The Becoming - a novella (8 page)

“Listen,” he said.
“I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I know what happened in those
underground tunnels a hundred years ago, I know”—

“—That’s a load of
crap,” Julie interrupted. “You know the fireside ghost stories you’ve heard and
you know the whispered rumors and half-truths, but you have no idea what
actually happened back in the 1920’s and earlier. You don’t have a clue. So
don’t go trying to frighten me even more than I already am. Don’t try to turn
me against my own child and make me afraid of him. Just don’t. Fucking. Do it.”

“I’m not trying to
make you afraid of anyone, and I certainly don’t want to turn you against Tim.
But think about it. The drop-off just inside that mine shaft was something like
ten feet, almost straight down. How could Tim possibly have fallen into that
shaft and gotten himself back out with no help?”

Julie glared at
him. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “My son is fine and he’ll be his old self
again any time. Just wait and see.”

Matt gave up. He
stared into Julie’s eyes and saw a kind of frightened defiance reflecting back
at him. Finally he shook his head wearily and left the kitchen to get ready for
bed.

***

Just about everybody owned guns in Tonopah.
The little village was located in the middle of nowhere in central
Pennsylvania, and while it wasn’t like there was no local law enforcement
presence in town, most long-time residents just felt more secure knowing they
had their own protection.

Matt was no
different. He had locked his Glock up in a gun safe when Julie moved in, not
wanting to risk a tragedy brought on by a curious twelve year old. Now, though,
he knelt in the closet and opened the safe, picking up the pistol and hefting
it. He thought back to last night and what he had (maybe) seen, about the
strange behavior Julie’s son had exhibited since returning from the mine
yesterday—how
had
he managed to climb out of that shaft all by himself?—and
came to a decision he had known all along he would. He slammed the gun safe
closed and walked out of the closet still holding the Glock.

He wandered to the
small table on his side of the bed and opened a drawer, dropping the pistol
inside and sliding it shut. Keeping a loaded gun next to the bed was not ideal,
not by any stretch of the imagination, but Tim almost never came into this room,
last night’s bizarre occurrence notwithstanding.

Besides, the way Matt
saw it there were risks to
not
being protected, especially if what he
had seen last night was somehow real. So he would keep the gun in the drawer
for a few nights and see what happened. If Julie was right, and Tim snapped out
of his bizarre fugue—not that that scenario seemed likely—he could simply
return the gun to the safe and no one would be the wiser.

If she was wrong,
though . . . well, Matt didn’t want to think about that possibility.

***

Middle of the night.

The bedroom mostly
dark, illuminated only by the weak light of a half-moon filtering through the
partially drawn shade.

And Tim was
standing next to the bed again.

Matt’s eyes flew
open and he was instantly awake. As was the case last night, he had no idea
what had awoken him from his slumber, but this time there was no confusion or disorientation.
One moment he was asleep and the next he was awake, alert and aware.

Tim stood quietly
next to his sleeping mother, closer to the bed than he had been last night.
This time there was no rope, no snake-like thing reeling back into Tim’s mouth
or anywhere else. Matt knew, because it was the first thing he looked for.

He snapped on the
lamp and examined Julie’s face closely. No red marks. Nothing to indicate some
bizarre protrusion may have been trying to force its way into her body through
her mouth.

But what did that
prove? Nothing. Maybe the marks had already disappeared, or maybe the thing had
gotten smarter or more careful and not left any evidence behind, or maybe it
had entered her body through some other opening. Matt shuddered, suddenly
freezing despite the stifling heat inside the bedroom.

Hell, maybe he was
going crazy. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Tim hadn’t changed at all, maybe
the kid was perfectly normal and so was Julie, and
he
was losing his
fucking marbles.

Matt didn’t think
so, though. As confused as he had felt last night when he had awoken to
discover his girlfriend’s son standing mute next to the bed like some flesh and
blood statue, he felt exactly that clear-headed right now.

