Black Melt

by Indy McDaniel

Zoey sighed, looking back to John. “Double speak pointless. What do you mean?”

  John jerked his head forward, pursed his lips, and blew outwards. A mist of black dust sprayed from his mouth and into Zoey’s face. She jerked back, dropping onto her ass and wiping at her face frantically, coughing as a dose of the spores caught in her esophagus. She rolled onto her side and rammed a finger down her throat, forcing herself to puke.

  John fell into a fit of laughter. “All the time you need, False Fountain.”

  Stark moved forward, his gun already out. “Question time’s over, asshole,” he growled, jamming the barrel of his gun against John’s forehead and squeezing the trigger without hesitation. The sound of the shot was accompanied by Brenda’s horrified scream. Stark ignored her, letting her rush to her dead boyfriend’s side while he focused on Zoey, reaching down to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

  Zoey coughed and wiped her lips. Her throat throbbed, but it was impossible to know whether it was from the spores or the sudden, violent purge she’d forced herself into. “Unsure,” she groaned. “Impossible to know if spores found purchase. If so, impossible to know reaction to my… uncommon gender.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Jo asked.

  Stark looked up at her. “These things infect the men, use them to spread the infection. They eat the women.”

  Jo motioned to Zoey. “And her gender’s uncommon?”

  “It’s…” Stark paused, unsure whether he had the time or the right to get into Zoey’s personal business. He was leaning towards having neither.

  Zoey pushed herself up, unsteady but fighting through the disorientation. “Biologically born male. Currently transitioning to female. Hormonal mix makes me wild card for fungus. May be immune. May turn. May die. Only time will tell.”

  “You’re taking a two-thirds chance of something bad happening to you pretty calmly,” Stark said as he helped her back to her feet.

  Zoey shook her head. “Utterly freaked out. Don’t want to die. Don’t want to be turned. Just unable to fix problem currently. Need to focus on solvable problems. Getting out of here.” She looked up at Stark. “I’m sorry I forced us to stay. Stupid idea. Reckless. Learned next to nothing.”

  “It’s alright,” Stark told her, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

  The blade of a fire axe cracked through the office door, drawing another shriek from Brenda. The axe pulled free, leaving behind a gouge in the door. Stark spotted a dark eye peeking through the hole and took aim, shooting twice through the door. The yell of pain and thudding of a body told him he’d hit his mark. The axe crashing through the door a second time a few seconds later told him there were more infected outside.

  “Yea,” Ali said. “That’s not good.”

  “Alright, everybody get back,” Stark said, moving forward. “Ali, grab Brenda’s hairspray and be ready with it.” He shot the second infected attempting to chop through the door while Ali retrieved the hairspray. Another picked up where the second one left off, managing to hack enough of the door away to squeeze one skinny arm through and attempt to pull down the minimal barricade.

  Stark gave Ali a nod and she stepped forward, aiming the can of hairspray at the arm. She flicked her lighter in front of it, igniting the small flame before pressing down on the nozzle. A small cone of fire erupted from the tip of the nozzle, streaking outwards and washing across the arm. The man’s skin blistered and peeled, but the reaction to the patches of dark growths spreading along his flesh was far more drastic. The mold caught fire with explosive results, creating a series of violent geysers of flaming black slime that ripped the lower half of the man’s arm away from his body. He pulled the smoking stump out of the door, howling and shrieking.

  When another infected didn’t immediately start chopping again, Stark moved forward and yanked the barricade away from the door. “Alright, we’re moving,” he told the others. “Stick close. Ali, I want you with me. Be ready with the torch, just don’t light me on fire.” He yanked the door open and shot down the two infected men just on the other side. Holstering his weapon, he knelt to scoop up the axe. As he did, another of the infected rushed for him. Ali moved up fast and gave the man a face full of flames. The infected man recoiled, slapping at the fire licking its way across his mold-covered cheeks until his head burst, spraying the walls with smoking chunks of darkened meat.

