by Robert Essig
Time was running thin and Rich had no idea if Mr. Junkie had roommates or other such losers who may be coming over for a shot of horse or a bowl of weed. Rich had to get out quick without being seen.
Careful not to step in the blood, he stood before the body and gazed upon it once more, half asking himself whether he should continue on this strange and grizzly path. He squinted as his mind pondered his becoming. Something about the body wasn’t right. It was crawling with something, but not bugs. Couldn’t be bugs.
Could it?
Rich knelt down, squinting his eyes at the translucent movement that coated the corpse, particularly the bloody abdomen. He saw what looked like tiny demons that seemed to be swimming within the gore, feasting on the blood and guts.
Rich reached his hand out to touch one of the creatures. He knew they had to be a part of Jeanie. Had to. There was no other explanation for their presence.
One of them latched onto Rich’s hand causing him to recoil. It had claws that dug into his flesh leaving the smallest drops of blood with very little pain. Rich’s senses were immediately heightened as the miniature beast’s hands dug further into his flesh, hiding themselves. They seemed to be laced with some sort of anesthesia because there was no pain as the little monster dug further and further until his head bore itself beneath the flesh and into the muscle, weaving and winding its way up Rich’s arm. It was a traveling lump that looked like a moving cyst. Once it made its way to his shoulder it seemed to sink into his body and disappear, but Rich could feel the foreign invader within.
He could smell everything in the room; as if the pot on the cocktail table, the empty beer cans, the spilled bong water, the blood, the coffee grounds in the kitchen, the rotting food in the sink, the piss around the toilet, the shit in the dead man’s pants, and everything else in the godforsaken apartment had been shoved up his nose all at once. He could hear people in the apartments surrounding Mr. Junkie’s: fucking, fighting, laughing, puking, sleeping and any other “ing” he could think of. There was a lot of activity in this apartment at three in the morning.
It was several minutes before Rich realized that he had his eyes closed. His senses had become so heightened that he was afraid to look, and when he did it felt as if the colors were bleeding from the walls in some crazy manner like the peak of an acid trip matched with a handful of mushrooms and some good cactus dust.
Rich screamed and his voice echoed in his ears like the shrill cry of animal under attack. The parasite that entered his body via his hand had traveled through his body and into his chest, tickling his heart with its claws as if checking the ripeness of a piece of fruit.
Rich closed his eyes again, heartbeat accelerating. He couldn’t bear to witness his world in a meltdown of colors like a fresh watercolor painting in the rain. Sound and smell peaked along with the intense flavor of blood and vomit that made him gag as the beast grabbed his heart and squeezed, taking his breath away and shooting pain into his left arm. He’d never had a hear attack before, but he was certain this was what one felt like.
And then it was all over. The intensified senses, the pain in his chest, the feeling that there was something burrowing within his flesh—all gone. The parasite, comfortable in Rich’s skin, burrowed deep, in wait for tomorrow’s meeting with Jeanie.
The body was no longer alive with the movement of transparent demonic parasites. The apartment was now just a murder scene.
Rich walked out the front door after looking through the peephole as if that tiny view would allow him to see clear enough to be sure that their wouldn’t be anyone in the hallway. It wouldn’t be likely at this time in the morning, but then again when his hearing was magnified he was surprised at just how many people were awake.
Once outside, Rich felt like a god. Frightened neighbors that heard his shriek may have been eyeing him through their peepholes has he walked by, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was on top of the world and couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. It was his turn to pursue a night of passion with some half-cocked floozie that would walk into a death trap so willingly. And he just knew his stomach wouldn’t reject the flesh again. Tomorrow he would eat and be happy and soon enough he would be allowed to see Jeanie’s world. He would be something.
Rich was becoming.
6
Audrey Champagne Brooks was woman amongst women, or at least she liked to think of herself that way. Her middle name was Champagne, after all, though her father had Miller High Life in mind and in gut when he and her mother made the decision to name her after the champagne of beers. Audrey rejected that completely and told people that she was named after fine sparkling wine. It just sounded better that way.
Riverside, California was a bit of a shit-hole. Polluted, hot, miserable—Audrey would have liked to be stranded just about anywhere else in the USA. But she was in Riverside and she was being very careful about bumming a ride. Hitchhiking was a lost art these days as far as walking the side of the rode with a thumb and hope goes. That’s how pretty girls found themselves raped and beaten in ditches or even killed. These days hitching was almost as bad and nerve-wracking as speed dating. There was a completely different dynamic to it. It was so much easier back when, with the thumb and the stick with the round of cloth wrapped to the end of it. Not that Audrey knew this personally. She was twenty-five years old. That kind of hitching was far too dangerous by the time she was old enough to hitch, but she’d seen it in old movies and figured it would have been an easy way to get a ride, especially with a pair of short shorts on.
