My tumor spoke. Its message was a countdown. (Part 2)

Part 1

“…sssix daysss left…” the voice hissed.

Those words drifted through my skull like a fog through tombstones as I dreamt about the frightful events from the night before. I was startled from my sleep by thunderclaps and heavy rain. The roof of the car drummed like an old tin snare as sheets of water swallowed the windshield.

The car rocked as a shadow bumped into it, blurring past my window. I bolted upright, heart racing. I clutched my chest and caught my breath as I realized it was just an intoxicated motel dweller stumbling back to his room.

I exhaled, rubbing my jaw, clicking it from side to side. My mouth was sore. Lips cracked. Felt like a football had been rammed down my throat.

“…sssix daysss left…”

What did it mean? Was it real?

Six days left until what? Armageddon?

And, the warning came yesterday.

Did that mean there were only five days left now?

I clawed at my hair. I was so hammered and sleep deprived, I didn’t know what to think. I just knew I was cold and haunted by that reptilian hiss.

My stomach gurgled, my belly assaulted by sharp stabs of pain. I hiked up my shirt to see a bloated gut, bulging beneath the bandages. Nausea swelled and I grabbed the car door, surprised to find it already cracked. Fresh rainwater drizzled inside.

Had I left in the middle of the night?

No time to wonder as I vomited reddish orange chunks onto the street. My heaves woke Knox from his nap.

“Sorry, bud.”

Beyond traces of bile, there was other residue in my mouth. I wiped my lips, cotton tongue flicking the stale taste of copper from my teeth. I fished a finger around my gums, picking out bits of fat and sinew.

What the hell did I eat?

My eyes snapped to my bandaged fingertips. They were stained red.

Was that blood?

I spied my reflection in the rear-view mirror, shocked to see dried crimson all over my face.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Knox snapped to full alert.

“It’s okay… we’re okay,” I reached over to pet him and he recoiled.

I looked around the car, suddenly aware of the red handprints everywhere.

Where did this come from? Whose blood was this?

I peeled back my lips, checking to make sure I didn’t have fangs, then slumped back in my seat, teetering between hysteria and anguish.

I was too bloody to hit the gym. I washed up in pooled rainwater beneath an underpass. The locals didn’t seem to mind. One of them awoke and cast a suspicious glare in my direction. I shot one back at him, staring at the brown paper bag in his hand. He took a swig, nodded ‘Touché’, then curled back into his pile of blankets.

The library was my lifeline. A place to get off the streets. Decent bathrooms. Free WIFI. I hit the computer lab with the midday regulars. A few professionals, the unemployed, and scavengers like me. Hermit crabs, carrying the entirety of our lives on our backs. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a worn notebook. A cheap spiral number, ragged and stained, curled pages detailing the only thing that still mattered to me… the search for my son.

I logged onto a computer and searched his social media, scouring the web for any clues of where he went. There were no new posts. Last photo was six months ago. He didn’t seem happy. His eyes looked vacant. I wondered who had taken the pic. I printed a hard copy.

…where are you, son?

My side itched. I raked fingers across my bandage. A fleck of burnt skin tumbled from the folds. I picked it up and inspected it. Noticed the person in the cube next to me, staring with disgust.

“Feeeeed...”

There was that voice again.

I sat up in my chair.

Oh shit. It was real.

I wasn’t wasted or asleep. I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it. Nope. Just me.

“Feeeeed...” it called again.

I replied with a thought, “Feed what?”

“Ussssssss.”

The words landed like syrup on carpet. My stomach frosted over. I quivered at that booming hiss.

“Who are you?”

“Feeeeed usss.”

“Tell me who—”

“FEEEEED USSSS!” it shouted in my mind

I stood up, clutching my skull.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

I realized I had yelled this out loud. All eyes were on me. I quickly gathered my things and scrambled towards the exit. People pointed and whispered, shooting accusatory glares, some muttering that I was crazy.

Who knows… maybe they were right.

I bounded out of the front doors and stumbled down the steps to the car. I threw my body inside, keyed the ignition, and took off. I white-knuckled the steering wheel, gunning the gas, not sure where I was headed. Knox whimpered from the passenger seat.

