This choice: Try to possess Marc's sisters • Go Back...Chapter #8Lots of You to Go Around by: Seuzz   Before you go do anything, you want to know all that you can about what you can do. First thing you want to discover is whether you can take possession of multiple host bodies, just as you can control multiple pieces of yourself.
The safest way to figure that out, you decide, is by using Marc's sisters, Eva and Jessica.
(Is it relevant that they are cheerleaders, and that you were aiming to possess a cheerleader before Marc intervened? Mmmmmaybe!)
Anyhow, after finally parting with Marc's girlfriend, you return to the Garner house where you prop yourself up at the desk and do homework. Your other body rests in the plastic bin. Every once in awhile you glance inside the bin and look up into your borrowed face.
It's at such a moment that Eva catches you when she comes in with a math question. "What are you gonna do with that stuff?" She sniffs.
"It's just Slime. Didn't Josiah Shank put some of that stuff down the back of your shirt in third grade?"
"Yes, and it gave me, like, a psychosis or something about that stuff." She shudders. "And you just laughed!"
"It was funny. In fact—" You dip your hand into the bin. "It'd be real funny now if I—" She slaps at you. "Come on, Eve, learn to face up to your phobias."
"I don't have phobias!"
"Chelsea Cooper. See?" You point at her grimace. "Just saying her name makes you jump." Chelsea Cooper is the head cheerleader, and one of the chief terrors of Westside High.
"If I've got a phobia, it's math. Here, how do I do this problem?"
* * * * *
After she's gone you entertain yourself further by slicing off two large pieces of your real body and send them creeping and crawling about the room. It's a mind-expanding experience, not least because putting yourself at three corners of the room so that you can take it in all at once from multiple sides gives you the same feeling you get when looking at yourself inside the bin—only a lot bigger! It's like the room itself is inside your brain.
And when you start thinking of it this way—that the space itself is part of your body—it becomes a lot easier to move your pieces around independently. If the room is part of your body, then the pieces of you inside the room—Marc's body, or the pieces of slime—are like fingers or toes.
Things are a little trickier when you walk Marc's body to the kitchen while still slithering around his bedroom. The bedroom still feels like it's part of you, but you have to coordinate your impressions of the bedroom and the kitchen when these feel like unconnected places. It feels a bit like those moments in a movie or TV show when one scene fades in while another fades out: two different things seeming to occupy the same place and time. You stumble a bit and spill some of the water you try pouring, as though you are working with the wrong hand, and it's a relief to get back upstairs. But you see that it's something that needs to be practiced, so you change into running clothes and go for a jog while leaving the rest of yourself (in pieces) upstairs.
It's easier to run than it is to pour water, and you make another breakthrough while you're out. It comes to you that coordinating a body in one place and a body in another is a bit like coordinating sight and sound. Hearing and looking at a room are different things, but the sounds of a room give it an extra dimension, making it a richer thing. Or maybe—
You step back from the curb of a busy street before a car can run over your stolen body.
Or maybe it's a bit like putting your hands inside separate boxes. They're in different places, and if you let yourself you can become confused and uncoordinated. But if you think of those boxes as a single box divided into chambers, it becomes easier to coordinate them.
So that's what the world is like, you decide as you jog through the lowering dusk while resting inside a darkening bedroom. You have no feel for how widely separated the places are, but you are comfortable moving around them because they are actually one place that happens to be divided.
And then it comes it to you that they are two places that exist and overlap in the same space, the way water and a sponge exist in a kind of overlapping and space, and that makes it even easier to coordinate both sides of yourself.
When you get home from the jog, you have no problem pouring and gulping down a tall, cold glass of orange juice.
* * * * *
Three AM. You have been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering if you can actually sleep. Marc is having no trouble sleeping, and you watched with lazy interest as his mind slowed, reeled, and slipped into a quasi-catatonic state. His thoughts ebb and flow through yours rhythmically but meaninglessly, like the waves rolling in and out across a shore. You were pulled down with them, but when you fought your way back up and opened his eyes you found that his memories and personality hadn't followed you. Oh, you could probably answer many questions put to you and could probably fool someone into thinking that you were actually Marc Garner and not an entity that has possessed him, but you don't have the same easy command of him as you had earlier.
You woke in this fashion a little after midnight. After listening to the rest of the house settle down, you had swallowed down your goopy body entirely, then practiced vomiting it up in pieces. You vomited up more and more you felt yourself on the verge of passing out. Then you vomited up the last little bit of yourself, relinquishing entirely your hold on Garner. But not for long: you quickly shoved your main body back inside him while leaving that last little bit—a worm hardly bigger than your little finger—to wriggle forlornly on the corner of the sheet. In this way you kept hold of Marc while discovering just how little you needed to put inside him (or anybody, you presume) to get and keep control of them. You then vomited up and snapped off with your teeth two bits of the appropriate size, and settled back with them on your chest to wait for the deepest part of the night to come.
Three o'clock seems like a good hour. Only once have you heard a noise from Eva and Jessica's room—on the other side of the wall—when one of them coughed. After gathering up every bit of courage you have, you slide out of bed and sneak into the hall in your boxers.
By the feeble glow of the nightlight you crouch at the bottom of the door to the girls' room and drop your two worms. They wriggle under the crack and into the darkness on the other side. You return Marc to his room and to his bed and close your eyes to concentrate—not because you are having trouble running the two worms, but because the room next door is almost pitch dark and you need to concentrate to remember where things are inside it.
It's the master bedroom of the house where the two girls sleep—to make up for the fact that they have to share a room—and their beds on opposite sides. You send the worms into the open space in the middle of the room and inch around until you find some bedposts. Up these you squirm until you come out on top.
But it's too dark to make anything out. Even when you crawl to the top of the covers, you can't make out clearly where their faces are.
Okay, you decide, I'll just have to see about going in some other way.
Under the sheets you slide, being careful to keep onto the mattress while avoiding bare skin. But you creep along close to the bodies of the girls until you feel what must be the hems of their night clothes. Your sense of touch is not what it should be, and you feel yourself taking an awful gamble as you slide up between what you hope is a garment and what you hope is skin.
One of the girls twitches and rolls over, pinching you in place. You freeze there while continuing to probe at the other.
Something blocks your progress. It isn't solid, and it gives, but you're puzzled and unsure about whether to proceed. Not until you metaphorically liken the experience to pushing your way through thick trees and bushes do you realize what you've found. Whoa! you think. Jackpot and a half!
Then you lunge in.
Through the walls, you hear a groan. You feel heat all about you. You push further in, and feel yourself melting. Something thrashes.
The girl in the other bed turns over, releasing you. Quickly you scuttle up and in. Bedsprings squeak and a voice mumbles. Fireworks explode about you, and you jerk up in Marc's bed with a pounding heart. There are little shouts and squeaks, and in another room you sit up in another bed in a dark room as someone yips and yelps in the other bed. Again, you are melting like liquid cheese into toast, and with a gurgle the other occupant of the room goes silent.
You slide out of bed, and pad across the space to sit on the edge of the other bed and take the other girl's hand in yours. "It's alright, Sis. I'm right here.
"And," you giggle as your third pair of eyes open, "I'm inside you too."  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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