New Title 8

by McKenzie, Shane

  The desk gave way some more and Sid screamed. And then his eyes landed on the single passenger row boat displayed on the wall and the two oars making an X beneath it like wooden crossbones.

  Sid knew the thing wouldn’t last but a few minutes floating on top of the slime. The stuff dissolved everything it touched except…

  The boy’s legs swam by and disappeared out of the window. Sid reached up, tore one of the oars from the wall. As one of the boy’s torso halves snaked by, Sid reached out with the paddle and worked it toward him. His hand burned when he reached down and grabbed it, pulled it up onto the desk. The desk sizzled where the slime had splashed over it and the bloated flesh writhed on top of it.

  The woman’s body had been sort of floating in place, her head pulverized and pasted to the ground by gore from being stomped so many times. Sid reached with the second ore, the first one having already burned to the point of not being long enough to reach her.

  He worked the oar under her arm and pulled. The body turned but stayed glued down. It gave some, but not enough, and the oar broke apart at the flat end.

  “Shit!”

  Crow stood up. Nude and hairless and swelled up. All muscle definition was gone, covered by the green inflated flesh. He faced Sid, his eyes bleached white and bulging from his sockets like steamed dumplings.

  “Stay the fuck back!” Sid said and held the oar’s handle out in front of him.

  Crow gurgled, then dove into the slime and weaved through it as he swam away. His body collided with the woman’s and dislodged it.

  Her body wiggled, one arm splashing as she tried to swim. The body nearly coasted by, but Sid lifted the oar handle over his head and stabbed the jagged wood into her chest before she passed. He yanked her out of the slime like a speared flounder and plopped the green flesh beside that of the boy’s.

  The desk lowered again, nearly dumping Sid and the twitching remains back into the muck. He caught himself on the wall, kicked his leg out and held the flesh in place. He palmed his way up the wall, grabbed a hold of the rowboat. It was lighter than he’d expected, but his muscles still ached and needled with pain. Carefully balancing himself, he pulled the rowboat off the wall, spun it so the bottom was facing him, then used the desk and the wall to prop up upright.

  The rowboat had been held up by thin tacking nails on the drywall, and Sid had to get on his tiptoes and stretch to reach them. The thin metal of the nailheads dug into the flesh of his thumbs and forefingers as he yanked them out one by one, having to wiggle them and work them free. The blood made his fingertips slippery.

  Within the front desk’s one drawer was various office supplies and papers, and Sid squatted, pulled the drawer open. No hammer. But there was a pair of scissors that he scooped up, then turned to the quivering flesh.

  His own flesh still tingled, and he had a sudden urge to just dive into the slime and go outside. There was an overwhelming feeling that there was somewhere he needed to be. His life depended on being there. But he shook it off, focused on the task at hand.

  He clamped the hanging nails between his lips so both of his hands could be free. The boy’s green flesh wiggled as he snipped into it, cutting the thick, spongy meat away from bone. The bones were thinned down and brittle, and as Sid worked them out of the flesh, most of them broke. He ignored the burning in his hands as he flattened the boneless meat filets and slapped it to the underside of the boat. He figured the meat would eat into the wood eventually, but it worked slower than the slime, and Sid could only hope it would buy him enough time to figure something out. At the very least he could get the fuck out of the gym. He fished a nail from his mouth, grabbed up the oar handle, and used it as a hammer to nail the meat on to the wood.

  The woman’s body took longer, and Sid hurried his pace as the desk lowered again. There must have been some kind of metal frame in it to keep it holding as long as it had, but Sid knew that wouldn’t last long either.

  He didn’t have many nails, but he spread out the ones he had and covered as much of the underside as he could. The green zombie meat squirmed and thrashed, but they held. And he had saved the woman’s arms. He would need those.

  Here goes nothing.

  He gently placed the boat into the slime, keeping hold of the back end. His foot plunged through the desk and dipped into the slime beneath, but he didn’t feel any pain. In fact, when his foot plunged in, it was like a million tickling fingers danced over his leg, and a goofy giggle escaped his lips.

