George took a deep breath, trembled slightly as he held the air in his lungs, then exhaled slowly while relishing the vision of womanhood in front of him. He wiped sweaty palms over the corduroy on his thighs as his heart raced; nearly getting palpitations every time Nancy walked into their study group. George was in love. He watched her every chance he got, adoring her, worshiping her almost as much as his Bible. He stared at Nancy when he thought she wasn’t looking, and then had to repress indecent thoughts of her at night. Her physical appearance was stunning; the bounce of her blonde curls, the sway of her hips in her full length dress, the way she demurely crossed her legs in Sunday school. Last week, George had stopped in front of her in the church hallway, and she had accidentally bumped into him. It was the only time in his life that he had ever had physical contact with a woman that wasn’t his mother. He could still feel the awkward press of her body, and then the embarrassed flush on her cheeks as she made eye contact and plead forgiveness. It was the most intimate experience he’d ever had, and even though the contact had been inadvertent, his hormones raged and his young, repressed mind jumped at possibilities. George told himself his fascination was more than the hypnotic pull of Mother Nature that infects young men as they discover women. He loved her because of her righteousness. She loved her Bible just as much as George did. She was pure.
****
“Damn it all George, it’s true! I heard it from Karma; her best friend.”
“It can’t be. It just can’t be. Nancy is pristine and moral. She wouldn’t do something like that.” George was almost crying with the reality of the news, and it didn’t help that Arlo was using profanity. The emotion of the moment was just too much.
Arlo rationalized Nancy’s indiscretion, “George, it’s just Mononucleosis. It’s a virus transmitted by saliva. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It’s not like a cold virus Arlo. It’s the kissing disease. She is immoral, dirty, and I cannot excuse it. She broke my heart. She sullied herself on someone else’s lips. I am so disappointed in her. She could not control her base urges.” George sniffed away some snot that was threatening to join the tears on his face and added, “She is a whore.”
Arlo continued his defense, “She is not a whore. So she kissed someone…..big deal. I’ve been to parties where they did worse than that on the front lawn.”
George’s voice broke, but he continued anyway, uncaring that he was overflowing with emotion in front of his friend, “She is a whore in my eyes. I don’t ever want to see her again. God has turned from her and punished her for her wickedness. Her Mononucleosis is God’s wrath, visited upon her carnal indiscretions.”
“Whoa, whoa, Daddy-o. You, sir, are way too uptight. You need to relax. There’s a party at the commune tonight. Marley and I are going. You want to come too?”
“I do not want to go to one of your Hippie parties. I’ve heard of the stuff that goes on at those things.” George was more repulsed by the rumored debauchery at the commune than by Nancy’s Mononucleosis.
Arlo rolled his eyes, “Dude, it’s 1968.” He exaggerated the words so that George felt like he’d been living in the dark ages and then added sarcastically, “Lighten up a little bit. Maybe you can convert someone at the party. There are a lot of lost sheep there.”
George either ignored the sarcasm, or it went completely over his head, “Maybe I will. The conversion of a godless hippie would soothe the wounds of Nancy’s betrayal.”
****
The commune was a sweaty, earthy little farm on the edge of town, and they were late. They had to park the Datsun outside the barbed wire fence after Marley ground down all the gears and burned the clutch on their way over from George’s house.
“Marley, my sister can drive better than that. Your dad is gonna flip out.” Arlo kicked the tire of the small economy car as they started their trek up the deeply rutted dirt road.
George earnestly added, “I hope there’s enough teeth in the gearbox to get us home,” while kicking small rocks down the grooves in the dried mud. He let Arlo and Marley banter back and forth while he planned how he would convert someone at the party.
He thought, Would the conversion come quickly, someone starving for the saving grace of God? Would he have to prove his loyalty like Job before he was blessed and rewarded for his efforts? Could he convert more than one?
The party was in the barn, so they followed the sounds of, “Hey Jude”, through fields full of corn, onions, potatoes, and probably a few stalks of Mary Jane. They could see the party through the loose slats of the barn; strobing, flashing, psychedelic lights running through every color of the rainbow. A big, ugly bouncer at the front door crossed his hairy forearms over his barrel chest and stared out from below the bandana holding back his straggly hippie hair. He asked, “What are you doing here?”
Arlo responded, “Hey, Jake…..Marley and I are here to party. George is here to loosen up. I brought the door fee.” He pulled a baggie of mushrooms from the pocket in his slacks.
