The Creeps

The first time I saw it, I was sitting in the waiting room of the neurology unit at UMass Memorial Hospital in Boston. I had walked the long, crowded hallway to the full-length glass door inscribed with the list of nerve doctors. The waiting room was filled with people of all shapes, sizes, and germ count. One particularly ripe one popped his balding head up from behind a magazine. Cosmopolitan of all things . I gave the little weasel my best resting-bitch stare. His head popped back down to eye level with the model’s breasts, no doubt.

I wouldn’t need any reading material. The microorganisms on the pages were as filthy as the content. There was an empty chair against the back wall, perfect for people watching out the four large windows on either side of the entrance door framing the hallway. Doctors, nurses, and patients all scurried by. Mulling over their seemingly futile attempt to get nowhere fast, I spotted the nasty thing. I had felt it before it came into view. The smaller species had been around since the beginning of time. I was first aware of the growing infestation five years ago when I rented my apartment on Washington Street. I knew it was just a matter of time before the power-hungry pests evolved to human size, and here was my proof.

The first thing I noticed was shiny black wiry hair springing from its head. Two longer tufts projected from the front of its head and bounced up and down over its eyes. The waist-high windows gave me a view of its upper body hunched forward in the posture of an oppressive linebacker. It darted back and forth through the crowded hall with ease through the surrounding people.

I thought it odd to observe the usually nocturnal pest in light of day. I took a glance around the room to see if anyone else was witness to this spectacle. Not one person had moved their eyes in the direction of the mansect. They sat oblivious to the product of their demise. When I looked back, I thought I had lost it in the crowd. Then it appeared scurrying by the full-length glass entrance door. My heart shuddered when I saw its entire body. The forward body stance was not just a method of dodging through the crowd; it gave a counterweight to its bulging hips and thin legs that seemed to bend backward as it moved forward. The female of the species, I thought. Its tiny arms clenched tight to its flat oval torso, probably carrying a litter. Its neckless head floated on round segmented shoulders, eyes scanning. Suddenly it looked directly at me with its black beaded eyes. Only a second passed before it reached the last window and disappeared out of my sight. I was sure it saw me.

“Gretchen Wundt.” I nearly fell out of my chair when the nurse called my name. “Doctor Goodall will see you now.”

The giant creature would have to wait. It would appear again. Roaches always do.

“Greta, I have good news and bad news…”

“Gretchen.”

“Ah yes, Gretchen. Well, the good news is all the tests came back negative.”

“And the bad news is you don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but—well, I don’t know why you have these headaches. However, I’m referring you to the Psychology unit. They deal with things like this all the time, and I think that they can help…”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“No, no, I think you could be having some hormonal issues, and there are pills for that sort of thing, Greta.”

“Up yours, Doctor Good-For-Nothing.” 

I stormed out of the examining room and kicked open the door to the waiting area. Everyone looked up at me except the pervert behind the Cosmo magazine. I walked up to him, grabbed the smut sheet out of his hand, tossed it in the nearby trash can, and then exited through the full-length glass door. I turned left toward the insect’s trail.

It was easy enough to follow. They leave a slimy film of stench whenever they go. I traced its path down the main hall, through the cafeteria. It seemed to meander around there for a while, no surprise. I picked up the scent again on the other side of the garbage cans. Dim light shown in a small hallway, empty except for some cleaning supplies. I heard a faint noise in a room further on. The door marked employees only didn’t cause me to hesitate. Any delay, and I’d lose the big bugger.

Inside the door, I discovered that it was a three-stall bathroom. I heard a scurry of activity in the furthest stall. From the stench, I knew it was the breeder. The stall door started to open as I pulled a trusty can of insect spray out of my handbag. I blasted the beastly bugger right in the face. It went down, choking and squirming. There would be no time to falter; they can shake this off, I had learned. My two-inch white slip-on pump was off my right foot and in my hand before the villain could recover.

My daily upper body exercises helped me to beat the oversized vermin into the grimy tile floor. I gave it a few more blows after it stopped moving to make sure. I’ve seen them play dead before and then scurry away without a limp. I got this one good. The thick white pus that pulses through their bodies was smeared over its head and thorax. Much to my disgust, it was also on the heel of my shoe. I grabbed some toilet paper from the roll and wiped it off when I heard the outer door open.

Someone went into the first stall. I quickly flushed the toilet and exited without even washing my hands. I didn’t slow down until I reached the busy cafeteria, and I stopped to get the small bottle of anti-bacterial gel out of my purse. That’s when I heard the scream, as did everyone else in the general vicinity. With the attention on the back hallway, I made a clean exit through the main entrance and out to the parking garage.

