He felt it. It hurt like hell and brought him out of a heavy slumber. That damn sore on his arm again. It had been bothering him for a couple days now, especially at night to the point of waking him twice, once last night and now again tonight. He hadn’t really even noticed it until about four nights ago on Monday.
Something else is there too eh buddy? There had been something else there too right? I felt it didn’t I? Byron was sure something was going on. He could have sworn there had been movement on his arm. It felt like hairs had brushed up against him.
Reaching up with his right arm wincing in pain, he turned on the lamp atop his nightstand. Just above the right wrist about seven inches on the top side of his arm there was a sore. It looked a hell of a lot worse tonight than it did this afternoon.
He touched it with his left pointer finger. The pain was immediate and intense. Every nerve ending seemed to be connected to that one little spot and every single one seemed to be on fire.
His head snapped back. It felt like a hot fire poker had just pierced his arm. The pain was incapacitating. Byron could only sit there with his teeth grinding, eyes clenched, muscles tight, and beg for a reprieve. Please go away, please go away please go away oh God please go away.
Finally he regained himself and looked back to the sore. It was about the size of a dime now, whereas yesterday it was not much bigger than a pimple. On the top of the sore was a small hole the diameter of a pencil tip. It oozed cloudy white puss. He wanted to squeeze it, but thought better of it after he remembered the pain he’d experienced from the slight poke. Best just to let it be. Probably heal up in a couple days huh? Yeah it will heal…like every other cut, bruise, and boil I’ve had right?
Byron did not like the looks of this baby. It was a raw looking wound and appeared to be getting infected.
He got up went into his bathroom and opened the cupboard under the sink. In a basket of miscellaneous medicines and prescriptions he grabbed a bandage, some antibacterial ointment and a cotton swab. He looked in the mirror and whined, “it’s gotta be done man you know it has to be done.” With that said, he squeezed a little of the ointment onto the swab and hovered it above the sore. Then he did what needed doing, he very lightly dabbed the ointment on the wound covering it completely. The swab dropped to the floor and so did Byron. He landed on his knees with a cracking sound and screamed in agony.
He managed to pull himself up by grabbing the sink and stumbled towards his bed. He could not see very well and realized there were tears in his eyes. Oh man this is bad. You know it’s bad when ointment feels like acid. No way I’m puttin on that bandage, no friggin way dude! That aint happening, uh uh, not tonight boys and girls. This show’s over, curtains drawn, shop closed, sorry gents & gals no rain checks and please don’t let the door hit your a*s on the way out. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his mind ran round in circles.
Byron found the bed and sat down. How in the world such a small wound could hurt so much was beyond him. Breathing hard he lay back and rested his head on the pillow. He was exhausted. Using his left arm he pulled the covers back over himself being careful to keep the sore up and out of the way. Then he lowered the arm slowly down and rested it on his stomach. If this crap aint better by tomorrow you’re going in pal. Ok? Take it in and let the pro’s deal with it. They will numb the s**t out of it and probably slice it off…or whatever they do, either way this foul thing is toast. Within minutes he was fast asleep.
***
Byron was being chased by police, he guessed. The sky was orange and the smell of burning wood, metal, and paint was everywhere.
Running through an old abandoned building as bullets slapped into walls around him he fell and rolled behind a thick grey concrete wall. It was only about four feet high and three feet wide.
He was just reaching down to pick up a piece of pipe a few feet away when a figure appeared from the other side.
The man threw his arm out and struck Byron’s right arm with what looked like a cattle prod or tazer rod. Then an electrical jolt was sent through him. His body went rigid and he howled as his eyes turned to boiling jelly.
***
He woke up and seemed paralyzed by pain. His neck throbbed and his head hurt, but the source of the pain was his arm again. He tried not to move his body and looked down at his motionless right arm to where the sore was. In his disbelief he blinked and looked again.
There on his arm at the source of so much agony was a cockroach. Big, brown and oily slick, it sat there right at the top of the wound. It must have been three inches in length not including the two huge antennae that whipped about.
He was paralyzed now, not just in pain, but fear. Sheer terror struck as he realized what was there. This disgusting germ ridden bug was on top of his already infected throbbing open sore. It seemed that the roach was aware of him. He thought he could actually see those black shiny marble eyes looking him straight in the eye. Oh God, oh God, noooo, nooo, please no, no, no!
Breaking his gaze from the insect, he noticed his tennis shoe next to his bed. He reached down with his left arm slowly and carefully, trying not to spook the bug. I’m gonna kill you, you piece of s**t! You have been feeding off the wrong dude, dude!
Feeding? Is that really what had been happening? He supposed it was. That would explain why the wound had been getting so bad so quickly. This damn roach must have been coming in for the last couple of nights and feeding on me! No wonder the sore was infected. This thing probably has every known disease there is to have and it’s been hearing the dinner bell ring every night when I hit the sack. Well the restaurant is about to close my little greasy friend, oh yeah! Lights out, going outta business and terminating all customers! Thanks for coming!
The roach seemed to be following his movement watching him as he went for the shoe. He picked it up and raised his left arm high then brought it down so hard he could feel a breeze on his face as the shoe blurred downward towards this revolting new nemesis.
The roach seemed to sense this and tried to scurry away, but it was too late. The heel of the shoe connected with a loud crunching sound as puss, roach guts, and blood squirted out form under the heel in all directions. At the time of impact, some splattered onto Byron’s face. He did not notice though, he hadn’t realized how bad this move would hurt. The pain this time was so bad he was blinded by white light and heard a loud snapping sound. One of his left molars cracked from clenching his teeth so hard. Byron Jones tried to scream but simply fell unconscious as his head reunited with his pillow.
