Chapter #26Space Parasites, Part 3 by: Seuzz   "Maybe we should get one without the golf club," Terry suggested as he held up the iPhone.
"We?" Austin asked scornfully. He rolled the club thoughtfully in his gloved hand.
"I'm the one taking the picture," Terry retorted.
"And I'm only paying you to take the shot," Austin said. "Not to make suggestions."
"I thought you were paying me to caddy." Terry tapped the screen with his thumb. "How's that," he asked, turning the phone around.
Austin frowned. "That's right, I'm paying you to caddy. You're not worth anything as a photographer." He took his iPhone back with a snort. "I'll get Erin to do it later. Set up my next ball."
As Terry knelt to press the tee into the firm earth, the golf bag slipped off his shoulder with a clatter. He looked up to see Austin's darkening brow. "If you don't like the job I'm doing, you can get someone else."
"I already tried that, Angus," Austin said. He planted his feet, addressed the ball, and with a clean stroke sent it arcing toward the distant flag. "Same as I assume they've tried finding a new asshole for the squirrel suit." He peered at the ball rather than at his caddy. "What, no snappy comeback?" he asked.
Terry just shrugged, and the clubs again clattered.
"You should try getting more money out of Diedrich," Austin said as he sauntered along the fairway, and he didn't deign to look back as Terry trudging along behind. "There aren't a lot of guys willing to work here at the club, you know. They think it's beneath them." His lip curled. "Maybe they're right. You don't fit in either, but for the opposite reason." With that he did glance back, to see if the gibe had found its mark, but Terry's face was smooth and serene. "Anyway, so, you don't have to be good to get any more out of Diedrich. It's just a matter of supply and demand. You know how that works, don't you? Jesus," he sighed as Terry continued to say nothing. "He's already paying you twice what you're worth just because he can't find anyone else to work on weekends. You could squeeze another twenty percent out of him, I'm sure."
"Why are you telling me all this?" Terry asked.
"Just trying to give you some friendly advice," Austin sneered. "And to explain why it's the only tip you're going to get from me."
A thought formed in the back of Terry's brain: With your allowance, Peters, you could rent the whole basketball team to caddy for you. But the intelligence that was now guiding his body saw no reason to voice it. Nor did it see any reason to sulk.
* * * * *
"There wasn't a lot left," Sam said. He cupped the phone with both hands to block the stiff wind that was blowing across the fields. "I was the only one on hand when he hit the wall, and I went over the wreck before calling the authorities in."
"Christ, Sam," the Old Man replied, and his voice, though harsh, was so soft that Sam had to press the phone hard against his ear to make out his words. "There doesn't have to be a lot left to be able to tell if the thing exited him or not."
"The cab caught fire. He was badly burned."
"Cars don't explode when they crash. That's just a moviemaker's conceit. You know that."
"This one did."
"Then it was rigged, and the thing was covering its exit. Paint me a picture."
"I can send you a picture," Sam retorted, then sighed as the Old Man said nothing. "He made a break for it when I confronted him at the school. Tore off out of town down one of these rural highways and was doing about eighty when he hit the grain elevator. I was a couple of hundred yards behind him when I saw the fireball. I had to wait for it to burn out before I could get close."
"And there was no one at this elevator?" The Old Man's voice dripped with incredulity.
"Apparently not. These things are automated or something. I'm not an expert on everything."
"Your story stinks, Sam."
"I haven't got a better one. But there's no sign of anything that was with him. Maybe you should send someone out to look over their shoulder when they do the autopsy."
"Surely they're not going to do anything like that, not if the wreck was as you describe it. It was as you describe it, wasn't it, Sam?"
"I don't like my story any more than you do," Sam said truculently. "But if you sent someone out, or came out yourself--"
"I don't have to. You're already on the scene, and if you can't run it down--"
"I'm only the new assistant coach, and besides, I'm new in town."
"I'm giving you seventy-two hours, Sam."
"And after that?"
"That's for me to know, and for you to find out." The line went dead.
