The Wasting

18-Slugs

Bell lay in her bed, staring up at the leaky ceiling, in a palpable darkness. She couldn't turn her head left or right. Her neck felt thick and her head as heavy as a newborn's. She arched her back in a futile attempt to get much needed air into her lungs. She craved oxygen the way a drug addict craves a fix. In the place of sweet relief was searing pain, which radiated throughout her chest,  feeling like thousands of bloody paper cuts. To ward off panic and hyperventilation she imitated Izzy and counted slowly in her mind, "One... two... three..." The room darkened further and the air became coagulated, cold and clammy. Bell had the sense she was not alone and it wasn't good. Afraid of blacking out she continued her counting, "Four... five... six..." Math makes sense... it never changes. "Seven... eight... nine..." Then she remembered the final thing her grandfather told her before he left. 'King Rophe is the same yesterday, today and forever.' Her heart raced and her elevated blood pressure pounded in her ears. As the fear and the blood rush collided, she experienced one clear-headed moment. If she could simply utter the King's name an unknown peace would follow. What she didn't know was that her newly established interest in The Book had ushered in the resurgence of an old evil. It slithered under the door. Bell opened her mouth to speak but no words came, only a hiss. Helpless she opened her eyes even wider hoping to find a spec of light. Instead of light a slimy substance slithered across her corneas. She blinked wildly to rid herself of the sticky parasite but the purposeful phlegm only slithered in the opposite direction crossing her opened eyes once more. Desperately she tried to wipe off the meandering mucus but her arms lay useless at her sides in a state of perpetual pins and needles. Bell began to rock back and forth, back and forth; her goal was to flip over and wipe the unwelcomed creature onto her pillowcase.

Rock a bye baby on the treetop when the bow breaks the cradle will rock...

Thump. Bell dropped to the floor and wildly rubbed the oozing visitor onto the yellow bed skirt. Falling to the floor afforded Bell an adrenaline rush and a much needed hit of oxygen. It also dragged Ella into the room.

Ella gasped. "Bell what on this pitiful Earth are you doing lying crumpled on the floor?"

Bell panted. "There was this creeping, slug-like thing on my eyes and I was trying to wipe it away."

Ella peered closely into Bell's eyes, Well I don't see anything and next time just call for me. There is no need to flop onto the floor like a fish."

Bell pointed with her chin."It's here on the bed skirt."

Ella pulled the material away from the boxspring. "There is nothing there daughter." Ella easily plopped Bell's seventy pounds back into bed.

"Light a candle and you'll be able to see the slime mother."

"Light a candle? It is two in the afternoon. This room is as bright as day; there isn't a cloud in the brown sky." Ella pulled the shade up further making a flittering sound.

"Then I can't see." Bell's voice quivered.

"Well it's perfectly natural to have a crunchy film over your eyes after a long sleep, especially in your condition." Ella placed a wet rag over her daughter's eyes. "Here, this should do the trick loosening up that crust."

Bell managed to turn her head to the side allowing the rag to drop from her eyes. "No mother... I mean although my eyes are fully open it is as black as night to me."

Ignoring the obvious Ella rummaged through the nightstand drawer, "I'll just get you some ointment for your eyes and you'll be as right as rain."

Bell spoke dryly, "No amount of eye salve will cure this mother. I'm blind."