Goddamn Electric Nights (4 page)

 
          
Signing
off,

 
          
Gina
Boggs

 
           
PART SIX

 
          
THE SPIDERS OF HONEYVILLE

 
 
          
Nom. Nom. Nom.

 
          
Hungry.
Shake.

 
          
Vomit.
Fucking.
Winter.
Shake.

 
          
Can’t.
Control.
Body.
Shake.

 
          
Shake.
Shake. Shake. Shake.

 
          
Must.
Find.
Food.

 
          
Shake.

 
           
PART SEVEN

 
          
THE UNFORTUNATE SPIDER-MEN

 
 
          
It
has been a week since the spiders have dropped and taken their posts atop their
host’s craniums, digging their fangs deep into their brains. The life-force
thieving devices that we installed earlier regrettably do not work as well as
we had originally intended. The spider-men are no doubt extraordinary beings
with extraordinary powers, but sadly they lack the mental capacity to put those
powers to greater use. The spider-men are nothing more than walking,
decomposing humans with the mindset of an arachnid.
 
          
The
spider-men are capable of producing silk web – albeit through the body of the
giant spiders attached to their heads instead of their own – but since the
spider itself can no longer move its limbs (
because
of the life-force thieving devices
) the web tends to stream down the host’s
backside and clump on the ground below. The spider-men like to pick up these clumps
and throw them at each other as they are excreted - kind of like pillow
fighting, but with balls of web. It has become quite a popular sport. It
certainly seems to make them happy.
 
          
If
agitated, the spider-men defensively bite their agitators, just like a normal
house spider would. The problem with this is that the fangs that they use to
bite their predators with are the human set. The human teeth do not expel
poison,
therefore their bites are hardly ever effective in
keeping away enemies. Another problem with this is that when the human bites
down on its victim, the spider involuntarily injects their human host with
venom, therefore resulting in the body of the host quickly losing
consciousness. This happens more often than one would think.
 
          
We
have been trying to tweak the devices that we had implanted into the
infected’s
skulls, but to no avail. With dwindling supplies
and resources, there is honestly nothing more that we can do.
 
          
So
now, we dig.

 
           
PART EIGHT

 
          
BOGGS’ LOG

 
 
          
Tuesday – January 9
^th

 
          
I
think I am beginning to get a bit of cabin fever. My mind has been so focused
on the coming of the spiders that I never really ever let it sink in. We are
trapped. No phone, no TV, no radio – nothing! Telephone lines have been severed
by the vault and satellite signals cannot penetrate through the thick cement
walls of our tomb. Dr. Potts has been a bit on edge lately. He expected more
from the life-force thieving devices. He expected the infected to be fully
functioning human beings. I think he was secretly planning to use those men to
tear down these walls. I wonder who is on ‘The Late Show’
tonight?

 
 
          
Monday – January 15
^th

 
          
We’ve
been spending the last week doing nothing but digging. Dr. Potts says it is the
only way we are ever going to get out of here. He has been trying to teach the
spider-men to dig, but with little or no success. Most of them just stare into
space as Dr. Potts speaks to them. Some vomit. Others see him as a threat and
try to bite him. Most of them are beginning to regain consciousness. I haven’t
told the others about this, but I have recently acquired a 4” black and white
handheld television that can pick up channels via antennae. I have been
sneaking down in the hole late at night watching all my favorite comedy talk shows.
It is the only place that I can get any reception and even then I have to angle
the antennae just right for the picture to come through. I am going to sign off
for now, Letterman is about to come on.

 
 
          
Wednesday – January 17
^th

 
          
I’ve
been found out. I fell asleep in the hole while watching TV. Dr. Potts
discovered my secret this morning. He asked why I hadn’t shared the great news
with the others. I told him that I thought that he would be upset. It was a
lie, I really just hadn’t seen TV in so long that I wasn’t about to have to
ration my time with it by sharing it with all of the others. I know it’s
selfish, but at least I am being truthful. Sadly, I knew all along that my
nights alone snuggled up with my little TV were numbered. At least I enjoyed it
while I had the chance.

 
 
          
Thursday – January 18
^th

 
          
Ever
since Dr. Potts discovered the television, we’ve watched nothing but the world
news. In the six or so months that
Honeyville
has
been quarantined, not a single one of us thought about how peaceful it is in
here. We have all been so focused on escaping, that we hadn’t really noticed
that life in
Honeyville
isn’t so bad - certainly not
as bad as the world that exists outside of these four walls. Hours passed and
one depressing news story rolled on after another. We stopped digging. We sat
around that television all day, depressed. At the end of the day, we started
refilling the hole, burying the television along with it.

 
           
It came from the third floor.
 
          
The
sound echoed through the hallways and down each of the staircases before
tearing into my ear canal like a fucking razor. I tell you, it was a scream! A
scream followed by the ripping thunder of a chainsaw furiously rumbling to
life. I snorted a line of red fire ants; a nasty habit I plan to quit, believe
you me. The ants crawled around in my brain, awaking my senses. From each of
their fangs leaked electric venom.
 