I felt quite satisfied on my drive home. I knew I would never get recognition for my heroic act. My reward would be in my knowledge that I had ridden the world of a fiendish element. This was my most significant victory thus far in my war against the nasty nuisances. Until I moved in, I hadn’t known that the Washington Street apartment block was a virtual breeding ground for a wide variety of creepy-crawlers.

My landlord insisted that no one else in the building saw them.

“None of the other tenants say a word about roaches, Grecia,” he said.

“No, but they say a lot about La Cucaracha.”

“I don’t need to know about their personal lives, as long as they pay the rent. Oh, that reminds me, yours is due.”

When I opened the door of my first-floor apartment, Cat was on the table in the foyer. I never knew when the pure white albino Siamese would greet me. He was an independent feline who came through my bathroom window one day about five years ago chasing a cockroach across my bathroom floor. He caught it and proceeded to eat it, the whole thing, and then licked his lips. He thinks they are quite tasty, but I’ve yet to try them. Ever since that day, Cat has been my partner in fighting the filthy fiends.

Cat didn’t come with a collar or a name, and I thought him too good to give him some foolish label. He was what he wa, Cat, and that was more than enough. Cat was a survivor. I didn’t know exactly how old he was, but I believed he had been fighting these insects for a good many years, perhaps since the beginning of time. I couldn’t wait to tell him of the large mutant and my dirty deed.

Cat paced across the table. It was apparent he could smell the stench on me, but something else was bothering him. I soon found out what.

“Gretchen, there you are,” my younger sister Elizabeth said as she sashayed out of my kitchen. “Where have you been?”

“How did you get into my apartment?”

“Oh, honey, you gave me a key last year. Don’t you remember?”

“No, I don’t remember.”

“Yes, it was when you were in the “Ward” at the hospital, and you wanted me to check on that ugly cat of yours.”

“I wasn’t in a “ward,” and Cat is not—”

“I know you don’t like to think about that time. It’s all right; we don’t need to talk about it. I just want to know how you are.”

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to make a special trip.”

“I didn’t. I had to come into the city with Victoria.”

“Who?”

“Victoria!” an obnoxious little imp appeared in the hallway beside my sister. “I’m your niece, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“We just came from the American Girl Store,” my sister said. “Victoria has twenty-three of their dolls, and she needed some accessories.”

“Well, of course,” I said with dripping sarcasm lost on my sister but not on her spawn.

“Gretchen, I need to use your bathroom to freshen up. I’m covered with the dinge of the city. Why don’t you and Victoria have a nice little visit?”

Victoria marched her brown suede fringed boots into my warm white living room and parked her lacey butt on my cool white velvet sofa. I followed, sitting across from her in my hand-painted antique white rocker. Cat sat on the transparent glass table between us.

“You’re weird,” Victoria said.

Cat hissed.

The brat raised her arm at Cat. Before I could stop myself, my hands shot out for the imp’s throat. I stopped short when she let out a scream.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a wad of toilet paper that had fallen out of my pocket.

I quickly scooped it up.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just some tissue.”

“It’s all red,” she said. “Like blood.” 

“Don’t be foolish,” I said. “It’s not red at all. It’s white; I wiped some sticky white stuff off my shoe, and I forgot to throw the tissue away, that’s all.”

“What are you two talking about?” my sister said as she came back from the bathroom.

“She’s color blind,” Victoria said. “She thinks everything is white.”

“I am not.”

“She may have a point, Gretchen. Everything in your apartment is some shade of white. Don’t you know any other colors?”

“I like white; it’s clean and it’s—well, it’s white!”

“Mommy, can we go? This place gives me the creeps,” the snotty urchin whined.

“Of course, darling,” my sister pacified her. “You know I love you, Gretchen, right?” I didn’t answer. “I want you to know you can call me if you need me.”

She exited with the whiney parasite stuck to her side.

“Why would anyone want to give birth?” I asked Cat.

Cat had never claimed any offspring, but he was clearly unneutered. I studied his cold blue eyes and wondered if he ate his young. Cat licked his lips.

“Can you read my mind, Cat?”

His left eyelid slowly came down like the closing of a Roman shade.

I suppressed a shiver, yet I was not altogether appalled by the idea. I felt more connected to Cat than to any other creature, human or otherwise.

I filled him in on the mutant insect and its early demise. 

