John Halkin - Blood Worm

‘Not a nice way to go,’ came Bill Jenkins’ voice at his shoulder. ‘Of course, we knew the old boy was dossing down in here. 1 did, at any rate. But he wasn’t doing any harm, so why not let him, I thought. Been dead some time, had he?’

‘So I’m told.’

‘That’s the way it often is. They die alone.’

‘D’you think the local yobs may have taken a hand?’ Evan speculated.

‘I shouldn’t think so. There’d be talk.’

‘You’d hear?’

‘The men would. We’ve quite a few jobs going on in this neighbourhood. They’d be bound to pick up some rumour.’

Evan shone the lamp again over that part of the room. Some footprints in the dust, of course; that was hardly surprising with everyone tramping through. If there had been a struggle, any evidence of it had been wiped out. Yet what about the loss of blood mentioned by the pathologist?

‘That other bloke was lucky the kids found him before he bled to death,’ Bill Jenkins said, voicing Evan’s own thoughts.

‘Have you seen any of these beetles?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Not alive. A few mangled remains. Very bright colours. Quite unusual.’

‘I’ve not seen any either. I wonder why not.’

‘I reckon there must be plenty up there in that timber.’ He nodded up to the joists which were still in place. ‘Or under the floor.’

For a moment neither of them spoke. The uneasy rustling, creaking, cracking murmur of the building said all that was necessary.

Then, as if on cue, they heard a quick scream of terror from the cloakroom area behind them, followed by a whimpered ‘Help me!’ They rushed back to find the Public Health woman cowering against one of the metal frames.

Clinging to her fingers, like some ethnic ring, was a large pink and green beetle. She was staring at it, her eyes wide with fear. Blood dripped from her hand, splashing on to her shoes.

‘For God’s sake hold her up!’ Evan snapped as she began to slip down, her face drained of all colour.

While Bill Jenkins took her weight, Evan hung the lamp on the nearest coat hook and grabbed her wrist. Keeping her hand quite steady, he gripped the beetle between his finger and thumb, expecting to be able to lift it off easily, but it stuck to her flesh as firmly as if it had taken root.

Changing tactics, he shifted his grip and felt the enamel-like hardness of its smooth outer shell as he attempted to crush it. Again she screamed, hysterically gabbling incoherent pleas for help until her voice broke into choking and coughing when the insect emitted a foul, defensive smell: its own poison gas.

‘Her feet!’ Bill Jenkins gasped, struggling for breath as she slumped against him. ‘More beetles on her feet. Christ, look at the buggers!’

They were crawling over her shoes, investigating the blood.. over his own shoes, too… and even more were scurrying towards them across the floor.

‘Out!’ he heard himself yelling. ‘Let’s get out of here! Quick — get a move on!’

Even as Evan spoke the word he felt the first incisors penetrating his skin immediately above his shoe. The pain was sharp and precise, as if a surgeon’s scalpel were slicing through his skin. Elbowing Bill Jenkins aside, ordering him to get out first and find some help, he slipped his hands under Miss Armstrong’s arms and began to drag her out.

It was not the best way to carry a person needing help, he knew, but with those bright, antlered beetles exploring her ankles it was the best he could do. After that first bite he realised he risked getting them on to his clothes if he tried to lift her properly.

Help came even before he had reached the door. Alerted by the screams, Tony — the bearded carpenter — had guessed what was going on and run for the insecticide spray. The beetles recoiled, then scuttled away as he generously sprinkled the floorboard with the liquid; only five or six of them remained behind, their limbs twitching in their death throes.

‘Her legs! Spray her legs!’

But Tony had already seen the beetles fastened like leeches to her ankles and calves. The spray was adjusted to allow the insecticide to come out in fat drops with which he carefully drenched each single beetle on her legs and her hand. One by one they succumbed and fell away from her.

Two beetles were found on Evan himself — one on the upper part of his foot, and the other a few inches up his trouser leg. He allowed the ambulancemen to put temporary dressings on the wounds but refused to go to hospital.

Miss Armstrong looked as though she had been in an accident. Blood stained that neat, business-like costume and was trickling down her legs, which were a mass of cuts where the beetles had attacked her. There was even a smear — almost certainly from her injured hand — across her straight blonde hair. She had come to her senses again but her face was pale and drawn, betraying her sense of shame at her hysteria.

As the men seated her in their folding chair, which they then lifted into the ambulance, she asked Evan: ‘Did you collect any?’

‘Any what?’

‘We need some of those beetles as specimens,’ she said weakly, i was trying to pick one up but it got on my cothes and started to run up my sleeve. That’s when it did this to my hand. Then the others came..

A shudder shook her whole body. She bit her lip, gazing at him almost reproachfully, but the reproaches were all for herself.

‘Made an exhibition of myself, didn’t I?’ she went on. ‘Made myself look a real idiot.’

‘Carry on like that an’ you’ll worry yourself to death,’ he scolded her sympathetically. ‘Could happen to anyone.’

‘Don’t think I always behave this way, because I don’t,’ she retorted defensively. ‘It’s just that.. Well, those beetles took me by surprise. I had a vision of them crawling all over me.. under my clothes… everywhere… I couldn’t stand it. They’re so… so small. And so quick. I’m sorry.’

Once the ambulance had left with her, Bill Jenkins and Simpkins made their plans for burning down the building. On this question at least there was no longer any disagreement between them. Nor, as the school stood surrounded by what had once been the playground, did any objection come from the fire brigade. There was plenty of space between it and the nearest houses, and they supplied a tender to be on stand-by during the operation. The only delay was caused by the decision to send for several barrels of strong hydrocarbon-based insecticide, which was then splashed liberally around all openings — doors, windows, collapsed walls, everything— before setting light to the place. They were determined to trap the beetles inside.

Evan watched as the first billows of black smoke appeared. His wounds smarted persistently, making his entire leg feel painfully raw, as though the skin had been ripped away from it. For a second or two the men’s emphatic voices began to seem oddly unreal and he wondered if he was going to faint.

‘Soon be a big blaze,’ Bill Jenkins said, coming across to join him. ‘I might have known Mary would try to collect one of those beetles in a matchbox.’

‘Was it a matchbox?’ Evan was surprised.

‘Something like that. Must have been. She’s as stubborn as a mule. God, the rows we’ve had! She’s always on the phone to us about something or other.’

The flames broke through, appearing first around a sheet of corrugated iron covering a large window, licking at the edges and then withdrawing as though disappointed at not finding anything to bum, then returning with greater vigour from both sides at once. A second window began to bum, with long tongues of orange flame shooting fiercely out of the gaps between the frame and the metal. There was a cracking of bursting glass, and a louder crash from falling timber and masonry inside. Soon the fire was in command of every opening, doors and windows alike; flames misted and turned, darting out with a sudden eagerness, then retracting playfully for a few seconds before their next hungry assault.