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.”
“Willow,” she snaps.
Dr. Smith shrugs, ignoring this. “I’m only here on Thursdays, so the chance of you running into a doctor who might just shoot you in the back was fairly high.”
“Eighty-five and some percent chance it was someone else on duty tonight,” I announce. “Fourteen and change it was you.”
“And that’s not enough for you to regain a little faith?” Dr. Smith asks.
“No,” I reply flatly.
Saul steps forward, prompting Dr. Smith’s fingers to dance across his weapon in a strange, subconscious reply.
“Bullshit,” Saul snaps. “You made a deal with the devil, and now you’re gonna lecture us about who has the most faith?”
“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you,” Dr. Smith retorts. “This is a small price to pay to change the world! Look at you! You’ve all been delivered from your sins of the flesh!”
Saul shakes his head. “And on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it,” he counters.
“And there are varieties of ministries, and the same Lord,” Dr. Smith snaps back, then laughs a bit. He’s pleased with himself. “I could do this all day.”
I can’t take this anymore. “It’s almost as if the Bible can be twisted into supporting whatever point of view you want,” I blurt.
Dr. Smith breathes in slowly and lets it out, assessing the situation. I can see now that an office lies behind him, featuring a simple desk and some filing cabinets stacked high against the far wall.
It’s nothing like the ritual chamber from my previous vision, no flat wooden table or humming, whirring machine.
He notices me glancing over his shoulder and smiles.
“You’re here for the machine,” he observes. “Hoping to shut off the holy radiance of our Lord and Savior like it’s a light switch? You’ve read enough of the good book to know God’s will doesn’t bend because you’re upset over His tough love.”
Willow angrily interjects, unable to hold herself back any longer. “You dumb fuck, you’re attaching demons to innocent kids. You’re not speaking for God.”
“We are saving them!” Dr. Smith cries out. “Saving you! Do you know what those things do once they drag someone to hell? The horrible things they carry out on those who let sin overtake their lives? Kingdom of the Pine may be ruthless, but we are not cruel.”
“I saw one of them twist a girl’s head around backward,” I retort.
“With righteous purpose!” Dr. Smith angrily counters, growing frustrated by this audience that dares question him. “We instill the mercy of God in them, quick and painless. Have you seen what happens when they’re left to their own devices? The transmissions from beyond?”
A flash of horrific imagery fills my mind, visions of human bodies flayed alive and left to suffer. Nauseating displays of exposed nerves plucked like guitar strings. He’s absolutely right; these creatures are brutal when left to their natural habits.
“You’ve seen what happens to those who spit in the face of God,” Dr. Smith continues, his expression softening, “and that’s not something I want for any of you.”
He hesitates, his rage fading.
“Let’s get you tethered again,” he finally offers.
“No fucking way,” Saul interjects.
“I’m afraid you don’t really have a say in the matter,” Dr. Smith replies. “You must understand, I can’t just let you walk out of here. You’re a threat to the decent work we’re doing.”
“Don’t do this,” I blurt. “You can pull out any shred of Scripture to convince yourself the ends justify the means, but if God is this brutal, what’s the point of worshipping him in the first place? If the big guy is really signing off on this torture, then I’m not on His team whether He’s real or not. I don’t think you wanna be on that team, either.”