  Stark and Ali led the way, hacking and torching any infected that got close. Jo and Brenda followed just behind while Zoey brought up the rear, clutching her revolver and keeping an eye out for any dangers that might try to creep up from behind. The group worked quickly and diligently, clearing the path back through the gym. It wasn’t long before the only infected man left was the one with the stump arm. He’d run screaming to the front of the gym before turning back to find all the others dead or dying on the ground.

  He was old and bald, skeleton thin. His wide eyes darted around, taking in the carnage that had been inflicted on the other infected before fixing on Stark and the others. “You fucking assholes,” he whined, holding up his half-burned away arm. “Do you see what you did? If my lawyer hadn’t eaten a bullet before we could bring him in, I’d have all your asses in court! I’d sue you back to the fucking stone age, you pricks!”

  “Yea, you might have a little trouble delivering any testimony with that splitting headache,” Stark replied.

  The bald old man’s face scrunched up with irate confusion, leading him to look even uglier. “What headache, you fucking moron?”

  Stark raised the fire axe high and brought it down into the top of the infected man’s bald head, splitting open his scalp and nearly cleaving his face in half. He pried the axe free and kicked the twitching corpse to the floor. “That one,” he said, before looking back. “Hey, Zoey, remember how I said I felt bad about killing these things cuz they used to be people? I think I want to make an exception.”

  “I know that guy,” Jo said. “He was an asshole even before all this shit went down. Used to come around to hit on the girls while they were working out. Threw tantrums when they shot him down. I had to call the cops on his ass more than once.”

  “Well, then,” Stark said. “Good riddance. Let’s get the fuck out of here. My car’s parked a few blocks away. It’ll be a bit cramped, but better than being on foot.”

  With the path to the front door clear, the group made their way outside. Stark knew immediately that getting to the car wouldn’t be easy. In the short time they’d been trapped in the gym, the city street had become a chaotic wasteland. Infected men rushed along the sidewalks and weaved in between cars, pulling screaming women out of their vehicles and dragging them to the ground to feed on them.

  “Alright, everybody stay close,’ Stark said to the others. “This stroll down the block just got interesting.”

  Zoey stumbled up to him, pressing the revolver into his hand. “Shouldn’t have this,” she told him, her words slowed and slurred. She blinked slowly, swaying unsteadily on her feet. “Initial symptoms, light headedness. General brain fog. Muscle numbness. Loss of con…” Her words faded as she passed out. Stark fumbled with the revolver and dropped the axe as he caught her before she hit the ground.

  “Kill her,” Brenda insisted even before Stark could stuff the revolver into his pocket and scoop Zoey’s limp form into his arms. Jo was quick to grab the fire axe.

  “I’m not killing her,” Stark told her firmly.

  “Why not?” Brenda asked, tears in her eyes. “You killed John.”

  “After he turned,” Stark pointed out.

  “You wanted to do it sooner,” Brenda said. “You should have done it sooner. That thing that came back wasn’t him. She’ll be the same way.”

  “You don’t know that,” Stark said. “Hell, she didn’t know that, and she’s way smarter than you are.”

  Brenda looked to Jo and Ali, frustrated, but found neither of them offering their support. “You people are fucking nuts. Yo
u’re all going to die. She’s going to wake back up as one of those things and kill you. If you think I’m sticking around and waiting for that shit to happen, you’re insane.”

  “Brenda, wait,” Jo tried, but it was already too late.

  Brenda turned and darted down the sidewalk. She made it thirty feet before one of the infected men caught her. She screamed, trying to pull away from his iron-like grip as she stared into his face. The infected man grinned at her before arching his neck and mashing his lips against hers. He retched and spewed caustic vomit into Brenda’s mouth and down her throat. The woman gurgled wetly, eyes bulging with horrified pain as the digestive fluids ate through her esophagus. Her neck melted away from within, allowing her spastically twitching body to flop to the ground as the stump of her neck continued to sizzle and dissolve.