Did people really tie their belongings in a scarf from the end of a stick, she pondered as she sat in a booth at a popular fast food chain. Those were some of the best places to get a ride. There were truckers who were usually a good lift, though some of them would get fresh and she’d have to kick him in the Jimmy. It happened twice already, and they got the picture pretty damn quick with a swollen pair to contend with. Heels did a number on a perv. So far, neither of them hit her after the kick, which surprised her after each incident, but she was a tough cookie and could hold her own. She had a gun if it came to that, not that she had ever used it. Cherie Douglas gave it to her just before she made her trip to Hollywood seven years ago. She’s had to pull it out twice to avoid rape, but she had been lucky both times when the bastard fled at the sight of a cobalt barrel.
Audrey sipped her water as she eyed the people who walked in the door. It was hard to judge people sometimes. Families were off limits; they were reluctant to pick up hitchers. Foreigners were also off limits for the most part. She had a fear of them for one reason or the other, though so many foreign-born citizens have been her saving grace in the past several years. There were a lot of Mexican Americans in Southern California and she wasn’t sure about the whole La Raza movement. It frightened her, so she tended to stay away from them. Audrey had a habit of stereotyping people. Perhaps she was racist, but she liked to think of herself as careful and cautious. Women were a safe bet, by and large, but sometimes they had a chip on their shoulder about picking up a pretty girl. Men of all sorts were sketchy, but they were generally the ones who were most likely to give a pretty woman a ride. Sometimes they thought they would get something out of it, but if she chose wisely she would have no problem. The guy had to be vetted before she stepped into his ride.
There was a guy sitting by himself nursing a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. The morning was also a good time to find a ride. Problem was finding someone who was going far enough. Places like this fast food joint were good because they were just off the interstate, and travelers tended to stop in for a bite before continuing on the road.
Audrey never had a problem approaching people about anything. It was one of those qualities she was born with that made her popular all through school. Kids liked other kids who were certain of themselves and there had been no uncertainty in Audrey’s world. Confidence and charm were two of the traits that got her through life. That’s why it was so alarming when she left town at such and
early age. She was eighteen, just out of high school when she left to chase her dreams. Her friends and family were shocked at her decision, but after she was gone, people were heard saying that if anyone were going to make it in Hollywood it would be Audrey Champagne Brooks.
So much for that. She didn’t realize Hollywood was all about plastic surgery and getting on her knees for a “special” kiss. For those who didn’t know someone in the business it was nearly impossible to be noticed. The porno industry had been all over her trying desperately to get her to “audition” for a role. Getting away from that was the big reason she moved to San Diego, but it looked as if things were going to change. She just needed to hitch a ride back to Los Angeles in time for a casting call she had heard about. In this case she knew the director, so she figured she had a good chance at scoring the role.
And she thought she may have found her ride in the man nursing the breakfast sandwich. She just hoped he was heading north. She could tell he wasn’t a local by his demeanor. He looked to be in his thirties, which would indicate that he was probably a working man. But a working man wouldn’t sit and stare at a breakfast sandwich if he had to get back to work, and certainly wouldn’t spend that much time with a breakfast sandwich if it was his day off. He looked sad. The road did that to some folks. It was a lonely place to be, as Audrey knew well enough. On top of that he just didn’t look very Riverside. Not that there was a certain look. It was just her intuition, so she decided to stop spying on the poor sod and crossed the lobby to take the seat across from him.
***
Austin ordered an egg sandwich and a coffee. He’d developed a taste for the stuff in its blackest form without the aid of sugar or creamer. It seemed like some kind of caffeine elixir and he felt he needed it, if for nothing else than to wash away the sour taste of cheap beer in his mouth. For all the riches he had access to, it was a wonder that he drank cheap beer.
He had a lot on his mind, and after the morning he had, it took two beers for him to get out of the hotel. It wasn’t a hair of the dog sort of thing, not this morning at least. No, Austin was dealing with something a hell of a lot worse than a mere hangover.
He had been holding the glass jar with the little beast that had haunted his dreams and filled him with something he hasn’t felt in quite some time. Life on the road had been getting dull as of late, and the search for himself seemed to have petered out, which was one of the reasons for a beer in the morning like normal people drink coffee. The thing in the jar, however, had stirred something within. Austin needed to know more about it.
He had been thinking about his life and the new direction it was taking when the jar slipped from his hand. It wasn’t in slow motion like a movie. It was quick, and just as fate would have it, the goddamned thing landed on the tile in the bathroom and shattered. Austin couldn’t even remember going into the bathroom, but there he was, bare feet awash in shards of pickle jar glass with something small and threatening climbing up his leg like a fleshy ladder.
Austin took a bite of his sandwich and then a sip of coffee. The incident in the bathroom replayed in his mind as he chewed what could have been cardboard for all he cared. There had been a few cuts on his feet from the shattering of the jar, but that was small beans considering what happen afterward. The thing clung onto his foot for dear life as Austin slowly stepped backward out of the bathroom careful not to step on more glass, then it stuck its hand-like appendages into one of the cuts and ripped it into a gash. The feeling caused Austin to fling his leg like a bucking horse. There was little pain, but the parasitic demon had a good grip. It reached its claws into the gash and dug its way into Austin’s leg, burrowing into his flesh and then, like melting wax, it was absorbed into his flesh and was gone.