***
Byron woke up groggy. The morning was a beautiful, bright, seventy five degree sunny day without a cloud to be seen, which was typical weather for El Paso in the spring.
He rolled over and sat up. The pain was there and he immediately looked down at the injury it looked about the same as it did the night before except there was something on it. A small insect leg was there.
Memories of what happened last night came back clear. He carefully picked it up with his left hand and looked at it. It was over an inch long and had a bunch of barbs on it.
He looked down and saw the squashed carcass of the cockroach on his bed. “Yeah, but you should see the other guy!” He said aloud and laughed.
Byron stood up. Not daring to touch the roach by hand, he grabbed a napkin lying by his bed and picked up the flattened insect.
Gagging he took it into the bathroom dropped it in the toilet and flushed. “Happy trails.” His head ached and his back tooth was killing him so he opened the vanity mirror grabbed a bottle of aspirin and downed four of them dry.
He looked back at the sore. It looked about the same but did not seem to hurt nearly as bad as last night. He tentatively touched it. It hurt like a son of a b***h but the pain was at least manageable.
He saw the ointment and swabs on the floor and picked them up. Second times a charm, he thought as he applied a little bit of ointment to his arm. It hurt far worse than he thought it would and he winced and clenched his teeth. Mistake, now his tooth and arm were both throbbing. Throw a dog a bone once in a while damnit!
He went back into the bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans, a “Don’t Mess with Texas!” t-shirt, socks and shoes.
His watch beeped. Six thirty a.m. alarm was going off. To already be showered, dressed and ready for work at this time of the morning was unusual for him.
He sat in his small studio apartment kitchenette and sipped coffee with the one side of his mouth that howling anytime it faced heat, cold, or air.
“Better call Doctor Pain in the DDS,” he mumbled and started searching for the dentist’s phone number with his pocket pc. He called and left a message with the service that he would like to get in a twelve a clock appointment today.
Byron also saw Urgency Care’s number in his contacts list on his phone and thought about calling for an appointment for his arm. Can’t afford anymore time off work. not to mention the bills. Wait and see how the arm goes, if it gets worse… call, my tooth’s gotta come first.
It’s that friggin bug anyway that’s what was making it worse, maybe even what caused it to begin with. Now that it’s history the sore will take care of itself. Dr. Shoe.
He shut off the hand held and looked outside. Things were going to be alright. The day would shape up to be just dandy to be sure.
He opened the cabinet above the stove and took out a little silver box and opened it. In the box was a razor blade, straw, plastic baggy with about three grams of cocaine, and a couple joints.
He chopped up the white powder with the blade on his counter top drew two lines and snorted one up each nostril. His eyes watered. Good morning and a howdy do!
He used to just “use” occasionally a year or two ago, but now it was part of the old daily grind. He knew that he should slow down on the s**t. He seemed to be using the last couple of months heavier than ever. Tomorrow’s another day besides wait until your out then quit. That is what he always told himself and sometimes even believed it.
With that out of the way he picked up one of the joints lit it and took a few hits then snubbed it out and put all his little goodies back in the box.
He got his bike down from the wall rack checked to make sure he had all his essentials, a little nose candy to get him through the day, cell phone, keys, mp3 player, wallet and wind breaker. He normally left his apartment around seven thirty but he felt the need to get moving this morning.
***
Byron Jones worked at the U-Mailit Shipping Services and Office Supply store on 4th and Van Buren in. It was only about a five minute bike ride from the apartment he lived in ten blocks away on 14th.
Van Buren was a small town street with small town shops and small town folk, and that suited Byron Jones just fine.
He moved out here from California when he was nineteen. He felt at home from the minute he arrived. His car had overheated about a mile west of town and he walked to Andrew’s Phillit Up Cheap gas station which sat right on very edge of Devinsville Texas.
Andrew, the owner of the station, had stopped everything he was doing (which of course had been nothing) and put a “Be Back in 15 Minutes” sign in the front window. He then took Byron to get his doomed in the desert Dodge with a tow truck. When they got back to the station Andrew offered Byron an ice cold Beer out of a cooler just outside the entrance to the station. That was all it took and he decided to put Florida on hold and try the desert southwest living for awhile. That had been just over four years ago now.
***
Byron’s legs pumped hard and he was starting to get a good sweat going. The crisp morning air felt great on his face and for the moment he forgot about the sore, the tooth, everything. He just enjoyed the start of this new day.
He saw Mr. Thompson opening up the Café of the Day shop on 12th and waved a good morning to him.
Mr. Thompson smiled and yelled back “How bout a cuppajoe Byron?” Mr. Thompson always seemed to blend his words together. He said words like: mumsthwud for mums the word and bettadaytomaw instead of better day tomorrow.
“No thanks Mr. T, I had my pick me up cup right before I left, thanks anyway, but you could tell Mrs. T. I would love to scarf down a BLT for lunch.”
“BLT it is Byron she’ll have it waiting for you by noon. It came out of his mouth sounding like waitinferyabnoon. “See ya thisaftnoon son”
“Yes sir and thank you!. See ya at lunchtime.” Byron loved the Thompson’s who moved here two years ago from New Hampshire and he had eaten lunch there everyday since they opened their cafe for business.
I’ve already as much pick me up as the ticker can take, be lucky if I don’t blow a hole through my chest as it is. Byron realized his heart was pounding awfully hard so he slowed his pace down and focused on breathing in and out in deep breaths.