          
I
grabbed my shotgun.
 
          
Quickly,
I walked up the staircase, tripping up a time or two. Those goddamn fire ants,
they always get the best of me. The closer I got, the louder the noise became.
Several of the tenants opened their doors as I passed by. Before they spoke, I
held a finger to my lips, signaling for them to keep quiet, then continued my trek
down the halls.
 
          
When
I finally reached the third floor, I hoisted my shotgun and leaned one shoulder
against the wall, just as I was trained in my younger days in the Army. All of
the rooms on the third floor were vacant, except for one.
Room
333.
From that one room
came
the sound.
 
          
I
balled up my fist and banged twice on the door, keeping my sights on the
peephole. The chainsaw noise stopped. The screaming stopped. Suddenly, there
was silence.
 
          
A
shadow appeared before the peephole and quickly disappeared. I then beat my
fist against the pale oak door a third and fourth time.
Still,
no sound.
 
          
“Now
look here, folks! There are people here trying to sleep!” I said, answered only
by silence. “Now, if I have to come up here a second time, I’m
gonna
knock down this goddamn door and pull
ya
out by your earlobes!”
 
          
Silence
still.
 
          
“You
hear me?!”
 
          
Silence.
 
          
“Well,
alright then.”
 
          
I
lowered my shotgun and walked back downstairs. The other tenants all watched as
I trudged down the hallways. I just waved them off, shooing them back into
their rooms. I just needed some sleep and goddamn it if I was
gonna
stay up all night answering their questions. I wasn’t
sleeping so well then. Not with all that noise anyway.
 
          
Before
climbing into bed, I went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. I
then hugged the sides of my icebox and moved it out about two feet. Three large
brown cockroaches sat underneath, panicked at the light and anxiously sought
refuge. I was able to pin one of them down against the floor with my index
finger. I pinched the pest, picked it up and pushed it to my lips. I wrapped my
tongue around its squirming body to hold it in place while I went back for the
glass of water. I hate the fucking taste of a filthy cockroach. I can never manage
to swallow one without having something to wash it down with. Only reason I eat
the
bastiches
are because there seems to be something
in their fat bodies that always makes me feel tired. It’s like that chemical
found in turkey meat that is supposed to make you feel sleepy or something.
Whatever it is, it works. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in nearly a month.
I needed it.
 
          
I
bit the little fucker in two, downed the entire glass of water and spent the
rest of the night picking parts of its legs from my teeth until I finally fell
asleep.
 
          
I
was awakened shortly after, or so I thought. Turns out I’d slept for two entire
days. A drop of water landed
right square
between my
eyes and pooled around my left socket. It brought me screaming back into
consciousness. I wiped the water from my eye and looked up at the ceiling. The
entire span of it was completely soaked and had already started growing black
rings of mold. I immediately leapt from my bed, discovering that the carpet was
buried beneath two inches of freezing cold water. The mail slot in my door was
crammed full of white envelopes. Some of it was mail. Most of it was complaints
about the water leaking into and destroying the tenants’ apartments. All of
them claimed the water was coming from the third floor. It was then that I had
suspected that I had slept a little longer than I had originally intended.
 
          
Again,
I grabbed the shotgun and angrily stomped out of my apartment. I lost my
slippers in the ocean somewhere between my front door and the first staircase.
 
          
When
I finally got to the staircase, a waterfall was pouring down onto the steps
from above. I pulled the nightcap off my head, pitched it angrily at the pool
of water below, and braved the flood.
 
          
Now
I
ain’t
gonna
lie, at that
moment I felt like
killin
’ a man. Maybe that is the
easiest way to explain my participation in the unfortunate events that
followed.
 
          
Once
I was up on that third floor, staring down the hall at room 333, I knew right
away that something wasn’t right. The oak door that had been on those hinges
just two days before was replaced with a large steel door, the kind found on
goddamn submarines! You could imagine my anger when I first noticed this, being
the building
superintendant
and all. I tried to
remember if any of the letters that was stuffed in my mail slot had anything to
do with asking permission to install a large metal door. I was certain there
wasn’t.
 
          
I
pounded my fist against that steel door and was surprised to hear that there
was no sound. I beat my fist against the door again, still no sound. It was as
if the whole goddamn room was filled solid with metal!
 
          
My
anger got the best of me as I kicked in the door of the neighboring apartment.
The room was empty, as I mentioned before, all the rooms on the third floor
were vacant except for the one causing
all this
ruckus. I loaded my shotgun and took aim at the wall shared by the two flats
and blasted a hole about two feet in diameter.
 
          
Much
to my surprise, I was knocked flat on my ass by a 500-gallon water-blast that
shot out from the mouth I had just blown through the wall. Half of the room
filled with ice cold water in an instant. My feet finally found the floor. I
rose up out of the
abyss,
the water was now as high as
my chest.
 
          
What
I saw in that room, you’d never believe. I threw up my shotgun and aimed it
straight at the terror standing in room 333.
 
