John Halkin - Squelch

Rationally, Ginny was disgusted with herself for being such a coward, yet whatever decision she took, she still couldn’t bring herself to touch that caterpillar. Her hand… her arm… they just refused to obey.

Suddenly the caterpillar reared up and looked at her, sphinx-like, with dark eyes which betrayed nothing. It was six inches long at least and had a bright yellow stripe down its underside. On its tail was a little rounded horn which made it seem even more disgusting. It swayed to and fro as she watched it, as though trying to hypnotise her.

No way could she touch it now, yet she had to steel herself to deal with it somehow. Gingerly she began to shift her weight on to her other elbow in order to reach for the magazine she’d been reading, at the same time not daring to take her eyes off the caterpillar. Its body seemed to ripple as it sat there, but that was its only movement.

Oh, she was being such a fool, she despised herself for her own inadequacy. God, if they could only see her now in that TV studio where one of the crew had once referred to her as ‘that tough young director’! Tough? She felt as weak as a jelly.

Her fingers recognised the feel of those glossy, printed pages. Slowly, she tried to draw the magazine towards her, intending to fold it over for a firmer grip. Not that she wanted to hurt the caterpillar, merely to brush it away, no more than that, however obscene and disgusting she found it.

Those bulging, dark eyes still regarded her. Did it understand what she was doing? Well, that was a daft idea if ever there was one. Her thoughts were coming feverishly and she realised she’d broken into a sweat. Yet… what if it could pick up some wavelength from her? Some sense of threat? Many animals had that facility, didn’t they? That made it all the more important to remain absolutely still as she gradually took hold of the magazine.

So intense was her concentration, she hardly heard her sister’s car arriving in front of the cottage. The engine revved, then died. The door slammed.

‘Ginny! Are you home?’

The voice approached, lively and happy as usual. Ginny felt a sudden surge of relief and she must have moved because the caterpillar straightened up, becoming visibly more alert.

‘Ginny, what on earth are you doing with a caterpillar on your tummy?’ Lesley’s voice boomed out, followed by her usual gust of laughter which sounded — oh, so normal ! ‘I thought you couldn’t stand them!’

‘Les, get it off me,’ Ginny begged.

Her sister squatted down, holding back her thick auburn hair from her eyes as she bent forward for a closer look. ‘My, aren’t you a beauty!’ she murmured to it, like talking to her cat. ‘A real giant, too. As long as my hand, and you’ve been feeding well, to judge by the size of you. A bit overweight, I’d say. Greedy, that’s your problem, my beauty. Just greedy.’

‘Lesley! GET-IT-OFF-ME! ’

‘Come on, Ginny. No hysterics,’ Lesley scolded her. ‘No need for that. They’ve just as much right to exist as we have. And they can’t do you any harm — watch!’

Ginny didn’t wait that long. The second her sister had lifted the caterpillar away from her, she rolled over the grass to get well clear, then scrambled to her feet, trembling. Harmless or not, that was the last time she wanted one anywhere near her.

Lesley held up the caterpillar level with her eyes and cooed over it in that silly way she had; then suddenly she yelled out and dropped it, hastily stuffing her fingers into her mouth.

‘Hell, that hurt!’ she exclaimed as she sucked them. ‘That bloody hurt!’

It was Ginny’s turn to laugh. ‘Harmless?’ she mocked, getting her own back for once. ‘Serves you right! I only hope that —’

‘Bloody hell, it’s biting my feet now!’ Lesley burst out, but her voice trailed off and became a quick, shuddering gasp of pain. The blood drained from her face. ‘Ginny… help me…’

Before Ginny could reach her, Lesley’s knees gave way and she crumpled on to the grass, moaning incoherently. Ginny stared at her, bewildered, unable to see anything wrong. But then — protruding from the space between Lesley’s sandal and her bare instep — she noticed the green rump of the caterpillar.

It seemed to be burrowing into her. Actually eating her flesh! Her blood dripped on to the grass, staining it.

Biting her lip, Ginny looked around desperately for some way to help her sister. She mustn’t touch that thing with her unprotected fingers, she knew that. If only she had a glove handy, but there was no time to rush into the cottage to get one. She grabbed the nearest magazine, ripped out a page and, using it, tried to get a firm grip on that wriggling tail.

Through the thick, glossy paper she could feel the caterpillar writhing in its attempts to free itself. She squeezed harder, at the same time pulling, aiming to draw the creature out. Its body pulsated violently between her fingers as it resisted her.

Gritting her teeth, she held on despite the fact that she felt nauseated by what she was doing. Her stomach churned sickeningly and she could feel the clammy sweat lying cold on her skin.

Unexpectedly, the caterpillar burst under the pressure, like a fat green sausage grown too tight for itself. The rear end of that hairy body came away in her hand.

‘Urgh!’

She almost did throw up as she saw the green sap ooze out. It spread over the torn magazine page, coating the eye of an exotic, raven-haired girl modelling underwear. Some got on to Ginny’s fingers, leaving a sticky smear when she attempted — almost hysterically — to wipe it off.

But there was no time to stop and think about it. The old, tough Ginny took control. Lesley needed help urgently. She was lying on the grass, hardly moving, though an unnatural, high-pitched mumble came from her parted lips. That’s how she’ll look when she’s dead! The thought flashed through Ginny’s mind. Oh please God don’t let her die!

Her hands shook as she fumbled at the ankle straps of Lesley’s sandals. Though it probably took less than a minute to get the first knot untied, it seemed like hours. At last she was able to tug the sandal clear. The sole of her sister’s foot was a mess of blood and raw flesh with the remains of that hideous caterpillar buried in it. She dashed into the kitchen for the first-aid box, to get some sort of dressing on the foot to staunch the blood before dragging her into the car and going for help.

If only she had a phone, at least she could ring someone, but they still hadn’t come to install it.

That wound looked such a mess, she felt quite helpless when she saw it. She fished in it with the tweezers and somehow managed to remove the rest of the caterpillar although there were probably still fragments sticking inside. Then she pressed a generous pad of lint on the foot, sticking it down with Band-Aid. As she straightened up, wondering how she could manage to get Lesley to the car, she saw a second caterpillar.

She gasped.

It was emerging out of the grass and beginning to creep on to Lesley’s freckled arm near her shoulder, its body rippling as it climbed. The same kind, too: long, emerald green hairs, and that little horn-like bulge on its tail. Its yellow stripe became momentarily visible when it reared up to survey the soft hill of flesh on which it found itself.

Oh, Jesus… What should she do?

Ginny grabbed Lesley’s sandal and knocked the caterpillar away. It landed on the rug — her rug — next to the magazines and her sunglasses. Still clutching the sandal, she scrambled over and brought it down hard on the caterpillar which twisted under the impact, then curled up, then uncurled again, and was definitely still very much alive.