Scott Westerfeld - Peeps

“Sure, mind control.” I frowned. “But you and I are already both infected. Why does it care what we do?”

“Maybe it just likes us, dude,” Lace said.

She pulled me close again, and our mouths met. The scent of the worms began to fade, overwhelmed by Lace’s jasmine and the salt of the Hudson. We stayed there on the roof for a while, letting the warmth between us build, moved by nothing more than what our bodies wanted from each other. The monsters had passed for now.

Still, part of me is always waiting for the tremors in the earth to come again.

And they will, soon.

You may have seen the signs where you live. Garbage piling higher and higher on the streets. Pale rats scurrying along the subway tracks. Strangers in black trying to pick you up in bars. A red flash in the eyes of your cat, or its weight heavy on your chest in the morning.

But that’s nothing. When the epidemic really starts to roll, civilization will crumble, blood will run in the streets, and some of your neighbors may try to eat you. But resist the temptation to buy a shotgun and start blowing their heads off. Just feed them garlic and plenty of sausage, and eventually they’ll calm down. You see, they’re not the real enemy. Compared to the monsters coming next, those ravening cannibals aren’t so bad. In fact, they’re on your side.

The real enemy will be close behind, though, and that shotgun won’t help you one bit. Nothing in the arsenal of science will avail against these creatures. A lot of us will die.

Don’t panic, though. Nature has provided. There has always been a defense against the worms, a disease hidden in the sewers and deep cracks, coursing through the veins of a few old families, waiting for its time to bubble up.

So stock up on some bottled water and a few cans of pasta sauce, maybe the kind with extra garlic. Set aside a few good books and DVDs, and buy a decent lock for your door. Try not to watch TV for a few months—it will only upset you. Don’t take the subway.

And leave the rest to us vampires. We’ve got your back.

THE END

The parasites described in the even-numbered chapters of this novel are all real. Every terrifying process is going on right now in a meadow, pond, or digestive system near you. Possibly in your own body.

As this book may freak out certain readers with its graphic biological details, I feel compelled to share some of the preventative measures I discovered during my research. Sure, parasites are part of the ecosystem, part of our evolution, blah, blah, blah. But that doesn’t mean you want hookworms in your gut, chewing on your stomach lining and sucking your blood. Right?

So follow these simple rules, and you will be much less likely to be invaded by parasites. No guarantees, though. (Sorry.)

1. Sing “Happy Birthday”

Many microscopic parasites (and other germs) exist in the air and on everyday surfaces. They get on your hands, and when you touch your mouth, eyes, or food, they take the opportunity to slip into your body. So wash your hands often, and when you do:

a) Use warm water.

b) Use soap.

c) Sing “Happy Birthday” at a normal tempo. Do not stop washing until you’re done with the entire song.

And by the way, quit rubbing your eyes so much!

(Thanks to Yvette Christianse for this one.)

2. If You Eat Meat, Cook It Good

A major vector of parasites is predation: one animal eating another. That’s because when you eat an animal, you’re exposing yourself to every parasite adapted to living inside that animal, and every parasite adapted to all the things it eats.

Meat-borne parasites include hookworms, tapeworms, blood flukes, and more. There are zillions of them. Your humble author is a vegetarian (for non-parasite-related reasons), but you don’t have to go that far. It doesn’t hurt to eat a few worms every once in a while, as long as they’re thoroughly cooked. So don’t eat rare meat, and memorize this simple rhyme:

If your burger oozes red ,

Send it back; them worms ain’t dead .

3. Don’t Swim in Tropical Rivers

The tropics are the warmest places on earth, and warm water is a great place for parasites to spend time outside a host. Commonly, tropical parasites jump from their host into a river, then swim around looking for the next host to invade. They can enter your body through your skin, mouth, eyes, and other orifices. These parasites include the famous guinea worms, those snaky things that roost in your leg and have to be spooled out like spaghetti on a fork. Ew.

The ocean is fine (it’s salty) and so are swimming pools (chlorinated), but don’t swim in tropical rivers. And if you must swim in tropical rivers, for heaven’s sake don’t pee ! Your urine will attract a spiny creature called a candiru, which swims furiously toward any urine it smells, and will lodge in your … Well, where it lodges depends on whether you’re male or female, but either way, you don’t want it lodging there.

Just don’t pee in tropical rivers. Trust me.

4. Don’t Have Unsafe Sex

Parasites and viruses and bacteria that have evolved to live in human beings are often found in … human beings . For this and many other obvious reasons, be careful with your body when you’re getting close to someone else’s.

5. You Have Parasites—So Deal With It

Okay, here’s the thing: No matter how careful you are, eventually you’ll wind up parasitized. Some scientists consider all bacteria and viruses parasites; by this definition, having a simple head cold means that millions of little parasites are living inside you . But don’t freak out about it. It’s all part of the rich tapestry of life, blah, blah, blah.

Tough luck. Nature isn’t just the simple barnyard set you got when you were five years old: pigs, cows, goats, and a dog. It’s also liver flukes, guinea worms, and skin mites. All of nature’s creatures have to eat, and it just so happens that some eat you . But it’s not worth losing sleep over. Humans have had these little friends along since the beginning of our species. So deal with it. Hey, at least they’re mostly too small to see, and that’s better than, you know, lions eating you.

And remember, the vast majority of human beings in the developed world die in car wrecks and from cancer, heart disease, and smoking—not blood flukes, lung-worms, rinderpest, or toxoplasmic brain infestations.

Just don’t pee in tropical rivers. Really. Just don’t.

No, really.

Here are some books for reading more about parasites and rats and other icky things. Because you know you want to.

Parasite Rex by Carl Zimmer (Touchstone, 2000)

Practically every parasite mentioned in this novel can be found in this very enjoyable book, plus many more. Without Parasite Rex, Peeps could not have been written. And it has pictures. But trust me, if you value your sleep, don’t look at the pictures.

Rats: Observations on the History and Habitat of the City’s Most Unwanted Inhabitants by Robert Sullivan (Bloomsbury, 2004)

A beautifully written history of rats in New York City. As a bonus, there’s a field guide to rat-watching in Ryder’s Alley, a tiny little rodent heaven downtown. And yes, there really is a family called the Ryders, who I’m fairly sure are nice people and not really vampires.

Bitten: True Medical Stories of Bites and Stings by Pamela Nagami (St. Martins Press, 2004)

All you ever wanted to know about diseases that spread through bites and stings, and then some. Did you know that if you punch someone in the mouth, there’s a bacteria that can spread from their teeth to your knuckles and eat your hand away? Hitting people is bad.