Saturday Fiction: Become It (Suspense)

Ready for something a little tense? Maybe even a little spooky? Well too bad, here it is.

Become It

publicstoragenight

Don’t let it touch you. That’s what the old ladies always told us. Don’t let it catch you, don’t let it touch you.

It didn’t matter how fast I ran, I could always hear the footsteps behind me. It was a thud and a splat, like a bag of wet garbage being dropped in succession. One after another, they came down again and again. In the pitch black of night, it was hard to keep my feet going one in front of the other. Staying upright was hard, keeping my eyes forward was harder.

The street was empty. In this part of town it was all half-built shopping malls and empty lots. Only the occasional car lit up the roadside patch of dead-grass in front of me. When the street lit up, my heart would fill with hope, only to be flattened each time as 3am drivers sped right by. No one was going to see me die.

They said it chose bad boys that became bad men. As a mother’s tale it was sound. You didn’t brush your teeth, you didn’t wipe your ass, it would come for you. We were supposed to fear it for life. It didn’t end with your trash chores, the absent father and the abuser could suffer as well. Except they never did, and then bad boys forget.

It was close now, I could smell it. It was an odor like rotting eggs drowned in settled mud. I had to fight back the urge to gag. All I could do is push harder.

The sound of another car approached. I made the decision, and split off into the road, almost falling to my face as I did. I ran to the middle of the street, and waved my arms as the bright lights of the car’s high beams centered on me.

I saw it, before I closed my eyes. It was a silhouette then, the car lights turning it into a creature of shadows. Then I saw nothing, and my body clenched as I waited for the car to run me over.

There was a loud honk, and the screeching of tires. Then the honking continued on into the distance, and I opened my eyes and turned to see the red tail lights of the car escaping into the night.

Did they not see it? Were they blind, or was it invisible. Maybe I was just mad.

Another footstep gave me no time to ask further questions. I ran across the street, passing into the lot of a public storage company. It was dark at this hour, with only one light hanging over the gate to the property.

I leaped it, my pants catching on the barbed top, before I yanked myself free and fell to the other side. I ran deep in, hoping to lose it in the process.

There were billions of bad men. Why would anyone think they were the one at risk? There was an answer though, not one I wanted to recognize. It wasn’t just bad boys who were hunted, it was our bad boys. I thought I was one of billions, but I was one in a dozen, the few boys to survive and continue to be around.

Of them, I was the worst. Melrose had a business, CJ was a pastor, Eddie was working two jobs to feed his twins. Then there was me.

I slowed down. My breath came in desperate pants, my lungs were burning, my legs ached. It was a dead end. Some idiot thought having a U shape in the garages was a brilliant idea, and now there was nowhere else to go.

Coughing, I shuffled to the deepest storage unit, and fought with the lock on it. I tried to ignore the whumps growing louder behind me, and the acrid smell that was filling my lungs with every breath. My eyes were watering, and I was covered in sweat.

“It isn’t fair,” I mumbled. There was no way to break in with nothing but my bare hands, “It isn’t fair.”

It was right behind me, I could feel a heat coming off of it. Did it want me to turn around and look at it? It made a gurgling noise, the sound of a man’s last breath.

It struck me across the back of my shoulders, the blow throwing me into the corner between two units, twisting me until I was facing out toward it. My legs buckled and I fell with my back against the wall.

The skin looked like green boils sliding down it in waves. It was wider and taller than any man, but still shaped like one. But unlike any man, the flesh was fluid, like an endless fountain of the bile and blood that it called a body, spilling in undulating waves. It kept coming, and the longer I looked, the more my stomach tried to crawl up my throat.

Both of its arms extended until they hit me in the stomach, and the bile-flesh flowed there, spilling over me. It was warm, strange, terrifying.

It wasn’t fair. Melrose was running his dad’s business. CJ grew up in the church, his uncle cared for him, taught him until he had a congregation of his own. Eddie’s mom remarried after his dad died. I was just the child of another bad man, couldn’t it see that? Didn’t it know I had nothing? I had to take everything to even get as far as I did.

The creature was shrinking as it poured itself over me. The weight built up around my legs and waist. It was a crushing and smothering sensation, the heat and mass. It was becoming hard to breath. No matter how much I fought against it, the force of the flow would just knock me back, pin me to the wall.

There was no escaping it, that was what they said. Don’t let it touch you, don’t let it catch you. If it gets you, you become it.