          
There
is nothing in life that can prepare a man for what I saw that day. No sir,
nothing
t’all
. I remember my first thought was that I
was dreaming.
Ain’t
no way in hell this thing is
real, I thought. I pinched my arms and bruised like a banana, I did. I tell
you, this thing was real! Standing before me, nearly taking up half the entire
span of room
333,
was the biggest
motherfucking
carpenter ant I had ever seen.
 
          
Without
even realizing, I lowered my gun.
 
          
“What
in the hell are you?” I asked it. It didn’t speak. Instead, it gargled and
coughed up bucket-loads of water.
 
          
“Goddamn
it! We were almost there!” I heard a woman shout. She stepped out into view,
dressed head to toe in scuba gear and threw her plastic goggles toward my face.
I ducked. She was quite stunning.
Blonde hair, blue eyes.
The works.
“What the hell, man?!
Have you ever heard of knocking?”
 
          
“Uh…
excuse me, ma’am… but just what the hell is that?” I couldn’t get my mind off
of the giant puking insect.
 
          
“Who him?
That’s my fiancé! Who the hell are you?
Elmer-fucking-
Fudd
?”
She was
making fun of my shiny bald head and shotgun, I’m sure of it.
 
          
“Fiancé?!”
I laughed, “Honey, that there is the biggest
goddamn demon insect there ever was. Surely, you can see that thing standing
next to you?!”
 
          
Her
eyes lowered. “Well, you know, he wasn’t always this way…” She said, sighing.
 
          
“Oh?
Well, just what the hell was he then?
A rattlesnake?
A… a… a goddamn sperm whale?!”
I said as I chuckled.
 
          
“Oh,
he’s been lots of things…” she said, without any emotion.
Her
eyes never lifting sight from the ground.
She then looked up at the
fifteen-foot creature that stood next to her, eyes wide with love, “but he
started out human, just like you. Just like me.”
 
          
I
dropped my sarcasm. “What do you mean, ‘started out human’?”
 
          
The
woman stared at me for a few seconds before turning back to her lover, the
six-legged demon freak. She looked at him as if she was silently asking
permission. The freak cocked his head in approval. She turned back to me.
 
          
“He
is… cursed. You see, I know this is going to sound pretty unbelievable, but
Teddy… that’s his name, Teddy…” she said, now holding one of the creatures
filthy armored limbs in her tiny perfect little pink hands, “Teddy and I went
to Japan on holiday. We made plans to get married. We even had plans to go back
to our hotel room afterwards and conceive our first child. But then we made
that awful decision… it ruined everything.”
 
          
“What
awful decision?” I said, taking it all in.
 
          
“Super
Happy Fun Time.”
 
          
“Super Happy Fun Time?”
 
          
“Super
Happy Fun Time… it’s a Japanese game show. We went just as members of the
audience, but Teddy’s name was randomly picked to be a contestant.”
 
          
“So,
what? I don’t get it. Did you lose a bunch of money or something?”
 
          
She
didn’t speak. Instead she just pointed her finger to the transformed Teddy.
 
          
“They
turned him into an insect?” I asked.
 
          
“No,
no, no… first they turned him into a panda. He didn’t reach the insect level
until much later.”
 
          
“
Insect level?
I’m sorry, I’m not following you…”
 
          
“They
cursed Teddy to live life as each and every creature on Earth. Insects are his
final stage. We have something like two-hundred species left before Teddy is
human again.”
 
          
I
kept a straight face for as long as I possibly could, before eventually
bursting out laughing. It was obvious they took offense.
 
          
“You
never answered me, old man – who the hell are you anyway?” she said, her anger
was coming around again.
 
          
“I’m
your goddamn landlord, that’s who I am.” I answered, “I came up here to try and
figure out just why the hell my building is sinking. Water is everywhere! It’s
at least knee deep down on the first floor. Now, I know it wasn’t like this
when I went to sleep, so I came up here to get some answers.
 
          
She
stood there quietly like a scolded child.
 
          
“So…
??”
I nudged.
 
          
“Well…
I was trying to kill Teddy!” She said, dryly.
 
          
My
eyes glowed. “You were trying to kill your fiancé?”
 
          
“Well,
yeah. I have to. If I don’t kill him, then he will live the lifespan of all of
the creatures he must replicate. I can’t wait that long. I’ve been killing
Teddy for about three years now. I’d say in another a month, we’re in the
clear. Teddy will be back and we’ll have our 500 million dollars. Teddy says
that we’re going to buy an island with that money! We’re finally going to be
able to live the good life!” She smiled and kissed Teddy’s twitching leg.
“We’ve worked so hard for this.”
 
          
“Okay,
so let me see if I understand this correctly, you replaced your wooden door
with an airtight steel door so that you could fill the room up with water and
drown him?”
 
          
The
woman nods.
 
          
“Wouldn’t
it just be easier to blow his goddamn brains out with a shotgun?”
 
          
“Well,
there are two problems with that… One – Teddy doesn’t like to die in ways in
which he has to suffer. He prefers painless, instant death. Two – Super Happy
Fun Time requires that we kill Teddy differently each time, so that the viewers
don’t get bored and change the channel.”