To Be One With You: An Anthology of Parasitic Horror

by Murr

  Will didn’t understand what was happening, but it terrified him. He was certain he was losing his mind.

  He tried going online, but that didn’t help. Oh, there were plenty of sites: schizophrenia help sites, schizophrenia acceptance sites, conspiracy sites dealing with claims of alien parasites in people’s eyes. But, not one of them offered any practical help: take the drugs; don’t take the drugs; change your diet; exercise, exercise, exercise; embrace it; ignore it; cut it out; kill yourself; prepare to welcome our new alien overlords: lots of advice and no help at all.

  About the best that could be said for the situation was that, having given up on his tablets, booze could at least offer some respite through the obliteration of all sense. At least when he was out of it, he didn’t see it moving, didn’t think about it.

  Then, he would wake up and it would be three and he would feel the despair wash over him.

  Week after week he repeated the cycle and the thing in the corner of his eye continued to grow and branch.

  #

  The knife blade glinted reassuringly. Good and sharp. A fine point. Exactly what he needed.

  Will raised it to his eye and checked in the mirror. Yes, there it was, twitching like a sea anemone in a current. Grotesque.

  He could see no other way: he pressed the blade to his eye. Time to cut it out.

  #

  “You were lucky,” the surgeon told him.

  Will couldn’t help but laugh. “Lucky?”

  “You’ve blinded yourself in that eye, but you’ve still go your sight in the other, despite losing your depth perception. Had you pressed harder, you could easily have done yourself some serious damage, stabbed right into your brain. Yes, could’ve been far worse.”

  Will didn’t reply. He wasn’t quite sure how he had even come to be in the hospital. He remembered the pain. They said a neighbour had heard his scream. When he finally came to, he was in a bed here.

  Will had hoped that was the end of it, but he could see the dark tendrils reaching out from behind the bandage, groping, unseen by anyone else. He had sacrificed his eye, yet it still plagued him.

  There seemed to be virtually no staff around, save when the doctors were doing their rounds, so it was great effort for him to slip from his bed and out of the ward. He had found his clothes folded up in the bedside cabinet and pulled them on, but had no idea of where he would go or what he would do. Maybe ending it all really was the only way to be certain the nightmare was over?

  He wandered corridors that stank of disease and peremptorily-swirled about bleach. A janitor leant on his mop, seemingly uninterested in completing his task. A harried-looking nurse hurried past him, not giving any indication of having noticed him. Patients and visitors mingled in confusion and despair, as lost in the maze of corridors as he was.

  Will considered heading up to the roof. It would only take a moment and it would be over.

  Instead, he found himself at the chapel. A cross, crescent and Star of David hung side-by-side on the wall above a table that he assumed was intended as the altar. A figure in black pottered at a vase of flowers on the table. Will was a little disconcerted when they turned and he realised it was a woman priest; you heard about them, but he’d never seen one in the flesh. He was pretty certain they shouldn’t be so attractive. Even with only the one eye and a fog of pain, only his particular and peculiar problem was keeping his mind away from earthly considerations unsuited to the place or her calling.

  “Can I help you?” she asked with a smile.

  “Not unless you can perform exorcisms.”

  “Sorry?”

  He gave her the potted outline of everything that had happened to him. He found it unlikely she would believe him, let alone be able to offer him any help, so was pleasantly surprised to find her listening attentively and not dismissing him out of hand.

  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Unfortunately, I don’t deal in exorcisms, so there’s nothing much I can offer in that direction.”

  “Is God punishing me?” he asked.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Well, my life’s gone to hell over this last year and shows no sign of improving. It started with the accident and losing my job, but then there was this thing and, of course, my eye... I don’t even know if it’s real or if I’m crazy. I just don’t know.”

  “From what you said,” she replied, tentatively, “it seems to me it’s down to you, rather than God.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The accident was your fault, wasn’t it? You’d been drinking, right? You made that decision and the crash happened as a result of that decision, and you lost your job as a consequence. Nothing to do with God, as far as I can see.”

  “But, I feel as if I’m being punished.”

  “Perhaps, you’re punishing yourself? Have you considered that, maybe, this thing you keep seeing is a means for you to sabotage yourself? When it derailed your job interview, perhaps that was you feeling you didn’t deserve to get the job. Your eye? Maybe that was a means of punishing yourself.”

  “I never thought of it like that. It could all be down to me. And, if it’s down to me, then I guess I can change it.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled. “You don’t need to be a victim of circumstance. You can take charge of your life.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, so much.”

  He turned and left the chapel, suddenly feeling buoyant. He had a feeling his problems were coming to an end.

  As he was walking back towards the ward, he was surprised to hear someone call his name. He turned and saw Sandra, his former physiotherapist. He hadn’t seen her in months, having been deemed capable of walking unaided and, with everything that had happened, had given her no further thought.

  “Oh, hi.”

  “What the hell happened to you?” she asked. “Not another accident?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You look as if you’ve been in the wars.” She frowned. “And, what the hell is that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “That black stuff coming from behind your bandage. Is it blood? Urgh! It moved! What is it?”