  Breaking the deadly kiss, the infected man flipped Brenda’s head around in his hands and rammed her partially dissolved windpipe down onto his throbbing erection, mounting her like a macabre codpiece. The infected man turned and set his eyes on Stark and the others, grinning widely. “It’s the latest fashion,” he announced proudly, shacking his heads as black-tinged jizz drooled from Brenda’s slack lips.

  Stark looked around to see a number of other infected men staring at them. He struggled to think of some plan that didn’t end in them dying and came up empty. Any potential escape routes they had could easily be blocked. Retreating back into the gym was just as bad. The door to the office was mostly destroyed and would provide no protection. Sliding Zoey’s body over his shoulder, he pulled the revolver out of his pocket, determined to at least go down fighting.

  Before it came to that, the man wearing Brenda’s head let out a horrendous scream before falling into heavy sobs. He dropped to his knees and pried Brenda’s head off of his cock, hugging it to his chest and rocking back and forth. One by one, the other infected lining the street followed suit. The sudden shift was shocking, but fortuitous.

  Stark looked back to Jo and Ali. “We have to get off the streets before these things snap out of whatever fit this is.”

  “Your car?” Ali asked.

  “Too far,” Stark said, shaking his head. “We don’t know how long this’ll last.”

  “Then let’s fucking move,” Jo said, taking the lead and hurrying down the sidewalk. “Find a place to hide now. Figure out a long term survival plan later.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Scorched Earth

  If there’d been any clergy in the old church prior to the city falling into chaos, they’d vacated the building before Stark and the others arrived. Although it would have been nice to enlist more allies against the infected, Stark was mostly just glad he hadn’t had to blunder into a gruesome scene of infected priests raping half-dissolved nuns. He tried to remember a time when such things had never entered his mind at all, but things had gotten too insane too fast for him to easily do so.

  What the old church lacked in human beings it made up for with easily fortified environment. The walls were made from thick stone and the massive double doors at the front were constructed from wood so ancient it might as well have been cement. Nothing short of a cannon was getting through. The rows of stained glass windows lining the front and sides of the church were a weak point, but there were more than enough wooden pews to break down and use as makeshift barricades. Stark, Jo, and Ali worked fast, fueled by adrenaline and fear, to secure the building as much as they could.

  Zoey remained unconscious while they worked, lying across one pew. Clicking the handcuffs closed around her thin wrists had felt all kinds of wrong to Stark, but he’d done it anyway. The signs of her infection were spreading, flaky black crud growing along the edges of her lips and nostrils. He wanted to believe that somehow she might be different, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave her unbound while he couldn’t watch her closely. With a whole lot of luck, the whole thing could just be an amusing anecdote once they got through the hell they’d been dumped into.

  “Look,” Jo said as she held a plank of wood against one window while Stark hammered it into place. “I know she’s your friend. But we’ve just been down this road. We saw what happened to John.”

  Stark appreciated the tact Jo used when broaching the subject of killing Zoey, but it didn’t do much to convince him. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Granted, that’s not saying a whole lot. But, even so, it’s true. Until I see otherwise, I still say she’s the best shot we’ve got at understanding this shit, infected or not.”

  “Yea, but how do you know there’ll be any of her left in there when she wakes up?” Ali asked.

  Stark thought it over. It wasn’t a terrible point. He remembered O’Malley. “The first infected we tracked down,” he said. “When he turned, he killed a stripper.”

  Jo glanced at Ali. “I keep telling you it’s a dangerous job.”

  “Right, cuz you had killer space fungus in mind when you were preaching those warnings,” Ali shot back.

  “He didn’t kill her because she was a stripper,” Stark explained. “He killed her because he liked her. He was basically her number one customer. Considering he’d just dumped his girlfriend off at the emergency room before turning, I doubt it was a social call. There was enough left of his persona that, when the urge to kill struck, he sought out someone he knew.”

  “All that means is that when Zoey wakes up, she’s gonna want to kill you before she kills us,” Jo said. “Not very comforting.”

  Stark shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not killing her until I know there’s nothing left to save.”

