Chapter #27Space Parasites, Part 4 by: Seuzz   "I got a credit limit, you know," Austin said as he and Terry strode purposefully toward the mall entrance. It was a small shopping center; Squanee City was, after all, a fairly small town. "I can't afford a new wardrobe for everyone on the team."
"We're only buying for Terry Angus," Terry said neutrally. "We can pick up something or other for Austin Peters if we see something we like." He opened the door and pushed in ahead of his companion, and scanned the inside of the department store. "We'll start in sportswear."
"Gonna start taking your team responsibilities seriously, are you?" Austin said.
"Of course we take them seriously," Terry said, and started looking through an array of track pants. "And why is every pronoun we're hearing 'I' and 'you'?"
"What do you mean?"
Terry looked at Austin directly, as though he weren't two inches shorter than the other. "'What do you mean?'" he echoed. "We shouldn't be having to ask what we mean, and we shouldn't be distinguishing between Peters and Angus and the others."
"We're sorry," Austin said with faint sarcasm. "We're not used to this yet. And we are trying to stay in character, given that we are in a public place."
Terry's brow furrowed slightly: the default was for human reflexes to manifest if there was no reason for them not to. He lightly touched Austin at the stomach. "Didn't government man get you out of the coach before ..." A certain amount of discretion also remained to Terry.
Austin shook his head. "I came straight out of the nest."
"I see. Well, since we're in public and trying to be in character, you can go find something for yourself."
He turned his back on Peters; the latter, after a moment, snorted and went off to another section.
Terry spent nearly forty minutes looking methodically through various selections, which he carefully folded and stacked and carried from one rack to another. Jeans, cotton slacks, running shorts, polo shirts, flannel shirts and flannel jackets. He took them back into a changing room, along with a package of socks. He closed and locked the door and sat down. He pulled off his clothes, lingering only briefly over his socks; the left one was torn, and a toe stuck out.
He closed his eyes, and a brief spasm crossed his face, settling into an expression he didn't often wear. His upper lip went up a little, and his eyebrows lowered, and his cheeks tightened.
It was an expression Tom often sported just before showing his displeasure with a classmate.
He kept his eyes closed as he pulled on a new pair of socks and a pair of jeans. They should have hugged his legs and ass tightly, but this skinny, scrawny body-- His sneer hardened. Terry Angus was not a good choice, and the copy of Tom Munson's consciousness he carried around inside him rebelled at being trapped there. But if Angus was ever going to be anything but a blind--a spot from which to ambush new recruits--the changes would have to begin somewhere.
So he continued to dress, donning a black t-shirt and layering two other shirts over it, and doing his best not to touch his torso as he did so. A ball cap with the high school logo was the last thing he put on, and he tilted it at a slightly rakish angle before exiting the changing room.
He found Peters in the menswear section, where (to no great surprise) he was looking through ties. Austin glanced up, and didn't bother to hide the amusement in his reaction. "The other guys are gonna give you so much shit over that," he said.
"It's not so different from my usual look," Terry said.
"No, but it's the way you're wearing it." He reached up to flick at the brim of the ball cap, but Terry caught him by the wrist.
"We need to talk," Terry said softly.
"We?"
"Yes. In private." He turned his head slowly to indicate the dressing rooms before letting go of Austin's arm. Peters fell in behind him.
At the door to the stall, though, Terry stood aside to let Austin in first. The latter turned around as Terry followed and softly closed the door. "What do we need to--?" he started to say.
But he stopped as Terry lifted the front of his own shirt; his third eye was already straining out from his stomach. "We need to be of one mind," Terry said. "We've learned a lot and thought a lot since leaving the nest. You need to join us."
Austin's eyes fell, but he smiled softly. "You only had to ask," he said, and lifted his own shirt. The eye had barely blinked open in his own navel before Terry grabbed him, nearly pulling him off his feet; his parasite lunged at Austin's, and its tentacle took Austin's in something like a stranglehold.
Austin gasped and turned very pale, and sank a little toward the floor, so that Terry had to support him. Both boys' jaws quivered and worked in unison.
"Do you understand now?" Terry asked, but he used Austin's mouth.