  The slime wanted him to get in. Just slip right into it and let it finish consuming him. And he wanted to. Jesus fuck how he wanted to.

  No…gotta get the fuck outta here.

  He waited for the slime to make quick work of the rowboat, but the flesh was buoyant and held the wood out of the slime.

  Sid stepped in, holding the woman’s arms under his armpits, and winced when the boat dipped some. The slime hit wood in some places and sizzled, but the boat stayed afloat.

  Using the arm as a paddle, he worked his way toward the closest window and out into the hot, muggy day.

  The current pulled him across the parking lot and into the raging river that had once been a street. Everywhere he looked there was slime. Even the sky had a green tint and still had that blurriness to it. And swimming across the ocean of ooze were the people. Countless bloated bodies weaved like gators as they rode the current, all of them with mouths wide open, letting the slime pour into them as they went. Only the tops of their heads, their backs, and their fat asses were visible, but there were thousands of them. Like an army of zombie hippos.

  Something bumped into the boat as Sid tired his best to steer it with the arm. What looked like a cow swam by, its face a milky mess of flesh, body round and smooth like a whale’s. It made a gurgling moaning sound before it dipped back down into the slime and disappeared.

  Slime splashed over the side and sprinkled into the boat. Spirals of smoke drifted off and Sid gasped as he worked the arm on either side of the boat, trying to pick up speed. He didn’t know where he was heading, but he had to find some place to dock.

  He glanced up at the sun and quickly looked away. Sweat poured over every inch of him. Though the sun was out of focus, it seemed unusually bright, more intense. The heat magnified.

  The front of the boat dipped and it started to lean to the left. A splash of slime hit him in the stomach and thigh and a shriek exploded from his raw throat.

  A body bounced off the boat and nearly tipped it over. As it passed, the fingers of his oar grabbed hold of a roll of fat on the body and was yanked from Sid’s hands.

  “Shit!”

  When he turned toward the other arm, which he’d sat down beside him, it had already climbed its way to the edge and was dangling off. Sid tried to grab it but the arm dove fingers-first into the green sea.

  Something gleamed in the intense sunlight up ahead. He squinted but couldn’t tell what he was seeing. The hiss of the boat dissolving was all he could hear. The strips of flesh he’d tacked to it were beginning to peel off and swim away.

  Just ahead, to the right, was another elevated parking lot. The slime coated it, but it was shallow enough that Sid could see a few cars still parked there. He didn’t know what else to do beside plunge his hands into the slime and try and direct the boat in that direction.

  “Oh fuuuuck!” It felt like his hands were melting right off his wrists as he paddled his way toward the shore.

  He was almost there when the front of the boat dipped into the slime, throwing the back end up and tossing Sid into the muck. A mixture of pain and pleasure spread across his body and into the center of his being, both equally intense. A scream issued from his mouth as he expected to go under, drown in green.

  But his feet hit ground. Or what he thought was ground. Whatever his foot rested up against moved, pulsated. He was engulfed up to his belly button, and he pushed off the thing beneath his feet and clawed at the cement.

  The current nearly washed him away, carried him
off with all the other zombies. But he managed to climb out, crawl away from the slime and higher up into the parking lot. He jumped to his feet and stumbled toward a pickup truck. The door was open, keys in the ignition. There was a constant ding ding ding noise that didn’t shut off until he sat in the driver’s chair and slammed the door.

  Sid leaned his head back as he wept and gasped. His flesh cooked in places, tingled with orgasm in others. The moans issuing from between his clenched teeth were a blend of agony and euphoria. He wondered if it was already too late. If he would slowly transform into one of the zombies as he sat in the truck. If his flesh would expand and inflate and ooze green from every orifice.

  The urge to hop into the slime and follow the others was greater than ever, but he stayed put. He guessed that there was enough of him left that he could still resist. That had to be a good sign, right?