“I’m sorry!” I shouted into the night. Tears were burning my eyes, “I didn’t mean to hurt her, I’m so sorry, don’t do this!”

I kept shouting it even as the terrible flesh built up around my neck, and I knew it would suffocate me. I was yelling, but I was thinking more. They were excuses, sure, but I thought of them as additions.

I didn’t mean to hurt her, but she swung at me first. I’m so sorry, but this ain’t my fault. Don’t do this, I don’t deserve it.

When it first spilled down my throat, I wanted to retch. Not even that had enough force to counter the flow and the force. It kept coming, it filled me, the sweltering heat over my whole body.

There was something inside its shrinking form. I blinked away my tears. It was a man, pale brown skin locked inside the fleeing bubbling mass. Tears were streaming down his face as he took in panicked breaths, the mass no longer choking him. His familiar eyes were locked on me as he cried, they were just like mine. They were my father’s eyes.

The old ladies always told us, don’t let it touch you. Don’t let it catch you, or you will become it. It will imprison you, and you will become it.

Advertisements

Saturday Fiction: Cyberghetto Part 1

I shared a previous snippet on here with what I would call ‘Urban Sci-fi’, and really I haven’t continued too much further with it. Experimenting with the concept is fun, but so far nothing has felt golden. What I wrote today is a scene set in the same universe as my NaNoWriMo stories, a ‘socialist paradise’ cyberpunk world where the corporations were were defeated after years of harsh classic cyberpunk like darkness.

Life doesn’t get too much better when the world rewrites itself after years of cyberpunk.

Either way, here is a scene from ‘Cyberghetto’.

Cyberghetto

The door swung open, letting in a flood of noise from the street. It was the sound of people cursing, jeering, laughing. That meant Tee was home, and he brought friends.

“Hey RJ,” Tee said as he walked in and collapsed into the only other seat in the small ‘Famdorm’ family apartment, “You looking to get pretty?”

Tee looked like his shirt was wound on too tight, and his pants belonged to a different species entirely. It was all a little colorful, but it was the trend. The colors were defiant, against the endless gray into blue built into so many government built complexes like where RJ lived. He had two others with him, Mark, and Dabble, both nicknames, both kids from the Loop.

“I’m good,” RJ said as he typed away at his console.

“Whatever soft,” Dabble said as he leaned against the frame of the door, “We can barely get you out on the loop anymore.”

RJ looked over. The three of them surrounded a low table stacked with boxes from fast food and deliveries, with a small space left for RJ’s mother’s flower vase filled with little white marbles. Tee was smiling at him, showing off the left half of his teeth that had been replaced with plastic-like replacements that gave off fluorescent color in the right light.

“He got that chem test soon,” Tee said, “Almost forgot.”

RJ knew he didn’t forget. It was just how Tee was. RJ could be in the middle of winning them the Sea-Van lottery, and Tee would forget to remind him to turn in the slip. He thrived on conflict, those little moments where it seemed like there was nothing in the world but your own troubles.

“He trying to get that dawn to dusk cred, huh?” Dabble added with a laugh.

RJ turned back to his console, “Something like that.”

“Man, you gonna move your mail?” Tee said as he cleared space by shoving a ration box to the floor.

There was no mail, RJ hadn’t received a package in days, so he ignored Tee’s pointless complaining.

“Close the door,” Tee said, “Sit down Mark, you make me nervous.”

“Man but it’s hot in here,” Dabble complained as he shut the door and joined the others at the table.

Mark was the quiet one. He was also a bit of a punk. That’s where the name came from. You told him what to do, and he turn down his eyes and comply. You could get him to walk into a room of blackcaps in full riot gear if barked hard enough. It was no wonder he got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Tee pulled out a baggie of crudely proportioned uncut tablets of glistening red. He pulled the stick out on the table, and got a small knife to divide it up between them. Mark smiled and rubbed his hands together, Dabble just watched Tee’s hands work.

“You still fuck with Wendy?” Dabble asked.

He was talking to RJ, pretended not to notice. Not because he didn’t like Dabble, Dabble was fine. He just didn’t want to talk about Wendy. He had enough problems in life without cutting at festering sores and seeing what fresh stuff he could pull out of them.

“Hey,” Dabble got louder.

“Man shut up,” Tee snapped, “Is there anybody who don’t fuck with Wendy?”

