Scorched Flesh

by Ian Woodhead

  The self pity and anger at her decision only changed to total shame when I finished work. Justine would be absolutely devastated if my moment of weakness ever came to light, and yet despite this, my treacherous hormones wouldn’t stop pushing erotic images of the fantasy of both Anna and Justine playing with me at the same time which just made everything a hundred times worse.

  Believe me when I say that it wasn’t a pleasant experience to have all those intense emotions dropped on me a second time, especially in the already fragile state I was in. As I lay there looking at his hand, all I wanted was for the earth to open up and swallow me. Mark wasn’t about to let that happen though. He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me out of the wet mess.

  He helped me over to his car, and I allowed Mark to sit me in the back seat where the globe thing had previously sat. It took great effort not to pull my legs up, just in case any of the spider-like things were still lurking under the wheels.

  “I so need a beer,” gasped Mark. “What the hell just happened? It fucking exploded like a water balloon.” He looked down the front of his overalls, and groaned in disgust. “Only it wasn’t filled with water, that’s for damn sure. No mushroom I know of would do that.” Mark shrugged off his leather jacket, climbed out of his overalls, and threw the whole lot behind me, leaving himself dressed in denims and a dark blue t-shirt that probably hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in months.

  “Why are we here anyway, Travis? Fuck, I’m cold. Look, I suggest that we bugger off back to the Black Swan and finish our quest to get well and truly hammered.” He shivered. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken my spare coat out of the car last week. Doesn’t matter, I’ll soon warm up when I’m back in the pub. Come on, get a move on. We’re wasting valuable drinking time.”

  I nodded vacantly, gazing over the horizon, wondering why it was so quiet. This was one of the main roads through the centre of town, and we should have seen some traffic driving past us.

  “Anna’s dipshit boyfriend is supposed to be coming back tonight. I’m telling you, I have no intentions of being sober when that annoying dork turns up at our door. He does my head in.”

  Those words ripped a large chunk of muscle out of my beating heart. So that was the reason why the bitch dropped me like a hot potato. She’d had her fun with me, and I was of no further use now that her regular lover had returned. She had cast me into the gutter. It made me wonder just how often she did this. Her boyfriend, Marcus Clayton, worked away, leaving Anna to her own devices at least one week in seven. I then felt thoroughly ashamed of thinking that the woman might try this again with me the next time Marcus left her alone.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Travis?” He leaned into the interior of the car. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet.”

  I found myself nodding. I’d probably gone pale because deep inside me, I could hear a single panicking voice screaming; yet the more I tried to lift that voice up to the surface, the deeper it sank. It was like trying to grasp smoke. In the end I gave up of the job. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as important as the shit I’d got myself into with Mark’s sister. Fuck, if he ever found out that I’d done the nasty with Anna, he’d tear off my limbs.

  I forced out a light hearted laugh, hoping to God that it didn’t sound as though I was choking. “Fair enough, Mark. The pub idea sounds like a grand plan. I believe I’m ready to sink a pint or ten. First off, though, I need to run a small favour for my dad. He wants me to pick up a model.”

  “Oh, yeah, I bet he does, the dirty old bugger!”

  “Leave it out, Mark. Not that kind of model, you daft clown. Come on, it’s about time you did something worthwhile today. You can give me a lift. It should only take about half an hour.”

  “Do we have to do that now, Travis? Can’t it wait? I’m telling you, if I don’t get some beer down my neck within the next few minutes, I swear that my throat will seize up.”

  “Are you having a laugh? To be honest, you shouldn’t even be driving now, never mind later on. Look, what sort of state will the pair of us be one hour from now? You won’t even remember how to walk, never mind drive. Now stop your bloody whining, and get your arse in here.”