George was horrified at the transaction, and voiced, “I’m not here to loosen up, I’m here to find a lost soul and bring them back to God.”
The hairy beast snorted and slid back the barn door to usher them inside. As George shuffled past, he ominously whispered, “The only one getting converted in here is you.”
Throbbing base and thrashing, spinning lights assaulted George’s senses. It took him a moment to realize there were old couches and mattresses lining the walls, and people in psychedelic stupors dancing under the hay loft. Two of the women dancers weren’t wearing shirts, and had painted garish daisies over their free swinging breasts. They were gyrating to the sultry, “Light my Fire,” that was pumping out through the huge amplifiers.
At that moment, he saw her. The spotlight stopped for a brief second, and silhouetted her from behind. Even though he couldn’t see the details of her face, he knew her shape, and the ringlets in her hair. Nancy was at this hedonistic party. George froze. He didn’t know how to handle the conflict of emotions that he felt as he openly stared. On the one hand, she was immoral, but on the other, he couldn’t just dismiss the magnetic attraction.
Nancy saw him, and danced her way over, smiling the entire time. She got close to his ear in order to shout above the music and he fidgeted nervously. She shouted in his ear, certain no one else could hear, “George! I thought you wouldn’t come because you heard about my disease. This is a very pleasant surprise.”
Her hot breath tickled the hair on his neck, and George felt his aversion melt. He leaned in to respond, “Nancy, um, I thought you’d be at home in bed. Mono is pretty serious.”
She pulled him close and shouted, “I’m tired a lot, but it’s not really a big deal. My sister had it, and we use the same glass when we brush our teeth. The doctor says my body will get used to the virus, and I won’t have any more symptoms in about a month.”
Relief washed over him, and he gestured towards an old, ratty couch on the side of the barn. “Let’s go sit down over there. Maybe it’ll be easier to talk.”
She surprised him by grabbing his hand and leading him over to the chosen couch. It felt like it was upholstered out of potato sacks and scratched against his arms whenever they brushed up against the coarse material. Nancy looked towards the floor blushing again and murmured, “I, I really wanted you to be the first boy I kissed.”
Elation bubbled up uncontrollably and his voice cracked as he responded, “That’s all I dreamt about. To be honest, I was crushed when I thought you got Mono by kissing someone else.”
Tears welled up in Nancy’s eyes, and she practically whispered, “But if I kiss you now, you’ll get Mono too. I’m still contagious.”
“I don’t care!” This was a new George, blind to love, and uncaring of the consequence. He put both hands on the side of her perfect face and pulled her in close. Trembling, their lips pressed and she giggled as he pulled away. He was so nervous, that he stood up and rubbed his face.
She stood up in front of him, “My sister has kissed lots of guys and says this is the way you do it.” She grabbed his ears, pulled his face down to hers, and then stuck her tongue in his mouth. All George could do was let out a low, throaty groan. His knees almost buckled with the flush of adrenaline, so he tried to cover his lightheadedness by sitting back down, and pretending that he could breathe. It was the most glorious experience of his life. He had been wrong about Nancy; maybe he was wrong about other things as well.
****
Arlo stared at the couple through the entire kissing episode, jealousy seething from his pores. That bastard had said he hated her; he had called her a whore. The plan was to have them see each other, have Nancy get called a slut to her face, and then to swoop in and heal her heart after being rejected by that freak. It had backfired horribly, and all he could do was watch the woman of his dreams stare like a lovesick schoolgirl into the eyes of another man. He mouthed, “I will not let this stand, George”.
Sinking his hand into his pocket, he pulled out two, large mushrooms while approaching the lovesick duo. The mushrooms were so big, they looked like spongy beef jerky. “Hey, guys, looks like you’re getting along famously. You want a snack? I just happen to have some smoked cheese and I don’t think either of you have eaten.”
Both turned to him, each accepting one of the shrooms. In the low light at the edges of the barn, they could barely make out the shape or color of the proffered snacks. Completely oblivious of the psychedelic properties of the hallucinogenic fungus, they each took a timid bite. Nancy mentioned, “Mmmmm, pretty good. It tastes like mushrooms. How did they smoke this cheese?”
Arlo shrugged.
Once George tasted the mushroom, and saw Nancy’s acceptance of her piece, he ate the rest of his. “Thanks, Arlo, that was pretty good. It doesn’t really taste like cheese, but it’s still tasty.”
