“Sure. But do they even like water?”
“Another good question. After all, the PATH tunnel doesn’t actually go through the water, just under it.” I swept my amplified gaze across to the exhaust towers, the dynamos of subterranean fresh air that had caused this whole turn of the worm. Above the windowless column of bricks, shapes circled in the fading light, their white feathers toasted a dull orange by the sunset. This was a new thing, the wheeling cloud of seagulls that perpetually hovered over the towers. No one knew what it meant.
Some new airborne vector? Mere coincidence? Scavengers sensing a coming kill?
I sighed. “Sometimes I don’t think we actually know anything.”
“Don’t worry, Cal,” she said. “It’s still early days.”
The whoop of a siren filtered up from the street, and we ran to the other side of the building, peering down into the darkness. The flash of police-car lights filled the cavern between our building and the one across the street, the pop of radios echoing up. Definitely an arrest.
“Got your badge?” I asked.
“Always. Best part of the job.”
We sometimes have to intervene, when the police are about to take a confused and violent newbie off to jail. We flash our Homeland Security badges and talk some bio-warfare crap, and everyone backs off real quick. Ten hours later, the peep is in Montana, hooked up to an intravenous garlic drip and getting the lowdown way too fast.
Of course, newbies take a lot less convincing, these days. The signs are everywhere.
I focused my binoculars, training them on the crowd gathered around the police car. The cops were putting handcuffs on some guy, and a woman was yelling at him, shaking her purse by its broken strap. A wallet and some other stuff lay scattered across the sidewalk. A backup police car rolled down the block at a leisurely speed.
I sighed, lowering the binoculars. “Looks like a purse-snatching, just a perp, not a peep.”
One thing you can say for them, peeps don’t steal, except for maybe the occasional chunk of meat. They can’t think far enough ahead to go for the cash. And it’s interesting how, even with the Inflammation going on, regular crime still happens. Maybe more so. End of the world or not, people aren’t going to change that much.
“Yeah,” Lace sighed, lowering her binoculars. “This sucks.” Her teeth chewed at her lower lip.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “We’ll get some action tonight. We always do.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She shook her head. “I’m just bummed.”
“Why?”
She let out a long breath. “Side effects.”
My eyebrows raised. “From the pills?”
“No, the disease.” Lace turned to me and made a face. “I don’t like potato salad anymore.”
I had to laugh. “Don’t worry. Carbs just don’t do it for the parasite.”
“Sure, but what if it’s … you know, the anathema. What if I’m starting to hate stuff?”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” I nodded sagely. “Well, maybe we should do a little testing, just to make sure.”
I drew her closer, and we kissed. The chill wind kicked up, and Corny padded over to slide figure eights between our ankles, but our mouths stayed locked, warm and unbreakable. So much was changing around us, it was good how this feeling stayed the same.
She still smelled wonderful.
“Hating me yet?” I asked after a while.
“No. In fact…” She stopped. “Whoa. Did you feel that?”
I knelt and placed a palm on the black tar. The slightest rumble filtered up through the fourteen stories of the building. “Two big ones, fading now.”
“I’ll call them in,” Lace said, pulling out her phone, her thumbs darting out a text message to the tracking office.
I sniffed the air, smelling traces of the beasts. Impressive how the scent reached all the way up here, as if the earth were growing more porous every day.
But all I wanted to do was hold Lace again.
“Funny how that happens,” I said. “How we’re always kissing, or about to, when they come around?”
She pressed send, looked up from the tiny screen, and smiled. “You’ve noticed that too?”
I nodded slowly. “Remember, Morgan said she could feel something here, after she’d been infected. She’d sneak down into the basement and the darkness would turn her on. Drive her crazy.”
“That’s parasite mind control, right? Making carriers horny so the disease spreads fastest where it’s needed most?” Lace smiled, pleased at her own analysis; she was starting to get the biology down.
“Sure, mind control.” I frowned. “But you and I are already both infected. Why does it care what we do?”
“Maybe it just likes us, dude,” Lace said.
She pulled me close again, and our mouths met. The scent of the worms began to fade, overwhelmed by Lace’s jasmine and the salt of the Hudson. We stayed there on the roof for a while, letting the warmth between us build, moved by nothing more than what our bodies wanted from each other. The monsters had passed for now.
Still, part of me is always waiting for the tremors in the earth to come again.
And they will, soon.
You may have seen the signs where you live. Garbage piling higher and higher on the streets. Pale rats scurrying along the subway tracks. Strangers in black trying to pick you up in bars. A red flash in the eyes of your cat, or its weight heavy on your chest in the morning.
But that’s nothing. When the epidemic really starts to roll, civilization will crumble, blood will run in the streets, and some of your neighbors may try to eat you. But resist the temptation to buy a shotgun and start blowing their heads off. Just feed them garlic and plenty of sausage, and eventually they’ll calm down. You see, they’re not the real enemy. Compared to the monsters coming next, those ravening cannibals aren’t so bad. In fact, they’re on your side.
The real enemy will be close behind, though, and that shotgun won’t help you one bit. Nothing in the arsenal of science will avail against these creatures. A lot of us will die.
Don’t panic, though. Nature has provided. There has always been a defense against the worms, a disease hidden in the sewers and deep cracks, coursing through the veins of a few old families, waiting for its time to bubble up.
So stock up on some bottled water and a few cans of pasta sauce, maybe the kind with extra garlic. Set aside a few good books and DVDs, and buy a decent lock for your door. Try not to watch TV for a few months—it will only upset you. Don’t take the subway.
And leave the rest to us vampires. We’ve got your back.
THE END
AFTERWORD
HOW TO AVOID PARASITES
The parasites described in the even-numbered chapters of this novel are all real. Every terrifying process is going on right now in a meadow, pond, or digestive system near you. Possibly in your own body.
As this book may freak out certain readers with its graphic biological details, I feel compelled to share some of the preventative measures I discovered during my research. Sure, parasites are part of the ecosystem, part of our evolution, blah, blah, blah. But that doesn’t mean you want hookworms in your gut, chewing on your stomach lining and sucking your blood. Right?
So follow these simple rules, and you will be much less likely to be invaded by parasites. No guarantees, though. (Sorry.)
1. Sing “Happy Birthday”
Many microscopic parasites (and other germs) exist in the air and on everyday surfaces. They get on your hands, and when you touch your mouth, eyes, or food, they take the opportunity to slip into your body. So wash your hands often, and when you do:
a) Use warm water.