People were just now starting to get up and moving. The streets were pretty empty, but the shopkeepers were prepping for the day.
Byron stopped his bike and chained it to a light pole right in front of the U-Mailit. He could see that Joy Akers the owner was already there. The lights were on and he saw her putting pink highlighters in a basket over by the copy machines. Her pudgy, petite body moved slowly as if she had not a care in the world. Although he could only see her back with her light brown hair pulled back into a sloppy pony tail, he figured her round face most likely carried a smile.
He opened the front door and went inside.
“My, someone fell outta bed this morning early.” Joy yelled out without looking over her shoulder. She turned around with a smile which quickly faded when her eyes fell on Byron. “You ok hon? You look exhausted. What in heavens name is going on? It looks like you’ve slept only an hour in the last week, and your getting paler by the day I swear!”
“Yeah, been a tough week Joy. I haven’t slept well at all, but its Friday so I got the weekend to catch up. I’ll be fine. Good as new you’ll see” Byron smiled weakly back, trying to prove his point.
“Physically anyway, jury is still out on the mental side!” She laughed.
“Ha ha very funny, don’t quit your day job Ms. Comedian! Need any help with those?” He said pointing to the box of highlighters on the floor by her feet.
“Nope I got it. You can go change the ribbon on the register though”
“You got it boss, let me hit the head first and then it’s done and done.” Byron walked to the back of the shop into the small warehouse where the inventory was kept. There was a small bathroom for employees only that had the male/female sign on the door.
He went inside and lifted the toilet seat and took a piss. When he was done he dropped the seat and lid and sat down facing the back of the toilet. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a little piece of paper folded into a rectangular pouch. Opening it he spilled some of the cocaine inside it onto the porcelain tank top and pulled a credit card out of his wallet and started to chop the crystals into a fine white powder. He drew two thick lines. Next he took a pen from his pocket, removed the ink filler turning it into a makeshift straw and then started his countdown. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one BLAST OFF! He snorted the lines up quickly and gave a little cough. Eyes tearing, he wiped them with some toilet paper and sat upright. Oh baby oh baby this s**t drives me crazy, usually makes me hazy but I like it! That oughta hold me till break.
He carefully refolded the paper which he called a “snow seal” and put it back in his pocket.
He stood up, flushed the toilet and turned around. Yep the day was shaping up to be just fine. His mind was racing faster than his heart as he exited the bathroom and came back out into the storefront.
“Thought ya fell in partner, bout ready to dawn my scuba gear and come looking.” Joy said with a playful crooked smile.
“In with the good and out with the bladder”
“God, how the poetry world must miss you Byron, you’re so clever with words”.
“Never clever Joy, just ever better,” They both laughed at the same time. Bryon sniffed a few times.
“You coming down with something kiddo?”
“Nah, just allergies I had the sniffles all night…no biggie.”
He was really wired now. He went to the register opened it up checked to make sure they had change ready. He then replaced the printer ribbon and snapped the cover back down.
His whole face and lungs were numb, and he found it a little hard to breathe. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated and he actually uttered a scream and jumped back a little. It damn near gave him a heart attack.
Joy was now looking at him closely with that motherly concern in her gaze. Byron answered it and heard and automated voice speaking in monotone.
“Your appointment….has been confirmed… for twelve….PM…today…with…Dr. Allen…again your appointment…” Dr. Allen’s voice chimed in when it was time for his name with a low, monotone sound, making Byron laugh.
Byron pushed the off button. Technology is a wonderful thing if you never want to talk to a live human being the rest of your friggin life! I should call back and say your patient…Byron Jones…has accepted your appointment for…twelve…PM… there will be no need for anesthesia… because he can’t feel his f*****g head. He chuckled at the thought.
“Joy I gotta dentist appointment today at noon, be ok if I’m a little late from lunch today? I cracked a tooth on some popcorn a few nights back.” God I’m good on the fly with a lie! Byron praised himself internally.
“No problem is that what’s been keeping you from sleeping? I know I can’t get a wink in if one of my chompers is hurting.”
Byron thought of his arm and then said, “yeah, been bugging me all week.”
“Oh, I haven’t heard you mention it once” She cocked a light brown brow at him.
“Just didn’t want to be a baby.” So much for how good you are on the fly ace.
***
Byron walked out of the dentist office at about quarter to two in the afternoon. The whole left side of his face was completely numb. It felt about the size of a softball, but when he caught his reflection in the window outside saw that it looked normal.
He reached up and felt a sticky wet substance on the side of his mouth. Now I’m drooling like lobotomy Larry, just great, just friggin fantastic!
He unlocked his bike and got on. He started pedaling down Van Buren back towards the U-Mailit shop and got about twenty feet before he tried to swerve around a light pole and toppled over, smashing into the sidewalk. A little kid about six standing in front of the Coin A Phrase Laundry pointed at him and laughed.
“Ride much slick?” the little kid said loudly drawing the attention of everyone else nearby, including those that hadn’t already seen him.
Now they all looked at him and snickered.
“Go ta hell you little feak, I’ll kick your ath!” Byron sneered back. I can’t talk my mouth is too numb! Can I get a little more icing on this cake! Huh! Can I? Cause I don’t think I’ve got enough!
“Whoa! Someone got let out too soon from the TARD academy,” howled the boy in delight. “You can’t talk any better than you can ride!”
“Pith off!” Byron mumbled.