He leaned over to
nudge Julie awake.
She must be really exhausted,
he thought.
Normally
she’s such a light sleeper she would have woken up just from the sound of the
kid’s breathing.
Not tonight, however. Tonight she lay dead to the world,
her respiration slow and steady, her body as unmoving as her son’s.

Before Matt could
wake her, Tim turned, still silent as a corpse, and began trudging/stumbling
out of the bedroom. Matt assumed he was heading back to his own room but didn’t
really care; he was just glad the kid was gone. That whole
stand-still-and-stare act was seriously fucked up.

With Tim gone, the
air in the room seemed to lighten somehow, to become less dense, and Matt
realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled heavily and decided not to
bother Julie after all. The kid was gone and Matt guessed he would have a bitch
of a time trying to wake his girlfriend up anyway, she was sleeping so deeply.

Matt looked at the
clock on his bedside table. Four-twelve a.m. The entire disturbing incident had
probably taken thirty seconds from beginning to end, although it had felt like
much longer. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but knew he was—like last
night—wasting his time. All he could think about was where the little twelve
year old zombie-in-training was and what he might be doing.

After fifteen
fruitless minutes spent trying to get back to sleep, Matt slid out of bed to
make coffee in the middle of the night. It was becoming a habit.

***

Matt looked at his watch for the
fifth time in three minutes. Seven fifty-five a.m. Julie would normally have
been up for almost an hour, getting Tim ready for school and then herself ready
for work. So far, neither one of them had yet put in an appearance. It was unsettling.
Matt busied himself with his breakfast and tried not to dwell on what Julie’s
absence might mean. She was probably just tired. Or maybe she was getting the
flu.

That must be it.
The flu.

He finished his
cold cereal—he realized he had no clue what brand he had just eaten and tried
to chuckle, but found he couldn’t force the sound out of his throat—and dropped
the bowl into the sink, and when he turned around, there was Julie. She seemed
to have materialized out of nowhere, standing just inside the kitchen doorway.
Her hair was mussed and her nightgown wrinkled and she stood silently.

Stiffly.

Watching.

Saying nothing.

And Matt knew.

***

No one had left the Hardiman/McKenna
house all day. Tim called the kid in sick from school and then his girlfriend in
sick from work and then himself in sick as well. Sure, the bills were going to
keep coming but Matt had a feeling he wouldn’t be worth a shit at the garage today
anyway—his mind was on other things—so he decided not to bother trying.

After Julie’s
appearance in the kitchen this morning, Matt had smiled brightly and offered a
cup of coffee—“Looks like you could really use it,” he said—and she had stared
right through him like he didn’t exist. She supplied no answer to the coffee
question but that didn’t matter. Matt knew the answer already.

The day passed
slowly. Time felt disjointed to Matt, like maybe he was living in one of those
old-time movies where the camera was cranked by hand and the actors’ movements
were jumpy and out of sync. Tim stayed in his room all day, not coming out to
eat or even, as far as Matt could tell, use the bathroom. Julie wandered
aimlessly through the house, back and forth, like she had done when Tim was
missing, except her pacing three days ago had had a purpose to it and this
seemed almost random.

Matt tried a
half-dozen times to start a conversation with her; nothing serious or
complicated, just normal adult chit-chat. Eventually he gave up. Her
interaction consisted of toneless grunts or one-word answers, exactly as Tim
had done when interviewed by the police the day before yesterday, after his miraculous
return from the mine.

The police.

Matt’s thoughts
kept coming back to the authorities. He should get the cops out here, but what
the hell would he tell them?
I’m afraid my girlfriend and her creepy kid
have become possessed by whatever has been locked up inside that cursed mine
for the last couple of centuries?
And what was his theory based on,
exactly? A grouchy girlfriend? An unresponsive kid? Hell, if that was the
measuring stick for possession, half the families in America would be
considered possessed. Maybe more.

The clock
continued moving, afternoon becoming evening, evening sliding into night, with
no change in the status of either his girlfriend or her son. It was like they
had become fucking zombies overnight. It would be time for bed soon, and Matt
knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would not be sleeping with whatever
Julie was becoming. Or had become.