  ***

  I’m guessing that you think you would have acted differently? On the surface, it doesn’t make sense. How could either of us be able to carry on with our normal daily routine after witnessing something so momentous? You never encountered the birthing globes, and for that, I’m so thankful. By the time you arrived on the scene, those horrible things were nothing but a faded memory. The things that emerged are still with us though. I don’t think we’ll ever exterminate those horrible fuckers.

  You see, they were perfectly able to protect themselves. That fluid contained some kind of chemical that made you forget, made you believe that they really weren’t that important, or maybe it was something coating the outside of the casing. Where it came from doesn’t really matter, it shifted our focus from the things that came out of it, that’s what really mattered.

  There’s just one more thing that I need to add here. To this day, I believe that if I had gone along to the pub with Mark at that particular point, the following events would have certainly turned out very different. For a start, I wouldn’t be in here, and you definitely wouldn’t be around to hear it. My dad asking me to go to the shop saved my life, or at least stopped me from undergoing any of the changes.

  ***

  It didn’t come as much of a shock to discover that Mark knew exactly where the model shop was. Hell, I knew where the cheapest and more expensive female underwear shops were in Lorchester, but it didn’t mean I went in there. Don’t think I’m a perv or anything. My knowledge of lingerie deals came from my girlfriend dragging me around town on the occasional Sunday.

  What did surprise me, was his reluctance to talk about the place. Of course, he knew about my dad’s obsession with all that silly gluing up bit of plastic rubbish together. How could he not? Mark and I had been the best of buddies since primary school. That’s over ten years of friendship. In all that time, Mark had expressed a few mild humorous remarks at my dad playing with toys, but in that decade, the subject of where my dad bought all of his stupid plastic models never came up.

  The strange thing was that apart from admitting that he knew about the shop, he wouldn’t talk about it. I tried to ask him if he knew the weirdo who owned it, or if any of his other mates went in there, but he wouldn’t elaborate. In fact, the more I pressed him, the more aggressive were his replies. In the end, I gave up, and we continued the journey in relative silence.

  I had no problems with a quiet journey. The lack of conversation suited me just great. It gave me plenty of time to mull over my current woman problems. I never believed that something like this would ever show its ugly head in my relatively quiet and boring existence.

  The logical step really would be to follow Anna’s proposal to carry on like nothing had happened between us; to sweep our little entanglement under the rug, and forget about it. After all, Justine and her family were due back in England tomorrow. I sincerely doubt that Anna would let the cat out of the bag, but it wouldn’t matter how discreet the girl would be if I was walking about with a face like thunder, and my emotions spinning like fruit in a smoothie machine.

  Justine and I have been going steady now for just over two years, so I suppose that means that our relationship could be classed as a stable one. I know for a fact that my mum gets on great with her mum, and she dotes on the girl, and for months now she’s been waiting for me to ask Justine to marry me; I think both mums have been waiting for that one. Those two got on like a house on fire. I think that mum sees her as the daughter she never had. It’s not only the chance of organising a grand wedding that she’s after either. Mum wants to hear the patter of tiny feet too.

  Like that was going to happen. Just the thought of me being a daddy sends a freezing shiver down my spine. Don’t get me wrong here, I love kids. Okay, I love other parent’s kids, mainly bec
ause you can give the little buggers back when their mood turns sour. Anyway, I’m only nineteen. I want to live a few more years first before the ball and chain is bolted to my ankle.

  The dads get along fine too. At least, I think they do. It’s hard to judge with blokes over a certain age; unlike women over forty, they tend to keep their opinions to themselves. So despite them sharing power-tools and going for the occasional pint, my dad and Justine’s old man might hate each other’s guts for all I know.

  That leaves me and my girl. So I love her? I know that I can say for certain that this time last year I would have done anything for her. Thing is, and I have no idea how it happened, but over this past few months my feelings towards Justine have changed from boiling hot to warm. There’s no reason why, not that I can think of anyway. It just happened like that.

