What the Hell Did I Just Read

  She trailed off, watching Loretta disappear around a corner.

  From behind us, Marconi said, “I have found that our greatest fears and our greatest desires are, in fact, two sides of the same coin. I have known many who have died before their time, clutching that coin in their fist. Figuratively, of course.” He had come up behind us at some point, now standing with his overcoat draped over a forearm.

  I said, “Jesus, you don’t just sneak up behind people and start spouting wisdom at them. Not at this hour.” I turned back to Amy. “So according to him, your proverbial coin is … waffles, I guess?”

  I went to put my hand on her shoulder again but she stood up, wandering away like she needed to stretch her legs.

  Marconi said, “I’m afraid I must excuse myself, I’ve an early morning production meeting, then it’s off to Minneapolis. Something is digging up graves, or so they tell me.” He glanced at a pocket watch. “I’ll assume any questions I have for you can be answered over e-mail.”

  I said, “Wait, what? This isn’t over, Doctor. Do you know what’s gonna happen with the larvae if we all just go back home?”

  “No. Do you? The best I can say is that a chick that cannot break free from an egg eventually dies. Or, it doesn’t get fertilized at all and someone scrambles it in a frying pan. All of this supposition is based on some very limited data.”

  John said, “And the Millibutt will continue to spit out new ones.”

  I said, “I’d have to consult my notes, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t accomplish anything. We literally could have just stayed home and gotten the exact same outcome.”

  Marconi said, “I admit that this one will require some massaging at the editing stage.”

  “So what’s the story gonna be?”

  “Very straightforward, I should think. It’s the cautionary tale of a town in the throes of a panic over a supposed winged creature that witnesses claimed could turn itself into a man. A creature that managed to snatch eleven small children. All of whom were, thank goodness, recovered unharmed, thanks to the noble sacrifice of a brave veteran. But was all of this the work of an unearthly creature of the night? Or a mere human with a deviant mind? Which kind of predator is more terrifying? That, dear viewer, is up to you to decide. Now enjoy this commercial for auto insurance.”

  Amy said, “Eleven children? There were twelve. You forgot Mikey.”

  “There is nothing to forget.”

  She stared into the middle distance and said, “Oh, right.”

  I stood up and stretched. “All right. We get a few hours of sleep, then we round up the biker kids and figure out what we need to do to contain this thing. Every minute counts, people.”

  32. FIVE DAYS LATER

  We never saw the bikers or their kids again.

  They apparently took the rain with them—we got nothing but sun in the days that followed. The water levels still continued to rise, as Amy had said they would—like all of life’s bullshit, it keeps trickling downhill even after the storm is over—but otherwise all we could do was keep rooting for clear skies. I wondered how many people had bought rain boots just hours before it stopped. Suckers.

  The neighborhood around the dildo store was all but impassable, but Amy and I had gotten our stuff and moved into Chastity Payton’s sandbagged trailer. We had no idea where she was, but she was still alive and Amy had saved her number before she left. Chastity agreed to let us squat there in exchange for keeping looters away, as long as we didn’t take the plastic off the furniture or “fart the place up.” Still, she wouldn’t have approved of how much red Mountain Dew I’d stashed in the fridge. I didn’t even enjoy the flavor of it, I think drinking it just reminded me of my early twenties. Back when I enjoyed terrible things.

  It was Saturday, the day before Amy’s birthday, when we got a mysterious call telling us to go out to Mine’s Eye and to bring John. We had actually been out there a couple of times since the night all the shit happened, waiting for the whole cycle to start up again. It hadn’t, but the call hadn’t been entirely unexpected—we surely weren’t the only ones monitoring the situation.

  We met John out there by the little church, which was surrounded by ladders and scaffolding. The owners were breaking local tradition by actually repairing the place, instead of just letting it rot—they’d already gotten the roof patched up. A black sedan pulled up and I was only mildly surprised when Agent Tasker stepped out, a bandage around her neck where her head had apparently been reattached. I wondered if it leaked when she drank coffee.

  John said, “Is your partner coming?”

  “No, he called in dead. I’m not here to harm or arrest you, and in fact I do not represent NON. That organization has been dissolved.”

  I said, “You mean they just renamed it again.”

  “There is a, let’s say, housecleaning taking place. We have ascertained that your judgment on the B3333B breach was in fact correct. We do apologize for any actions taken against you by the previous regime—”

  “Meaning you,” interrupted Amy. “When you tried to personally kill all of us, over and over again.”

  “But I do want to point out that throughout the process, the information sharing between us was less than ideal, on both ends. That’s something we should look to improve going forward. In terms of B3333B, we are actively monitoring all eleven offspring, and will continue to do so until an alternative course of action is found.”

  I said, “Well, problem solved. I’ll just put this whole thing out of mind, then.”

  The sun was shining, and the pond below would have been shimmering turquoise … but there was no pond. The whole thing had been filled in with concrete. Crews had started filling it in the very next morning after the ten larvae had emerged. There were workers milling around the area now, dragging thick hoses that snaked down from several trucks that were perched on the hill above.

  Tasker said, “As you can see, we’ve already gone to work on obstructing the breeding site.”

