Pus Junkies

—15—

They came. Just like he knew they would. His power to call them to him had only intensified since his rebirth. Now they were completely powerless to resist him, no matter where they were, no matter how far away.

And that’s exactly what it was: a rebirth. He understood that as soon as consciousness had brought him back out of the darkness. It had been just like before at first. He had been swimming through an abyss of nothing, pain erupting all over his body as his followers drank him up, dried him out. The pain was there, just like last time, but it was quickly replaced with something else. Something that pumped through his body as blood once did.

Hate. Pure, poisonous hate.

His flesh became the hate, was soaked to the bone in it. He sprouted new boils all over his body, covering every part of him now, each one of them bulging with the new lethal fluid.

Kip thought he had it all figured out too. Before, all he wanted was to make friends. He wanted the other kids to stop being disgusted by him and accept him as one of them, an equal. He wanted the opposite sex to desire him, to want him and swoon over him the way they did to guys like Chuck and Zak. And so his flesh spits out pus and blood with the ability to make the things Kip wanted a reality. He doesn’t know why or how, but that’s what it was. But now. Now he no longer wanted these things. Now he only wanted them to pay, each and every one of them. He wanted them to suffer, to feel what it feels like to be treated like you are less than human, like some kind of freak.

He wanted them all dead. Reduced to shit.

And his flesh now gave him the ability to do just that.

Kip stood in his room, staring at his reflection, unable to stop smiling. He used to glare at the mirror full of trepidation. Scared every day to go to school and face the other kids looking the way he did. He hated his appearance. Even though his acne was so pleasurable, it was still the cause of being an outsider, of being alienated from his entire class. He’d spent many a night crying as he looked at himself, wishing he could be someone else. Anyone else. Anyone but Toad.

But now?

Now he could see his true beauty. He could see that he was perfect.

They called to him, screaming and roaring for his pus, his blood. They cursed at each other, sounded like they were tearing each other apart down there. Kip had given them instructions to stay on the first floor and wait for him.

And they obeyed, though they weren’t happy about it. To delay their feeding another second was pure agony for them.

Kip stared at the vibrant puddle that was once Jade. Smoke still danced off the liquid, bubbling and hissing as it ate at the wood floor.

Soon, they would all be reduced to this. And Kip would swim in them. He’d engulf himself in their liquefied flesh and bone, drown in it.

He ran his fingers over his torso, his belly. His fingertips caressed his cheeks, forehead, chin. The acne begged to be opened up, begged to be drained. His entire body pulsated, and he knew it was time.

The attic steps were lowered, and Kip slowly made his way down. Then he made his way to the top of the stairway, stared down at all the kids as they argued and fought. Cussing and punching and kicking and biting. All of them claiming Toad as their own. None wanting to share his fluids.

Kip said nothing as he began his descent. Once the first set of eyes landed on him, the rest followed. All argument and ruckus quickly cut off then, each of them staring up at Kip like he was a girl on her prom night, showing her dress for the first time.

“Toad… oh god. I need you so fucking bad!”

“Please… oh please…”

Kip raised a hand to stop all talking. He didn’t have to say a word for them to understand. The only sound was his footsteps as he slowly took the steps down toward his addicts. As he grew closer, step by soft, spongy step, tongues darted out to wet lips, hands rubbed against each other, nails were raked across flesh.

Black blood and multi-colored pus rained from his body and pitter-pattered onto the steps. It was as if his flesh was completely filled, a sponge soaked to capacity.

Once he reached the first floor, they parted, almost as if they could sense danger, could sense that something was different than before. Faces twisted in disgust, and they resembled themselves before ever getting a taste of what lay within Kip’s skin. For a few seconds, they were the same kids they used to be, the same kids that would only talk to Kip to make fun of him, to make themselves feel better by making him feel like dog shit.

In those brief seconds, Kip panicked. Could feel his old self rising from the pus swamp within his mind, terrified of these people. All he wanted to do was hide in his room like he used to, curl up on his bed and cower.

But then their need, their addiction, took over again. Tongues basted lips, eyes widened. They began to close in.

Kip grinned, held his arms out, spread his legs, lifted his chin.

And they came to him. Lips and teeth and tongues. Hands and fingers and nails. Sucking and slurping and sipping and moaning. Most were too excited, too blinded by their own need that they couldn’t even tell their bodies were beginning to bubble, flesh sloughing off in huge wet chunks. Skin split, showed the red muscle and white bone beneath.

The screams started then. Mouths detached, teeth unclamped. The screams only lasted a few seconds before their throats were filled with their soupy innards pushing past their tongues to splash onto the floor.

Purples and greens oozed as the flesh melted, mixed with yellows and pinks and blues. Kip stretched his mouth as wide as it would go and cackled.

