Monday, 30 August 2021

Attack of the Living Alive (remastered short story)

 

Attack of the Living Alive

 

“Stubborn worms and other nasties getting you down?
Tired of spending your precious time every morning plucking out those little wrigglers?
Infested with so many worms that you’re beginning to feel alive again?
Worm-Away! Clears out even the most stubborn intrusions!
*jingle plays*
And now there’s Worm-Away Plus!
The same super-powered scientifically tested formula, now with a fresh Sea Breeze fragrance!
Worm-Away, for all your extermination needs.
Available in all good pharmacies and supermarkets.”

 

Attack of the Living Alive

 

                Afterward, people would tell me that they remembered where they were when the news first hit.  It was a mantra, some sort of tonic that almost made things better; as if asking where you’d been or what you’d been doing when it happened made it more real, more manageable.  It was bullshit.  Just another way for people to bring it up, another way to process the trauma of what had happened without directly asking for the help.

And where had I been?

I’d been in the supermarket, holding a can of Worm-Away in my hand and a basket on my arm.  It was a vivid memory burned into my brain.  Or what was left of it.  My brain, that is.  And I even remembered what was currently in the little wire cage I held; there was some hair freshener, anti-bacterial gel, tweezers (for those annoying little bugs that get under your skin), moisturiser, and of course, the most essential items, a new set of needles and some more thread in a variety of colours.

Of course, there’d always been rumours about them.  The Living.  But they were only bogeyman tales.  Bogus tales if you’d asked me before the events of that day.  The Living were just tales to tell people to give them a little scare… and who doesn’t enjoy a cheap scare?  And that’s what they’d been to most people.  The Living were hiding from us underground, sometimes in bunkers, sometimes in old nuclear test sites, waiting.  Waiting.  Ready to strike when we least expected it.  A story to give a cheap thrill.  And there were conspiracy theorists too, obviously; those that believed categorically and earnestly that the Living were there, scheming and surveilling us, and running our world behind the scenes.

The truth, as always, had been a mixture of the two.

I’d heard the news report coming from the nearby electronics aisle and, like a rat to the pied piper, had followed the sound to my own dismay.  It had begun with a rather ominous title jingle, a tune that trilled and banged.  A tune that pulled me closer.

“Residents of a village on the outskirts of London were evacuated early this morning amidst the discovery of a recently abandoned….”  The news reporter was freshly repaired and preserved, with a familiar plastic sheen over his grey skin; a procedure that most trendy celebrities couldn’t resist.

I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off the screen.

Apparently, a bunker had been discovered with its doors wide open.  Evidence of tinned foods that only the living ate; things such as chickpeas and hot dogs.  Ergh.  It all sounded disgusting.  Thankfully, not one Living person had been spotted… at least, not yet.  But they told us to be vigilant.  Just in case.  The reporter started to reel off scare mongering stories about the living being tougher than us, faster and stronger, and if we saw one of them, to keep back from them, hide, and then call the authorities.  The Living were dangerous.  There was more; an expert joined the show, she’d been hidden off to the side of the desk, and, with more scaremongering to fire up the captive audience, said that the Living were a danger to our health, livelihoods and our moral standards.  And I believed it wholeheartedly.  How could I not?

And then the vox pops started and I had to leave.  There was no way I was going to listen to the idiots they’d pulled off the street talk about how scared they were.  As I walked away I could hear someone talking about how the Living were going to take all our jobs…

Idiots.

All I wanted to do now was get home and lock myself away until this all blew over.

I headed back into the aisles and picked up some Tinned Animal Brains™, the last thing I needed from my shopping list.  I could barely recall the taste of fresh human brain.  Everyone was raving about the animal brain these days.  More hygienic.  Ethical.  Back in the day, the Living hadn’t seemed so much of a threat, and we’d all partaken of their flesh with no concern.   I had to admit to myself that if they had returned, I was a little curious of the taste inside their skulls.

I returned to the aisles; there were still a few things I needed to pick up.  Not too much.  Not this time.  The last time I’d come shopping I’d bought a little too much, and I was certain I hadn’t sewn my arm back on straight.  I grabbed what I needed, including one of those little flat pine trees, you know the things I mean, to hang round my neck, and headed to the checkout.

Ergh.

There was a queue.

Some things never changed.

While I waited I picked up some antifungal spray and some rat poison from the shelves nearest the checkout.  The latter was particularly handy.  Last thing anyone wanted was to relax and suddenly realise a finger or toe was missing.