“No problem, George. Anything for friends.” Arlo walked the other way and thought, Give it fifteen minutes, and you’ll both be trippin’ out of your minds.
George and Nancy, naive as babies, went back to trading Mono infested spit on the couch.
****
The next time Arlo saw them, Nancy was giggling and grasping at imagined bubbles floating just out of reach, while George was spinning around with his shirt off and laughing hysterically.
Big Jake, the bouncer, motioned for Arlo to come over. When he got close enough to hear over the din of the music, he smiled and said, “I’ve been watching these idiots, and they are totally trippin’. Did you give them shrooms?”
Arlo nodded and sarcastically shot back, “I’m converting him.”
Rummaging around in a knapsack, Jake produced a syringe of ugly brown liquid. “Give him this too. It’ll calm him down.”
Arlo questioned, “What the hell is it? I don’t want to kill him.”
Jake pressed the syringe in his hand and explained, “Horse tranquilizer. We use it for the animals, but we found out that it gives you a super smooth, mellow ride in small doses. It won’t augment the mushrooms, it’ll make him less spastic. Just don’t give him any alcohol with it.”
“No chance of that, he hates alcohol. How we gonna get him to inject horse tranquilizer?” Arlo liked the idea, but didn’t want any permanent harm to come of his nemesis, at least not that was his fault.
“He’s so gone right now, he probably wouldn’t even notice. Let’s go stick it in his leg and see what happens.” Jake’s grin was pure evil, but Arlo didn’t notice.
“Okay.” Arlo sidled up to his friend, and while George was cackling at something only he could see, Arlo jammed the syringe into his thigh.
George turned abruptly, tearing the syringe from Arlo’s hand, and said, “Haruthamab.” At least that’s what it sounded like. He fell forward, on top of the needle, and the floor depressed the plunger under the weight of his body.
Arlo stood paralyzed, terrified that he had just administered a deadly dose of horse tranquilizer. Jake just shrugged it off and laughed, clapping Arlo on the back with a meaty hand, and observing, “No going back on the conversion now, my friend.”
****
Mother Nature never intended to mix highly contagious Mononucleosis with hallucinogens and tranquilizers. Independent, they were dangerous enough, but all together, they were a toxic, sinister combination. And there they were; all present in George’s body, and running rampant. The virus encountered the hallucinating effects of the mushrooms, and changed, attacking the same pathways in the brain, and locking away the host’s psyche. From the horse tranquilizer, it adopted a catatonic state; alive, free to shuffle around slowly, but bereft of faculties. It became a super bug; able to maintain the host nearly comatose, isolate all conscious thought in a vast landscape of hallucinations, and transmit the infection through saliva. The new super virus blossomed in George’s unfortunate petri dish.
****
Nancy pushed through the haze of a weakening hallucination as the mushroom wore off. The dancing hippopotamus in the green slippers and black top hat faded away and morphed into reality; the shape of one of the other party goers, passed out on the couch. She looked around desperately for George, but he was nowhere to be found. She did see Arlo and Marley curled up against the back wall, spooning and sound asleep. In her anger, she stomped over and kicked Arlo square in the testicles. “What the HELL did you give us?”
The shock of a swift kick to the balls jolted Arlo awake, squashed his buzz, and demanded attention. All he could manage was to cup his nuts while writhing around on the floor.
“You son of a bitch! Where is George, you piece of shit?” Nancy stood over him with fists clenched, hot with rage. “I SAID, WHERE IS GEORGE?!?”
Marley struggled awake and mumbled, “He walked outside about an hour ago. He’s probably just laid out in one of the corn fields, or maybe eating the bushes.” A girlish giggle punctuated the end of his statement as nervousness got the better of him.
Nancy ran outside, yelling, “GEORGE! GEORGE!” and then whispered under her breath, “Please be okay.”
George did not answer. Except for the crickets, it was nearly silent. It was too dark to see; dawn was still a few hours away. She couldn’t wait until sunrise to search the farm, so she hoped against all odds that he wandered away on the road somewhere. She rushed to her beat up VW bus, and pumped the gas to get the old engine to jump to life. Please don’t flood, please don’t flood, she thought. She flipped on the high beams as the engine rattled to life, and cranked down the window that moaned in protest. Nancy jammed the bus into gear, and rattled away, accelerating towards the fence at the boundary of the commune, while screaming for George through the window and the dust. She could see Arlo and Marley running after her in the spotted side mirror, red and unnatural in the glow of her taillights. She ratcheted up her middle finger and screamed, “Screw you ARLO!”