"We know exactly what we want," Austin replied, using Terry's mouth.
They held each other a minute longer, trembling with suppressed excitement, and then released each other. Austin recovered himself, and then quietly helped Terry tuck his clothes back in, and touched him up here and there.
Now Terry had none Chad's brutal aggression about him; he wore his new clothes with an air that looked much more like Austin's arrogant insouciance. And there were no more wisecracks from Peters as they took their purchases to the counter.
* * * * *
Monday. "Pick it up," Terry said, stepping forward to glare at Mark Gunderson.
The football player just laughed. "You pick it up." Terry's cap remained on the classroom floor at their feet, where Mark had knocked it.
Terry swung hard at his stomach. The blow hadn't much force behind it, but the mind of Tom Munson knew exactly where to aim and how to follow up, so as Mark hunched over the blow Terry followed it up with a quick clip to the side of his face. But neither Terry nor Tom was used to dodging, and Mark caught Terry in his arms and threw him to the ground.
Things would have gone worse, but Chad and Micah were in the same class, and they sprang over to pull Mark off Terry and restrained him as Terry got up again. Their friend's eyes glittered as he quickly pummeled his tormentor.
Bobby Wallace gave a quick whistle from the doorway: "Jacobson's coming!"
Chad and Micah threw Mark back into his desk. "You got a problem with Angus, you got a problem with us," Micah growled at him, and thrust a finger in his teammate's face.
"Jesus, guys," Mark panted. His face was green, and he hunched over.
"We'll talk at practice," Chad said. He bent over to pick up Terry's cap, and after brushing it off handed it back to him.
Angus sat back in his own desk and ignored the open stares from the guys and girls nearby. "What's gotten into you," his friend Eddie whispered from the desk behind.
"It's called confidence," Terry snapped. "You should try getting some."
Eddie paled. "I'd rather have guys like you suddenly got watching your back."
Terry turned around to give him an appraising look. Eddie was skinny, like Terry, and hunched over, like Terry used to hunch, and had the frightened, furtive look in his eye, like Terry used to have. As Eddie gazed back, Terry's glance cooled and cooled and cooled. "Not much chance of that," Terry said. "We made a connection over the weekend."
"Well, if you could put in a word for me--" Eddie said, but Terry had already turned around again.
* * * * *
"You wanted to see us, coach," Paulie said as he stepped into the office. He said "us" even though he was the only one to enter and close the door. As soon as the lock had clicked into place he started to tear off his jersey.
But Sam waved him to keep it on. "I'm not 'coach' yet, and I'm not likely to be." He said this even though he was dressed in a grey sweatshirt and grey sweatpants and sneakers, and had a whistle around his neck. "We only have two days. Probably less. Maybe no time at all." He knew the Old Man well enough not to believe that "seventy two hours" meant "seventy two hours." "My employers didn't like the cover story about your old coach's demise."
"If government man here can't keep the government quiet, what use is he?" Paulie sneered.
"He can keep them distracted," Sam said. "How many brothers have homes?"
"Seven. Government man told us to be careful." He raised his jersey again. "Government man really ought to merge."
"Government man will, as soon as he figures out what to do," Sam retorted. "So we have thirty-one brothers still in the nest." He wavered, fighting a revulsion over what he knew he had to suggest. "Some of them need to be sacrificed," he said, and choked as he said it. "We need to lay a false trail."
"You need to merge now," Paulie said in a cold, heavy voice, and now he did tear his jersey off. Sam reared back and fell against the desk as Paulie advanced. The thing inside him erupted, lashing out at Sam as Paulie clutched at his sweatshirt; a trickle of blood ran down Paulie's belly.
There was a knock at the door, and both froze. "Hey, coach, you in there?" Mark Gunderson's muffled voice came through the door.
"Is he one of us yet?" Sam hissed. Paulie shook his head. "We'll have to wait, then."
"We do it now," Paulie hissed back, but Sam pushed him away. "Tonight, then. Someone will find you at your motel room."
Maybe, Sam almost said. He straightened his clothes as Paulie went to the door and let Mark in, passing him without a word.
* * * * *
To continue investigating the room: "Disposing of Lucy"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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