  Does that sound lame? Maybe, I don’t know. I guess people do change over time, even in the space of a few short months. So now I’m kinda comfortable in her presence, we have fallen in with the same daily routine. Hell, it’s like we’re already married. I can see parallels with how we behave, and how my mum and dad act around each other. She’s like a pair of well worn and comfortable slippers.

  Oh Jesus, just listen to me. Just how fucking harsh do my words sound? When I think back to those hours of incredible hours of sexual gymnastics that Anna and I took part in, I want to break down and burst into tears. Am I that much of a nasty little bitch to want my cake and eat it as well?

  Those all important questions concerning my morality went to the back burners when my so called best mate slammed on the anchors, and the seatbelt dug into my chest as my body was violently flung forward. “Just what the frigging hell are you playing at?” I snarled.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand your words, oh nasty one,” he said, a slight smile playing across his face. “Oh yeah, I thought you like to know that we have arrived at our destination. The taxi fare is six pounds, or four pints, whichever is easier.”

  “You’re the nasty one, shitbag!” I retorted. “I would have preferred to leave your car the normal way, not being launched through the fucking windscreen, you great dozy clown.” I rubbed the back of my neck, “I think I’ve pulled the muscle.”

  Mark chuckled. “Oh, give it a rest. I only touched the brakes, you’re exaggerating again. Anyway, you looked like you were dropping off to sleep, and I thought I’d wake you up, that’s all. No harm done,” he said, unlocking the doors.

  “Are you coming in?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. What’s the point of forking out a couple of quid for a parking ticket when you’re only going to be a few minutes?” He rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “And don’t forget the taxi fare.”

  I sneaked a glimpse at the lad as I shut the side door. He did not look well at all. I frowned, feeling that panicking voice try one more time to make itself heard. Both of Mark’s hands were shaking, I could even see tears. I mentally shrugged, it had to be the beer. He has a strong constitution, but even so, if any copper had pulled us over, the lad would have been well and truly fucked, not only by the police, but by his dad as well. The shakes were obviously him being thankful for getting us here in one piece.

  I rubbed the back of my neck again .I intended to give him a good kicking for pulling that stunt. Maybe he was coming down with something? I’d laugh my socks off if he was getting the flu, as long as he didn’t pass it to me.

  Despite his ill appearance, the bastard still managed to release a stream of insults when I slammed the car door shut. I smiled to myself, and hurried along the empty pavement, heading towards the model shop. It only took a moment for the fact that I was alone to sink in.

  Although this part of the town didn’t attract as many shoppers as the main centre, it was still usually busy, especially on a Saturday. There should have been lots of folk wandering about. The weirdo’s model shop was situated right in the middle of a collection of tourist style shops. In this quarter of Lorchester, you could pick up everything from painted ceramic dragon eggs to old vinyl records.

  The hippies and the students from the local university a few miles to the west flocked to the part of the town in their droves on a weekend. Looking around, all I saw was Mark’s car. This felt so wrong.

  I picked up my pace, eager to get this stupid errand out of the way as soon as possible. This place was creeping the fuck out of me. When we got back to the Black Swan, I fully intended to reach over that bar and give Steve the best kiss he’s ever had— we’re talking tongues and everything here.

  My footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, the old stone buildings at either side of me amplifying the sound. Those windows hid eyes, of that much, I was sure. No matter how much I put the feeling down to silliness, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t as alone as I believed. Call it being paranoid if you want. Hell, call me acting like a big girl’s blouse. Call it whatever you want, I don’t care, I couldn’t help the way I felt. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in terrible danger.

  The huge green twin metal doors of the old building were wide open, offering me a view of the deserted courtyard, and I have never seen a more welcoming sight.

  The two huge mills and the building in front of me formed Lorchester’s cultural section. Back in the old days, when everything was powered by steam, our town was the centre for most of the wool trade in the north of England.