He eyed her
nervously from the couch as she wandered past, walking aimlessly through the
little house, somehow larger, bulkier than she had been before. Her hands were
balled into fists, but Matt knew what he would see if he could get her to
unclench them—lengthening nails, hooked and claw-like, growing thicker and
stronger.

He wondered how
she would react when he told her what he had to say. He needn’t have worried.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m thinking I should probably crash out here on the couch tonight.”
And every fucking night until whatever is inside you has disappeared or died
or otherwise gone away,
he thought to himself. “You really could use a good
night’s sleep and I’ll probably just keep you awake tossing and turning next to
you.”

It sounded weak
coming out of his mouth, but if Julie thought so, she didn’t say. She barely
said anything. “Whatever,” she grunted, hardly slowing her stumbling, trudging
pace and not looking Matt’s way at all. Or maybe, “Okay.” Matt wasn’t sure. He
didn’t ask her to repeat herself, though. The exact words didn’t matter.

A few minutes
later, he walked into the bedroom and retrieved his gun. He returned to the
living room and placed it under the couch, within easy reach, and set himself
up with some blankets and a pillow. Then he waited uneasily for Julie—or
whatever she had turned into—to wander off to bed. His sense of unease
continued to build. It was turning into real fear.

***

Matt stretched out on the couch and
tried to relax. He didn’t think there was any way he would be able to fall
asleep with his brain buzzing like a hive of angry bees. It occurred to him
that he was probably in shock, and why wouldn’t he be? Three days ago he had a
life he understood. It was boring, sure, but it made sense. Steady job—maybe
he’d never get rich, but everybody needed a mechanic eventually—sweet
girlfriend, standoffish twelve year old. His life was so normal, it was a slice
of freaking Americana.

Then the standoffish
twelve year old turned everything upside down by becoming some kind of juvenile
Christopher Columbus and exploring uncharted territory.

Fast-forward
seventy-two hours. The steady job was still there—assuming he hadn’t gotten
canned for skipping work today—but the sweet girlfriend and standoffish twelve
year old had morphed into something out of a late-night horror movie.

The worst part of
the whole shitty situation was that Matt had no idea what he was going to do.
He had relegated himself to his own fucking couch while the
thing
that
used to be Julie was ensconced in their bedroom doing who the hell knew what. Probably
becoming more zombie-like by the minute.

Okay, so he would
deal with the situation by sleeping on the couch tonight. But that really
wasn’t dealing with it at all, was it? What about tomorrow and the next day and
the day after that? Would the old Julie and Tim somehow magically return? It
didn’t seem likely. In fact, with every passing hour it seemed more and more
like a pipe dream.

And if they didn’t
return to their old selves, what then? The situation as it currently stood
could not continue. Matt didn’t really believe he had gotten fired for missing
one day of work, but he certainly couldn’t stay home forever, and that
presented a problem. Hanging around the house watching the two ghouls skulk
around wasn’t accomplishing anything, but as frightened as he was to stay in
the house with them, Matt was even more afraid to leave.

What if he went
off to work and they went around town infecting others with whatever had
infected them? Matt didn’t want to be responsible for other people becoming
what his girlfriend and her son were becoming, and he also feared how
many
people
might potentially become infected over an eight hour span.

He knew he needed
to get both of them to a doctor, get them under an x-ray machine or some other
type of body scanner, find out exactly what had taken up residence inside them.
He no longer doubted what he had seen two nights ago, the fleshy, ropy-looking
thing that had been protruding from Tim’s mouth and had been reeled back inside
his body like some sick fishing line the moment Matt had awoken. He had
questioned the sight at the time because it was just so damned . . . bizarre,
but he no longer questioned it. No sir.

The infection, or
the parasite, whatever it was, had survived by hiding deep inside the mine for
at least a hundred years, and probably a lot longer, if the stories regarding
the cursed place were true. It had hidden and festered and waited patiently for
an opportunity to be released, then taken advantage of that opportunity when
little Tim had knocked down the damned concrete slab.