  He looked back across the slime toward the glare. From his spot in the truck, he could see what it was. Or what it looked like anyway. Glass. A wall of glass that started in the slime and rose into the sky. At the base of the glass wall was a large, misshapen hole. And the slime poured through it. Gushed out onto the other side. He looked up at the sun and realized why the heat was so magnified, why everything looked so blurry. Some kind of glass dome covered the sky.

  And that’s when Sid saw the people on the other side of the glass. Rolling in the slime as it soaked into their naked and bloating bodies. Green hummers and jeeps slowly dissolved. Helicopters swirled back and forth frantically, some already flying away.

  There were others too. In the distance. Trying to outrun the slime flood. Sid cracked the door and could hear the screaming. It was faint but it was there.

  What the fuck is going on here?

  He turned the key in the ignition and it started up fine. The slime had consumed the tires, but the engine was still intact. He cut the radio on, and didn’t even have to turn the dial before the man’s voice moaned from the speakers. Whoever this truck belonged to had been listening too.

  “…in here. They thought they could close it off from the rest of the world, but they were wrong. They knew the gate would open here, in our town, and they tried to contain it. But they failed. The slime has melted through the dome. And it won’t be long before it covers the world.” There was a light chuckle, then a cough and wheeze. “The building is starting to tip. I can hear the supports giving out under me. So this will be my last broadcast. If anyone is out there, anyone listening…don’t fight it. It’s a new world out there, and I for one am ready for it. We are the slime.”

  Then there was only empty white noise. Sid cut the radio off. Glared out of the window at the glass wall. The dome.

  The gate would open here? What gate?

  Sid thought about what Crow had said about Hell on Earth, and wondered if the crazy motherfucker was on to something there. It didn’t much matter anymore anyway.

  Sid opened the truck door, climbed onto the roof, sat Indian-style and stared out at the ocean of slime. It poured over the distant landscape, dissolving everything it touched.

  Except for the flesh.

  We are the slime, Sid thought. And we will cover the world.

  The End

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  Read on for a free sample of Hitchers by P.A. Douglas

  Chapter 1

  The night sky was bustling with cloudy activity. It was only a matter of time before the clouds would decide to open up and fall to the earth. Thunder erupted in the distance suggesting that the city streets would soon be dry no more. Other than the unfortunate prospect of heavy rains, the streets of downtown Grayson were still. The northern most parts of Louisiana were like that at this time of night; silent and void of life.

  Elliott Racca cringed at the idea that he’d finally stooped this low. If he planned to get a jumpstart on tomorrow, he would need to find a place to hunker down and soon. With the first few droplets of rain beating down on him in the alley, Elliott lifted his heavy coat up over his head to keep from getting wet. It looked like he was going to be in luck despite the rain. He scrounged around in a small dumpster in the back alley and came away with a partially eaten Subway sandwich. As he peeled the wrapper back revealing the half-eaten sandwich, he licked his lips with excitement. His nose tickled as his tongue slid across the course fibers of his matted mustache. It had been weeks since he last had the chance to shave, and even then, he hadn’t taken the opportunity. He wished he had. The stench of vinegar and something rotten wafted for a brief moment in Elliott’s face. His stomach churned and his eyes started to water. He fought the smell back, as his stomach muscles tightened against the stink.

  Sadly, he was afraid it wasn’t the dumpster he smelled, but his mustache. He made a mental note to look for a water hose somewhere tomorrow and clean up. He remembered seeing another homeless couple using one near the downtown park just on the other side of where he slept, or where he used to sleep, at least. Maybe it would still be there tomorrow.

  Then again, he thought, setting the sandwich down on the gravel and taking a seat next to it with his back against the dumpster. If I don’t get under cover soon, I might not need to rinse off.

  The rain started to pick up, becoming more consistent rather than just little droplets here and there. With both hands, he lifted the coat up over his head only to expose his lower back to the elements. Preparing himself for what would sadly be his first real meal of the day, he took off his cotton fingerless-gloves and used them to wipe at his unkempt beard. Dust and the debris of God-knows-what drifted into the air as he batted at the unwashed facial hair. He swallowed hard not to recoil at the smell that drifted from his chin. He could only sit and wonder how it had all come to this.