His fellow students thrashed on the floor in front of him, colliding with each other as they groaned and gurgled. The tile glistened with their fluids.

Then Kip heard a slight whimper, coming from behind him. He turned, smiled, reached out and ran his bloated, throbbing fingers through the boy’s hair. It was Cash, one of Chuck’s buddies. The boy’s flesh had begun to run, to spill off of him, but slower than the others. Must have noticed what was happening and unlatched before he could ingest too much of Kip’s new and improved pus.

Kip used his teeth, opened up a gash on his left forearm. The blood was pure black, and it oozed out quickly, splashed over the floor and onto the writhing mess that had once been the popular kids of Bowie High.

Cash shook his head, looked like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t get any words past his swollen, bubbling throat.

“What’s the matter? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Kip gripped Cash by the back of the head, pulled his face toward the opening on Kip’s arm. He pressed the bleeding wound to Cash’s mouth, forced it past his lips and teeth until the boy had no choice but to open wide and let the black blood squirt and slide down his throat.

Once Kip finally released him, Cash scurried away on his back, his sneakers squeaking and splashing in the colorful mess of his former classmates. His skin changed from a fleshy pink color to maroon in seconds, then a dark purple, crisscrossed with black veins that pulsed and bulged. His cheeks expanded and puffed outward, and black liquid ran from his eyes, his nose and ears. Once his mouth opened, a waterfall of black blood exploded and sprayed all over his chest and stomach.

Then the front door flew open, and Kip locked eyes with Zak and Gwendolyn. His smile oozed into a scowl, and his hate went from hot to boiling.

Cash let out a tiny squeal just before his body erupted like a giant zit, splashing the inky blood all over the walls and floor and ceiling.

Zak screamed, fell onto his ass as he wiped at his eyes and spat. His face and torso were covered with Cash’s blood, and he panicked and kicked his legs as he furiously wiped and clawed.

Gwendolyn did the same, and as Kip seized her, he slapped a fat hand to her mouth before she could scream, then began dragging her up the stairs toward his room.

It felt like someone had put out a cigar in each of his eyes, filled his mouth with boiling, rancid soup.

He couldn’t help but scream as he used the heel of his palm to rub his eyes, pressing hard, kicking his legs as the pain refused to let up. Gwen had screamed too, and he knew she was right beside him, but he couldn’t help her, couldn’t reach out to make sure she was okay. His pain had his full attention, and he was sure that he was blind for life now, that whatever that liquid was that blew from Cash’s expanded, inflated body had burned his eyes away, left him nothing but scorched sockets.

But even through his torture, Zak couldn’t help but think about the nightmare he had walked into just before going blind.

Kip stood there, completely nude, his body wet and hairless and the color of a bruised corpse. Black blood ran down from his wounds, along with vivid purples and greens. His mouth pulled into a vast grin that had torn his upper and lower lips completely in half, revealing the black teeth and gums beneath.

Cash was on his back, his body bloated to the size of a small cow. It looked like he’d been pumped full of black juice until his skin was ready to rip from the pressure inside. His mouth was stretched wide, eyes rolling loosely in his sockets.

Just before he blew, Zak caught a quick glimpse of the others. Or what used to be them. They were little more than twitching limbs lying in a growing puddle of colorful liquid flesh. It looked like a mountain of melted ice cream, all flavors blended into a mess of color and cream. Bones clacked against the tile, a few screaming faces here and there emerging from the sloppy mound, though the only sound was sizzling and gurgling.

The pain began to fade slightly. Zak’s panic subsided a bit, long enough to collect himself. He blinked, was able to see his hands, the doorstep.

I’m not blind. I still have my eyes.

Everything was still blurred around the edges, but he was thankful for any sight at all. They still burned, and his mouth still tasted like hot bile as if he’d just thrown up, but he was able to ignore it as he jumped to his feet, faced the house.

“Gwen? Are you all right?”

No answer.

Zak blinked some more, used the inside of his shirt to wipe at his eyes again. Things became a little more clear, but not by much. Clear enough for him to realize pretty quickly that Gwen was not there.

He heard her scream, but only for a moment before silence took over.

Zak already knew it was Kip. Kip had her, grabbed her while Zak was smothered in pain.

“Kip! You motherfucker!” Zak gripped the doorframe on both sides, poked his head in. “Kip! What the fuck have you done!”

The last time Zak had caught a glimpse of this classmates, there were still pieces of them whole. Now, he didn’t even see bones. Just a huge puddle of color and blood, covering every inch of the floor, soaking into the living room carpet. The scent was like a honey-glazed ham baking in the oven, savory yet sweet, and Zak added to the growing puddle as a stream of vomit shot from his throat.

