Bone and Blood Volume I

2 - The Nest, 1926

Pressure crushed him from all sides. He was underground. Wait, how did he get there? He tried inhaling and sucked coarse sand into his nose. His throat spasmed to cough, but nothing came out. Coughing required air. Panic raced through him. More desperate aborted breaths. More sand rasping his lungs. He willed himself to stop breathing. Why did he have to wake up in time to experience his last moments!

Several minutes passed uneventfully.

His last moments would come at some point, right? Or not? He willed himself to relax. Holding his breath was strangely harmless. Uncomfortable but manageable. And that horrific itching was gone. The throbbing pain had subsided too. All things considered, he was fine.

Except he was starving. Filled with hunger that felt more like rotting sickness. He gagged on the acid taste at the back of his mouth. Priority one: get out and find food.

He wormed around pitifully in the sand. Barely able to move. Not sure how far down he was buried. Also, which way was up? He had no idea. He struggled harder.

His fingertips broke the surface. Good. He was not too deep. He wriggled that hand free. Progress, even better. He paused. How would he get the rest of his body out of the ground? His free fingertips futility dug trails in the sand.

Shuffling steps above. He froze. Something brushed against him. A sigh of damp breath. Teeth piercing skin.

He retracted his hand. It hurt, but it felt like all his fingers were still attached. A frustrated moan. Digging. The thing above him was seeking his flesh. But maybe he could use this. It might cast enough sand aside that he could free himself. Hopefully, that would happen before it started eating him alive.

As the weight on his chest lessened, he jerked back and forth. That ragged breathing was so close. Nails raked across his arm. His upper body burst from ground. He hoarsely hissed out clumps damp sand. The Digger reared back shrieking. Scurrying away into the darkness. Colliding noisily with something.

He dropped to his side, rigid with pain. Swallowed it down. As he dragged the rest of his body from the bone sand, Digger watched. Her eyes shined from her hiding place under a fallen hunk of rotten wood walkway.

Carefully, he tried to sit up. He collapsed with a whine. His spine refused to carry his weight. He submitted to lying flat and spitting the remaining sand out of his mouth. A snort cleared his hooked nose. Nothing but time would cure his raw throat. Hook-Nose wheezed out a puny hiss. A warning for Digger to stay back.

He realized his mistake when a heavily scarred male sat next to him. A member of the older brood. Scar sniffed the air furiously. Hook-Nose braced himself, expecting teeth to come next. Instead, the grub curiously watched his new sibling. Hook-Nose gave his best growl. It came out a stuttering groan. Scar tilted his head.

Rustling to their left.

The sound of parting sand crescendoed. Scar bolted. Hook-Nose flattened himself further. A huge, advanced male hauled a dead grub in his wake. The dead one was a member of new brood. Its corpse smell made Hook-Nose's mouth water even as his stomach turned.

An arm passed by him, and he almost went for it. A gut feeling held him back. The big one was the alpha down here. Mess with him—or his food—become the food.

Alpha faded out of sight. For a while, there were occasional pops and cracks as he dismantled the grub. Then there was silence.

Digger quietly constructed a trench and pulled sand over her body. Her eyes peaked out like a flounder's. Fixed on Hook-Nose. Patiently willing him to expire. Hook-Nose defiantly remained animate. He glared back at Digger the sandfish. Until another broodmate strode into the middle of their stare down.

She greeted Digger with a hummed warning growl. Digger retreated further into the sand and shut her eyes. It made her invisible. Uninteresting. That left Hook-Nose. The newcomer kneeled with fluid poise to examine him. He sneered at her, bitter that she handled the change so well.

His brow furrowed. What exactly was the change? He sensed that he had existed before tonight. Possessed a deep sureness that he had been... somewhere else. Where though? A world beyond this darkness was inconceivable.

The grub sniffed Hook-Nose cautiously. Cold beath. A precursor to biting. Not this time. He launched at her. His conical teeth ripped a chunk out of her hand. An indignant roar. She kicked his head. Sand stung his eyes. She retreated.

As he wiped the grit from his face, Hook-Nose chewed the morsel in his mouth. It tasted awful, but it was meat. He choked it down victoriously. Four-Fingers would leave him alone now. He had proven he was not easy prey.

The thick taste of putrid blood filled his mouth. He swallowed. More blood. His tongue chased the decaying sweetness around his mouth until he found a gap in his teeth. Looking down, he saw several of them scattered on the ground. That was... unfortunate.

All right. Enough surprises from strange grubs. It was time to scope out his competition. Dragging himself through their territory, he met two more males. One wanted nothing to do with the others and ran from them — Spook. The other hounded Spook, and then Hook-Nose, until he saw Four-Fingers and went after her instead — Chaser.

Another dead grub required no name. Hook-Nose hoped she would not be the only option for meat. He was already struggling to keep down the grub parts he had eaten. Along his loop of the outer perimeter, he ran into Scar again. And then the first dead grub's shredded remains. Alpha was nowhere to be seen.

On Hook-Nose's second circuit, weariness washed over him. Earlier, he had discovered a debris pile. Some enterprising grub had collected cloth scraps into a little nest against the wall. He returned to the pile and squirmed between the fabric. Its wonderful softness soothed his aching spine.

For hours, he lay there on his back like a dead grub. Not truly sleeping, but not fully conscious. He verged into dreams. Until soft, padding footsteps roused him. Alpha slowly crept towards the pile. If the old male was still hungry, Hook-Nose was done for. Hoping Alpha wanted the nest, Hook-Nose carefully rolled over and crawled away on his belly like a snake.

Alpha jumped into the fabric as soon as there was room. Hook-Nose sighed in relief. Until he was yanked backward. His surprised whine ended in a growl. He scratched blindly at the air behind him. Alpha grabbed his arm, pulling Hook-Nose into sitting position. Pain arced down Hook-Nose's spine. He swooned.

Mildewed breath as Alpha appraised him. The wet clicking of his mouth opening and closing. Of his tongue testing his teeth's sharpness. But the old grub dropped him. Hook-Nose crumped into a heap.

With a long stretch, Alpha settled in to sleep with his back to the new grub. For the moment, it seemed he had decided that Hook-Nose was unappetizing. Hook-Nose needed to get away from Alpha before he changed his mind. Except moving hurt. And breathing hurt. Everything hurt. He remained on his side, stewing in self-pity.