Washer & the Worm

Chapter 1: Washer loses a worm

Will was having a hell of a day, and it started with him agreeing to fill in for a co-worker. He had feigned sympathy and agreed to cover the shift, even though the employee’s supposed “cold” was a lame excuse to get out of work for a concert. The tickets of which he’d been bragging about for the last couple weeks. It’s not that he was a push over, at least he’d never thought of himself that way, he just knew he could use the extra income and he really had nothing worth looking forward to that couldn’t wait. This opinion was only further validated later when he got a text from Anna. He’d received it at 5:39 pm, just as the dinner rush was starting and the restaurant was descending into madness. It said: “Will I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I think we need some time apart. It’s not you, it’s me, you’re a great guy… I’m just looking for someone with a little more drive, a go-getter you know? Anyway, hope we can stay friends!”. A wonderfully blunt message that’s subtext Will would spend the rest of his shift trying to ignore.

Circumstances of the day had so far created a perfect excuse for him to avoid acknowledging any of the bullshit he’d experienced all afternoon, right up to the moment he clocked out. Even if he had an interest in forming any opinions, he was currently distracted by the homeless- looking guy who seemed to be following him ever since he left work. He lived a little less than two miles from the place, so he often liked to walk to save on gas, and it afforded him time to think. He first noticed the guy when he took the trash out after his shift, he looked like he had just crawled out of a dumpster. Everything the man was wearing seemed to be in tatters, including his enormous trench coat, and he had so much grime on his face it functioned like a mask. Any other night, he would have said something polite, tossed the guy some change and that would have been that. Unfortunately for Will, tonight was not just any night.

When the man had seen him at the restaurant he had turned and started to approach, Will had only caught his eye for a second, before the sudden noise of a door opening- from a couple of employees sauntering out to have a cigarette- seemed to frighten him away. Even in the moment he found it odd how the man seemed to recoil into the darkness near the bushes and dumpster, as if he was ready to scurry back into his burrow away from the big frightening world. Still, despite the man’s strange behavior, the second or two he held his gaze was terrifying. The man had a kind of mesmerizing countenance, his eyes betrayed someone with a sinister, and single-minded goal. With the look he had given, will thought, the man seemed almost… Hungry. The route he took to get home brought him through the more secluded part of the neighborhood.

There were almost no lights on the trail, except for the occasional streetlamp. Being November, with the temperature barely staying above freezing, it came as no surprise that there seemed to be no other living souls outside. This would never usually bother Will, but all these facts were becoming increasingly clear as he started to realize that the homeless man was not only following him but gaining ground. At the distance between them, Will couldn’t see his face, but through some primordial sense, still knew it was him. He was so preoccupied with the distance between himself and the stranger, that he barely noticed once he had started to quicken his pace. He did notice however, when the person following him started to keep stride.

The strange swelling of terror he felt kept him almost numb to everything else about his surroundings, he couldn’t even judge how far from home he was. So, when by sheer chance, he noticed the “slow children” sign he’d always found peculiar (as there were no children living in this part of town to his knowledge slow or otherwise) he felt a quick flutter of the heart strings as he realized he was very close to the local 24-hour gas station. Will breathed a quick sigh of relief, he might not get mugged, or god forbid “deliveranced” tonight after all. Even as he thought this, he started to feel guilty, he hated to stereotype someone just because they lived a different lifestyle, even though they were currently scaring the living hell out of him- it didn’t necessarily mean they were actually trying to do anything.

He started to feel stupid for feeding into his paranoia, and the guilt became so overwhelming that he decided to try an experiment. He would feign the act of tying his shoe and wait for the man to walk past him. Then, when his anxiety proved to be overblown, he would walk up to the man and offer to buy him some dinner. Will felt he had it all worked out, and having overcome his fear, put his plan into motion. He stopped, started to act like he was fixing his laces, and waited. The stranger did as expected- that is, until he was standing directly behind Will. He kept standing there, saying and doing nothing, as Will continued to act as if his shoes were untied.

He still felt he was being foolish, though he could not deny the hairs standing up on the back of his- well, everything. Finally, feeling like the whole situation had become a bit farcical, Will decided to turn and face his fears. As he did so, his mouth opened but no words came out; even trying to avoid it, their eyes caught and locked. There was no way to gauge any intention from the beady eyed oblivion he found himself staring into. He felt a shiver run through him when he suddenly realized the man did have a kind of expression on his face, and it was neither one of contempt nor humor… But that same look of single minded hunger.