  “You can see it?”

  “Of course, I can. I’m not –” She cut herself off. “Should I fetch a doctor?”

  “Uh, no, I’ll...” He turned and ran off. He could feel something moving beneath the bandage. It was real. It wasn’t all in his mind. He felt sick.

  Will ran into the nearest restroom. He looked in the mirror above the sinks. The black tendrils escaping from behind the bandage were flapping about and the bandage itself was bulging as if something large were pulsing behind it. He pulled the bandage away: his right eye was grotesquely pushed aside like a deflated balloon and a writhing mass of blacks tendrils sat in his eye socket. Any lingering hope he was imagining it or that it was something mundane, like a tumour, vanished as it watched it. He wanted to pull it free, get it out of his body, but didn’t dare touch it: the tendrils looked horribly slick, as if damp with blood.

  As he watched, the mass seemed to expand, as if it were pulling it free from inside his skull. He felt a sharp pain behind the socket.

  Then, Will howled in sudden agony as the pain engulfed his entire head. Blood splashed across the mirror and he heard a loud cracking sound as the mass exploded free. His skull cracked like an eggshell as the black thing launched itself from him in a shower of blood and bone splinters. The mirror cracked from the force.

  Will slumped to the floor with a groan, blood pouring from the gaping hole where his eye once had been. From where he fell, he could see the blood-drenched mass undulating away from him and out of his limited field of vision. Then, shock hit and everything went black. There was a distant scream as his consciousness faded and he died, none the wiser...

  Tim Murr

  Winner of the 2016 Clive Barker and Fun Size Horror Art Inspires Story contest, Tim Murr created and maintains the horror culture blo
g Stranger With Friction and contributes to Diabolique Magazine. He’s a senior editor for Biff Bam Pop and was a featured contributor for Popshifter. He’s the author of Destroying Lives For Fun and Profit, Lose This Skin, Conspiracy of Birds, City Long Suffering, Hounds of Doom, Motel On Fire, and Neon Sabbath. He listens to punk and has nine cats.

  FROM THE INSIDE by Tim Murr

  Ashley was barely in the door before her cell was ringing. The babysitter was on her way out the door with her hand out, while the Jamie and Jay were both jockeying for position to tell on each other. She handed off a twenty to the sitter, held up a stern finger as she pulled out her cell, and saw her mom’s name on the screen, nodded a good bye to the sitter, and hit talk.

  “What’s up mom?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, hon,” she sounded tired.

  “It’s ok, what’s wrong?”

  “Well…I don’t know. Your dad has been so tired. He’s been to the doctor and they say he’s in decent shape, probably just fatigue from long hours and working out in the sun so much…but he hasn’t gone to work all week…He’s been sitting in the recliner since yesterday and doesn’t want to eat.”

  “Ok. Do you think he should go back to the doctor?”

  Shelly was quiet for a moment and then resumed in a quieter tone. “I’m wondering if it’s depression. My doctor has had me on anti-depressants lately. They helped. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but you know how he never wants to talk about anything.”

  “Yea…you sound pretty tired too. You ok?”

  “I’m a little low on energy, myself, but nothing to worry about. I’m just getting old.”

  “Listen, sit tight and I’ll head over there when Corry gets home. She’ll be off in an hour, so I should be there by 7:30. Want me to bring anything?”

  “No, no. Are you sure?”

  “Of course, don’t worry about.”

  “I’d feel better, thank you.”

  “See you around 7:30.”

  Jamie piped in first, “Are we going to gramma and grandpa’s?”

  “We are not. I’m going for a little while, because grandpa doesn’t feel well. If he’s feeling better by the weekend we might go Sunday.”

  After she got the kids resettled, Ashley texted Corry to give her a heads up about tonight. Corry, of course, offered to go with her, that she could keep the kids occupied, just so Ashley wouldn’t have to be alone on the road, but Ashley insisted she would be fine and she didn’t want the kids turning into monsters on the ride back when it would be so far past their bedtime. Corry relented and told her not to bother with dinner, that she would take care of it herself, so Ashley could relax before she had to go, but Ashley already had dinner going and had the table ready as Corry walked in.

  “Babe, I said I’d take care of it…”

  Ashley kissed her wife and smiled.

  “Well, now I get to eat with you before I leave!”

  Corry sighed and smiled as Jamie and Jay slammed into her with violent hugs.

  They sat down to pineapple mango chicken, yellow rice, and salad and chatted about their day and everything was as it should be. Ashley was somewhat concerned by the worry in her mother’s voice, but they were both still young, only in their fifties, and they had always been healthy, active people. She was sure her dad had simply pushed himself too hard and it had been near a hundred degrees all week. That would kick the ass of a man half his age. And if it was depression, well there was a remedy for that too. Corry was on anti-depressants and seeing a therapist when she and Ashley met, and it helped her a lot.

  After dinner they all walked Ashley to her car and the kids said ‘bye, mommy,’ and so did Corry with a grin. Ashley pulled out of the driveway, went up the hill and went down the strip, past the university where she taught Advanced Multivariable Calculus. Traffic on the interstate was already thinning out and she made good time, pulling into her parents’ driveway at 7:20.

