Infested

Infested: Part 2

7:15 P.M.

It quickly dawned on Henry where the possible origin of these bugs came from.

Rounding the corner to the short hallway housed almost exactly in the middle of their home, Henry could here Connell singing (nothing wrong with that, rather it was very typical) but instead of his usual radio friendly jingles, Connell wasn't exactly spurting any recent tune; the words were sinister like; darkly profound even.

'... your day is coming soon...

'... blood flowing a fiery monsoon...'

It gave Henry the creeps as he slowly lingered at the slight open-door frame.

As he watched the little one playing with his tiny cars, he rapidly saw that the cars were not metallic material but that of the bugs mysteriously being conjured up throughout the house. What the hell was happening here?

He took a few steps into the room, only to stop as Connell turned to look at him; not as the rambunctious kid he had grown to love as his own, but an unpleasant stare down from vacant eyes. This wasn't the happy go lucky child from a few days ago.

He smiled as best as he could manage; placing himself in similar fashion as the little boy siting crossed-legged.

'How many bugs did you take from the rock place, sweetie?' Henry asked in desperation.

Connells appearance seem to ease as he comprehended the new presence in the room. A bit of the slight smirk he carried most of the day, came to appear as well.

He had never lied to his relatively new dad (not to his short span of knowledge) and didn't understand the need to start now.

His delicate fingers lifted as he began counting only as a three and half year old could.

'Oo...nn..eee; tt..www.ooo; th...weee; ff...ooo.rrr...' As he raised his other hand in continuing with the countdown, Henry realized now that he hadn't disposed of enough of them to conclude there wasn't a future gestation of bugs.

Looking all around the colorful room of toys and the race-car bed sitting catawampus to the left, Henry saw no other movement that would cause prime fear elevation to rise. It's not he didn't like bugs, it's the fact that, where there's one or three – a few dozen have or will be storming in – it's always the case.

Henry had never heard of seeing one lone tiny legged fiend, and that was that!

No – no, there was bound to be an invasion of epic proportions!  

He would have to call an exterminator tomorrow since it was getting too late for any offices to stay open. 

7:30 pm

Henry came in from a bit of gardening, he had started at the beginning of spring. Transplanting new bulbs and trimming over grown shrubs – it was a bit of work – but worth the effort once everything came together in one cohesive showcase. Perhaps it was his tiny vacation; an escape from the kids; from, dare he say – Andrew, especially when he and his father got into another bought.

It caused Henry's anxiety to soar higher than the steady line that it already obtained.

Roughly thirty minutes passed, and Henry felt accomplished at what he had wanted to get done before night fell; placing every tool back into its rightful place – of course, otherwise – it would never be found again, or the fact that it would plague him to death until it had been put back where it belonged.

Henry walked through the garage door to the chimes of laughter and mixed screams of over-zealous children and a husband in disarray, from what to be heard, was the mess the splashing was making all over the houses main bathroom. Chuckling under his breath at the scenario enfolding behind the next wall over; this had converted into a continuous, nightly ritual for all of them.