Ray” specs actually work. Then the fun novelty becomes a waking nightmare when the glasses burn into his face and he starts seeing horrifying apocalyptic visions no mortal man was ever meant to see. Images that alter his very personality—from a husband and father to a bloodthirsty homicidal maniac . . .

  Because sometimes you can see too much.

  OPTICAL DELUSION

  A Novella of Terror

  By Hunter Shea

  Chapter One

  If there was one thing Martin Blackstone truly hated, it was being disturbed during the two hours he allowed himself a night to watch television. After working all day at the factory, was it too much to ask for two goddamn hours of peace and quiet?

  Especially tonight, Charlie’s Angels night.

  Even Andrea knew not to bother him when Charlie’s Angels was on. All his buddies wanted a piece of that Farrah, but Blackstone had never been into blondes, no matter how pointy their nipples poking out of red bathing suits on posters. No, he was a Jaclyn Smith man. That girl was specially handcrafted by God himself. He’d never kick her out of bed for eating crackers, that was for sure.

  Not that his wife was some slouch. Back in her prime, she could turn heads with the best of them. She was still attractive, but “mommy attractive.” Jaclyn Smith was on a whole different level. He bet she’d be hot even when she was in her seventies.

  Whump, thump!

  “Keep it down up there!” he shouted at the ceiling.

  The Angels were running. He daren’t take his eyes off the tube. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those slow-motion shots.

  “It’s just the boys having a little fun,” Andrea said, crocheting yet another baby blanket. Blackstone often wondered if any of their neighbors knew about the miracle of condoms. It seemed someone was coming up pregnant every month. Crazy Italian Catholics. Here they were, having all kinds of irresponsible fun, none of them thinking how it kept his wife doing hard labor, crocheting blanket after blanket like an enslaved seamstress.

  “They can have fun without breaking through the floor.”

  Andrea waited until the commercial to speak again. “Brian’s been cooped up all week. He needs to blow off a little steam.”

  Blackstone shook his empty beer can. Andrea got up to get him another.

  “The kid had all day to get it out of his system.” He popped the leg rest up on his brand, spanking new lounger. It was so comfortable that on some nights, he started fights with Andrea just to have an excuse to come downstairs and sleep on it.

  “Noel had school, then he had to go home and do his homework and wait for dinner. Brian was practically jumping out of his skin waiting for him to get here.” She handed him a cold Schaefer. They said it was the one beer to have when you’re having more than one. Blackstone could testify to that. He pulled the top back and dropped the ring in the ashtray. The cold beer chilled him all the way down to his softening belly.

  They heard muffled laughter, followed by what sounded like his sixteen-pound bowling ball being dropped to the floor.

  “If they don’t settle down, I’ll chuck their asses outside.”

  Andrea snatched up her blanket and dropped into the chair next to him, bristling. “You’ll do no such thing. It’s pitch black and cold out there. You want Brian to get sick again?”

  His irritation deflated and he sighed. “No, of course I don’t.”

  Brian had just gotten over a hell of a case of chicken pox. He had more bumps on his skin than a West Virginia highway. They had to put socks over his hands to stop him from scratching and popping the sores. Being a ten-year-old, he was not enthralled with their solution. The doctor and medication had cost a pretty penny. The last thing Blackstone wanted to do was add a visit to one of those skin doctors to the ledger, so he’d told him to suck it up.

  The socks were off now and Brian was feeling good enough to go back to school on Monday. His best friend Noel had been asking daily when he could come over.

  Andrea patted his hand. “You may have had a bad day, but Brian has had a bad week.”

  “I know. All that talk about capping salaries has my blood boiling. That place is making money hand over fist and the greedy asshole owners want more. So how do they get it? By taking from the little guys. We got a meeting with union officials next week.”

  “The union won’t let it happen. No sense giving yourself a stroke thinking about it.”

  “If there’s a strike . . .”

  He bit his tongue. Andrea was right, there was no reason to keep carping on it. There’d be plenty of time later if and when the shit hit the fan.

  Blackstone tried to settle down, remembering what it was like when he was the same age. Then Charlie’s Angels came back on with a close-up of Jaclyn Smith and all of his thoughts were derailed. He drank his beer and indulged in his weekly fantasies.

  Before he knew it, the show was over and Vega$ was getting ready to start.

  “You have to walk Noel home,” Andrea said.

  Noel had been granted a special, late curfew just this Wednesday because he’d missed his friend so much. Plus, tomorrow was a half day in school, some kind of teachers’ special meeting. Not much schoolwork would be getting done. Noel only lived ten houses down the street, but somehow, Black
stone had been roped into walking the kid home tonight.

  He drained the rest of his beer, went to the kitchen and dropped it in the garbage. He could still smell Andrea’s chicken casserole. His stomach grumbled. Eyeing the refrigerator, he said, “I’ll be back for you in a few.” A couple of spoonfuls of cold casserole would soak up the booze and prevent a hangover.

  Slipping a Schaefer in his pocket for the walk, he marched upstairs, Andrea saying, “Thank you, Marty,” as he passed by the living room.

  The door to Brian’s bedroom was closed. There were drawings of space battles from Star Wars taped all over it. Blackstone stood there for a moment, admiring the latest one. It showed two X-wing fighters engulfed in flames spiraling into a nearby planet. The kid was good. Maybe he should get him to draw that turtle they always advertised to see if he could make it into art school.

  The only flaw in the drawing was in the science of it. You can’t have flames in space, Blackstone said to himself, chuckling. The shit he knew thanks to his subscription to Popular Mechanics. It was probably a good idea to encourage Brian to start reading it too. He’d be a man some day, and men needed to know all kinds of shit.

  He opened the door without knocking. Brian’s Star Wars figures were all over the floor. There was a cardboard box that had been cut up and pasted back together with etchings on the sides so it looked like the big garbage collector that the little Jawas rode around in, searching for scrap metal and droids.

  Blackstone sighed again. There was way too much Star Wars trivia rolling around his head for his taste. It was all the kid talked about. They’d gone to the movies to see it five times. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a movie five times, not even the ones he loved like The Bridge on the River Kwai or The French Connection.