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One of those things could be hanging from the rafters! Damn it,
be careful, Angelica. She insisted on following the
heart-rending pitiable cries of what sounded like a child deep in
the dark of the hut.
Get me some light, Eric. Light! Now!
Eric flashed his powerful Garrity hand-held on the interior, and
what they saw made them both gasp. The worms, several of them,
were boring into a young girl whose brown skin bubbled and
crackled with scabs--with the disease. Somehow this young girl
who had maintained a certain resistance to the disease. The
question How is she alive? ran through their minds like a pair
of twin birds searching for answers.
CianCian Rami, she muttered her name.
Angelica sucked in the clean oxygen provided by her pack,
knowing what the twelve or thirteen-year-old breathed in and out
was laden with disease. The girl appeared the only living thing
in the village aside from the fat worms now treating themselves
to the young girl. She lay like a smorgasbord for their
pleasure, too weak to fend them off. They'd obviously deserted
all the now cold bodies littered about the hut, all busing to the
child's body as the only constant source of heat. Like the
kundalini, they required heat and lots of it. Without heat, they
would wither and die. According to Karl Strohners research, the
worms despised bright light, particularly sunlight and the
outside world in general, much preferring a constant 92 plus
degree home. They created fever in the flesh for this reason.
And when their hosts died and the body cooled, sensitive to the
slightest such change, they vacated once again, seeking out
another, warmer home.
A fourth worm dropped from the thatch roof overhead, taking
thatch with it, opening the darkness of its blind eyes to the
sudden light and its warmth, one an Albino, a kind of experiment
in the fast-evolving news species. The sight was awful to
behold. Several of the worms had already bored into the
prostrate girl, others were half in, half out, vying for
position, while still others sought out and bored into just the
right entry point, selecting a leg, a buttocks, a shoulder, a
stomach muscle. One kept at the girls mouth for entry until
Eric knocked it away with a canister of Freon. We cant freeze
her alive, he muttered as the worm he'd hit, the Albino,
skittered like a kicked dog into another body.
Another worm now moved on Eric, drawn to the warmth of his light
and his body. It wanted inside Eric or Angelica or any human it
could find.
Kill me! pleaded the girl named Cian. Her words came out so
pitiable. Shed managed tears when she saw human faces behind
the light and the visors. Please, kill me!
The pleading young girl had scabs over ninety percent of her
body. In virological slang, the little India Bhola girl had
scabbed over, and most of her scabs had already fallen
off--each scab filled with this new strain of worm producing
smallpox, enough to populate the world with the disease many
times over.
Kill me! Kill me now!
The thin, frail little victim had caught the virus from her
family, all of whom lie around her in the hut, all of whom had
succumbed to the disease. In fact, the girl had likely nursed
all the others for as long as she could before her own battle
overwhelmed her. The majority of the worms, those healthy and
energetic at least, continued to bore into the girl. One began
exiting her at the base of the neck. From the evidence of the
slime trails, they’d almost all come from out of the bodies of
her father, mother, sisters and brothers at one time or another.
Shed been in this state for hours, suffering. Perhaps days.
In Bu-buddhas name, pl-please, if you have mercy the little
form begged, kill me! Kill me, now!
Angelica's .38 shook with her gloved hand around the hilt.
Eric did not hesitate, bringing up the German Reuger he carried
to the girl's head and placing a single shot into her brain.
Still her cries for death reverberated in their heads.
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