“FEEEED USSSSS!”

“YEAH, YEAH, I GOT IT! FEED US! NOW, WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO—”

I blacked out, mid-sentence.

I woke up, lying next to the car, parked at a rocky overlook. Knox was curled up beside me. I tried to piece things together. I remembered slices of time, bits of an afternoon. A grocery store… snatching raw meat… chewing sanguine flesh… blood running down my chin… stomach cramps… crapping behind a dumpster.

My hands trembled. Knox sniffed around as I sat on the hood of the car, gazing down at a suburban sprawl. Homes filled with families like the one I’d lost. I broke down, cupping my head, as tears spilled between my fingers.

The voice hissed from the rafters of my mind, “…five daysss left…”

“Who are you? Why are you here?!” I asked.

“Travelersss… here to consssume…”

“Consume what? Raw meat?”

“…and dessstroy.”

My blood ran cold.

“Destroy?”

“Thisss planet.”

My flesh crinkled as it spoke the words with the frigid indifference of fact.

“In five days? How?”

“Burn. It. All.”

I laughed at the sheer lunacy of it all.

“Man, you’re just a hungry-ass space pimple. There’s no way you can possibly—”

“You will witnesss four terrorsss firssst.”

My laughter died as it laid out four omens to come… promises of its power… each dotted with a slithering drawl.

“The sssentry…

…the masksss…

…the ssshadowsss…

…and you ssshall sssee the light.

Twenty minutes later, I was sprinting out of a Mega-Mart, arms full of stolen gin, gauze, X-Acto knives, and peroxide. A heavyset security guard gave chase but couldn’t keep up. He hunched over, shaking a fist, as I sped off in the car.

I dumped the stolen supplies in a gas station bathroom sink. I unwrapped my bandages, doused peroxide on my side, and uncapped the X-Acto knife. I stared at the blade, wary.

“Ssstop.”

I took a belt of gin, blood pressure be damned, and brought the blade to bear on the edge of the growth. The tip pierced my skin, and I groaned through gnashed teeth as the first drops of blood splattered into the sink below.

“We cannot allow it.”

More drops of blood, big and thick, as I shoved the blade in further, wrenching it back and forth, digging into the meat. The razor carved a jagged, circular path through misshapen skin that looked like melted wax.

“We cannot allow it.”

“Yeah? S-s-sstop me!”

I stabbed the knife down. Goopy pus and red jelly spilled from my side. I hacked the blade, tracing around the outer edges of the tumor. Satisfied with my cut, I dropped the razor in the sink, grabbed the edge of the incision, dug my fingernails beneath the lip, and started to pull.

“WE CANNOT ALLOW IT.”

CLINK! CLINK!

“SHUT UP!!!”

The burnt clump of meat started to tear from my side. I screamed as the mound of flesh stretched and twisted away in wet ribbons.

“WE CANNOT ALLOW IT!”

CLINK! CLINK!

I tugged and yanked at the growth, but it fought back, black tendrils lashing out, keeping it tethered to my frame like fleshy bungee cords.

“GET… OFFF… MEEE!!!”

CLINK! CLINK!

The entire world fell away from me and I found myself sitting in the car, Knox to my right. We were parked behind the motel. The pot-bellied manager stood outside my door, beneath an umbrella. He had milky eyes, a scarred neck, and a gun bulge beneath an ill-fitting track suit.

He rapped on the glass with a gold pinky ring.

“You hearin’ me, pal? I said we can’t allow it. You can’t park here no more. Getting’ complaints from our upscale tenants.”

He studied my bewilderment, then shook his head.

“Ah fer chrissakes… look… I been there. I got one room. Out of order. No power. No hot water. But… I can give you a few hours… just til’ morning. Then, you gotta clear outta here and never come back.”

I shivered, naked, in the motel room. My chest heaved. I stared at my rib cage, horrified. There, rising and falling, sat the unbothered mound of charred alien flesh. There wasn’t so much as a scratch. Its bond to my body had strengthened with thick fleshy roots.

And it was growing. Pulsing. Hissing a defiant new warning.

“…five daysss left...”