The Finder Of Lost Things: Official Site

It sat in his bloodstream, waiting. It did not need to feed, it did not even need to move. It got everything it needed to survive from just being there. The blood of his host was filled with nutrients.

But it was still microscopic. This would be remedied eventually, it knew. Actually, it didn't know; it had not grown a brain yet. As of now, it was acting only on inborn instinct, like a baby who knows to cry when it is hungry.

When it got large enough, it would travel out of his bloodstream, into his muscles, and from there into his digestive tract. It would still be microscopic at that point. But from there it would accumulate and grow until it became unmistakable, unendurable.

But until that moment, it waited.

*   *   *   *   *


There was a place in the Adirondacks that I knew I could find safety. My foster mother, Janice O'Leary, had always told me stories about her family, which had immigrated from Ireland. Her grandmother had gotten sick, and they had treated her in the Adirondacks. This had happened at around this time period, so I knew there was a hospital there. After about another hour, we stopped at a truck stop to get some food. It was one of those truck stops that was really rundown and used-up. You know, the kind of place where the cashier has a tattoo covering both arms and his chest, and he doesn't wear a shirt. The place where they sell canned pickles and olives in brine , and where those gay truckers come after picking up hitchhiking teenagers so they can rape the kids. Pretty much the scum of the earth, right? Right.

Well, if that sort of thing happened in 1932. Which it didn't, really.

To put it simply, this was the last place we wanted to stop. But we did. Because someone needed to pee. We walked into the shop, not worrying because after an hour and a half in a stolen taxi, we trusted Fred.

"Crazy, huh? The whole German takeover thing?"

"Huh?" I couldn't figure out who it was that had addressed me. It was the cashier.

"The Germans. Apparently one of our generals took command, and now they have the situation under control. But damn, them Germans had already colonized three states!"

I had watched a news broadcast of World War Two being started nine years ahead of schedule. But I had no clue as to why. I played it cool. "Yeah, that's pretty crazy. I hope they nail the  German president. You know, what's-his-name?"

"Yeah, I know him."

Fred walked into the Men's room. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Even though I had to go as well, I decided to wait until after he had finished. Going to the bathroom with the man I'd just taken hostage seemed like an awkward moment waiting to happen.

Zap got himself a bag of chips.

After our business was done in the Truck Stop Of Doom, we went into the car and I started the engine. After five hours of excruciating boredom, we had pulled up at the hospital. I pulled out the key, and the cube. I pried the cube open with the key, and waved it in front of him.

"Sooner or later, you're going to drink what's in here. Sooner? Or later?"

"What is it?" he asked.

Good question. Today had not been easy on Freddy, and hewas afraid to let it get any worse.

"All I'll tell you is that if you drink this, you will be our hostage no longer."

He didn't seem convinced, so I pulled out the pistol. It's amazing how influental a little bit of lead can be at times.

He took the cube and put one edge to his lips, his hands quivering. There was fear in his eyes, but confusion and curiosity as well. After a moment's hesitation, he tossed it all back in one gulp.

His next move took us all by surprise.

His head lashed back, then forward, with incredible force. It then lolled tensely around his neck, until suddenly - in a flash of un-light -

he disappeared.

Fuck.

Zap said it out loud.