Before he could do or say anything else, the man leapt at him. Being in the awkward position of one who is still half bent and pretending to tie his shoe, Will was easily knocked over by the tremendous weight of his attacker. Will stuck his left hand up to hold the bum at bay, while he flailed his right around trying to get a grip on him. The man had taken hold of Will’s left hand while he used his tremendous body weight to keep him pinned. Just as Will found something to grab hold of, the stranger put teeth to skin and with a frightening ease and sickening crunch, he felt a finger twist off his left hand.

He’d heard people say that when suffering a severe injury, you’ll often feel nothing at first- because of the shock or something. It just so happened that Will was now absolutely sure the people who say that are full of shit. The pain was immediate and excruciating, he felt it like a fire, that ripped through his veins down to the elbow. Will had seized a fist full of the man’s greasy locks, and as he felt his flesh and bone tear away, he twisted and pulled with a manic kind of strength. He heard a satisfying ripping noise, as he felt something detach from the stranger’s head. The man recoiled, and it was just enough of an opening for Will to gain some leverage and twist free of the man’s grasp.

With a moderate amount of coordination, given the circumstances, Will rolled to his knees- braced himself with his right hand- and stood up on shaky legs. The man was standing, holding something in front of his face, and whispering something that sounded more like coughing and gurgling than language. But Will was too preoccupied with the object he was holding to really notice or care, as on closer inspection, he saw it was his finger the man seemed to be gurgling at. He also noticed, that for the first time, the man had a change of expression- he was smiling.

Though the pain had diminished to a sort of numbness and dull ache, Will suddenly felt a bizarre sensation like hot liquid running down his forearm. When he unglued himself from the indecipherably grotesque imagery on display, and looked at the curious thing on his arm, he realized he was bleeding- bleeding quite badly actually. It was right about then when the dizziness set in, he felt his knees wobble a bit as the adrenaline started to cool. He couldn’t have explained it if he’d had a perfect vocabulary, but as the reality of what had just happened started to sink in, all he could think about was not wanting to have 9 fingers. Maybe it was the “shock” setting in, but god damn it; he was lucky enough to be born with all ten digits, and this was a stupid way to lose one. Suddenly, before his brain knew what his mouth was thinking, he found himself shouting “That’s not yours!” and charging straight at the man.

Suddenly taking notice, it seemed the stranger was not up for debating the issue as he quickly turned and started running the way they had come. Will didn’t think, he couldn’t think; too many strange and horrible things had happened too quickly. He wasn’t debating the merits of chasing after the crazed homeless person gurgling gibberish and waving his severed finger around like a prized heirloom, he was just acting on instinct. With a second wind of adrenaline coursing through him, he ran; gripping his wounded left hand tightly with his right and doing his best to gain some ground.

The chase led all the way back to the restaurant, and it suddenly dawned on him, with a little luck someone might still be there closing-up. Will ran with bated breath as they approached the corner that would be within sight of his work. As they finally rounded the turn, Will felt his brief sense of hope get snuffed out as he saw the taillights of his managers car pulling out of the parking lot. He tried to convince himself that there was always the chance someone was still there cleaning up, but he knew better. His manager was far to OCD to trust anyone else with shutting the place down in the correct order. Then this was it he conceded, whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen without any interference- he was on his own.

Will chased him straight through the parking lot, towards the back of the restaurant where the dumpster was. As they ran, Will starting thinking; you can access the back of the restaurant through a gate that’s almost never closed, but once you’re in that area you’re walled in by chained fencing. He realized the man must know this as well, because that’s where they first crossed paths, so even as they were actively playing out this scenario, he couldn’t help wondering why the stranger had come this way. As he crossed the threshold, with Will following shortly after, the man ran directly to the dumpster.

Will stopped briefly upon entering and closed the gate door, he made a show of locking it- even though he knew he’d never had the key for it in the first place. He started to speak as he turned to face the man once again, conjuring up all the action movie bravado he could muster “This is the end of the line buddy, I’ve locked us in and I’m not leaving without my property!” Although the stranger had stopped, and now stood motionless in front of the dumpster, as Will finished speaking, he began slowly turning to face him.

With them face to face once again, Will saw him slowly outstretch his arms, clearly brandishing his prize in both hands. When they locked eyes, Will could see the same maniacal smile, only this time it was worse because it looked like the grin of someone who knows that they’ve won. Then, with no ceremony, the man stuck the finger in his mouth, and with one swallow; Will watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he processed the idea of his left ring finger residing in someone’s stomach.