Embarrassed and humiliated he picked up his bike and headed off leaving the boy and the laughter behind him.
Once he was out of site from the accident scene he pulled his cell phone from his coat. He called Joy and told her he was not feeling so hot and was going to go home and get some rest. She had told him no problem and to try and get some sleep. He felt better already. The rest of the day was his to do as he wanted, and as an added bonus he also had a prescription for some heavy duty pain pills the dentist had written him. No pain no brain!
***
Byron got back to his apartment around two thirty p.m. He quickly went to the cupboard above the stove and took out his goody box.
Sitting at his kitchen table he drew a couple of lines and snorted them up. Next he got up and took the prescription bottle out of his coat. He read the label. Take one or two tablets every four hours as needed for pain. “Okey dokey!” Byron wouldn’t argue with that.
He opened the bottle and dumped out three pills, tossed them in his mouth and washed them down with a beer he had gotten from the fridge. Take about twenty minutes for those babies to kick in, better do a preemptive strike and cop a buzz while I’m waiting.
He took the joint he had started this morning out of the silver box and lit it. After about four hits he started to feel a little wrecked. His head was spinning from the coke, beer, and pot. He still could not feel much of the left half of his head and that was fine with him. Once the numbing goes away the pain is here to stay, but the drugs will keep it at bay!
It was only now for the first time in a couple hours that he noticed the sore on his arm. It looked a little better. It was starting to scab over, but it itched like crazy. He scratched all around it being careful not to touch it directly. The itching was driving him nuts! Now his whole body felt itchy! He took a few more hits of the joint and then put it out and placed it back in the box. He sucked down the last of the bottle of beer and grabbed another one out of the fridge. Take a shower and crank some tunes dude, if that does not take the itches away nothing else will.
He stepped out of the shower when the water started turning cold. He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost three forty p.m. Damn leave some for the fish!
He was really buzzed now. The pain pills were hitting him harder than he thought they would.Maybe I should of only taken one….not! He laughed out loud and wavered back and forth as he dried off listening to comfortably numb by Pink Floyd blaring from CD player.
He was feeling refreshed from the shower, but he was really starting to feel groggy from the pain medication. He put on some baggy shorts and a t-shirt and headed from the bathroom back into the kitchen.
Byron started chopping up some coke with his razor blade. Better beef these lines up or I’ll be in bed by five! Sleep was the last thing he wanted to do…not with the day off.
He drew out two very thick lines, stuck the empty pen straw up to his nose and made like a Hoover vacuum. His eyes burned and tears welled up in them as the white powder burned through his nasal passages. He could taste the bitter numbing stuff in the back of his throat. His tooth was starting to bug him just a bit so he licked his forefinger dipped it into the coke and rubbed it all over his tooth and gums. The taste was awful, but he knew it would numb it up good.
He popped another couple pain pills. What the hell I got two refills right? I can afford to party a little and then I’ll hold off on them in case I really need them if the pain gets too bad.
His arm was starting that awful itching again. It was getting so bad he wanted to grab the meat cleaver from the kitchen drawer and hack the damn thing off. No arm no foul. He laughed at his play on words but the itching was incredible!
He scratched and picked, but could not seem to get any relief. He popped open another beer and drained it in two gulps, then grabbed two more along with his handy dandy silver box and sat down in his recliner chair. He picked up the remote and turned the tube on. He took a fresh joint out, lit it and smoked the whole thing while drinking his beers and watching an old rerun of SNL.
***
The sky was orange with a bright pink sunset. Byron was on the rooftop of his apartment building looking out over what used to be Van Buren St. Now he saw crumpled buildings and fires burning everywhere.
The acrid smoke wafted up from the street fires burning below and made him cough. What the hell had happened? Where was everyone?
He slowly turned around taking in a panoramic view of the destruction. He heard a loud buzzing noise and then felt wind on his forearm just before a huge red mosquito landed on it.
Byron froze in terror.
The insect was about eight inches long and stood on six hairy, thin legs. It was about five inches in height and had two huge golden eyes the size of pennies. The needle like proboscis protruding from the head was over two inches long and a clear pink liquid was accumulating into a droplet at the end. The bug sat there in a staring contest with him not moving.
Then with lightning speed it jutted its head downward and pierced his arm. He went to swat it, and the mosquito seemed to sense his other arm moving toward it as it pushed down into his arm further, seemingly oblivious to his guttural screams of terror and agony.
***
Byron woke up to find himself sitting in his chair with sweat drenched clothes clinging to him. He looked at his watch and saw that it was five thirty p.m. He had only dozed off for just over an hour.
The sore on his arm was on fire, and it itched like a son of a b***h! It was driving him mad. He could take no more and reached across with his left hand and scratched the wound. The pain was intense and made him nauseous, but the relief of having that unbearable itch scratched was somehow as gratifying as the pain was aggravating.
Maybe the pain pills and dope had helped. It did seem more bearable than last night. The constant itch still remained and now seemed to be spreading across his sides and legs. Both forearms, both of his sides just where his lower ribs were located, and both of his thighs all itched like crazy.
His right forearm where the wound was festering was still by far the worse, but the other areas were causing some real discomfort. Maybe I’m breakin out in hives or some allergic reaction, or some disease that b*****d cockroach put in me is causing all this.
He Looked back down at the sore on his arm. He noticed that the scab had been torn off from scratching it. The pain was getting worse.
He reached for the prescription bottle and took another two pain pills, but not for the tooth this time. Then an idea struck him. The cocaine had numbed my gums and tooth and had taken the pain away, so the same should work with the damn sore! Bingo, Einstein is in the house!