Sam put the phone back in his pocket and squinted off at the still smoldering wreckage and at the police cruisers and fire trucks nearby. He'd barely had time to rescue the embryo from Coach Kirnberger's car and set the fire before the employees of the grain elevator had come running out, and then he'd had to retreat. He put a hand into the pocket of his windbreaker, to cradle the armored worm he carried there, and toyed briefly with the idea of introducing it to one of the rescue workers. But that had not been part of the plan, and he knew he should consult with his brothers before making another acquisition.
* * * * *
Tom laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. He rested one hand heavily on a bare, smooth, meaty pec while gently stroking his short, dirty blonde hair. He was clad only in ankle socks and white briefs, which bulged at the front with a fat and slightly turgid cock. He breathed quietly.
His eyes shifted toward the window at the sound of the car engine starting, and listened intently as it pulled out of the driveway and into the street. When it was gone, he took a deep breath and exhaled happily. "Are you coming or aren't you," he shouted.
It was still a few moments before the door opened and Terry came in and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He and Tom locked eyes for a moment. "Take it off," Tom ordered the other.
"It's not much to look at," Terry said.
"I wanna talk. And I wanna see." The front of his shorts bulged out a little more, and then his navel distended. An eye with a slit pupil popped out and craned to stare down the bed at Terry. A tentacle sprouted out next to it and waved lazily in the air.
Terry pulled his grey hoodie off and cast it aside. He also had an eyeball at his navel, and as he clambered onto the bed, straddling Tom, it too was joined by a tentacle. It and Tom's wrapped about each other, and the eyeballs touched, fusing into each other. Both boys gasped and shuddered. In unison they blinked hard, and then opened their eyes to stare hard at each other.
"Mm, nice," Terry murmured, and though it was his voice it had Tom's air of command. He leaned forward and clamped his hands onto Tom's rounded shoulders. Tom's smooth, brown cheeks flushed a rosy color as Terry bent over to sniff at his neck and chest. He buried his face in Tom's armpit and took a deep breath as Tom threw a thick arm over his thin torso and pulled him down.
They lay there for a good long time, moving only slowly and deliberately, stroking each other. Tom threw his leg over the small of Terry's back, and Terry reached behind to grab and massage at his foot. He slipped an arm beneath Tom and drew him upward--though the latter's weight was too great and Terry's arm was too weak to do other than pull him closer. After twenty minutes Terry put his face to Tom's. Their mouths opened, and they found each others' tongues.
Tom's phone rang. With slow tranquility he retrieved from the nearby nightstand. "Yeah," he grunted, and Terry's mouth moved silently in unison with his. "Then bring him over. We'll let Angus do the honors. He's got the one that government man took from Coach."
Another shudder ran through the boys as they separated; the worms released each other and retreated inward. Without speaking, they got dressed again and went out into the deserted living room.
They hadn't long to wait before two cars pulled up. Neither moved at the brief, sharp rap at the front door, which then opened. Chad came in, followed by a puzzled-looking Austin Peters. His brow crinkled a little when he saw Terry, but he otherwise paid no notice to him. "So, where's this fire," he demanded of Chad.
"No fire," Tom said. "Just a little club meeting. We want you to join."
"What kind of--" Austin started, then gasped as Chad reached smoothly behind him and put him in a headlock. He grunted and his face tightened. "Okay," he said in a resigned tone. "So you assholes are looking to have a little fun."
"It'll be more fun for us after you're in," Tom said.
Terry walked over to Peters and undid the bottom three buttons of his shirt, then pulled out the front of his t-shirt. He ran a finger up and down Austin's soft belly, and gently probed his navel. From the front pocket of his hoodie he took out the worm. He showed it to Austin.
Peters reared back, but Chad held him firmly. "The fuck is--" he started, but then Terry put it to his stomach. He collapsed slowly against Chad. A shudder ran through his body, and his head lolled.
And then he straightened up. Chad released him, and he quietly buttoned his shirt back up again. A faint smirk flickered at his lips as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, from which he extracted a credit card. "Don't spend it all in one place," he said.
* * * * *
To continue investigating the room: "Disposing of Lucy"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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