That was Tee being a friend, for what it was worth.

RJ’s display popped up a picture from a shooting the night before. Well, it was pictures of the crime scene, with Sea-Van law surrounding the point of the murder.

Mark must have seen it from where he sat, “That that scene near the underground?”

RJ read down, “Some local anti-drug chip, was heading to a vid filming, got seared by a nobody.”

“That explains all the black and blue,” Dabble said.

“No suspect, no weapon,” RJ added, scrolling down. Dabble was right, this explained all the cops. An NAB official gets shot in their neighborhood, they had something to prove. They wanted to pin someone down. Boys on the street were going to suffer for it, he had seen it so many times before. They were going to be harassed, searched, a few would probably end up in the hospital.

He was going to have to stay off the streets, he needed his record to stay clean for the job interview. Corporate didn’t like recent arrests, especially if it was related to one of their own. Even finding a chance at a job was hard enough, especially one that would pay good enough to get him out of the dorms. Losing it all to a wave of random arrests would be one more burn in his crisp black history.

There was a clatter as Tee’s knife clattered on the table.

“Damnit, just take your stupid box man,” Tee grumbled.

RJ turned and saw a plain white box sitting on the table with the rest of the trash there. It didn’t have any real distinguishing marks, but looked used. It looked like Tee accidentally ran his arm into it while cutting. It wasn’t RJ’s.

Back on his console, RJ had a message. It was anonymous, which meant it was probably junk. He still hit it, and a username that was just a series of numbers popped up.

‘You live in 534C at Everest Dorm?’

RJ replied, ‘Who dis?’

‘Then you’re home. Make this pretty for me. Hope you like the gift.’

Gift? The box.

Dabble grabbed a slice, and set it on his tongue before sucking on it. His face went passive, and he leaned back against the leg of Tee’s chair.

RJ got up and walked over, “What is this?”

“I dunno man, you’re always leaving shit around.”

RJ picked it up, and turned the box over in his hands. It was almost as long as his arm, but not nearly as deep. It opened with a clasp that was tied with a zip tie. Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn’t his.

He leaned down and grabbed Tee’s knife.

“What the hell, man,” Tee complained as he looked up.

RJ cut the tie, unwrapped the clasp, and then opened the box. His eyes locked on the contents.

“What is it?” Tee said.

Dabble was far gone, but at least Mark looked interested as well.

It was an SSW 9mm ‘Predator’ pistol. The gun had a long black barrel, the nu-safety technology that had become common. Still, the weapon looked worn. There was a magazine emptied, with slots where ammunition would sit beneath the magazine’s space. Only four bullets were in the case.

“Ray?” Tee asked, a note of real concern in his voice.

Then there was a scream outside, and all heads turned. There was a muffled popping noise, and a distant whine.

Tee shot to the door, opening the viewport and peeking out. His back went stiff, and RJ could see that he was ready to run already.

“They’re searching the building,” Tee said, “Look like they’re going door to door, they got busses!”

A bus? They were going to take anyone that looked young and dark enough to have shot someone, and process them all. At least the ones they didn’t leave facedown in a puddle of their own blood.

Worse, he was holding a gun that wasn’t his, while a killer was on the run somewhere.

“We gotta clean this up,” Tee said as he looked around. He snatched up the remaining tabs of Sparkle, slapping Mark’s tab out of his hand, “Help me stupid, they’re coming in here.”

“It don’t matter,” RJ said as he put the box on the table, lid open.

“What the fuck you have that for?” Tee said, “Since when do you pack that?”

RJ was shivering, it made it hard to argue, or to look strong enough to have any say, “Ain’t mine. Somebody dropped that on us.”

Even Dabble stared at it. A little box of trouble dropped into their lives. The NAB didn’t take kindly to weapons at all, but a gun like this would get them locked up for a long time. Just having his prints on that box would be enough to get RJ sent away.

Tee shook his head, “So what? We just sit here and wait for them to ram a codex down our ass?”

what else could be done? Fight off a whole complex full of cops? Take on Blustar and fight their way across the country? They had to hide, but there was no hiding.

But he had to try something.

“Watch the door,” RJ said as he took the lid to the box and put it back on, tying the clasp, “All of you get ready to run. We need to go dark real quick.”

He went back to his console, his eyes flashing to that stranger in a chat window. There was a new message, a winking emote.

It was always something. Life could never get easier.