Byron took the baggie out of the silver box touched his finger to his tongue and then stuck it in the bag. When he brought it out it was covered with white powder. Let the games begin my friend!
He lowered his finger to the wound and touched it. Pain seared through him as if he had gone to use his soothing Visine eye drops only to realize he’d made the tragic mistake of picking up the wrong bottle and used the Compound W wart removal drops instead. Like acid rain hitting a baby’s bottom.
Sixty seconds later the pain was pretty much gone and the itching had also subsided. He got up and went to the refrigerator and grabbed another beer, twisted off the cap and washed down the pain pills in his hand.
He then chopped up a few more lines of coke and snorted them up. Now he was fully awake and was feeling a bit better, a lot better as a matter of fact. Living through the wonders of modern chemistry is a wonderful thing.
His arm began that horrible itching again and he glanced down at the open sore. What the hell is that? He could feel movement inside the sore.
He raised his right arm up to his face and looked at it. A little brownish clear head with two dark black eyes poked out of the sore and then quickly went back in. The half empty bottle of beer fell from his left hand and shattered on the floor.
Byron screamed in horror and started pacing around the room in a panic. What the hell is happening! Oh Jesus what is happening to me? Something is inside me!. No, no, no NO! Oh f**k what do I do? How could this be?
Byron was starting to hyperventilate. He concentrated now on just breathing. Stay calm and slow down. You’re alright. It’s bad but you are not dying so get a f*****g grip on yourself! The cockroach! The damn roach had done this. It must have laid eggs in your wound. Holy s**t! It must have. How else could that… that thing have gotten inside?
Movement fluttered in his right arm again and the intolerable itching on his other arm, both thighs, and both his sides by his lower rib cage was now in full swing.
He ran to the kitchen sink, turned on the water and stuck his right arm under the steady stream. He ignored the itching and the pain from the sore.
With his left hand he opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a steak knife. He readied himself and then placed the sharp edge of the blade on the side of the wound. Tears streamed down his face. He let out a yell as he pushed down hard with the blade cutting into his arm with the same motion you would use to peel a potato. He quickly dropped the knife and with his left hand and he squeezed the area where the sore was with his forefinger and thumb like he was popping a zit. Puss and blood gushed out into the sink. Something else plopped into the sink as well. A small clear brown worm like thing with two huge black eyes was wriggling about in the bloody water. He turned off the faucet and stared in horror at the thing flailing in the sink. Then with a fury he clenched his left hand into a fist and smashed the creature over and over until there was nothing left to smash. He fell to the floor whimpering and sobbing holding his arm against his chest.
He noticed that he was scratching his lower left ribcage with his right hand and stopped. Now the itching on his legs, arms and sides was beyond bearable. He stood up and staggered out of the kitchen.
Byron sat back down in the recliner in the small living room. He set the silver goodie box down on the coffee table in front of the recliner and sat down to watch some TV. He needed to take his mind off the agony he was in. How can I be so friggin miserable when I’m so wasted! I oughta be able to cut off my arm and not feel it.
All of a sudden Byron’s body went rigid. His back arched and every muscle in his body clenched tight.
He tried to get up or move and only managed to slide off the chair onto the floor. He landed on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He could not even turn his head or move his neck to look down at himself.
Just as quickly as the seizure began it stopped. He was lying on his back sucking in huge breathes. His body was drenched in sweat and he started laughing in relief.
He tried to sit up and realized he could still not seem to move very well. His skin felt tight and stretched like his insides were expanding.
The itching was all over his entire body now. The worst still his legs, lower ribs, and forearms.
He used all his might and forced his legs to bend and brought his knees up. As he did so his skin ripped at the knees and then split from his feet to his hips. As his skin fell away two huge barbed black hairy brown leg things were left in their place.
Byron gasped in shock and disbelief. There was no pain or itching anymore in his legs, but then again he no longer had what he considered legs. I’m losing it man! Oh yeah baby I’m losing it big time! It’s a dream it has to be a dream! I’m looking at my skin hanging off some freaky spider legs, and I’m still alive?? If I’m not dreaming I’m screaming!
Filled with panic and horror he pulled his upper body up into a sit-up position. He felt his ribcage give way and saw two more huge black barbed hairy appendages jut out from both sides and the skin from his belly button up to his arm pits folded away.
He fell back to the floor. It’s a dream dude, just a psycho dream that’s all it is man. Calm down get a hold of your self. Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP! Byron screamed in his head.
He felt the skin on his arms start to give way under the pressure. He now saw huge black barbs start to poke out on each one. He tried to bend his arms and the skin ripped and fell away leaving again two more black barbed hairy limbs. His eyes bulged and his head throbbed as his skull actually seemed to be shifting and changing.
From his eyebrows two long antennae about half an inch in diameter and about four feet long sprang out and whipped to his sides almost down to where his feet used to be. His eyes felt huge, but he could not bring himself to try and touch his face, if he still had a face. He did not even have hands anymore to touch his face anyway. The black hairy barbed limbs simply tapered off at the ends.
He tried to get up and could not seem to sit up or turn over. He could see six insect like legs flailing about above him, but could not physically get them to bend or turn to allow him to reach the floor to reorient himself. I’ve lost it. That’s it man game over. Ball set match! I’m in psychoville ladies and gents. As he thought this, a realization came to him. He was no longer itching or in any pain. It had stopped. As a matter of fact he felt great. He was sure he was completely insane, but he was no longer suffering.