She nearly overturned the ratty old bus as she accelerated around the corner and left the commune and her treasonous friends in a swarming cloud of dust. She absentmindedly glanced back in the rear view mirror, half expecting to see Arlo and Marley running along behind her, pleading for her to stop, but met only the black void of the rear window.
The moment she pulled her eyes away from the gaping maw of darkness behind her, George stumbled out of the tree line in a vacant stupor and shuffled directly in front of her van. Her only options were to jerk the wheel, or to run him over. Had it been Arlo, she probably would have hit him, but she loved George, and didn’t think twice. She yanked the steering wheel hard to the left and felt the rut in the road launch her bus towards the telephone poles running alongside. The steering wheel snapped against her thumb, and broke it with an audible crack. It was the last pain she registered as the van hit the telephone pole and launched her face first into a flyer for a lost dog, stapled to the tarred pine. The impact crushed her skull like a hardboiled egg, and smeared blood and brains over the missing dog’s picture. Her body hung halfway out the windshield, her neck so broken and shattered that her dead eyes stared at the night sky while her breasts rested against the VW emblem; one hundred and eighty degrees of unnatural. The top half of her skull was missing, splintered and imbedded in the dark wood, exposing the remains of her temporal lobe.
****
The noise and the lights drew George forward, hallucinating, completely oblivious of Nancy’s cadaver. All he saw was the ice cream buffet at the local soda fountain. It was only two dollars and you could stuff your face with all the ice cream you could handle. A bowl of vanilla presented itself, topped with caramel and pralines and he dug in with gusto. It was delicious, the best combination of milk, cream, sugar and nuts he had ever tasted. It was divine.
****
Arlo heard the crash and cut blind through the corn field, his vision blocked by the ripe plants. He crashed through the corn, breaking stalks and clearing a path for Marley, running behind. The field finally gave way to the wood fence and he vaulted over while taking in the carnage of Nancy’s bus from behind. The engine was still rattling around, billowing thick, acrid smoke that camouflaged the destruction at the front of her van. Arlo sprinted past the smoke; a veil of blessed ignorance. The veil parted and Arlo wished it hadn’t. George was scooping brains from Nancy’s wrecked skull and shoveling them into his gaping, drooling mouth. Greyish scrambled eggs slid down his throat and he smacked loudly in a display of obscene gastronomic pleasure. Arlo’s stomach revolted, hurling its contents onto the road. The same rut that launched Nancy at the telephone pole created a bowl for the leftovers of his digestive tract. Marley ran into him from behind, and pushed his friend off balance. Arlo stumbled and stepped into the pool of vomit, submerging his foot up to the ankle.
Marley got his first look of George’s cannibalism and followed suit, splashing Arlo with anything he’d eaten in the last few hours. It soaked his friend’s entire back, starting at the base of his neck and trailing all the way down to his belt.
“Arlo, make him stop!” Tears fell freely from Marley’s eyes, mixing with the bile clinging to his lower lip and chin.
Arlo released a guttural scream and ran straight at George, launching himself like a linebacker; a vomit covered spear to end the horror playing out on the rural road. They rolled away from Nancy’s corpse, Arlo punching as hard as he could and breaking the bones in his hand. George reached up with inhuman strength, clamped down on Arlo’s wrist and slowly pulled his hand toward an open mouth. Arlo struggled to stop the slow, but inexorable march toward the yawning maw, but he was no match for the vicelike grip and superhuman strength. George bit down hard. Incisors broke through skin, blood mixed with saliva, and molars crushed bone beneath the pressure of the jaw muscles. Arlo screamed, pulling against the bite, and abandoning the side of his palm and his pinky to the grinding mastication of George’s teeth. But the damage was done. The highly contagious virus slipped from saliva to blood, attacking the immune system, and incubating in a new host. Catatonic hallucinations were only a few days away.
****
The virus allowed George’s brain a split second of clarity, one brief moment for a fleeting, but lucid thought, Conversion complete.
[bctt tweet=”OCTOBER TERROR 2018 Short Story Award – Entry #46 ‘The Source’ by C. H. Baum – Enjoy all this terrific, disturbing material you have in your hands, lots of horror stories at your disposal for your dark delight and vote!” username=”theboldmom”]
On October 23rd we’ll close submissions and open a poll for the readers to choose their favourite one! You’ll have a week to make your choice and on October 31st we’ll announce the winner!!!