“I have to go back to the hospital, Cat.”

He tossed his head.

“I got the female, but there has to be a male, I’m sure of it.”

Cat humped his back and bristled.

“I can do this, don’t worry.”

*

My windshield wipers beat back the fine mist distorting my view. Streetlights gave a dim glow to dark sidewalks. The hospital parking garage was barren except for a few staff vehicles. I parked close to the main door. As soon as I opened it, I could smell his musk. He was potent and easy to track. The barren halls had a harsh emptiness that was painful, like the course pain at the end of a long scream. I quickened my pace. I knew my direction.

There he was, dressed in a shiny black uniform, his shoes polished. He paused when he saw me, with a coffee cup partway to his mandibles. There was no time for hesitation. I reached for my handbag to extract my can of bug spray. Acid bubbled in the pit of my stomach when I realized I had forgotten it.

“Can I help you, Miss?” He was leery and sensed my threat. Tall and broad, a stud of a breeder, I knew he wouldn’t go down easy. He moved slowly towards me as I considered my options. I stepped sideways, putting a table between us, and saw my weapon.

Without a word, I lunged for the long black flashlight he must have set down on the table. I charged at him with my arm raised high but underestimated his strength. Even in my rage, he easily overpowered me and grabbed the light out of my hand. My satchel fell to the floor, spilling some of its contents. I kicked him solidly in the shin. When he bent down, I came up with another quick kick to his breeding genitalia. He went down like a worm, but I knew I couldn’t finish him off here.

I grabbed my big white purse and hurriedly scooped the fallen items back into it. I made haste to the hall and was in my car turning out of the parking garage when I heard the sirens coming. I merged onto the highway westbound and could see the cruisers exiting on the other side of the highway towards the hospital.

Far too agitated to go home, I drove the tangle of city streets. The clouds cleared with sunrise, and I stopped for a cup of coffee. The television in the café showed the local news. They talked of a murder the day before and another related attack at the hospital later that night. The police chief said they had some leads but were not ready to release any information to the public, not wanting to jeopardize the case. He assured everyone that there would be unprecedented security at the hospital and called for the public’s patience. His beady eyes blinked, and I knew he was one of them.

It was 6 am when I rounded the corner onto Washington Street. All was quiet; the other tenants were sleeping it off as usual. There was a car in my assigned parking space, so I pulled in front of it. I couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and get some rest. It had been an exhausting night.

I hadn’t remembered leaving my door unlocked, but then I didn’t remember locking it either. I pushed it open and knew the answer. There was a crowd of people and a scurry of activity. I froze.

“Ms. Wundt, come in. I’m Detective Blattodea.”

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

“Just stay calm, Ms. Wundt.”

“I hate when anyone says that to me!”

Two men standing near the hall, dressed in bright-colored medical scrubs, started towards me. The detective waved them back.

“We have a search warrant for your apartment, Ms. Wundt,” the detective said.

“Who the hell are the neon paramedics?” I asked.

“They’re just here in case of any medical emergency.”

The big male of the species came out of my bedroom holding a plastic bag containing my can of bug spray.

“This is my partner Detective Anaplecet. I think you met him earlier.”

“Gretchen Wundt, you didn’t introduce yourself when we last saw each other. But it was kind of you to leave your library card on the floor with your name and address on it.”

I backed towards the door.

The two men in hospital scrubs pinned me to the ground and wrapped a long-sleeve jacket around my body, tying the arms in the back. At least it’s white, I thought.

“Just relax,” the large male specimen whispered in my ear.

Unable to move my upper body, I kicked my legs wildly. The brute tried to restrain me. My shoe connected with its nose; bone and tissue crunched — bright red blood shot from its flaring nostrils.

“Red,” I said aloud. “How can it be red?” I struggled physically to free myself while I labored mentally to comprehend the meaning of the red blood.

It’s human. Does that mean the female I killed was human also? Why didn’t I see this? That revolting urchin Victoria was right: I didn’t see the red.

They tied my legs. I bit at their hands. They bleed. Oh God, this can only mean one thing.

They’ve interbred. They’re taking over.

“CAT!” I screamed as they stabbed the hyperemic needle into my thigh. “Don’t trust anyone.”

A million tiny insects crawled up my legs. One broke away from the pack and darted up my torso. I opened my mouth to scream again, and it shot past my lips. My jaw snapped shut. I crushed it between my front teeth. Bittersweet sticky pus oozed onto my tongue. I licked the salty succulence from my lips.

Cat was right, I thought.  He always is.