As the man lowered his head, and they broke eye contact, Will watched, in what felt like slow motion, as the stranger turned and rapped on the dumpster in a peculiar fashion. He then gurgled out some kind of strange words as loud as he could manage, lifted open the lid, and started to crawl into the oversized trash bin. Again, without thinking or even realizing what he was attempting, Will ran straight towards the dumpster- somehow understanding that if that lid closed, he would never have a satisfactory resolution to this night.

Quicker on his feet than he thought, Will managed to grab the man’s right ankle at the last possible moment to do so. Though he felt he had a firm grip, it dawned on him that trying to pull a grown man from a dumpster (who happened to be a bit larger than him) by just his ankle would be an impressive feat with both hands in functioning order. Luckily for Will, this conundrum would not end up posing much of a problem. Shortly after grabbing hold of the man he felt him start to squirm, then- oddly enough- it felt like he started to sink.

Slowly at first then, quite abruptly, very quickly. It was as if the man was being pulled under by quicksand, but quicksand with the suction capacity of a turbine engine. Will made a valiant effort to resist, but before he could even contemplate his predicament- and possibly reassess just how much he really needed that extra finger- he felt himself get sucked into the mass of twisting garbage and swirling debris. He felt the violent compression of his body as he was pulled through and sucked farther and farther down this putrescent rabbit hole. Whatever happens, he quickly decided, he would not lose his grip.

What could only have been a collection of seconds, felt like an eternity while it was happening; as things were tossed around in increasingly vicious fashion, smashing into him and his injured hand. Then, before he’d even realized it, he was out of it. As quick as it had started, the spinning, twirling, twisted; wizard of Oz garbage tornado died. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him, at least, until he opened his eyes. Will felt so happy that he neglected to think he might still be in danger, opening his eyes thankfully cleared that up.

He was falling, he didn’t know how or why, but he knew he was falling. After a short while of screaming and flailing wildly through the air, as wind shot savagely past his face, he decided in a moment of non-sequitur decision making that he would refuse any offers of skydiving in the short- or long- term future. He felt his stomach land in his throat, and a sensation he supposed must feel a lot like bungie jumping; as he felt himself slow, and felt gravity start to shift the opposite way. He knew he was still falling- but now much slower, and in a different direction. Abruptly the ground appeared below him, and before he could theorize about the best way to approach a landing, he felt the crunching and smacking of bones throughout his body; hitting the ground in such a way that would undoubtedly make a chiropractor cringe.

Will felt he must have hit the ground at an angle, because he felt his momentum carry him down a slope of some kind. He continued rolling until he heard a splash and felt a bitter cold as water soaked through his clothes and suctioned them to his skin. Even through his dizzy, and nauseated vision, he could see the bum had landed extremely near to him. Before he could drag himself to his feet, the man was already upon him. Will’s teeth clenched as pain shot through him, the stranger was standing over him; kicking him repeatedly, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted in that bizarre language over and over.

He had managed to roll into a kneeling position and, in his flailing desperation, had somehow gotten hold of the man’s right wrist. He pulled as hard as he could to try and knock the man off balance. To his shock however he felt something give, which caused his momentum to carry him backwards, until he suddenly found himself lying on his back. His first though was that the man must have wriggled out of his grip, but as his eyes caught the thing still held firm in his hand, the realization dawned on him that he had apparently tugged with enough force to sever the man’s hand from his wrist. Will had heard stories about panicked mother’s pulling off miraculous feats of strength during times of duress, but this seemed ridiculous. Then he noticed the lack of blood anywhere, and the metallic contextual feel of the thing, and quickly deduced that it must have been prosthetic.

The man didn’t seem to notice his sudden loss and continued to lunge. Before Will could continue any kind of analysis of his revelation, the man was on top of him again. Taking full advantage of Will’s position, the man leaped on him and used his weight to start pushing him under the water. Will felt the man’s hand on his head trying to keep it from surfacing, he was strong, seemingly unnaturally so- to keep him held down with only one hand. Will had never thought of himself as a “tough guy” but the way he was being tossed about did not feel very realistic.

Even now, as he fought to keep his head above water- literally- he felt the man’s immense strength to be nearly insurmountable. Fighting with everything he had left, he knew he was fading; his vision was blurring, and he could feel the urge to struggle leaving him. It’s a strange thing, will thought, to know that you want to survive; to see the face of death whilst using all your might to battle the specter that’s imposing it. All the while knowing that, despite your best efforts, the tether that binds you to the world is getting splintered and frayed. Will knew he must be dying, there was no other excuse for him to be waxing poetic at a time like this. The last thing Will saw before he lost consciousness was the hazy image of some amorphous shape appearing behind his attacker- and then everything went black.

End of chapter 1.