Slimer

Twelve

The cramps were getting worse. It felt as if there were steel hooks inside his belly, ripping and twisting through his guts. Mark wanted to fall onto the floor and curl up into a tight, screaming ball but instead he remained on the chair, bent forward almost double, hugging his stomach.

His eyes were watering and his skin was covered with goosebumps. This latter symptom of heroin withdrawal, he knew, was the origin of the term ‘cold turkey’. He also knew that the muscle spasms he was experiencing would get progressively worse and eventually his legs would start kicking uncontrollably. This was the origin of yet another colourful expression — ‘kicking the habit’. Finally the spasms would get so bad he would have spontaneous orgasms. Not that he’d be in any condition to enjoy them…

He knew all these things because once he’d become hooked on heroin he had studied up on the subject of drug addiction. What he’d learned had scared him profoundly but his dependence and need for the drug hadn’t lessened. It was like going down a hill in a car with no brakes — you knew there was going to be a fatal crash at the bottom but there was no way you could get out of the car.

How much longer could he last without another fix? How much longer before the final convulsions and the descent into a coma? He didn’t know. He had taken several codeine tablets which, like heroin, was a derivative of opium, and they had helped but not much. If only that last fix Alex gave him hadn’t been so small. If only he could get another one…

He groaned aloud.

‘Is it bad?’ asked Chris.

‘Of course it’s bad, you cretin,’ he hissed at her.

‘Isn’t there anything I can do?’

‘Yeah. Go get me some smack. Go find Alex and get it off him. That’s all you have to do…’

‘Oh Mark, don’t ask me to do that,’ she cried in anguish. ‘I can’t go out there. I’m scared. That thing is waiting.. And even if I could find Alex he wouldn’t give me any heroin. Not unless I… I…’

Mark glared at her. ‘Jesus Christ, I’m dying here. It won’t kill you to give Alex what he wants from you. You’ve done it before. Hell, underneath it all you probably enjoyed it.’

Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to hit him. Did he understand so little about her that he could actually think something like that? But she contained her anger. She knew he couldn’t help himself. He was like an animal with its leg caught in a trap. He was snapping out at everything, even her.

‘Well, are you going?’ he demanded.

She shook her head helplessly. ‘I can’t, Mark.’

‘Then we’re through. It’s all over between us,’ he snarled. ‘When we get out of here I never want to see you again.’ ‘Mark! You don’t mean this… you don’t know what you’re saying!’

‘Shut up,’ he said coldly. ‘The sound of your voice makes me sick. The sight of you makes me sick.’

‘Mark..’ she cried. ‘Please don’t do this to me…’

‘The heroin’s here,’ said Rochelle.

Both Chris and Mark turned to her. Chris had thought she was asleep but now she was sitting up on the bunk and looking at them with the same spaced-out expression she had before.

‘It’s here?’ asked Mark, disbelievingly.

‘Under that mattress.’ She pointed at the bunk Chris was sitting on. Chris immediately got up and pulled the corner of the mattress to one side. Lying there was a wide belt. Mark gave a wild cry and leapt out of the chair. He snatched up the belt and began to frantically rip open its series of pouches. Small plastic packets containing white powder fell onto the floor. He looked at them with the kind of wondrous awe that you normally only see depicted in religious paintings. It tore Chris up to see how much power the damned drug had over him.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Mark, picking up a handful of the packets. ‘I didn’t think Alex would let these out of his sight for even a moment.’

‘Betterjust take what you need and put the rest back in the belt,’ advised Chris, casting a nervous glance at the door. If Alex chose this moment to return she didn’t like to think what he’d do.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Mark. He stuffed three of the packets in his trouser pocket then refilled the pouches and put the belt back under the mattress. Then he started for the door. Alarmed, she said, ‘Where are you going?’

‘To our cabin, to get the hypo and other stuff. Then I’m going to the bathroom to shoot up. I won’t be long.’ He began pulling the rags out from the gap under the door. ‘Put these back after I’ve gone.’

‘Mark, you shouldn’t go out there. Wait until the others come back then Paul can go with you.’

‘No!’ he cried angrily. ‘I don’t want Paul to know about this. You know that. And don’t you tell him either.’ He opened the door.

‘You can’t keep it a secret from him for much longer,’ she persisted. ‘He’s going to find out sooner or later. Be sensible, Mark. Don’t put your life at risk because of your stupid pride.’ He didn’t answer. The door closed. She sighed and went and locked it. Nothing mattered to him anymore except that filthy drug-it was sickening and it was all Alex’s fault. ‘Damn you, Alex,’ she muttered, ‘Damn you to hell.’

Behind her, Alex sniggered.

Shocked, she spun round, expecting to see Alex there. But the only other person in the cabin was, of course, Rochelle. She was sitting up on the bunk still wearing that same stoned expression.

‘God, you scared me just then,’ Chris told her, ‘You sounded exactly like Alex.’ I must be cracking up, she thought. First I think I see Alex’s eyes in her face and now I’m hearing things.

Suddenly the blank look on Rochelle’s face vanished and she screamed, ‘Jesus, Chris! Get out of here! Run! Run!. Oh no. Her face then contorted as if she was in pain and she started to whimper in a little girl’s voice. ‘Please, no, I don’t want to go back' into the dark again… I’m scared… let me stay in the light… It’s down there… Oh no…’ The blank look returned, as if a visor was going down over her face. She began to climb off the bunk.

Chris tried to restrain her. ‘Hey, Ro, calm down,’ she said anxiously, ‘It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.’

Then she gasped as Rochelle pushed her back with a strength that was alarming. ‘Ro.!’ she cried.

Rochelle was now pulling at her clothes. The fabrics tore like paper and very soon she was naked. Then she was ripping off' the dressings. Chris saw that the ugly wounds across the top of her chest had vanished. Her skin was smooth and unmarked.

Rochelle stared at her. The eyes were losing their blankness again. There was terror in them. As if they were looking up out of a deep pit. Then they changed. Chris’s stomach tightened and her heart began thumping.

This time there was no mistaking it. Those were Alex’s eyes.

‘I guess you’re right,’ said Paul, ‘we can’t be sure there’s only one of them.’

They were in one of the labs on the second level. Paul was hunting through the cupboards looking for the acids he wanted. Linda was keeping guard in the centre of the room, reluctantly holding the flame thrower. The burner was lit which meant she could fire the device at the turn of a handle if the need arose.

Paul closed the cupboard door and slowly turned to her. There was an odd expression on his face, as if something unpleasant had just occurred to him.

It had. ‘If there is more than one it means that any of us might be one of them. You could be.’

‘Come on Paul, don’t do this to me,’ she pleaded. ‘You know I’m not…’

‘Do I? How? There’s no way I can really be sure.’

‘We’ve been alone a lot of the time,’ she said carefully, knowing that this was a potential crisis unless she handled it correctly. ‘If I was part of that thing I would have attacked you by now. I had plenty of opportunity.’

‘Yes,’ he said slyly, ‘but you might not even know you are the