Gary Brandner - The Brain Eaters

The inside of Eddie’s head was on fire. It felt as if something were in there trying to push his eyeballs out. It seemed much longer than two days earlier that he was assuring Roanne that he felt just fine.

Eddie thought he knew all about pain. There was that impacted wisdom tooth a couple of years before. And the time he chopped off a toe splitting logs on his uncle’s farm. Or when he was hit in the balls by a line drive while pitching in high school. None of those times had hurt like this. And it was getting worse.

From out in the living room he heard the murmur of the television set. Roanne must be watching. She deserved a little time to herself. She had been at his side almost constantly, both during the short flu thing and now since the headaches had started. That day, though, he had noticed that she was looking at him a little bit sideways. Eddie thought he knew why.

He freed himself from the tangled sheets and pushed his feet out of the bed. He sat there for a minute, then stood up. Every movement he made hammered at his skull. Biting down hard to keep from crying, he walked unsteadily to the doorway leading into the living room.

On the television screen two people in white doctor coats were talking to one of those pretty-boy television reporters. One of the doctors was a young Oriental, and the other was a woman with big tits. Eddie listened for a minute and figured out that they were part of the group working out at the Biotron labs to find a cure for the brain eaters.

Their words came to Eddie filtered through the throbbing pain, but he got the sense of what they were saying. They had come up with some kind of a test where you could tell for sure from a person’s blood whether he had the brain eaters in him.

A small groan got away from him.

Roanne looked around and saw him standing there. She quickly got out of the chair and snapped off the television set. She made no move to come closer.

“Why did you shut it off?” he said.

“I thought it was disturbing you.”

“Those doctors said they’ve got a test for the brain eaters.”

“You know how doctors are. They’ll say anything to make it look like they’re accomplishing something. Why don’t you go back to bed, baby?”

“I think I got ‘em, Roanne. I think I got the brain eaters.”

She moved a hand as though to comfort him but came no nearer. “Don’t say that, Eddie. It’s just nerves.”

He pressed both hands to his temples. “No. Something’s in there. It hurts so bad, I can’t tell you.”

“Lie down, baby. I’ll make a poultice for your head.”

“It won’t do any good. Nothing’s going to do any good. I got ‘em.”

Roanne put a hand to her mouth and shook her head in denial.

“I want to go to the plant.”

“No, Eddie.”

“I want to see those doctors. Maybe they can do something for me.”

“They aren’t letting anybody in. They have guards at the gate.”

“They’ll let me in. They’ll do it because I’m the one who set the brain eaters free.”

“They think it was an accident.”

“I’m going to tell them it wasn’t.”

“You can’t do that,” Roanne said.

“I’ve got to. Then they’ll have to let me in. They’ll have to help me.”

“They’ll lock you up.”

“I’m going in,” Eddie said stubbornly.

“They’ll lock you up. Then they’ll come and get me.”

Eddie stared at her through pain-dimmed eyes. His tortured mind worked sluggishly. “That’s what you’re really scared of, isn’t it — that they’ll find out what you made me do. You don’t care about me at all.”

“That’s not true, Eddie. I love you.”

“Then why are you backing away from me?”

“I–I’ve never seen you acting like this before. You scare me.”

Eddie gripped his pounding head and rocked it from side to side as though it were something that didn’t belong on his body. “I’m going to see the doctors,” he said. “Don’t try to stop me.”

He stumbled across the room past Roanne. She shrank back against the wall as he fumbled at the knob, finally opening the front door.

He staggered out onto the patch of dirt in front of the house where they parked the van. Roanne watched as he pulled himself in behind the wheel and started the engine. He knocked over the mailbox as he turned onto the road and weaved off in the direction of the Biotron plant.

Roanne watched him drive out of sight, then left the window and picked up a newspaper. It was three days old, the last she had been able to buy. She frowned at the picture on the front page and the boxed caption next to it. Then she picked up the telephone.

After several seconds she heard the familiar buzz of the dial tone. Good old automated telephone company. Still working. She dialed a number and spoke briefly to the voice that answered on the other end. Then she hung up and went back to the window.

Clouds were gathering. There was going to be a storm.

The alarm buzzed.

Corey reached across Dena and slapped the clock into silence before he was fully awake. He lay back for a moment, eyes closed, allowing the sleep to drain out of him. Dena lay on her side, facing away from him. She did not stir when the alarm went off. He shifted his body over closer to hers. The day was hot and muggy. Dena’s skin was very warm and moist against his.

He lay against her for five minutes with one hand resting on the smooth swell of her hip. He felt himself getting aroused. Dena did not stir. She deserved the rest, he thought. She probably had not slept through a full night in weeks.

Still, he had to wake her up. They both had things to do that morning. And maybe, he thought with a lascivious grin, she would be in the mood for a little morning sex.

He moved his hand to her bare shoulder and rocked her gently. She gave him a little moan of protest but did not awaken.

“Dena,” he said softly, “time to get up.”

She moaned again, a little more loudly.

“C’mon, rise and shine.”

Dena rolled over onto her stomach. She raised her head and looked at him blearily through a damp tangle of blond hair. Her eyes seemed unnaturally bright.

“Hi, there.” She gave him a sleepy smile and started to drift off again. Then, abruptly, she turned her head to peer at the glowing red numbers on the digital clock.

“Oh, God, look at the time. You should have woken me up.”

“I just did,” he said.

She turned back and smiled at him again, more alert now but not quite focused.

“Right,” she said, and kissed him quickly on the nose.

So much for morning sex, Corey decided.

She peeled back the covers and sat up, swinging her long legs out on her side of the bed. She groaned. “What did you give me to drink last night?”

“You brought the C–C, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” She raked the hair out of her eyes with her fingers. “Where did you hide my clothes?”

“You left them over there on the chair.”

Dena stood up, stretched her arms, and walked to the chair, where her clothes lay in a folded pile.

“Are you always so neat?” he asked.

“It’s a compulsion. Can I take a shower?”

“Sure.” He got up and found her a bath towel on a shelf in the closet.

When he came around to where she was sitting to hand her the towel, Dena hugged her arms and shivered.

“Is it cold in here?” she said.

He looked at her curiously. “No.”

“I must have had a chill.” She stood up and took the towel from him, fashioning it into a sarong.

He gave her a leer. “Are you in a big hurry?”

“Why, do you have something in mind?” She let her eyes range downward. “Oh, yes, I see you have. But I’d better get to work. Maybe we can do something about that later.”