They’ll find me here just like this laying on my floor, drool dripping down my chin and blabbering about some bug. Then I’ll be committed to some crazy house, but at least I will be comfortable. It could be worse. I could still be itching like crazy or having my tooth throb like an egg sack, but I’m not. I feel fine, no actually I feel great! People go temporarily insane don’t they? Sure they do. People who go through traumatic stress can black out or crazy to avoid a horrific experience. That’s all this is. I’ll be fine. Maybe it’s better this way. I’m sure when the pain and drugs wear off I’ll snap out of it.
Byron looked at the limbs he now had. He realized he had no arms or hands but six legs, two on the bottom, two in the middle, and two where his arms used to be.
He started moving each one individually and realized he could control them. He then started moving each set. First the right three legs, then the left. The hardest thing for him to control was the damn antennae. They seemed to whip about uncontrollably, however, every time they hit something he had a strange sensation he had never had before. He felt as if he could taste and smell at the same time anything the antennae touched. His senses became so acute, he seemed be more aware of everything around him. He could hear better and could feel the slightest vibration. He could not quite seem to focus his vision very well, but other than that he felt like he was stronger in every other way.
Byron noticed the recliner next to him on his left. He used his top left leg and hooked the end of it over the arm rest. At the same time his left antennae whipped up and hooked over the top of the chair. He pulled hard and his body flipped over onto his legs.
He tried to stand up and could not. He could not even lift the two top legs up and use the bottom four, but on all six he could move. He crawled around the chair and looked back to where he had been laying. There he saw and empty husk. It looked like a human snake had shed its skin over on his living room floor. He headed towards his bedroom.
Byron scurried into his room and butted the door shut with his head. Next he went into the bathroom. He lifted his two front legs up on the sink and again without him even trying the antennae flew up and wrapped around the vanity mirror cabinet.
He pulled himself up and looked in the mirror. A huge dark brown greasy roach stared back.
Byron could not move. His mind was racing. What the hell? Is this some sort of joke? I gotta be dreaming this can’t be real. I’m nuts! I’ve gone totally bonkers! Could this be a flashback? I’ve taken my share of acid and shrooms over the years.
He knew inside this was no dream or flashback. This was real, seriously real. He dropped back down to the floor. He could not believe how quick he could move. He was having trouble controlling his new extra set of limbs.
He tried to stretch his arms and saw two wings spread out from his back. Can I fly? Can a roach fly?
Concentrating hard now he started moving the wings up and down. He could move them fast but did not feel any lift at all.
He ran over to the closed bedroom door and found he could not open it. He could not get a grip on the knob. I’ve got no hands! How can I live with no hands? Why me? Why does this have to happen to me?
He was furious at how unfair this whole situation was. He moved back and then rammed the door. The door cracked, but did not open. His head hurt from the impact, but he did not care anymore. He was too pissed off to care about that. He backed up as far as he could and charged the door. This time the door shattered and he flew through to the hallway. Chards of wood were everywhere. He felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Turning his head he saw a large piece of wood had pierced his wing and shoulder. He stretched open his wings and his right wing came out but his left one was still stapled to his body. He tried even harder and slowly the wing started to open and as it did it pulled the wood out of his body.
He positioned himself at the hallway entrance and flapped his wings hard against the walls on each side of him. When the left wing hit the wall, the wood popped out of the wing. It’s always the simple accomplishments that make you the happiest aint it? I’ve got to figure out what the hell to do. He headed back into the kitchen and living room area.
He was a mess. He knew he had to make some decisions on what to do. He crawled over to the coffee table. He saw the open silver box with his goodies inside. He hovered his head over the box and tried to see if he could pull out the coke baggie. Two pinchers started opening and snapping shut. They ripped the baggie open and the cocaine spilled out into the box and also onto the coffee table. He sniffed and sucked up what he could.
He felt a little better so next he busted open the prescription bottle and the remaining pain pills fell out. He slurped them up. How many did I take? Four, six? He did not know. I gotta pull it together! I don’t want to OD! Wait a minute, do I care? I’m a freakin bug! What life do I have anyway? Who gives a s**t I’m a dead man walking. Oh did I say walking?? Dead man crawling!
The doorbell rang and Byron froze. He wondered who in the hell could be at his door. The bell rang again and he heard a muffled voice.
“Byron? You ok? It’s Alley Marcus from across the hall. Byron? Are you there? I heard a loud crash, hell I think the whole building heard it, did you fall?
Byron slowly crawled to the front door and peered under it. He could see two small feet with bright red toenails. Then three loud knocks brought him out of his gaze.
“Byron! Answer me, your starting to make me nervous. Do you need help? Do you want me to call the police?
He looked up and saw the doorknob starting to turn. I didn’t lock the damn door! How could I be so stupid! His antennae leapt up and curled around the knob, but could not keep it from moving. The door started to open and Byron moved with it staying behind it.
Alley Marcus poked her head inside and looked around. Jesus what a mess! “Byron? You in here?” She opened the door further and stepped halfway inside.
She saw beer bottles and other trash discarded everywhere. Her eyes landed on the coffee table and she saw what looked to be an assortment of drugs and paraphernalia. Worried, she quickly looked around and noticed shards of wood littering the carpet where the short hallway leading to the bedroom was.
She saw a bloody sink and faucet. “Byron! You’re scaring me! Are you here?” She knew she should run back to her apartment and call the police. But what if he was hurt? What if he needed help and even a few minutes was too much time? Maybe he can’t answer me. Maybe he is lying in is bedroom unconscious and bleeding.