He hadn’t been able to locate the thing and even the wounds it entered through had returned to minor glass cuts. Austin drank two beers as he dressed the cuts on his feet, all the while paying close attention to his body, trying to locate the parasite, but it seemed to be gone.
It wasn’t gone. He just knew the parasite was inside, feeding on him somehow. He pulled some cash out of his trust account and bought a used car. There was something gnawing at his mind for him to go north.
And that’s how he found himself in a fast food dump choking down a breakfast sandwich when it occurred to him that something was terribly wrong. There was a feeling as if someone was sucking his spinal fluid through a straw embedded at the base of his neck. It was rather annoying, but before he could muse on this strange discovery further, a woman approached him with eyes like a child who’d just been scolded.
Austin took the woman in. She was beautiful. Her sad blue eyes were like jewels embedded in the face of an angel. Though he was in the midst of a minor tragedy, Austin couldn’t help but hold his breath at the sheer gorgeousness of the female standing at his table. She looked as if she had something on her mind more than just bumming a cigarette or some spare change as many twenty-somethings do.
“I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help me,” asked Audrey. “I’m heading north and I was wondering if I could hitch a ride.”
Austin swallowed away the dryness in his throat before responding. “No better way than to just get right to the point, huh?”
Audrey smiled as she rolled her eyes in a way that looked nothing but cute, and Austin fell victim to her charm. Not only was she a knock out, but she radiated personality. For the first time this morning, he had something to take his mind off the parasite that he was hosting.
Austin stuck out his hand for a shake. “I’m Austin.”
She shook his hand. “Audrey. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’m heading north, so I don’t see any reason you couldn’t tag along. You could have a seat here if you like.”
Audrey beamed. “Sure. Let me grab my things.”
As she walked away, Austin followed her with his eyes. He could hear his old pal Rusty from Arkansas say, ‘those legs go right up ‘n make and ass of themselves.’ She was a good looker and fit as well. Maybe she spent a lot of time walking, hitching rides across America. Maybe. He was no perv, but he admired a well-put-together woman, and Audrey fit the bill. He averted his gaze as not to look like some sexual deviant and took another bite from his cold egg and cheese sandwich. It suddenly had flavor.
As she came back to his table, suitcase in hand, Austin once again became aware of the draining sensation at the base of his neck. He didn’t like it. He had suspicions that the parasite was behind said feeling. He wasn’t one to frighten easily, but that scared the shit out of him.
Audrey sat down. She was all smiles and a touch of shy. Could be a front, but Austin had the feeling that she was on the up and up and wasn’t one for games.
“Where you heading?” asked Austin.
“Hollywood. And you?”
He gave her a deadpan stare that may have frightened, but he could see that she’s been around a while, probably seen some wicked shit. Life on the road can change a person, and she had the look of someone who’d been changed. He knew he was, probably worse than most considering the years he’d spent as a nomad, but even more so now that he was cursed with a strange parasite boring into his neck. It was distracting.
“Just going north. Not sure where.” Austin followed his answer with another bite of his sandwich. He decided it was the final bite.
“North, huh? Like Canada north?”
Smart cookie. Trying to find out if he was running from the law. For some reason law runners seemed to have a soft spot for hitchhikers, especially stunning blondes. Or maybe they just liked to have a hostage.
“I’m not running from the law. Just heading north now. I guess you could call me a certifiable nomad, roving through the Wild West at the time being. I travel the world and never plant roots for too long in any one place. Been in San Diego for several months and just made the decision to move on. Something tells me to head north.”
She nodded her head as if meeting a nomad wa
s the most natural thing in the world. “Fair enough.”
“How ‘bout you? Chasing a dream of fame and fortune?” Austin wore the slightest smirk on his face that seemed to have a profound affect on little miss cheery. She didn’t like to be ostracized.
“I’m going to an audition.”
“Aren’t they all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Honey, I’ve seen more pavement than a Mac truck on route 66. I’ve picked up a lot of hitchers on the way, hell I’ve hitched with a lot of hitchers on the way, and you’d be surprised how many of them have your MO.”
If eyes could kill.
“But they’re usually not as pretty,” he added.
It was an offhand compliment, but he could see that she took it the right way. It was true, all of it. Austin has seen more young girls chasing dreams of stardom than he likes to admit to, and the horror of it was that many of them ended up stripping in sleazy clubs off Sunset Boulevard addicted to drugs and stuck in a city that sucks like a vampire and eats the remains like a vulture.
“Well, thank you. But I’ve already been to Hollywood once. Things didn’t work out and I have some friends in San Diego, so I moved there for a while. Then one of the contacts I made in Hollywood called me about a part in a major motion picture and I figure I’ll give it a chance.”
“Is the guy legit?”
“Yes, she is.”
Austin smiled, perhaps the first time in days, and said, “You’re a feisty one. I like that.” He grabbed his sandwich as he stood, considering another cold bite before tossing it back into the greasy wax paper it had been served to him on. “Let’s hit the road.”