  Zoey came around shortly after they finished boarding up the windows. Her eyes snapped open, bloodshot and tinged with darkness. She rose half up and tugged at the handcuffs binding her wrists, twisting her head from side to side as she took in her fresh surroundings with animalistic alertness. “Fuck!” she screamed. “I’ll fucking kill all of you for this! Fucking cocksuckers!”

  “Still think there might be something left to save?” Jo asked Stark.

  The voice screeching out of Zoey’s mouth was hers, but the words were not. Seeing her spew out a tirade of vulgarity was shocking, but Stark wasn’t fully convinced she was gone for good. “Give her a minute.”

  Zoey fell silent, panting heavily through clenched teeth as her eyes continued to dart around. Gradually, her breathing slowed. A wince of pain cut across her face before she coughed, flecks of reddish black phlegm dribbling from her lips. She blinked a few times before squeezing her eyes shut and giving her head a shake. “St- stop,” she gasped.

  “Stop what?” Stark asked, making sure to keep his distance from her. He didn’t want to kill her, but he didn’t want to give her a chance to infect him, either.

  “Stop talking,” Zoey hissed.

  Ali gave the others a curious glance. “We… weren’t?”

  “Not you,” Zoey said. “Others.” The more she spoke, the faster her words came, starting to sound like her old self. “Won’t shut up. Headache inducing.”

  “Zoey?” Stark asked. “Is that really you?”

  “Who else, Stark?” Zoey replied, her annoyance at the constant chatter in her head evident, but other than that, she sounded normal. “Wait.” She paused, listening to something that wasn’t audible to the rest of them. Her eyes shot wide suddenly, brimming with tears. “Oh. Oh, no.”

  Stark felt awkward as he watched Zoey start to cry. It wasn’t that she’d shown no hint of emotion before, but she’d always seemed far too in control to let her emotions get the better of her. He resisted the urge to move forward and comfort her, knowing it could be a trap. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Felicia,” Zoey said. “Madison’s daughter. Killed herself.”

  Stark’s eyes widened. That’s one more promise I couldn’t keep, he gloomily thought. “Why?”

  “Madison tried to protect her,” Zoey explained. “She chose alternative method of achieving safety. So many different psyches, all wallowing in grief. And anger.”


  “Anger?”

  “Madison’s psyche managed dominance over others. Defacto queen of hive. With princess gone, queen blames world. Intends to infect, consume, everyone. Older fungal life in agreement. Can hear all of them. They act as one. Individuality uncommon. Most infected, consumed fall in line. Don’t fight it. Can’t fight it. Can see why. Fighting is hard. Barely managing it.”

  Zoey’s continued efforts to maintain control were obvious. Winces of pain were a near constant, as was a persistent shiver of her muscles. “Do you think you could figure out a cure?”

  Zoey shook her head. “Unlikely. Perhaps in earliest stages of infection. Once fungus takes hold, as much a part of afflicted person as their original self. To destroy one would kill the other.”

  Stark fell silent, glancing over at Jo and Ali. They seemed far less convinced than he was that Zoey was herself. He didn’t blame them. He wasn’t even fully convinced and, even if she was, it was highly debatable that they could trust her enough to take the handcuffs off. His next question felt clunky and wrong in his mouth, but he needed to ask it regardless. “Do you want me to end it?”

  Zoey paused. Her eyes darted from side to side as she thought. It may have been the longest period of time she’d been silent since Stark had met her. She finally looked up at him. “Not yet. Can still be useful. If I lose control, become dangerous, do not hesitate, Stark.”

  “Only as a last resort,” he said, nodding. “Got it.”

  “Hey, so if those things are planning on killing the world, we probably shouldn’t stay here any longer, right?” Jo asked. “We should get out of the city, at least.”

  Zoey shook her head. “Good idea. Bad timing. Worst timing. Fungus enraged, rampaging, hunting with fury. Streets less safe than ever. Without transport, wouldn't make it far. Can sense other infected nearby, searching. Can keep them confused, blocked off from your presence. Try to, anyway. If that fails, can warn you when they’re coming, where from. Should make defense easier.”