  I said, “I don’t want to tell you your business, but I one hundred percent do not believe that a bunch of cement is going to keep the Milli—uh, the B3333B from doing its thing.”

  “Of course not. But we do have every reason to believe that physical proximity to the pond is a requirement for the process to work. The goal will be to simply keep people away. You wondered what connection there was between Mr. Knoll, Ms. Payton, and the Christ’s Rebellion Motorcycle Club. Well, they all attended a barbecue right here, a month before the children turned up missing. That is, a month before the idea of the children were implanted in the adults, along with the trail of psychological bread crumbs that would lead them back here.”

  Amy said, “But people come here all the time. I guess that was just when its breeding cycle started?”

  “When we were interviewing members of the gang, we noted one man named Beau Lynch, who bore a striking resemblance to Ted Knoll’s description of Mr. Nymph. This aroused some curiosity in the team, though the man appeared normal and was not otherwise suspicious. During questioning, it became clear that at one point during the cookout, Mr. Lynch and a young woman had sex in the pond.”

  This raised dozens of questions in my mind that I actually didn’t want the answers to.

  Tasker continued, “By tomorrow, there will be a twelve-foot fence around the hill up here. Those signs will be posted every twenty feet.”

  She nodded to where one of the signs was leaned against the church. In urgent red and white it said:

  RAW SEWAGE

  CONTAMINATION HAZARD

  $1500 FINE FOR TRESPASSING

  24-HOUR SURVEILLANCE

  I shook my head. “It’s not gonna work. People will figure out there’s no sewage here. They’re just going to get curious.”

  Below us, one of the crew members shouted a signal. Then there was a sputtering noise and a gush of raw sewage sprayed out of the hose. The stench reached us a moment later.

  Amy wrinkled her nose and said, “That?
??s … wow.”

  “Okay,” John said, “just to get this straight, in the meantime, these parents have to spend the next however many days or months or years raising these fake monster children? How is that not going to end horribly for everybody?”

  Tasker shrugged. “That is simply the way of the world. All they know is that they love their children very much. Love is not always a two-way street, sometimes you pour your energy into something that never gives back. Like people who keep lizards as pets. Is that worse than being alone, or without purpose?”

  I said, “Way worse.”

  Tasker glanced at her watch and said, “Well, if you have any suggestions, you know where to find me.”

  I watched her duck into her car and pull away. I imagined her turning her neck too quickly the next time she went to back up and her head just toppling off her shoulders.

  Amy said, “So, we need to resume the conversation we were having.”

  “Which one? About whether or not a plane could take off if it was sitting on a giant treadmill? We decided it would take right off, the wheels have nothing to do with it. Nothing to discuss.”

  “No, the one we were having at John’s house. About your sadness demon? And you said that wasn’t the time to have the discussion? Well, that time has arrived. I’ve got a number for you to call, I know for a fact they can get you in early next week.”

  “We can talk about it later.”

  “No. We can’t.”

  She looked at John, like this was his cue to jump in. They’d planned this.

  John, looking like he’d rather be chewed up in the belly of a shark than standing here having this conversation, said, “She has a bag, at my house. Clothes and stuff. A little money. Friends ready to come and get her. She’d made the decision to go, is what I’m trying to say. I talked her out of it. Told her that if you knew, if you really knew what this was doing to her, you’d fight it.”

  That black pool of shame bubbled up in my head again. Then, a spark came along and set it alight. The choice between feeling the toxic ooze of self-loathing and the fire of mindless rage is no choice at all.

  I turned on her. “You know what? If you want to go, why don’t you—”

  John stepped in front of me. “Can we just skip this part, Dave? The part where you have this knee-jerk anger reflex over being given an ultimatum? Because it’s not an ultimatum and nobody is trying to push you around. I’ve been here a million times, you know I have, and that anger, it’s the rage of a kid getting dragged out of a warm bed on a cold morning. That’s all it is. Because that depression, it’s the most comfy bed in the world and you will say whatever you have to say to stay in it for one more minute. But there’s people out here who love you a lot, telling you that there’s a truck heading for that bed. And if you can’t work up any concern for your own life, then think of it like this. Somebody Amy and I care about a whole lot is about to get hit by that truck and only you can save them. The person we need you to save just happens to be you. Also, the truck is filled with shit, I don’t know if I mentioned that.”

  “I just assumed.”

  I sighed and carefully studied the patch of nothing in front of my face. “I am ninety-nine percent sure this is just the way I am. Been like this as long as I can remember.”

  Amy looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course it’s the way you are. But having really hairy legs is the way I am, and I still shave them regularly. In our natural state, we’re all smelly, sticky, angry creatures nobody would even pay to look at in a zoo. We’re all at war with that awful, primitive version of ourselves, every day. You’re scared. I get it. You’re scared you’re going to get cured and suddenly be this corny, boring person. Well, I have good news—there is no cure. You just wake up another day and fight it, day after day, until that’s who you become. A fighter. Look, it’s up to you. Only you can do this. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life watching you slowly rot to pieces, stuck to the sofa like some kind of an airplane that is totally unable to take off from a treadmill, due to the laws of physics.”