  Back when my dad was a teenager, he said that this area was the roughest part of the town. All three building had been left to rot decades ago. I guess that folk just got sick of wearing woollen clothes. By the time my dad reached my age, the only people who frequented this area were the homeless, the trouble makers and the more adventurous, or stupid local kids. He did once tell me that he once brought my mum here for a bit of private fun. Needless to say, I terminated that conversation pretty quickly.

  Twenty years ago, a group of entrepreneurs bought all three buildings for next to nothing, and set about cleaning them up before advertising the partitioned building for use as offices and specialist shops. It only took a few years for all the mills to fill up.

  Right now, apart from the fact that the glass was in the windows, I felt like I had travelled back to before those folk with a truck of money had moved it.

  I spun around, and let out a quiet groan when I discovered that Mark’s car was now out of sight. I wished that I’d ordered him to accompany me now. I wrapped my arms tight around my chest, and glanced wearily at the hundreds of dark windows at either side of me. “Fuck this for a game of soldiers,” I snarled.

  Once again, I put my little used leg muscles into practice, and raced towards those green gates, silently relieved that Tileman’s model shop was in the courtyard building, and not inside one of the mills.

  Unlike the mills, the hall was built like a gigantic rectangular doughnut, with three levels of shops hugging the courtyard. I’m not what you’d call claustrophobic, but right now, the very idea of wandering through either of the closed in mills fills me with terror. At least with the hall, I’ll be able to see the sky.

  Tileman’s shop was on the second floor, directly above a scented candle shop. They both should be open today, as well as the others, and, of course, they should all be full of shoppers.

  I rushed through the gates and leaned against the wall, my eyes darting along the two balconies. I saw no people, nobody at all. “What the fuck is going on here?” The temptation to turn around and leave this place of silence took hold of me, but my promise to my dad won over. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to check out the shop. I hurried towards the stairway, pausing to peer through the window of the candle shop. My own haunted expression stared back at me. There was nobody in the shop, not even the grey haired woman who owned it. Yet the door to the interior was wide open.

  The sweet aroma of scented candles had tickled my nose as soon as I entered through the gates. As I walked away from the shop, my nose now detected something
else, a smell that I couldn’t place. It reminded me of antifreeze combined with the stench of rotting vegetables. Believe me, due to my unsavoury choice of profession, I’m used to vile smells. There’s nothing more unsavoury than the smell of hundreds of dead chickens rolling past you, suspended from metal hooks. This new aroma was in a league of its own though.

  I stopped and looked up at the sky, wanting to drown myself in that bright cleansing sunlight. Despite my promise, it still took a lot of effort not to get the hell out of here, run back to Mark’s car, and order him to drive straight back to the pub as fast as he could.

  My sense of duty stopped me from doing just that. There just had to be a rational explanation for what was going on here. It could be something as simple as a fire drill for all I knew. It made sense to put a clamp on all of this scardy-cat nonsense until I found somebody to ask. I did turn around, but only so far as the candle shop. As the door was wide open, it made sense to at least have a look inside.

  I stood on the threshold and leaned forward, holding my nose as the smell intensified. As for the rotten smell, it could be a new type of candle that the woman had just brought in. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I whispered, when a thousand explosions went off in my head. That was no candle. The smell was exactly the same when that mushroom detonated.

  “How could I have not recognised that?”

  As I feared, the place was empty of people; I even leaned over the counter. I slammed the door shut, turned around, and ran up the stone steps towards the second floor. The urgency I felt to get this over and done with gripped me.

  It didn’t surprise me to find that I was the only person standing on the balcony. Before I entered the model shop, I leaned over the metal railing, hoping that the higher vantage point would show me evidence of at least one more person.

  There’s a tourist shop on the other side of the hall, next to the other gate. I’ve been in a few times, usually waiting for my girlfriend as she checked out the clothing shops. There’s a huge picture of this place hanging on the wall, taken from when it was first opened all those years ago. The architects had landscaped the interior and created a gorgeous courtyard, broken with beautiful garden areas.