She stepped all the way into the apartment and headed towards the hallway, completely unaware of the creature watching her from behind the door. She stopped and gasped when she saw the bedroom doorway. The door had been blasted outward and only a few pieces were left on the hinges.
She cautiously went into the bedroom and saw no one. It was just as messy as the living room. She turned towards the bathroom and noticed the light was on. Stepping over garbage and bottles she went to the bathroom door. More blood in the sink here as well she saw, but nobody was in here either.
She heard the apartment door close and her heart leapt up into her throat. She stood completely still and could hear the blood rushing through her making a high pitched ringing sound in her ears. Then she heard what sounded like footsteps running towards the bedroom. As quietly as she could she walked into the bathroom, holding her breathe she closed the door and locked it. The footsteps outside grew louder.
Crouching outside his bathroom door Byron could hear heavy breathing and whimpering coming from the other side. What do I do? I can’t let her see me I’ll scare the bejesus out of her! On the other hand I can’t just sit here and have the poor woman stay in my bathroom forever.
Can I speak? Can I maker her understand that I’m ok and get her to leave? What the hell are you thinking? You’re far from ok buddy old pal. Ok went out the door the minute you came in the door. Ok was a pipe dream now, ok was a… Stop it! Think, think, think. What are you going to do? You need a plan. You need to get her the hell out of here now.
You’ve got to try and communicate with her. Tell her you got drunk and fell through your door and cut yourself, but that your fine and dandy. Tell her you’re very sick and contagious and to please leave. Say you will call her tomorrow to let her know how you’re doing.
“Alley, it’s me Byron please don’t open the door yet.”
“Byron? What the hell is going on? You have me crawling out of my skin. What’s wrong? You sound so strange and I saw blood everywhere, what the hell is happening here?
“I know it looks bad Alley, but please just stay in there for a minute. I’m sick, very sick and contagious. I don’t want to infect you. I don’t want you to see me, I look awful. I’m going to hide and then you can go home. Please don’t call or tell anyone. It’s kind of an embarrassing situation for me. I just want you to wait for me to yell for you when it’s ok and then I want you to just please go home and let me be alone. Can you do that?”
“Byron I’m coming out now! You need help and I’m not going to just leave you here alone and that’s final.”
“NO! Don’t open the door! plea…”
The door started to open. Byron quickly jumped to the side of the doorway and yelled for her to stay inside the bathroom until he gave her the go ahead, but it was too late Alley Marcus was already heading out into the bedroom.
Alley saw the shadow of a figure scurrying quickly out into the hallway heading towards the living room.
“Wait! Byron what is wrong with you? I’m her to help, just help that’s all. Please wait.” No answer came. She had never been afraid of Byron he was a sweet kid, but she was terrified now. Something was wrong, very wrong. This was not like Byron at all.
She walked out of the bedroom and into the living area.
She could hear and see something crouching behind the recliner. Alley’s instincts told her to get the hell out and get the hell out now, but Byron was a friend and he needed help.
“Byron? I know you are scared, I know you are sick, but I am your friend. I am here to help you. Whatever it is I can help you, but only if you’ll let me.”
“It’s too late Alley. I am sick and I do need help, but there is nothing you can do for me. Please leave, please?”
Alley felt better, she was not so terrified anymore. “Sorry kiddo, but I’m here to help and I’m not leaving until I do. Byron I can see the drugs. You need help. Let me take you to a hospital.” She heard shuffling behind the chair and then a figure moved around it and came into view.
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Oh my God! Byron what have you done to yourself?” She saw him moving towards her and she started to scream.
Byron panicked. He had to shut her up before the whole building came running in. He tried to talk to her, but she just kept screaming and the look on her face made him sick. She is terrified of me. Just shut up, please just shut the hell up!
He went towards her and she started to back away from him still howling. Then she bolted for the front door. He beat her to it and pleaded with her to shut up, but she just kept backing away from him screaming. He ran at her and closed the gap. His antennae whipped around her head and pulled her in close. His pinchers were on autopilot opening and snapping shut making a clack, clack, clack sound at her neck. The screaming turned into gurgling and then fell into silence. Byron released her and she fell to the ground with a hollow thump.
He stared at her in disbelief. Hi didley ho neighbor! Offer you a cup o joe? Shoot the s**t for awhile? No? Then how bout I Gouge out your neck and bleed you like a stuck pig? One lump or two with that?
He could not break his gaze from her. What in the hell did I just do? How in the hell could I do it? I just killed my neighbor, my friend! All because she was frightened of me, and who the in this world wouldn’t be? I’m a freak! I killed her because I’m a freak a nature who wanted her to shut up.
Byron started to cry and moan. This hurts man, this hurts bad! I can’t live with this, I can’t do it! Game over dude! Home team lost and it’s time to tuck and run.
He could hear noises outside his front door. He heard voices, several of them talking frantically outside his apartment. That’s just great! Just friggin fantastic! Is this just the best or what? Nothing like a dead women on your apartment floor, and an angry lynch mob at the door. Does is get any better than this? I don’t think so boys and girls! And as an added bonus I can hear sirens coming closer. It’s the little things in life that make it all worth while ain’t it? Dead friends, six legs, and a couple a wings, just seems to complete the circle know what I mean?
Byron ran to his front door and desperately tried to turn the deadbolt. He could not do it so he crawled over behind the recliner and pushed it up against the door and wedged it tightly under the knob.