The line shuffled forward.  There was some twat ahead who’d brought a trolley full of stuff to the ‘baskets only’ queue.  Inconsiderate twat.  It took him far too long for him to unload his stuff onto the checkout (and bag it after it was scanned by the burdened checkout worker) and he seemed to fumble about with every stuck action.  And, oh god, he had coupons.  Too many coupons.  One after another was scanned and deducted from the guy’s total; it took far too long.  The Living would’ve had time to destroy us all by the time the man had paid and finally left the checkout.

Thankfully no-one else in front of me was as inconsiderate and I was soon served.

“£19.68,” said the girl behind the till.  Her voice was nothing but a drawl and her was pulled in a ponytail so tight that her scalp was starting to come away from her forehead; I could clearly see the white of her skull through the split.  She cleared her throat.  I’d been too busy concentrating on the half-baked attempt she’d made to staple the skin back together.  Metal glinted back at me as she swiped my credit card.

I grabbed my carrier bag full of goods and made my way to the exit.

As I headed to my car, I suddenly had a feeling I’d forgotten something.  I patted down my pockets.  Yep.  I had my wallet (with my card), my car and house keys.  I sighed to myself.  It must’ve been something from my shopping list.  It was too late now; I was sure to remember what it was by the time I walked through my front door.

I retrieved my car keys from my pocket and walked around to the back of my car.  I deposited my shopping and closed the boot.  As it shut, it seemed to make a louder, harsher sound than normal.

And then I heard the screaming.

I turned, slow and careful, and there, standing in front of me, the Living.  She looked fresh.  Alive.  Angry.  And holding a shotgun aimed right at me.

I was on the floor before I’d even had time to react, my ears ringing from the shotgun blast, and my fingers found themselves touching the newly made cavity in my chest.

Goddammit.

Yes.

There was definitely something I’d forgotten.

Poly-filler.

 

Attack of the Living Alive

 

“Are you finding cracks and holes a killer?
Then use Probert’s Poly-filler!
Stays malleable for up to ten minutes during application and still flexible once dry!
Use the most durable and trusted filler on the market.
Probert’s Poly-filler.
Stay fixed. Stay whole. Stay together.”

 

Attack of the Living Alive

Read the original here.

Art by Tim Jenkins

Attack of the Living Alive (old short story)

 

Attack of the Living Alive 

“Stubborn worms and other nasties getting you down?
Tired of spending your precious time every morning plucking out those little wrigglers?
Infested with so many worms that you’re beginning to feel alive again?
Worm-Away! Clears out even the most stubborn intrusions!
And now try Worm-Away Plus!
The same super-powered scientifically tested formula, now with a fresh Sea Breeze fragrance!
Worm-Away, for all your extermination needs.
Available in all good pharmacies and supermarkets.”


Attack of the Living Alive


I had some Worm-Away held in my hand when I heard the news.  Later on, everyone would say they could remember where they were when the news first hit.  Myself?  I was in the supermarket and I even remembered what I had in my basket.  There was some hair freshener, anti-bacterial gel, tweezers (for those annoying little bugs that get under your skin), moisturiser, and of course the essential needle and thread.  There had always been rumours of the living, hiding somewhere, possibly underground in an old nuclear bunker.  I distinctly remember staring at the can of Tinned Animal Brains (tm) that I had just picked up and thinking that I could barely recall the taste of fresh human brain.  Thank goodness we didn’t have to eat that rubbish again.  Wasn’t it technically cannibalism?  It had been around 56 years since I last had some.  Animal brains were obviously more hygienic.  But it was best not to think too much about which animals’ brains.  The news had come on the televisions in the electronics aisle.  Electronics being one of those purchases that always seemed to need replacing.  They always seemed to last only just past the warranty, and then stop working completely.  The news reporter on the screen didn’t need replacing (although he was probably way passed his warranty); his repair work was exceptional.  After a rather ominous title jingle, he began to speak.