The only remaining corpse was Cash, who was still on his back, his body expanded to twice its girth, though blown wide open to reveal the tropical-colored viscera within. But even as Zak stared, it was melting like a glob of butter on a hot griddle, slowly, foaming and sizzling.

The boy’s face was frozen in a shriek of anguish, his face basted in Kip’s black blood. The expression melted away into a featureless blob of liquid flesh and bone.

“Kip! Where are you, you fucking bastard!”

Right before Zak placed a foot into the thick muck on the floor, something hit him in the back of the head so hard, everything went black and his mouth tasted like metal. The side of his face hit the floor, splashed in the warm goop there.

Zak only moaned and writhed for a second before flopping onto his back and facing the doorway.

Chuck smiled down at him.

Gwendolyn was heavier than she looked. And the way she flung her arms and kicked her legs, it was almost impossible getting her up the stairs, and even harder to get her up the attic steps and into his room.

But he got her there. She now sat on the floor, wiping the black from her eyes as she stared at the liquid puddle that used to be Jade Brewster.

Wow… I never thought in a million years I’d have Jade and Gwendolyn in my room. And at the same time!

Even though his body was numb, he could still feel the butterflies in his stomach as he stared down at Gwendolyn. The terror and revulsion knotting her face still didn’t hide her beauty. She looked as gorgeous and perfect as ever, and Kip didn’t know what else to do but sit beside her on the floor, rest his chin in his hands, and smile at her.

“Do you like my room? Do you know how many times I imagined you here with me?”

Gwendolyn crab-walked backwards away from him, her left hand plunging into the congealed puddle of Jade. She squealed and wiped the gooey substance off on her jeans, but kept crawling away until the back of her head hit the wall. Then she just sort of crumbled, hugged her knees and wept.

“I know,” Kip said, remaining in his spot. “I know I’m disgusting. It’s always been this way.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Her whispery cries made Kip want to hold her, kiss her, tell her everything would be okay, that he would take care of her from now on. That she was his girl now.

But I can’t make her love me. I’m all out of…

His eyes landed on the small plastic trash can sitting next to his standing mirror. Still overflowing with used tissue. Even from where Kip sat across the room, he could see the dried blood.

“Oh, Gwendolyn. We’re going to be so happy together. Don’t you see? It was always meant to be this way. We were supposed to be together.” He crawled across the room, and when he shot a glance toward Gwendolyn, she was watching him now, her eyes covered in black, but red and puffy from crying. “You know? Maybe that’s why all this happened. So we could be together. I mean… you’re here now. In my room. Just like in my dreams. And that wouldn’t be possible if none of this happened. It was worth it. Every one of those fucking assholes deserved it… don’t you think?”

“Not like this, Kip,” she said with a shaky voice, then sniffled and ran the back of her hand across her nose. “Nobody needed to die. All you had to do was ask. We could have hung out a long time ago. I’ve always liked you, Kip. I’ve always—”

“Hung out. We could have hung out. That’s not what I wanted. You always liked me? Well… I always loved you. I don’t want to hang out. I want you to love me! I want you to love me the way I’ve always loved you. Not Zak!”

Kip had his hands on the wastebasket now, pulled out a handful of tissues. He opened up the first one, and along with the blood, he found a few dried up globs of pus. Now petrified, but still powerful he hoped. Either way, Gwendolyn was going to eat it. She would eat it and then she would love him.

Her eyes fell on the ball of tissues squeezed in his fist.

“What are you doing?”

Kip walked toward her, his feet so full of fluid that they made a squishing sound with every step he took. As he grew nearer, his skin got to thrashing, inflating and deflating, spraying juice in all directions.

“I just want you to love me, Gwendolyn. That’s all. Not anyone else. Just you.”

She tried to jump to her feet and run away, but she slipped in Jade, left her feet, landed hard on her side.

Kip didn’t waste a second. He dove for her, crammed the tissue into her mouth. Then another. And another.

She fought, and though he couldn’t feel a thing, it was nice to have her under him like that. His skin against her skin. Their flesh mending into one being.

“Kip?” she said, her voice high-pitched and dreamy.

“I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“I… I need you.”

Chuck’s bullet wounds still leaked that black fluid in a steady drip as if there was no end to the stuff. His intestines looked ripped apart, almost as if some animal had gotten a hold of them. Chewed up and torn to ribbons.

“Toad is alive. Can you feel him?” When Chuck said this, his eyes circled in opposite directions. When they were done, one pointed at the ceiling, the other at the floor, yet he still seemed to be able to see Zak. “He’s mine. Aaaaaall mine.”

Zak stood, his back soaked in liquid flesh. The back of his head throbbed from the hit he took and his vision started to blur on him. But when Chuck stepped past the threshold and toward him, both hands outstretched, that fucking smile pulled as tight as it would go, Zak reached into his waistline and pulled out his pistol. Chuck stopped but only laughed, grabbed hold of a tube of intestine and began stroking it.