  “If nothing else,” said John, “remember that people depend on you. The next crisis is always right around the corner.”

  We stood there and watched the shit-flooding operation for a while.

  I gestured toward the crews below us and said, “I don’t like this.”

  Amy said, “Well, it’s gross on like thirty-six levels.”

  “No, I mean, in general. We’re basically being asked to turn a blind eye. Living our lives, knowing this is here. Like an—”

  “An itch you can’t scratch?”

  John flicked a cigarette butt and turned to go. He put his hand on my back, as if to lead me away.

  “Forget it, Dave. It’s Vaginap—”

  33. A COMPLETELY UNEVENTFUL DENOUEMENT. WE CAN PROBABLY CUT THIS PART, SERIOUSLY, STOP READING

  Where the flood had receded, it had left behind a thin film of dried mud that turned lawns, sidewalks, and blacktop all the same grayish brown, like we had all been sucked into a sepia-toned photograph. But the town was still here.

  We were doing Amy’s belated birthday at John’s place two weeks after the actual date, having agreed to at least hold off on the celebration until we were no longer at risk of trench foot. The stealth house had made it out of the flood needing only new carpet on the first floor (which had been badly overdue anyway, the old carpet having been assaulted by everything from coffee spills to fireworks burns).

  We showed up at the door at eight that night, to hear John screaming at someone from inside. The last phrase I heard before we knocked was, “That shit isn’t cute anymore.”

  He yanked the door open and let us in without a hello. He looked like shit, like he was five days into a bad flu.

  John had been fighting with Joy. She was off in a corner, messing with her phone, as if she’d checked out of the argument long ago.

  To John, I muttered, “So … she’s still here.”

  John snapped, “She won’t fucking go! This is fucking ridiculous.”

  Joy looked up from her phone and said, “I dumped his stash. He’s not happy.”

  “You … what?”

  “The meth, the Adderall, the weed, all of it. Down the toilet it went. Whoosh. Bye-bye.”

  John stabbed a finger at her. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

  I said, “You’re arguing with a swarm of shape-shifting bug monsters, John.”

  Joy said, “And losing!”

  Amy said, “I’m going to go get the casserole out of the car,” and went back out. There was no casserole, or anything else, out there.

  I paused to contemplate the ridiculousness of inserting myself into this discussion, then said, “Seriously, uh, Joy, you can’t make somebody stop being addicted that way. You get rid of the drugs, the addiction is still there.”

  She shrugged. “So? Doesn’t mean I have to make it easy.”

  John looked at me. “See? This is fucking bullshit. I didn’t ask her to live here. I didn’t ask her to fucking watch my every move like she’s a fucking parole officer. You know I sleep on the couch? In my own house!”

  “You know you made her, right? I don’t mean you made her stay here, I mean you made her, like that’s the end of the sentence.”

  “That’s what I keep saying. You see those clothes she’s wearing? They’re actual clothes! She bought them! With my credit card! She can make herself appear to be wearing anything!”

  Joy, still staring intently at her phone, muttered, “I like to shop.”

  “My point,” I said, in a lowered voice that Joy could probably still hear, “is that you can presumably make her just go away, right? I mean either go away as in leave, or go away as in, poof, she’s just gone. Hell, John, there’s a real Joy Park out there in the world. How would she feel knowing you’ve created a clone of her and that you live with it?”

  Joy said, “It?”

  John said, “Yes, Dave, if the actual porn star Joy Park
somehow shows up here from Korea, we will have to deal with that.”

  Joy said, “Actual?”

  He said, “You know what I mean!”

  Joy looked up from her phone. “Do you really want me to go? If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

  John took a deep anger-control breath, his hands balled into fists in front of him. He turned back to her and said, “I’m not saying you have to go. But you don’t control my life. This can’t be how it is.”

  Joy shrugged. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that.”

  John started to explode again, but I put up a hand and said, “You’re ruining Amy’s birthday. Come on.”

  I went and stuck my head out the back door, and found Amy standing on the stoop, watching Nicky pull up in her Toyota Prius. John insists on inviting her to everything, just because she’s been a dear friend for the last twelve years.

  I said to Amy, “It’s over, you can come in.”

  Nicky uncoiled herself from within the Prius, carrying a plastic box full of cupcakes. Her eyes were a pair of black portals into a soul that harbored only spite.

  “David!”

  “Hello, Nicky.”

  “I have two red velvet cupcakes in here, those are yours! If somebody tries to take them, smack ’em! Did you know red velvet is just chocolate with red food coloring added?”

  “No.”

  Lying bitch.

  We went inside and Joy’s face lit up at the sight of Nicky. “Heeeey! There’s my girl!”

  They hugged. I assumed that no one had explained that she wasn’t human; I’d have to take Joy aside later and let her know.

  Amy pulled a birthday card envelope from her purse and said to John, “Why did you mail this instead of just handing it to me?”

  John looked confused. “When did you get that?”

  “It was in the mailbox when we went to check on the apartment yesterday.”

  “I have no memory of sending that.”

  I examined the card. “Postmark is three weeks ago.”

  John saw my expression and said, “Hey, I wonder if it’s a clue. Open it.”