Now people were knocking on the door and angry voices were yelling outside. They were demanding to know what was going on. A siren grew to an unbearable volume and then stopped. He could hear the people outside all talking at once, and then a firm voice was yelling at everyone to calm down and step back. Three loud knocks boomed and the same voice was now talking to him through the door.
“Open up police!”
Byron heard other muffled voices and then the policeman spoke again.
“Byron is that your name? My name is officer Johansen. I need you to open the door now, do you understand? Byron no one is here to harm you we just need to come inside and check things out ok? I promise you Byron no matter what is going on inside we will not hurt you, but I need you to open the door and I need you to do it now” Officer Brad Johansen stood at the apartment door and waited for a reply.
He turned the knob and it moved freely, but something was blocking the door from the inside. “Byron I’m going to give you one more opportunity to open this door. If you don’t I’m going to break it down you hear me? And if I have to break it down Byron I can’t promise you anything you got that? Now open the door and open it NOW!” Nothing, he banged on the door one more time.
He was a rookie and had only been on the force about six months, and he had yet to encounter a tense situation like this.
He drew his gun. “Byron I’m coming in one way or the other. I’m counting to three and then this door is opening one way or the other. One…Two…Three.” He stepped back and then rammed his shoulder into the door as hard as he could. The top half of the door busted over the recliner and officer Johansen fell over the chair and landed on his back. His gun fell out of his hand and skidded across the floor.
He jumped to his feet and ran over to pick up his revolver. Things were happening so fast he could not take in who or what was going on around him. His feet slipped on the floor and he fell into a thick slimy liquid. Blood, this is blood and I’m covered in it.
He looked to his side and saw a woman with her throat hacked out on the floor next to him. He could hear people screaming outside the front door.
“Get the hell out of here!” He yelled to the crowd that had gathered in the doorway.
For a moment they all just stood there with deer in the headlight gazes gawking. “NOW, GO NOW!”
The people moved back, but did not leave. He saw his revolver and picked it up. It was also sticky and wet with blood.
He quickly got up and held the gun out in front of him with both hands. “Byron I need you to come out where I can see you with your hands in the air.” He heard movement from the hallway.
Cautiously he moved in that direction occasionally giving a quick glance behind him and to both sides. When he reached the hallway he quickly pivoted into it and was now facing the bedroom.
He noticed it had been busted out and saw wood fragments all over the floor. “Ok Byron this is your last warning, I have my revolver out and I will use it if you don’t do what I tell you. I want you to slowly come out of the bedroom with your hands up and I want you to do it right now.” It was silent. Brad’s heart was pounding in his chest. “Did you not hear me!? I said right f*****g NOW!” Still there was no sign of him. Outside another siren wailed. Thank God backup is coming cause this is starting to freak me out.
He entered the bedroom sweeping his gun over the room. He could not see anyone. He moved quickly to the edge of the bed and looked around it. He then dropped to his knees and looked under it.
He heard a sound coming from behind a closed door in the bedroom. He thought it was probably a closet or bathroom. He moved over to it and stood with his back against the wall just to the side of the door. “Byron, I know your in there pal. Please come out. Let’s end this now and figure this whole thing out ok? Everything is going to be alright if you come out and talk to me.”
“Get the f**k outta here please” Byron wailed. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m sick that’s all I just need to be alone.”
“I can’t do that Byron I need to talk with you, same deal as before ok? You either come out or I’m coming in.”
Brad pivoted again and kicked in the door. Byron lunged at him trying to grab him with his antennae to bring him in close. Again his pinchers snapped open and shut with a clack, clack, clack sound.
Brad Johansen froze for just a second. He could not believe the sight before him. He saw this hideous thing lurch towards him and instinctively pulled the trigger.
There was a deafening roar and the air smelled like fireworks and smoke curled up in front of his face. He looked down and saw a young man of about twenty or so lying on the floor dead. In the young man’s hand was a pair of garden sheers. The kid and been trying to attack him with them, snapping them open and closed.
The body was also covered with wounds. Open wounds were all over his arms, face, sides, and legs. Jesus Mary and Joseph! What the hell happened to this poor guy? Had someone done this to him?
“Brad you ok?” A voice said.
Brad let out a startled cry and spun around. “Christ captain you scared the hell out of me!”
Now the apartment was full of cops. Some taking pictures and some picking up bottles and trash and placing it into plastic evidence bags.
Brad Johansen was sitting down on the edge of the recliner seat with his face in his hands. He looked up at the captain. “What the hell happened to the kid in there Cap? Looks like something has been feeding on him, I tried to talk to him, I tried to get him to come out, but he wouldn’t.”
“Kid’s a junkie Brad. He was wired to the max by the looks of the cocaine, joints, pain pills, and beer bottles all over the place. It’s pretty common. We see it a lot in cases where someone is strung out on coke, or meth, he’s a picker.”
“Picker? Sir?”
“Yeah a picker” The captain said. “These people get so hopped up on drugs they itch all over. In bad cases like this they actually think there are things crawling under there skin, so the pick and scratch deep into their flesh to try and dig them out. This guy must have had it bad. It’s a shame, so young, but you did what you had to Brad, make sure you know it and believe it. It’s the truth. Guy comes at me with wide glassy eyes trying to take my head of with a pair of clippers I’d snuff him to.”
The captain walked over to the coffee table and picked up a snubbed out joint from the ashtray. “Yep what a shame” He said again looking off into space.
Brad looked at him. “What you got there Captian?”
The captain came out of his trance. “What? Oh this? It’s just a roach. Just a f*****g roach that’s all.”
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