Camp Damascus(75)

“What are they?” Willow groans, too revolted to draw any closer to the strange creatures.

I continue approaching the back wall, overwhelmed with both terror and wonder.

This species is unlike anything I’ve witnessed in the animal kingdom, yet there’s something strangely recognizable about them. While there’s little about their features that relates to our natural world, they do sport qualities of the demons from somewhere else. Their skin is the same wretched pale grey, sagging and sick, and a small line of dark, stringy hair runs along the ridges of the apparent invertebrates. It’s matted against their wet bodies in an awkward, broken line.

“Demon larvae?” Saul questions from behind.

“Could be,” I reply, taking a moment to consider. “Or maybe just another species from the same place. There’s plenty more than Homo sapiens in our world; I don’t see why there would only be demons in theirs.”

I draw closer still, leaning down to the glass for a better look. I’m no more than a foot away from one of the bizarre creatures when the pudgy worm turns toward me, noticing my presence.

We stay like this for a moment, frozen in a curious standoff.

Slowly, the tip of the strange organism begins to expand, opening to reveal a dark, four-fanged mouth that stretches into a distinctly square orifice. The maw is dripping with thick, glistening mucus.

“Oh wow” is all I can think to say, the inquisitive part of my mind fully overriding any good sense I might otherwise harness to pull away.

Before my friends have a chance to call out and remind me, a purple tube erupts from the creature’s mouth in a quick snap, slamming against the side of the tank and prompting me to stumble back in shock.

The hollow proboscis, which features a frighteningly sharp point, rubs against the glass for a moment as it struggles to catch hold. When this doesn’t work, a cascade of tiny white eggs begins pumping forth, spilling across the bottom of the tank. I can only assume those were intended for placement somewhere deep beneath my skin.

I take a moment to catch my breath, then collect myself and stand up straight.

“I don’t think those are larvae,” I state, nodding to the unhatched eggs at the bottom of the tank. Several dead flies lie scattered about next to them. “I think it’s the final product.”

My mind is churning through new information as I struggle to make sense of it all. This is fascinating, but the implications are nauseating to process.

For the first time, I’m a little thankful for the memory loss.

“Some creatures that bite need to go unnoticed. Leeches and mosquitos evolved to secrete an anesthetic once they’ve attached to their host, which allows them to feed,” I explain, thinking out loud. “A species could easily evolve to produce something even more powerful than a simple numbing agent. Something to make you forget you were ever a host to begin with.”

I glance back at my friends. “We’ve probably got some eggs in us.”

“You do,” announces an unexpected voice from the doorway on our right.





12





THE CONQUEROR


The worms were such a horrific detour that we’ve completely let our guard down. Now, turning to face our unforeseen visitor, I find myself staring into spectacled eyes I know all too well.

My “therapist,” Dr. Smith, stands before us with a disappointed look on his soft, bearded face. His demeanor is far from threatening, but glancing down I notice there’s a gun gripped tightly in one hand.

I step back a bit, staring down the barrel of his weapon. I’m not around guns often, and the mere presence of one puts me on edge, let alone a pistol trained directly on my chest.

The average nine-millimeter bullet travels up to 1,500 feet per second.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Smith continues. “The flies won’t ever grow up, that’s been bred out of them. Some Ligeian gestate longer than others, although it depends on their exposure to certain radio waves.”

Dr. Smith hesitates, then corrects himself.

“Well, not radio waves,” he explains.

I instantly recall the strange, unknowable aura that radiates from every demon. The way it wreaks havoc on electrical currents and audiovisual transmissions. The idea that this emanation has an additional biological effect doesn’t surprise me, especially on a potentially symbiotic species like these worms.

Dr. Smith points at the tanks. “Regardless, none of them should stick around long enough to become … that. Most of them never gestate at all, but there’s always a few seeded oranges mixed in with the seedless. Lucky you.”

One of the worms rises upright in its tank, tracking my movements like a stout, slimy cobra.

“The eggs eventually dissolve,” he continues, “but as you can see, Ligeian produce quite a few of them with a single puncture. Unfortunate side effect; we really just need them for the memory loss. Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness. He works in mysterious ways.”

“You think God made those things?” Saul scoffs.

Dr. Smith shakes his head. “No, but he brought them to us for a reason. Hi, Saul. Do you remember me?”

Saul just glares, but his eyes reveal the answer. He doesn’t remember at all.

“It’s nice I happened to be on shift tonight,” Dr. Smith continues. “Catching the three of you like this is very poetic. Magdalene was never my patient, but she certainly made things interesting for me.”