“Residents of a village on the outskirts of London were evacuated early this morning amidst the discovery of a recently abandoned….”
A bunker had been discovered.  Door wide open, with evidence that people had been living there.  There were a few interviews from residents, worried about how the living were more resilient than us, faster and above all, dangerous.  Not only dangerous to our health, but apparently dangerous to our moral standards.  There was even somebody complaining about how the living would take all our jobs and were definitely not welcome in this country.  Anyway it was all scaremongering; the news always made things sound worse than they probably were.  But as of yet no living had been spotted.  Obviously, there had already been a search of the usual living habitats; cinemas, shopping malls and radio stations.  They had even looked in the hospitals, a common hang-out for those afflicted with a heartbeat.  Nothing.  Anyone who spotted a living person was to call the emergency services immediately.  Strangely, the telephone number that they displayed on the news was very similar to my local take-away.
I needed to pick up a couple of extra things from the shelves, not too much though.  I didn’t want my basket to get too heavy as I didn’t want a repeat of the incident last week.  I was sure I hadn’t sewn it back on straight.  Walking down the aisles, I spotted the next thing on my list; those little pine tree things.  You know, those smelly things that used to go in cars.  Of course, they now served a much more needed purpose.  I don’t think there was a person in the world that didn’t have one, or at least one of the copy-cat brands.  That company had definitely benefited from the so-called “End of the World.”  At least that’s what everyone had started calling it back in ‘68 when it had all began.  There was a few years afterwards where everything has been a little chaotic, but then everyone had just accepted it and got on with their lives (so to speak).  Nothing much had really changed.  The world had continued to turn.  And as I reached the end of the aisle to get to the checkout I decided some things definitely didn’t change.  Queues were still just as long.  In fact, they may have been longer.
As the queue lurched forward I managed to pick up some anti-fungal spray.  Oh, and some rat poison.  That was always handy.  It stopped things being nibbled during the night.  Not that anyone slept these days.  But old habits die hard.  There was some moron a few places in front of me who had a trolley full of items.  This was the eleven items or less line.  People should really follow the rules; they were there for a reason.  And if I gambled I would guess that they would hold up the queue further when they got to the checkout.  I bet they would either have lots of coupons or have trouble with paying.  You know, several cards ‘wouldn’t work’ even though they would swear they definitely had cash in their account.  Then they would spend what seemed like hours trying to find every spare bit of change in every nook and crevice.  Why didn’t people keep all their money in the same place?  I considered myself a very patient person.  Except when it comes to supermarket queues.  Hmm…maybe they should have a moron queue and a normal person queue.
I rolled my eyes as the moron reached the checkout.
Ah. Yes. Coupons.
After they had been dealt with and a bit of shuffling forward of the normal people in the queue, I finally got served.
“£20.14” the girl behind the checkout drawled as I reached the front.  Her hair was pulled so tight in a ponytail her scalp was coming apart from her forehead.  I could clearly see the white of her skull through the split.  It looked like she had made a half-baked attempt to staple her skin back together; it really hadn’t worked.
“You should try some superglue for that.” I said to her.
“What?”
I motioned with my head towards her hairline.
“I’m sorry?”
“Never mind.” I handed over my credit card.  The girl gave me a slightly condescending look as she swiped it though the machine.
“Thanks umm….Jeremy.” I said, looking at her name badge as she passed my card back with a receipt.
“It’s my boyfriend’s.”
“Huh?”
“It’s his shirt.  He stacks the shelves?”  She seemed slightly annoyed.  Why was she wearing his shirt?  Were they sharing?  Is minimum wage really that low?
“Ok….good for you.”  I quickly grabbed my carrier bag and made for the exit.
Walking to my car I suddenly had a feeling I’d forgotten something.  I quickly patted down my pockets.  Yep.  Got my wallet, my car keys and my house keys.  Damn.  It must have been something from my shopping list.  Oh well, I thought to myself, it can’t have been anything important.  I was sure I would remember what it was when I got home.
I took out my car keys and walked around to the boot of my car.  It was only a short walk from the store to the car but the handles of the carrier bag had already started to dig into my hand.  I’d have to make some repairs before getting behind the wheel.  Why couldn’t someone make carrier bags with handles that didn’t cut right through your skin?
As I closed the boot, it seemed to make a much louder, harsher noise.  Then I heard the screams to my left.  I slowly turned, and there in front of me, alive, was a man.  He looked fresh.  And angry.  He was also holding a shotgun.
Before I knew it I was on the floor, my ears ringing from the shotgun blast; my fingers found themselves feeling the cavity made in my chest.
Yes.
There was something I’d forgotten.
Poly-filler.

“Are you finding cracks and holes a killer?
Then use Probert’s Poly-filler!
Stays malleable for up to ten minutes during application and still flexible once dry!
Use the most durable and trusted filler on the market.
Probert’s Poly-filler.
Stay fixed. Stay whole. Stay together.” 

Read the remastered version here.
Art by Tim Jenkins