“What you gonna do with that?”

Zak let Chuck take a few more steps forward before he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Chuck in the face, rocked his head back, splashed black over the wall behind him. He staggered but didn’t fall, but Zak rushed forward, jabbed the barrel into Chuck’s left eye, then pulled the trigger until it clicked empty.

Chuck fell this time, smacked the back of his ruined skull on the floor and splashed the multicolored liquid. The stuff soaked into Chuck’s hair, matted it. His eye was a smoking mess of torn flesh and black.

But Chuck only giggled, waved his arms and legs and splashed. As he laughed, the black blood sprayed from his lips, rained back down onto his face and freckled it in ink.

“The Toad is miiiiiiine!”

Zak grabbed hold of the rail by the stairs with one hand to steady himself, then lifted his foot as high as it would go before slamming it down into Chuck’s face. He kept stomping, putting everything he had into each thrust. Blood and melted flesh splashed everywhere, slapped against Zak’s face and torso, but he didn’t let that slow him as he pummeled Chuck and roared as he did it.

Each stomp only made Chuck laugh harder, even when his skull caved in and crushed under the onslaught, his mouth still moved as if laughing, though the laughs themselves had become nothing more than gurgled choking sounds.

Zak stomped until Chuck’s head was nothing more than a pile of meat, and still Chuck’s arms and legs moved in lazy circular motions, a wet clicking sound rattling from his throat.

There was a commotion from upstairs. Coming from the attic. Loud bangs. As Zak stormed up the stairs, he tried to listen for Gwen’s voice, maybe a scream, but only heard the occasional knock against the ceiling.

The attic steps were already down. Zak took them two at a time, fists as hard as marble, teeth clenched so his entire head hurt.

“Kip, don’t you hurt her!” he screamed as he rushed into the room. But he stopped short. Stood there. His stomach dropped and his chest tightened. His knees went weak and he collapsed to the floor, shaking his head.

Kip and Gwen stood in the middle of the room. Holding each other. Gwen running her tongue across his chest and stomach and legs and groin, nibbling at his flesh and consuming the rainbow colors that flowed free. The stuff covered her face like yogurt, all flavors.

Her skin was already sizzling by the time she locked lips with Kip. Bubbles formed and popped, and the purple and green ooze burst out. Kip held her close, roamed her body with his chubby hands, their tongues swirling as they writhed against each other.

“Kip… Kip no…”

Kip pulled away from Gwendolyn, turned toward Zak. Black tears ran from his eyes, his skin in a frenzy as if thousands of birds were trapped within his body and trying to flap out.

Gwen’s head rocked back, hung loose, dropped between her shoulder blades. Her face looked like purple custard, and as Zak stared at it, it slid off her skull and slapped the floor. Her hair burned away like dynamite fuses.

“We can’t be together. Gwendolyn and I. Not here. There’s only one way, Zak.”

“K-Kip… wait…”

Kip dropped Gwen’s molten body to the floor. He held her pistol, used the back of his hand to wipe his tears as he watched Gwen continue to melt away. Her skull face rocked left and right, as if she were still denying what was happening to her. What was left of her arms and legs knocked against the floor as she twitched, her body dissolving and spreading out. The iridescent puddle had just about reached Zak, and he stuck his hand out, ran his fingers through the hot liquid, his shoulders jumping as he wept.

Not just for Gwen, but for Kip. For himself.

“I loved her so much. You know that. I told you that.” Kip had the gun pointed at Zak, gouts of slime falling from his hand. “I fucking told you that, Zak!”

Zak wanted to explain, let Kip know that nothing happened, that it was their concern for him that had brought them together in the first place. But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t say anything. He just lowered his head and cried.

“How could you do this to me? You were the only friend I ever had… and you took her from me.”

Zak shook his head, waited for the bullet to come.

“This is the only way. The only way we’ll ever be together. She’s worth it.”

When the shot rang out, Zak thought he was dead. He didn’t feel any pain, but he just knew it would show itself any second.

But it never did. Then there was a loud thump, and Zak uncovered his face.

Kip lay face-down on the floor, a black puddle spreading from his head. A ghost finger of smoke twirled from the gun’s barrel.

“Kip… Kip!”

Zak crawled across Gwen’s liquefied remains, the runny flesh soaking into his pants and searing his palms like hot grease. As he grew nearer, he saw the exit wound in the back of Kip’s head. He hoped Kip would be like Chuck, hoped he would still be alive regardless of the gunshot.

But when he reached Kip, lifted his head and laid it into his lap, he knew his cousin was dead.

He leaned over and touched his forehead to Kip’s.

“I’m sorry, cousin. I’m so sorry.”