John Halkin - Slither

‘It’s weird,’ she said when they’d finished and the worms were safely locked away in the boot of the car. ‘Uncanny.’

‘Design, I think,’ Rhys commented seriously, for the first time openly mentioning his theory of extraterrestrial origin. ‘Unusual features — the colouring, varied sizes, rate of growth, the rapid increase in numbers, and no visible females. I’d like to show you some of the evidence. People think I’m a nut-case, but before you make up your minds — it’s dark outside now — I’d like to take you up to my observatory. I’ve only a small telescope, and it’s not too clear a night either, but you should be able to see at least enough to make you wonder.’

They went up to the room he’d converted at the top of the house and took it in turns to stare at the planet Jupiter through his 6-inch telescope. It certainly made the possible existence of other worlds seem more real. Then he showed them reports of objects observed falling from the sky, drew diagrams, and ended by inviting them to look through the telescope once more. ‘Not from the solar system perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘But somewhere else?’

Afterwards they went back to the car, thoughtful though not convinced. Rhys was clearly disappointed at their reaction. ‘You’ll not forget to let me know if you find any females?’ he reminded them. ‘That information’s vital, wherever they came from.’

Julie had been glad to get out of the disco into the cool fresh air. It was her twentieth birthday and Mum had wanted her to celebrate with the family; there had been a row when she’d told them she’d fixed up to go out with Pete. But how could she invite him home when Mum never had a good word to say for him?

He was already astride the bike, pulling the goggles over his dark eyes, grinning at her. She hitched up her skirt and swung her leg over the pillion, clinging to his black leather jacket as they shot out through the gate and headed for the wood.

Somehow she didn’t care whether she ever went home again. The wind rushed past her ears; the powerful bike throbbed and surged beneath her. The thought of that poky living room with Dad grumbling in front of the TV and the china birds flying up the wall made her sick.

They left the road and took the rough path between the trees, but someone else was in their usual place. Another bike stood there; in the undergrowth they caught a flash of white thighs as they rode on, circled, and returned to the main road.

Pete stopped. ‘What about that cave I told you about?’ he suggested without switching off the engine. ‘Only take us half-an-hour to get there.’

‘Then why are we waiting?’ she called back.

She hugged his waist as the bike picked up speed. Ahead, the road was deserted, though one or two cars met them coming from the opposite direction. A quick moment of bright headlamps, then they passed.

Beyond an isolated farmhouse Pete turned off into a winding lane. The high hedges on either side ceased unexpectedly, giving way to open moorland. He left the tarmac and they bumped over an uneven track for some distance, heading towards the hillside.

The cave entrance was hidden behind a high crag in a crevice only just wide enough for them to ease the bike through. Inside, it seemed shallow and dark, but at the rear was a low, twisting passage. Pete went ahead with the bike, using its headlamp to light the way; it took a lot of manoeuvring to get through.

‘Oh!’ Julie cried, delighted, when she emerged into the chamber beyond and saw the richly-coloured stalactites hanging from the rock face like a delicate screen.

Pete had jacked the bike up and was undressing. Julie nodded quickly and pulled her own clothes off. This was a hundred times better than the wood; it was a magic temple.

‘Happy birthday!’ Pete laughed, as he explored her body with his hard hands. The walls of the cave echoed the words around and around till they disappeared in a whisper.

They made love on the heap of clothes, awkwardly because of the uneven floor, but Julie didn’t mind that. She couldn’t remember ever having felt so totally happy and relaxed; even the eerie sounds of the cave added to her mood — the occasional drip of moisture, the whispers and slithers…

Then suddenly Pete screamed and twisted, throwing her away from him. Hurt, she began to protest, but her words died on her lips as she saw that long, green, snake-like thing squirming across his chest. It glowed like something evil in the half-light as it bit deep into his armpit.

Blood streamed from the wound on his belly just above his navel where a second green thing was eating into him. A third nuzzled against his buttock. He thrashed about, bellowing with pain and begging her to help him.

But what could she do? The cave was full of them and she stood there panic-stricken, naked, totally vulnerable. It wasn’t possible to get her clothes as Pete was lying on them, his blood soaking into them as he weakened and his struggles gradually subsided.

Biting her lip, trying to force herself to stay calm, she backed slowly towards the twisting passage. If only help would come! But she remembered Pete’s words: ‘No one’ll ever find us here.’

A worm slipped over her foot. At the feel of it she lost all control and turned to dash out. Two more worms, slightly larger than the others, blocked the exit. They were half-erect and swaying as though to music; their eyes looked directly into hers, understanding.

One of them wrapped itself around her leg and buried its teeth into the flesh behind her knee; another, from behind, nibbled at her ankle. She heard herself whimpering, not screaming, as though something in those eyes had subdued her; she suddenly realized she was just standing there, allowing herself to be eaten and doing nothing about it.

At that, the spell broke and she screamed out her anger, seizing the first worm and tearing it away from her leg, fighting mad. She flung it to the far end of the cave and stooped for the second; but two others fastened themselves on her, one catching the flesh of her forearm.

Cursing and yelling, she killed one after another and didn’t stop even when they forced her down to her knees and attacked her stomach, her full breasts, her cheeks, the softness under her chin. They slid over her naked body, wet with blood, more and more of them as if welcoming the fight, till she lost consciousness and her thin arms — the bones exposed — fell uselessly away.

The weeks passed. At Christmas Jenny played the part of a shepherd’s wife in the Nativity at the parish church; she’d made friends quickly and was soon invited to several parties.

Helen suspected that the adults pumped her for information about how Matt earned his living and why the sheds were kept locked. Any idea of having a party of her own at the cottage was scotched by Helen. How could they even think of it with all those worms around the place? Matt argued they could never escape from the shed as they were in solid tanks, but she remained unconvinced.

Boxing Day was particularly uncomfortable. He’d gone to feed the worms and, as usual, became absorbed in watching their behaviour, forgetting all about the time. They’d asked Fran around for lunch — after all, she was a business associate — and Matt only emerged from the shed when he heard her arrive. From the look on Helen’s face it was obvious what she was thinking.

After they’d eaten, as they sat in front of the fire, Fran began talking about Tegwyn Aneurin Rhys and soon had Jenny in stitches wtih her imitations of his eccentric way of talking and his bird-like habit of putting his head on one side when he was making a special point.

Helen didn’t even smile. When Fran left and Jenny was in bed, they washed the dishes together in silence. When they’d finished he suggested there might be something worth watching on television.