  As if he didn’t already know.

  This was all Brian’s fault. He would have already eaten and been under shelter hours ago if that asshole had not muscled his way into Elliot’s territory. But here he was digging through an unfamiliar dumpster on an unfamiliar street corner in a back alley that he knew nothing about.

  While breathing a heavy sigh of agitation, Elliott looked around. The alley looked secluded enough, but at least back at his old spot, the one that Brian had so kindly taken over, he knew the area, and he knew the people. He knew the good spots for food and when to hit them. He knew when to be out of sight and when he could freely be out in the open without the hassle from the police. If there was one person he hated more than Brian, it was the Sherriff. He was the cliché to beat all clichés.

  Elliott reached down to retrieve his meal from the gravel at his side. Something moved under his hand, squealed a high-pitched yelp, and then scurried off. Startled, Elliott flinched in disgust as he watched one of the two furry rats dash away into the shadows. The other sat unscathed by Elliott, eagerly nibbling on one edge of the Subway’s bread. Now the six-inch sub was officially tainted.

  “Scat!” Elliott grumbled, swatting the nasty creature away. Clearly, the rat was not fazed by his aggravation, so he yelled, “Get the hell out a here! That’s my food. Go get somethin’ somewheres else.”

  Shoving at the small rodent, Elliott snatched up the sandwich, as the rat scampered off into the darkness. After examining the food, he picked away at the part the rats had chewed. Using the crumpled wrapper, he brushed a small bit of something unfamiliar from the tomato. Then satisfied, he smiled and took a bite. The bread had the texture of cardboard and what little meat was left tasted a little saltier than desired. Sour. Hell, he’d had worse. Doing his best to enjoy the meager meal, Elliott grimaced, his thoughts racing with regret, hatred, and anger.

  No doubt, Brian was probably bundled up warmly in Elliott’s sleeping bag, and tucked away under the patio behind the Chinese restaurant on Main Street. It was hell to crawl under there, but it was dry and out of the rain. As the rain started to really come down on him, Elliott bit down on his tongue, thinking about showing up in the middle of the night and teaching Brian a thing or two. But that was just it. Brian was as ruthl
ess as they came. Having lost his home and job when the construction industry finally fizzled out, Brian was much bigger, stronger too. Unlike Elliott, he was new to the area and immediately pushed himself into the good spots. Not only had he taken away Elliott’s sleeping hole, he’d also taken his street corner. Elliott had been working that street corner right in front of the coffee shop for the last three months and now that was gone. It had been the perfect spot. If he was up early enough, the morning crowd always dropped him a few bucks here and there for him to buy food, and this stupid Brian guy wasn’t even doing it right. He was too aggressive. He just scared off the customers and it made life on the street hard for the entire homeless community in Grayson. Something had to be done.

  “Stupid prick!” Elliott bit his lip, while he was starting to get wetter than desired. The rain was coming down stronger now, pelting down on him in steady wave of thick mist. Standing up and tossing the Subway wrapper back into the dumpster, he grumbled to himself, “You ain’t seen the last me. I’m fuckin’ Racca the invincible. For sure, I’ll have my minions on you by this time tomorrow, Brian. You just wait an sees.”

  Making his way deeper into the alley in search for shelter, he stifled a cough. Some cardboard boxes or a nook to crawl under would have been a welcome surprise. He considered getting into the dumpster, but the last time he did that, it hadn’t turn out very well. The sudden slam of a dump truck getting ready to pick up the dumpster had startled him and he had frightened the driver of the truck. No need to go there again. That was a nightmare.

  The alley was the length of a small plaza. New. Two large buildings framed each side. Back doors lined the entire length, allowing employee access to the dumpsters and delivery vendors. Every other door that Elliott passed had at least one chair perched on the wall beside it. Cigarette butts littered the ground by almost every chair.

  “Man, what I wouldn’t give for a nice ol’ pack a smokes.” Elliott’s mouth began to salivate.