  The split-level ranch was dim inside and the neighborhood was eerily quiet, aside from weird insects chittering in the woods beyond the house. She stood on the lawn and listened, trying to place what kind of bug sounded like that, but she was stumped. A wave of paranoia swept over her, as she suddenly felt watched. Ashley turned around, looking up and down the street, but there didn’t seem to be anybody around at all. She walked up the concrete steps and knocked on the screen door, waited a beat, then opened the door.

  She was struck by strong, sweet, but pungent odor. She covered her mouth and nose and called for her mom, but there was no answer. She stepped through the foyer and looked into the living room. What she saw made her knees give out and she fell into the little table where the car keys were left.

  Her father’s body was sprawled in his recliner and his torso had ruptured, from his neck to his waist. The ribcage was pushed out wide and his insides were liquefied and dripping into a massive puddle around the chair.

  Ashley scrambled to her feet, but wound up crawling into the dining room, silently screaming for her mom.

  Her mother was lying half in the dining room and half in the kitchen. Her torso was split open like Ashley’s father’s. The puddle of blood and liquefied innards flooded the kitchen floor. Ashley vomited her dinner across the black and white tile. Ashley was startled by a shuffling sound on the carpet behind her, but before she could turn, she was thrown into the dining table. Then everything went black.

  …

  The air smelled strange, like cleanser, like sterility. Ashley was on a bed in a dim corner, but there were bright, white lights nearby and a flurry of activity. A hospital. Must be a hospital. She tried to sit up and realized her left arm was in a splint. Her ribs felt bruised and she couldn’t fully open her right eye. It took a lot of effort, but she finally sat up and dangled her feet off the side of the bed and her bare feet touched a plastic tarp. She looked up, trying to focus. Instead of seeing a wall, there was a clear plastic sheet all around her. Outside of her bubble were several men and women in hazardous material suits.

  There seemed to be an air of panic. The more she woke up, the bigger the wave of noise became. There were people barking orders to keep someone back, outside and large vehicles passing by mere feet from her bed. She couldn’t stand or really speak, so she started waving until a woman looked her way and nudged a tall man beside her. He looked up from his tablet with worry in his eyes. He started towards her bubble, waving over two other people. The tall man unzipped the seam in the bubble and the three hazmat suits stepped in, surrounding her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Ashley motioned at her throat and whispered, “water.”

  One of the other suits rushed out and was back in seconds with a bottle of water. They waited patiently as she sipped and coughed. Halfway through the bottle she was able speak with a little less strain.

  “What happened to me…my parents…”

  “We’re trying to figure that out now…I’m Doctor Ruiz, I’m with the CDC.“

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Well…we found you about twelve hours ago. We have no idea how long you were out before that.”

  “So…it’s Friday..?”

  “Sunday. Eleven am.”

  “Oh my god…I got to parents house just before 7:30 Thursday night…”

  Ashley clutched her belly as sharp pains exploded inside her.

  The two attendants with Ruiz helped her lay down, while he shouted to a nurse to bring morphine.

  “What’s happening..?! Does my family know where I am?!”

  Ruiz knelt beside her and placed his hand on her forehead.

  “I’ve been in contact with Corry. She knows what’s going on and that we’re taking care of you. She understands your situation and one of my colleagues should be on the phone letting her know you’re awake.”

  Ashley shook with sobs as she closed her eyes.

  A nurse gently took her arm and swabbed the crook of her elbow with some alcohol and then gave her a shot. Ruiz stood by w
hile the nurse stuck a digital thermometer in her mouth.

  “It’s still 100 degrees.”

  Ruiz sighed, “well, at least it’s not going back up. Ashley, Corry told us your parents hadn’t been traveling outside the country…Do you know if they’d been in contact with anyone who had?”

  “All their friends live right there in their neighborhood. Nobody travels.”

  “Ok. Look. We found something in their crawlspace-“

  He was cut off by a woman running in and shouting his name. He rushed out to meet her. She was swiping through photographs on a tablet. The look on his face became grave. He took the tablet from her and came back into the bubble. He turned the tablet to Ashley and gave her time to study the photograph.

  It was a series of paper like tubes and cones in the woods behind her parents’ house. She recognized the spot right away.

  “What is that…a nest?”

  He swiped to the next picture. It was the same nest, but there was a man standing beside it and he was dwarfed by it. Ashley gasped.

  “We found a similar nest in your parent’s crawlspace. And in most of the houses nearby.”

  “What the hell made them…”

  Everyone in the bubble was startled by sudden gunfire. Everyone in the quarantine tent was taking a knee and listening.

  Ashley gripped Ruiz’s arm.

  “Who’s shooting?”

  “I don’t know…Soldiers, local cops.” He turns to one of the attendants. “Go see what’s happening.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Someone ran by outside yelling, “we need flamethrowers, STAT!”

  Ruiz and Ashley locked eyes.

  “Most of the neighbors are dead. The ones who aren’t are here in quarantine. Did you see anything, smell anything?”